#it always reads as ‘this almost brought me to the edge of maybe an uncomfortable engagement so I’ll make a joke about the art instead’
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I hate when people try to be some kinda funnyman in response to powerful art. Maybe you should just earnestly feel things once in a while, babe.
#it always reads as ‘this almost brought me to the edge of maybe an uncomfortable engagement so I’ll make a joke about the art instead’#IT’S OK TO FEEL THINGS
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˚ ｡˚ Place In Me ˚｡˚
Eddie Munson
Content Warning: fem!reader, y/n use, tons of original characters throughout the story, strangers-to-lovers with a fun twist, angst, fluff, eventual smut, nsfw MDNI +18 (I'm serious), loss, constant grief, miss communication, abandonment issues, daddy issues (f), monoparental family, violence, drug and alcohol use and abuse. If anything's missing tell me and all add it. But for now that's it. Enjoy!!
Introduction 0/?
November 19
I adjusted the edges of my black dress, my stockings and the laces of my boots. I had to look presentable. Still, I was uncomfortable, dresses aren't my thing, but mom had insisted that it would look cute. If Lucy could see me now she would surely be dying of laughter on my face. Well, it's funny that I used that verb, since she was already dead.
On the door of the church could be read:
"Mass for the life of Lucy Kell 6:00 p.m."
I walked in with my head down, I knew her picture was in front of me. That photo that her mother had chosen, where she smiled with all her teeth and her face was covered in acne. Lucy hated her smile and her acne. But apparently her mother wasn't aware, she hadn't even asked her best friend in the whole world for her opinion on the matter.
I sat in the second row behind some of her relatives. When I felt ready I was able to lift my head and look at her photo, only to realize that I would never be ready to see my best friend there, lying in that horrible place, her eyes closed, her hands relaxed on her chest.
Suddenly everything was blurry and I couldn't hear well, I know my mother was talking to me, but I couldn't focus on her or her words. I was about to have an episode. I tried the best I could to channel my emotions, The hand of my little sister, Lynn, caught me at that very moment when I closed my eyes with force. She was looking at me fearfully, but knowing it wasn't a one time thing. She knew me and she helped me, she squeezed her fingers harder until I calmed down.
Lucy's parents had given a beautiful speech about her and what she was like. Too bad I didn't hear it all, but I knew they were full of shit. They didn't know her own daughter, at least not in the way I knew her. She had always been totally transparent with me, she was real. If they had known half the things Lucy had done at 17, oh my god. This funeral would probably be nothing more than something simple. The shame would eat them alive, and it's that I knew the Kells, so conservative and hateful with her. They had never supported her in anything. But I can't claim anything anymore, Lucy wouldn't suffer anymore.
The posters for prevention against suicide and drug use were not lacking to decorate the neighborhood, and I say decorate because nobody sincerely cares.
"… and receive y/n Robbins, who will offer a few words for my Lucy" Mr. Kell's voice was clearer now. When I agreed to write a few words for Lucy I think I forgot that I would have to read them out loud. My steps felt like when you walk silently on autumn leaves. All eyes were on me as I stepped onto the stage. I opened the paper and arranged the microphone.
I clear my throat:
"Um well, for those who don't know me, I'm Lucy's best friend" maybe I should have said was, right? No. She is my friend, my soul mate. "I have shared most of my life with her and vice versa, I don't need to express what she means to me. What happened is difficult for all of us. From the bottom of my heart, Lucy Lu, I love you and I hope that heaven has beer and Nickelback" at this point the tears just fell, but they didn't affect my voice. "thank you".
I went back to my place, but not to sit down. "Mom, I'm going outside to get some air." She gave me a sympathetic look and looked straight ahead. The mass continued, but I headed for the door.
It was warm outside, the sun was about to set. I closed my eyes and hugged myself by the shoulders feeling the warmth on my skin. An almost inaudible noise brought me out of my thoughts. I followed it where I thought it came from. At the side of the church a boy around my age, leaning against the wall, smoking what I could recognize as weed. If this isn't a sign of Lucy, I don't know what is.
I would soon find out if meeting him would be my heaven or my hell.
A WIP I've been on for the most part of the last 3 years. Hope you enjoy it, I already have a few chapter written so I'll release them most on September 🤗 don't be shy, leave a comment and reblog if you liked it, gives me will to keep posting ❤🩹
#eddie munson#eddie munson angst#eddie x fem!reader#eddie x reader#eddie x y/n#stranger things#eddie x you#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson smut#eddie smut#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson x you#fanfic#writing
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no word tender enough (to be your name)
↳ ship: dancing in the dark (inigo)
↳ content: ~3.5k words. very minor spoilers for awakening and fates if you squint. two references to gaius. set sometime during fates, but the specific route is irrelevant. intentionally lowercase.
i read the inigo/owain A support in fates and became irreversibly unwell, so i wrote this (and became even more unwell)
"it's dangerous to be out here on your own, you know."
blinking at the sound — at the sudden, familiar voice that reached her ears in the otherwise quiet darkness — koda pulled her gaze from its spot on the distant horizon, her head turning just enough to look over her shoulder. a smile — soft and gentle; the kind that almost made her heart skip a beat — was pointed down at her, its owner stepping easily around the spot she had found in the grass to take a seat beside her.
"...maybe." she wouldn't have been out here, at the furthest edge of the army's camp, if she had truly worried about being attacked — but she was sure he knew that. a tiny breath — somewhere between a short huff and a half scoff — escaped the back of her throat, her eyebrows furrowing slightly as she looked at the figure next to her. "...is this going to segue into some line about how you can be my knight in shining armor or something?"
inigo let out a soft laugh, the sound sending an uncomfortable pang through her chest. "i hadn't planned on it." hints of sheepishness slipped into his features; the smile he wore turned the slightest bit apprehensive. "i can't imagine you'd like me implying you need to be protected."
protected.
the word echoed off the walls of her skull; shook loose a memory she had locked away — buried in the depths of her heart where it couldn't reach her; where it couldn't haunt her. now, it filled her mind against her will — a dark alley; undead monsters trapping her against cold brick; the realization that she was going to die; a flash of steel in the dim moonlight; a lollipop being nudged into her still-shaking hands.
"you okay?"
a voice — his voice.
koda forced the memory away before it could take root too deeply.
before it could conjure his face behind her eyelids next.
unconsciously, as if by habit, koda's knees pulled themselves up to her chest, her arms wrapping around her legs and her chin leaning down to rest on them. "...i wouldn't mind." the words came out mumbled; muffled by the way her mouth was pressing into the fabric of her sleeve. "...being protected, i mean."
"oh? well, then, in that case—"
in an instant, green eyes shot sideways in a glare, the look in them silencing whatever asinine line he had started to say before her voice even had a chance to cut it off. "don't start with me, laslow."
whatever reaction she had been expecting — some flippant, unbothered laugh; some line about how you didn't even let me finish, buttercup; some compliment she always tried to take with a grain of salt; something normal — never came. instead, inigo's face fell, previously content features shifting in a way that was just short of a grimace — like she had said something particularly hurtful to him; like it had struck him so deeply that his expression faltered before he could mask the emotions hidden beneath it.
...huh?
an uncharacteristic stab of guilt shot through koda's heart and down into the pit of her stomach; filled her body with a nauseating anxiety that she had somehow upset him; that her usual response — the one she had long since thought he was used to — had hit some nerve she hadn't intended to hit. "...hey, what's wrong?" the bite that had been in her voice had vanished, leaving behind only hesitation and soft undertones of concern. slowly, her arms uncoiled from around her legs, spine straightening itself back out and her hands pressing softly into the grass beneath her. "i'm... sorry, i didn't mean to make you upset or—"
"huh?" as if her voice had brought him back to reality, inigo blinked at her — once, then twice, something almost like confusion flickering through his eyes — before giving her another smile and a gentle, dismissive wave of his hand. "oh, it's fine, darling. you didn't upset me."
she would have believed him had his smile reached his eyes.
you're lying.
koda's eyes narrowed slightly as the thought — the realization — flashed through her mind, her eyebrows furrowing together in a sickening mixture of frustration and worry. teeth bit gently at her lip; and when they let go, her mouth opened only to close again as inigo looked away from her — down into the small space between them; down to where his hand had fallen, just inches away from her own. the fragile mask he had put on had fallen again — faded just as quickly as it had come; slipped into a strange in-between melancholy that didn't suit him.
"it just surprised me, is all." his voice sounded distant when he spoke again — as if his thoughts were somewhere else; somewhere far beyond her and the small patch of grass they were sitting on — and when he lifted his head back up to meet her eyes once more, the smile he wore was less convincing than the last. "i'm not used to hearing you call me by that name."
"really?" the question came out before koda had a chance to think about it, her features softening into an expression laced with subtle hints of confusion. even if she hadn't called him it directly before — and she was sure she had; at the very least, she'd referred to him by it in conversation — he had been in this world — gone by that name — far longer than she had. surely the strangeness had worn off by now, right?
and yet, when inigo laughed — breathy and light; little more than an airy chuckle — it came out sheepish, his eyebrows pulling together and raising up, disappearing partly beneath his bangs. "it's not strange for you?" her question was met with a question; an answer, and not one at all. "being called by a name that's not your own?"
koda's head tilted slightly, a momentary pause following his voice before she gave a small shrug and turned her gaze back to the treeline she had been staring at before. "...not really." maybe at first, there had been a period of time where the alias she had adopted sounded foreign to her, but there had been no deeper meaning behind it than it simply being different — all things considered, a new name was one of the easier things she'd had to adjust to. "i don't really care."
"not at all?"
"nah." from the darkened trees in the distance, her eyes shifted up — to the night sky; to the thousands of stars that littered it; to the moon that shone steadily down on them. "it's just a name, y'know? regardless of what someone calls me, it doesn't change anything about me."
the word lioncub floated up from some distant corner of her mind.
she buried it alongside the memory from before.
in an effort to keep them both at bay — to keep them from allowing more memories she wasn't prepared to face overtake her thoughts; to plunge her heart into depths she had just barely managed to pull it out of before — koda glanced sideways again, her eyes landing on the side of inigo's face while his were fixed downward. hints of concern floated around her irises again; that same concern slipped into her voice when her mouth opened again.
"...why? does it bother you?"
from where she sat, partially leaned over to get whatever glimpse of his face that she could, she watched his eyes blink again — like he'd been startled by the sound of her voice; like he had gotten lost in his thoughts again. another uncomfortable laugh left his lips — and when he lifted his head up, his gaze avoided hers; darted back and forth between her and some other spot in the distance. "no, it doesn't." another wave of his hand; instead of going back to the ground, it wound up in his hair, fingers toying with the strands that hung in front of his face. "i just wanted to make sure i wasn't calling you something you didn't like. i'd hate to upset you, buttercup."
the smile he offered her never reached his eyes.
when she noticed it this time, something in the back of koda's mind clicked into place.
ah. that's what it is.
"...you're still a terrible liar, inigo."
all at once, his expression shifted — the distant melancholy that had once lined his features suddenly gave way to stunned surprise, brown eyes growing wide and his mouth falling open as he stared at her. in the darkness, she just barely caught the way his shoulders grew rigid; the way the fingers in his hair stopped abruptly and the hand on the ground next to hers tensed against the grass.
the change was so immediate — so violent — she almost laughed at it; in a different circumstance, she probably would have.
"w-what did you just...?"
but in this one, all she did was smile.
"you wanted to hear your real name again, didn't you, inigo?"
saying it again — saying his name — made the surprise on his face melt into embarrassment; painted his cheeks a shade of red so dark it was visible even in the dim lighting of the moon. his eyelids fluttered rapidly; and before his gaze darted quickly away from hers, koda caught a glimpse of the overwhelmingly flustered look that had flooded the color of his eyes.
...cute.
"i-i—" as if his tongue had tied itself in knots, inigo's voice came out in a stutter; little more than sounds attempting to become words in his mouth. "how..." he looked at her again, but only for a moment — the moment their eyes met, his pointed themselves elsewhere. "how did you...?"
koda let out a soft breath — a huff of air that was meant to sound amused but came out sounding far more endeared instead. "like i said, you're a shitty liar." the small smile playing on her lips grew — just a fraction; just enough that she could feel it — the amusement she felt finally flickering through her irises. "plus, we've known each other forever at this point. you're not that hard for me to read."
the soft sigh inigo let out ended in a faint chuckle, his fingers running fully through his bangs before dropping back down onto the grass. "you always did have a talent for that," he breathed out, his voice soft, as if he were talking more to himself than to her; as if he were reliving some distant memory. his eyes finally drifted over to hers again — and this time, they lingered on her face despite the embarrassment still shining in them. another sheepish breath escaped him; a shy smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. "sometimes i feel like you can see right through me, buttercup."
would it be so bad if i could?
koda's mouth opened, but the question never made it much further than the forefront of her mind — some invisible force held her tongue in place; kept her from voicing something almost serious; something that would push them closer to a line they were already dangerously toeing; closer to a line she wasn't sure she was brave enough to cross.
closer to a line that would force her to admit that she—
her heart thumped roughly against her chest.
—didn't want to think about that right now.
before she had a chance to get out of her own head — before her silence became too apparent and she was forced to think of something to say back — inigo continued, his gaze leaving hers to drift down to his lap. "...you're right, though." his free hand — the one that wasn't still firmly planted on the ground beside her own — toyed aimlessly with a blade of grass. "i... was starting to miss hearing it."
he paused.
in the soft lighting, koda saw the tips of his ears turn pink.
"...especially from you."
this time, her heart stopped entirely.
an uncomfortable wave of heat crept rapidly up the back of koda's neck until it reached her face, pooling so heavily in her cheeks that she wouldn't have been surprised to find that her head had suddenly caught fire. green eyes grew wide; stared at the side of his head until they suddenly couldn't stand to look at him anymore — until they blinked rapidly and darted off somewhere else; somewhere that wasn't him; somewhere that wasn't his face or the way the pink on his ears had spread to his cheeks or the curve of his lips...
her stomach lurched so roughly it very nearly made her sick.
"...you mean that?"
her voice was soft when it slipped out of her — quiet; hardly above a whisper.
"i do."
his was even softer when he replied — as if he didn't want her to hear it; as if he were afraid she might.
the silence that followed his words was heavier than before — and when koda swallowed against the way her heart had taken to wedging itself in the back of her throat, her tongue felt thick. teeth bit softly at the inside of her cheek; her lips parted slightly and then closed once more, words lingering just inside her mouth — words she wanted to say and words she wanted to bite back; words and sentiments and feelings that were steadily tearing her heart in two, the incessant pulling causing a dull ache to form in her chest.
if she hadn't suddenly become rooted to the spot she was sitting in, she might have run away from it.
slowly — hesitantly; as if she were suddenly too scared, too nervous, to look at him anymore — koda pulled her eyes off of whatever nondescript spot on the darkened horizon they had landed, letting them flicker sideways before dropping down to her legs. the breath she sucked in was shallow; little more than a futile attempt to ease her now-unsteady heartbeat.
"...i'll call you it if you want." the words spilled off her tongue before she had a chance to think about them; and as they filled the space between them, she felt inigo's gaze drift back over to her; felt her skin prickle and grow warm under the weight of it. as much as she could manage, she turned her head back to him, her heart fluttering in her chest when their eyes met. "your real name, i mean."
i was starting to miss calling you it, too.
despite the shade of pink that still lingered on his skin, a faint smile formed on his lips, his expression softening down so much koda could almost mistake it as loving. "i'd like that." the hand pressed into the ground next to her twitched; his fingertips just barely touched hers. a soft laugh left his lips — lighter than before; more shy than before. "...but only if you let me call you yours, too."
if it could, her heart would have beat straight out of her chest.
koda's eyes flickered away again — back and forth; between his face and the distant darkness, a flustered feeling slowly engulfing her heart and filling the inside of her chest. "i..." her words stalled in her mouth; caught against her teeth before trying desperately to crawl back down her throat. like a weight, the sentiment she wanted to admit — that she had begun to miss hearing her real name, too; that she'd begun to miss hearing it in his voice — sat heavily on her tongue; made it feel like lead as she forced it to keep moving.
"i'd... like that, too." barely more than a murmur, her voice filled the space between them; and as it trailed off in a small breeze that rustled the distant trees, her gaze shyly made its way back to his. "...you... calling me that, i mean."
i miss hearing it from you, too.
the thought slipping through whatever remained of her brain's filter sent another flustered swirl to her heart and a swarm of butterflies to the pit of her stomach. suddenly unable to look at him again, koda huffed sharply and snapped her head to the side, forcing out a fumbled sentence to blanket the sincerity — the softness; the longing — of her previous one.
"b-but only when we're alone. it'd be a pain to deal with if someone overheard us."
the soft chuckle that hit her ears did little to quell the uncomfortable tension that had settled into her nerves — but it did make her heart jump. "i know." softer still, his voice dropped; and when the tone pulled koda's eyes back to him in spite of herself, that same softness was reflected in the features of his face. when her gaze met his in the darkness, the corners of inigo's mouth turned upward in a small smile and his head tilted slightly. "it'll be our little secret."
our little secret.
over and over, her brain repeated the words — over and over, until they'd all but been etched onto the inside of her skull; until her heart had skipped far more beats than she could count; until her chest had grown so warm she feared she was glowing.
until she had convinced herself that it meant as much to him as it did to her.
"...yeah," she breathed out, her cheeks growing warm and her knees habitually pulling themselves back up to her chest. wrapping her arms around them, she buried her nose into her sleeves, eyes drifting down to the toes of her shoes as a faint smile pulled at her lips. "...our little secret."
she liked the sound of it.
the silence that fell over them again was lighter this time — the heaviness that had once permeated it was replaced with something far easier to bear; something far less suffocating. a weight koda hadn't realized she'd been burdening slid off her shoulders; and as that weight faded into the night, swept away by the gentle breeze that blew between them and rustled her hair, another weight settled itself into her eyelids.
"are you getting tired?"
blinking her eyes back open — when had they fallen shut? — koda looked sideways at inigo again, eyebrows momentarily furrowing when their gazes met.
maybe she wasn't so hard for him to read, either.
the first response she gave was a hum; the second was a proper answer, the tiredness she would normally mask slipping easily into her voice. "...a little." stifling a yawn, she slowly lifted her head up from the comfortable spot it had found against her arms, half-lidded irises flickering from the dark horizon to the pair of eyes lingering on the side of her face. "...it's getting pretty late."
a look of affection flickered through inigo's face — flashed in the brown of his eyes before dissipating into something more muted. "it is," he agreed, using the hand still rooted to the space between them to push himself up straight; as he looked at her, he let out an airy chuckle. "we should head back before we're falling asleep tomorrow."
before she could respond, he had risen to his feet, one of his hands holding itself out to her.
a moment passed before the meaning behind the gesture clicked itself into place within the sleepy confines of koda's head, her eyes moving from his hand to his face and back again. in any normal situation, she would brush off the offer — tell him that she didn't need his act of chivalry; that it was better saved for some village girl that would actually fall for his charms; that they wouldn't work on her.
but in this situation, where the walls around her heart had been momentarily knocked down by the smile he was giving her, she let them.
and let her hand carefully find its way into his.
inigo pulled her up to her feet, his hand lingering on hers a moment longer than necessary — just long enough to let the warmth of his palm seep through the leather of his glove and onto her skin; just long enough for her to get used to the way their hands fit together and how his fingers felt as they wrapped around hers.
just long enough for her to wish he wouldn't let go.
but inevitably, he did; and when he did, koda awkwardly glanced away from him, her arm dropping back down to her side. "...yeah," she said after a lapse of silence, only distantly realizing that her response had come unnaturally delayed. another beat of silence; inside her chest, that same swirl of emotion had begun to engulf her heart again — in an effort to mitigate it, she turned her body from him, pointing herself in the direction of the quiet army camp.
"...i'll see you tomorrow, then."
one of her feet moved, but she never took a step — a hand wrapping gently around her wrist stopped her before she ever could.
"wait. koda."
the sound of her name — the sound of his voice saying her name — made her heart jump; made the back of her neck grow warm as she shyly turned back toward him.
he was smiling again.
this time, it reached his eyes.
"thank you."
and when she smiled back, hers did, too.
"you're welcome, inigo."
#[crawls out of the woodwork and drops this massive fic in your lap literally out of nowhere]#this wasn't supposed to get as long as it did but you know me 🤪#anyway i'm still SO unwell over that support line and also this trope so here's us pining so bad <3#[lays face down and sobs into the dirt] I LOVE HIMMMMM#💜 dancing in the dark#♡ — ok to rb#♡ — writing
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I'm being anonymous here hope you don't mind . But I want to vent . Hope it's okay for you ?? Soo for past years I'm avoiding being less sentimental about the way my parents body shame me . But for the last couple of months it's like I'm on edge . I can't anymore .... The moment they start this topic my head instantly start to hurt and I get a lump in my throat then I went back to my room and cry in front of mirror. Silently so they can't hear me . I just stare at my reflection like a statue . Numb . All red and teary eyes. I'm always not like this . I love to pamper myself . Do skincare and put on my fav makeup and style my hairs however I like . I feel good GOOD !! And also I stare in front of a mirror and pose , with just my undergarments and it makes me feel sexy and gorgeous . Then I blast my fav Playlist and dance like there's no tomorrow. I feel alive and lovely . But God knows why it triggers me so much when my parents body shame me that too infront of others and then I fall into this loophole of self hatred . I DON'T WANT TO. I DON'T WANT TO FEEL DEPRESSED AND SAD . But alas it's just happens . The weird thing is that they themselves don't realize they are hurting me . If I tried talking them they thought I'm seeking their attention and it's literally my job to be slim and trim . Also why they bring my favs food item and feed me then next day bodyshame me . It'd weird . It almost feels like a cycle. And I don't fucking wanna repeat it .
So so sorry if it feels uncomfortable or drains your energy while reading this because rn my energy is low and my head hurts so much . Have a nice day ahead .....
Hello!
First of all, no vents can ever disturb my energy. So be assured you are causing no trouble whatsoever for me.
Now!
Parents do have this disgusting habit of ruining their children - through body shaming, inflicting guilt, emotional blackmail and many more. And I know what I'm talking about. Been there done that. My mom was a fantastic person. I learned so much from her and I admired her. But she had no idea how much pain she put me through. And I never told her.
Your parents don't realize how hurtful their words and actions can be for a child, a person who is still sort of figuring their own identity out, seeking some comfort in their own skin. And unless you undergo some family therapy, they will probably never know. Because you have to pass exams and test ride to get a stupid driving license but any idiot can give birth to a child. No offense. But I would seriously make people who actually want to raise a kid study for it.
Anyway! There's no easy solution. Sorry if you are not seeking for one but my core nature is a problem fixer.
You could sit down and talk to your parents as rationally as possible. Parents often think you are seeking attention when you get emotional talking to them but when you stay logical and calm, it usually has a better efect. Just like you told me. Sit with them, ask them why they buy the food they know you can't resist, why can't they just stop buying it. Try to stick to the facts.
Obviously, this is a sensitive topic so maybe for various reasons you can't do the above. Sometimes it helps to remind yourself that since the day your mother brought you to this world, your parents' influence on you is gradually decreasing and one day in future you will wake up completely independent on them. Their opinions won't matter. This painful chapter of your life will come to it's end one day and new, more free and beautiful chapter when you will be able to be yourself without feeling any kind of pressure or guilt will begin.
And I can guarantee that. It took a very long time but at one point, my mom's opinions on my body or fashion or likes and dislikes, stopped to matter for me. At one point I realized that my life and my body are mine and mine only and she has no right to tell what to do with them. She can make suggestions, sure (and some were pretty nasty), but I'm not obliged to obey.
Don't let your parents being miserable at their parenting job ruin your life. You are better than that. Stronger than that. More beautiful than that. Whenever you start feeling bad about what they say, just remind yourself that their opinions are their opinions but they don't have to matter for you. They don't you inside out. They never did. You know who you are, who you want to be. They only see a little fraction of your whole beautiful self and they can't even appreciate it. Why should you care and hurt over words somebody like that says?
Parents are often connected to us through blood but that's so little! They often don't know us, the true us. They are basically like strangers. And would you care what some weird stranger say about you? You wouldn't, of course because strangers have no real impact on your life.
I'm not sure if I'm making real sense here but hopefully you can find bits and pieces of useful information in this. 😊
So yeah! I don't mind vents. I'm like a teflon pan - other people's emotions slide off of me and I can stay impartial and rational about their issues. And don't feel stressed by their problems. 😊
I hope you can feel better soon. And even a bit better tomorrow and the day after that. Remember that this period of your life is not forever. You will feel good in your body. And people will love you for who you are. Our bodies grow old and decay eventually. It's our personality that leaves a print in other people's memory and heart. 😊
So! Aspire to be a good person and comfortable yourself, not to make your parents happy. Especially when they clearly are not so good themselves. And you will never make them happy, by the way. No matter how hard you try, they will always find something to shame. It's a waste of time. Invest your energy into making yourself happy. The results there are guaranteed. 😁
Okay! I think this is long enough.
Feel free to talk to me anytime.
Kleo 🦄
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Christmas Post with an idea I love but never finish the rp
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
Harvey sat another box down by the tree with a sigh, he looked over to see the blonde little boy with his chest pressed to the back of the couch watching the snow through a foggy window. He smiled softly at the sight, "Laying down hard out there, isn't it?"
Oliver nodded gaze locked outside for only a few moments longer before he looked at Harvey from over his shoulder, "Uh huh! Glad 'm here, not out there!"
The comment made Harvey freeze a moment in surprise before forcing the expression away to nod instead. He knew about Oliver's already shaky past, never having a stable home in the chaotic lifestyle of the notorious Joker and Harley Quinn, still the statements always seemed to catch him off guard.
"Yes, well, I'm glad you're here too," he finally stated, smiling gently.
"We both are," Gilda assured, coming in to sit next to Oliver. The little boy wiggled almost in an uncomfortable manner but a shy smile that peeked through showed otherwise.
The couple chuckled softly at the little boy, "What do you think Santa brought you?" Gilda hummed gently.
Oliver furrowed his brows lightly, then shrugged, "Dunno, he's never come to me before," he mumbled, "...probably cause 'm bad.." he added in more of a mumble. The tense and awkward silence came over the room once more and after it settling Harvey came over kneeling to our knee in front of Oliver.
"You aren't bad, Oliver," he murmured reassuringly, "in fact you've been so good the entire time you've been here, I bet Santa's going to bring you lots of presents."
Oliver's eyes lit up at the prospect, only dimmed lightly by some hesitation, "You really think so?"
"I do," Harvey murmured, resting a hand gently on Oliver's knee and putting it a moment or so before raising back up to his full height, "Now then, do you want to help decorate the Christmas tree?"
Oliver blinked looking up at the fake tree, by now with its wired limbs stretched out, boxes laid open revealing colorful and sparkly ornaments of all sorts of designs though most predominantly in circles. Finally, he nodded a little bit, sliding off the couch.
"Sure," he mumbled, "though I still dunno why people keep trees in their homes..!" his voice perked up, edging either curiosity.
Harvey felt another sting but Gilda seemed to know the right thing to say as she stood up too, guiding Oliver closer to the boxes, "I'm not sure either, but it is fun to decorate," she smiled softly down at him. She bent down fishing out a red ornament with a glittered white stripe across the middle and handing it to Oliver gently.
"Now... where would you like to hang this?"
The decorating went well, Oliver truly seeming to get into it, especially when Harvey lifted him up to add the star at the end. After some more time of showing Oliver some traditions and reading a Christmas story book to him, Gilda was tucking Oliver in, Harvey by his bed.
"Have you thought about what you want from Santa?" Harvey asked.
Oliver blinked bleary-eyed, offering no answer right away almost making Harvey believe the blonde child hadn't heard him. He was willing to drop it, not wanting to pressure the child, there was still time to shop and, if all else failed every kid liked toys, Harvey figured. Suddenly however, the little boy murmured, "What's Santa like?"
Gilda paused glancing to Harvey to see if he was going to answer, sure enough, Harvey heaved himself down to the floor next to Oliver's bed.
"Well Santa is a big and jolly... he likes spreading happiness to the children of the world..."
Oliver contemplated on this information before finally humming, "Maybe he really will come this year.." Oliver decided. Harvey chuckled as Gilda pet his hair.
"You think so, tyke?" Harvey hummed.
Oliver nodded, "Uh huh... or maybe he already did... cause this is all the happiness I need," the little boy's words slowly started to slur, but he added all the same, "I like being here... it's my favorite so far.... I dunno if I could thank Santa enough..."
Harvey felt his heart clenching already at the child's words, "Uh... well.... Santa likes cookies. We'll make him some to eat Christmas Eve together... how's that sound?"
Oliver nodded, "Really good... wanna make him the best cookies.... for the best present.." Oliver's words faded slowly into silence, even and at ease breathing.
Harvey and Gilda traded looks, the same thought on their minds.
#son of joker#son of joker and harley#son of joker and harley quinn#son of harley#son of harley quinn#mallet blonde#dent era#harvey dent#i fully believe (in my cannon) that harvey dent taught oliver about Christmas#ive done a tik tok on it#pre two face#pre two face harvey dent#uncle harvey#uncle harvey supremacy#merry christmas#gilda dent
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Heeey! Can I request for the Father of Mine universe? Something along the lines of hickeys, maybe smeared lipstick all over their faces at an event, family dinner or something like that?
“Just skip it and stay here with me,” Jason offered as he leaned against the bathroom frame, shirtless and with his arms crossed.
He had been watching Y/N get ready for at least 15 minutes.
She was currently putting on blood red lipstick that went perfectly with her black winged eyeliner.
Jason wasn’t a big lipstick guy – mostly because it prevented him from kissing his girlfriend the way he wanted to. But he couldn’t deny that it looked incredibly sexy.
“I can’t. I promised Bruce,” Y/N explained as she looked at him through the mirror.
“There will always be other charity events,” he answered with a roll of his eyes.
But he’d had enough of keeping his distance and wrapped his arms around her from behind. He started peppering kisses on her shoulders since her dress was leaving the skin completely exposed and he just couldn’t help himself.
“You know,” she began, “you could always come with me.”
Jason stopped his kissing.
“Guess that’s a no?” Y/N sighed with a shy grin.
But she didn’t really care.
Y/N understood that Jason hated these events. To be honest, she might hate them just as much. But Bruce kept asking her and she tried to go when she could. Sometimes she needed breaks and her father understood that.
Jason ignored her question and his hands started roaming heatedly across her body.
“Don’t even think about it,” Y/N warned, immediately pushing him away.
“What? I didn’t do anything,” Jason laughed innocently.
“Not yet,” she spun around and pointed at him. “But you were going to!”
“And is that so bad?” He asked with a crooked smirk.
“It is when I’m running late. And the reason I’m late is because you couldn’t keep your hands off of me an hour ago.”
Jason tilted his head and narrowed his eyes playfully. “I didn’t exactly hear any complaints…”
Y/N couldn’t stop herself from laughing and shook her head.
No, there had definitely been absolutely no complaints from her.
“I won’t be there long,” Y/N promised.
Then she brushed past him and walked into the giant walk-in closet.
Barely even glancing at all the shoes, she grabbed a pair that matched her dress.
“Can we order pizza or something when I get back? I’ll be starving.” Y/N asked mindlessly as she slipped the shoes on, using the wall to balance herself.
Jason didn’t even realize he was staring.
But how could he not?
The dress was simple. Just a little black dress. It was a charity event after all. But it fit Y/N like a glove, hugging her in all the right places.
Her heels were at least 4 inches, putting her eye level with Jason – if not a tiny bit taller. She would be above the majority of men at the event, except for probably a small handful.
“What?” Y/N asked self consciously. “Too tall?”
“No such fucking thing,” Jason quickly answered.
Y/N usually wasn’t self conscious about her height. She kind of had to get over that back in high school when she was taller than most of the boys in her grade.
But that didn’t mean she completely stopped having slip-ups. Slip-ups that involved questioning her heels or outfit.
Thankfully, Jason was quick to remedy such situations.
“You just look so beautiful,” Jason added as he stepped forward and grabbed her hips possessively.
Y/N kissed him. “Thank you.”
But she opened her mouth to give another warning.
“You’re gonna be late,” Jason spoke for her. “I know. I know.”
Y/N tried not to laugh at her boyfriends desperation as she grabbed her clutch.
“Remember: pizza!” Y/N called over her shoulder as she walked out the door.
————
Bruce and Damian were waiting for Y/N at the venue.
Dick and Tim skipped, going to these things less and less as they became fully grown men with lives of their own.
“Thank you for coming,” Bruce greeted as he kissed her on the cheek.
Y/N was about to turn her attention to Damian and give him a hug.
“What the hell is on your neck!?” The boy cried out before she could.
She blinked in surprise, completely unaware of what her half brother was talking about. Self-consciously, her hand went to the sides of her neck, not sure what she should be hiding.
“Can Todd not keep his hands to himself for 30 seconds?” Damian growled.
That’s when it clicked.
Y/N had a hickey on her neck.
“Damian, lower your voice,” Bruce warned his son.
Meanwhile, Y/N started feeling hot from embarrassment.
“Father, make him stop,” Damian whined.
To her surprise, Bruce cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Damian, Y/N is a grown woman in a relationship. She can do as she pleases.”
It was the right answer, but Y/N was still sweating from the embarrassment.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she quickly mumbled, before disappearing to the nearest bathroom.
But Y/N swore she heard Bruce continuing to scold Damian for his rudeness and for embarrassing her.
When she reached the bathroom, she lifted her head to see that she very much did have a hickey on her neck. It was perfectly hidden in the shadow of her jaw, which was why she hadn’t noticed it while getting ready. If she had, she would’ve put 5 layers of makeup on it to make sure her family didn’t notice.
Thankfully, she brought some cover up with her and quickly started going to work.
After 10 minutes, it was invisible and Y/N let out a sigh of relief.
She pulled out her cellphone, glaring at it as if were her boyfriend.
“You better start behaving. Damian and Bruce just found a hickey on my neck. I’m so fucking embarrassed,” Y/N texted to Jason.
“Who cares?”
Y/N rolled her eyes. Of course he’d answer with that.
“Call me old fashioned, but I’d prefer not remind my father and younger brother that I do in fact have a sex life.”
“A healthy, satisfied, and passionate sex life *,” Jason corrected.
Before she could respond, he texted again with, “Did you cover it up?”
“Obviously.”
“What a shame. Maybe it would’ve kept the spoiled rich boys away from you.”
“You’re on thin ice, Jason Todd.”
“Ooo. I love it when you use the full name. Gets me all hot and bothered.”
Y/N sighed and tossed her phone back into her clutch.
She’d given up on making Jason feel any bit of sympathy. That man would never feel guilty about showing the world how obsessed he was with her.
—————
Jason was reading on the couch when Y/N returned home.
“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted before returning to reading his book.
“Ugh. I drank too much champagne. I have the worst headache.”
“I’ll order some pizza,” Jason offered and pulled out his phone.
Y/N sighed in relief when she took off her heels and then she collapsed on the couch, laying her head on Jason’s lap as he placed their order.
Without thinking, his free hand when to her head and started massaging it, hoping it would help with her migraine.
“Hmm,” she hummed with her eyes closed. “That feels better.”
“Order has been placed,” he confirmed.
“Thank you.”
“Arrives in 30 minutes.”
She didn’t say anything, knowing exactly where he was going with it.
“What could we possibly do with 30 minutes?” Jason teased as he inched closer to her face.
She opened her eyes and giggled up at him.
“Ya know, I heard that sex helps cure migraines…”
“Does not!” Y/N yelled out.
Before she could argue with him further, his lips shut her up real quick.
For as large as Jason was, he managed to maneuver his body very gracefully, until he was hovering above Y/N while she lay comfortably on the couch.
“You look beautiful with lipstick,” Jason said it as if it was law. “But I like it even more when I ruin it,” he added with an almost evil smirk.
It was hard for Y/N to have a clever quip when he said things like that to her.
“How about I mark you up even more?” He threatened.
“Jason…” she warned.
But they both knew Y/N was pretending to be annoyed by it – or against it. When in reality, she kind of loved how obsessed Jason was with the idea.
Just when Jason hiked Y/N's dress up and was tracing her legs, someone cleared their throat.
Jason squeezed his eyes shut in frustration and actually growled. Then he quickly lowered Y/N’s dress and tried to make her modest again.
Y/N covered her face and groaned. “Please, please, please tell me Bruce is not standing at the window right now.”
Jason smirked. “And Damian.”
Y/N pushed her boyfriend off of her and sat up to face them.
There stood Batman and Robin.
Tonight was just not her night.
“You have lipstick smeared all over you,” Damian pointed out to Jason smugly.
“I’d say one day you’d see the appeal, but I’m struggling to imagine anyone ever having that kind of interest in you,” Jason shot back.
“Jason!” Y/N scolded in a yell.
Then she quickly turned to Damian with a sympathetic look, “Dami, he didn’t mean that.”
“Yeah, I did,” Jason corrected. “What do you guys want?”
“Red Robin is missing,” Bruce stated darkly.
“So…go find him,” Jason replied.
“We need your help,” Bruce clarified.
Jason groaned and rubbed his face. “Fine. But we’re setting some fucking ground rules from now on. I’m sick of you guys invading our personal space. We have a door for a reason. Use it.”
Bruce just nodded.
Then he looked down at Damian and with a glare, got him to nod, too.
“I gotta change,” Jason told them, annoyance clear in his voice.
Y/N followed him into their bedroom, to give them a moment of privacy.
“You don’t have to be so rude,” Y/N sighed as she sat on the edge of their bed.
“They spent all night with you and now they have the balls to interrupt?” Jason shot back. “And I want my damn pizza.”
Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at him. “I promise I’ll save you some.”
Jason was in his full gear now, Red Hood helmet tucked under his arm.
He took in a deep breath, tension easing off of him as he saw how cute she was looking up from the bed at him. Her lipstick was half off her lips, but she still looked beautiful.
“Promise you’ll be careful,” her tone was nothing but serious.
“Don’t worry about me,” Jason dismissed as he leaned down at kissed her.
"And be nice to Damian."
"Never."
Jason went back to the living room where Bruce and Damian waited.
“You might want to rub some of that off,” Bruce mumbled as he turned and jumped on the window.
Jason glared at Batman’s back as he reluctantly rubbed Y/N’s lipstick off his mouth with his gloved hand.
Then he looked at Damian. “Say another word about it and I'll skin you alive.”
Damian gave him a dirty look, “I’m not scared of you.”
–––––––––
Let me know if you liked it!!!
#father of mine#father of mine bonus content#Jason Todd x reader#jason todd x tall!reader#Bruce Wayne x daughter#bruce wayne x daughter!reader#damian wayne x sister!reader#damian wayne x sister#batboys#batfam
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Hiya! I saw this request somewhere long ago, and absolutely don't remember what happened next. Maybe you wrote on this?
If not then could you write something on a villian and hero texting late at night and villian says they're hungry and hero stops responding? Then villian gets pissed off and goes to sleep. Then after an hour, late at night someone rings the bell. Turns out it's Hero, with warm food prepared for villian🥺
Hey, no pressure on this okay!! It's someone else's prompt..... But we would really appreciate if you wrote on this
Thanks✌
The villain didn’t precisely know what they had done wrong because, frankly, they were such a dry texter, it was almost pathetic and it was more than possible that one of their responses could have been a bit illusive. Which had left them on read.
Usually, their texting was circumspect. Talking to people was repulsive, but texting was even worse. In a real conversation, they had at least the chance to nod and smile and pretend to listen.
Although the hero was mostly nice or whatever term fit the description of the only perfect being in the city, the villain was always on edge when they contacted them. Because the number was reserved for emergencies only and now, the hero had texted them out of the blue. And they had stopped just as fast.
But how was your day? :D the hero had asked.
Good, the villain had responded. Could’ve been better.
Why??? Did anything happen? :(
Fridge is empty.
They had been texting for two hours and then, out of nothing — silence. The villain hadn’t heard from the hero since, for 51 minutes to be painfully precise, which had stupidly made them pull on the roots of their hair, walking around in circles in their tiny apartment.
They hadn’t sent another message because, yeah, that would have been totally uncalled-for and weird but it was impossible to shake off this feeling. This feeling that the conversation wasn’t over. It couldn’t be.
The hero was uncomfortable with such things; they loved rambling, they loved reviving conversations, they loved jumping from topic to topic. That was mainly why they were so annoying and so…soulful.
So, it was odd. Really odd. The villain supposed the hero had simply lost interest. They were probably partying and doing all the things pretty people did.
It would have hurt less if the hero had insinuated disinterest, probably.
But the hero wasn’t like that, either. They were a person who would even eat and pay for a wrongly delivered meal in a restaurant. It was ridiculous sometimes but the hero had a terrible disease called kindness. Gross. But kinda cute.
No. Not cute. Gross.
The ringing of their doorbell pulled the villain out of their persuasive thought spiral. For a moment, their nervous system flipped a switch and pushed them into fighting mode. However, after that first second, their heart made a jump of bliss.
They opened the door and there…there they stood. The hero was panting, their hands on their knees, their arms supporting their upper body.
“There are—” the hero gasped for air “—a lot of stairs.”
“Indeed,” the villain answered blankly.
“I got you—” a wheeze “food. Your favourite. The best—” another wheeze “—cheeseburger in the whole city. Promise.”
The villain was quiet, their hand grabbing the edge of the door. The hero…the hero hadn’t forgotten about them at all. They were living on the other side of the city. They had driven to them in the middle of the night. They had brought them food.
Just because the villain had mentioned an empty fridge.
“Without onions?”
“Yeah, just like you like it.” The hero straightened their spine and the villain regretted establishing eye contact instantly. Because the hero was blushing and when the hero was blushing, the villain would start blushing and when the villain would start blushing, the hero would notice and then they would—
“So, you gonna let me in? I ate for dinner already but I was hungry again when I looked at the menu. So, I kinda bought french fries for myself. You can also try them if you want to. I wouldn’t mind eating with you if that’s okay. If not, then that’s fine, too.” Good. The hero was speaking abnormally fast again.
“Sure.” The villain opened their door and let the hero pass.
They couldn’t explain why they had ever doubted them.
#writing snippet#heroxvillain snippet#heroxvillain prompt#heroes and villains#hero#villain#heroxvillain#hero x villain#request#an answer for an ask
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addressing issues - kyotani kentarou
well! here's part two to this drabble ! special thanks to Amy (@saetyrn9) for helping me out!
tw: hurt comfort, discussion of relationship issue
The pancakes are raw in the middle. You try to pick around the batter, stabbing only the burnt bits with your fork, but it's a bit of a hopeless task. The gluey texture sticks to your tongue and the tingle of baking soda fills your mouth with each bite.
"Don't eat that." Kyotani tosses the spatula into the sink with a sigh. The smell of burnt sugar clings to the air, even though all of the windows in the apartment are propped open. He's still in his pajama pants, loose things now splattered with batter, but he's pulled on a sweatshirt- one that he stole from your closet months ago. "I ordered food. It'll be here in 20."
You place the fork down. "Thank you for cooking."
He slinks over, shoulders slack with defeat, and plops himself at the table. Tiredness weighs on his features; neither of you slept very well last night, but he was out of bed long before you even woke. "Don't thank me- I fucked it up."
He expects anger. Maybe discipline. Sometimes you wonder if that’s all he’s ever known.
Stretching across the table, your hand finds his cheek and cups it. Morning stubble prickles along your palm as you give him a little squeeze. He's frozen in your touch, neither pulling away nor leaning in, but his eyes close.
"Thank you." you repeat, firm.
He turns to kisses your palm and his lips linger. They’re soft and waxy- he’s been using that chapstick you gave him. "Anything for you."
You two stay like this, connected by only your touch, for a long time, much longer than justifiable. Just as the moment feels infinite, Kyotani breaks away.
"We're avoiding it." he says. He takes your hand into his, placing two more quick kisses before setting you down. As he pulls away, you tighten your grasp and interlace your fingers with his. There's a flicker of surprise, the slight raise of his brows, but he settles into the contact, drumming his fingers along your knuckles.
"I know." you sigh. "We…. don't have to talk about this if you don't want to. We could just… move on."
He takes a deep, stabilizing breath. "That's not healthy."
The clock chimes. It rings through the kitchen, filling the space where your response should be. He raps in your knuckles with his finger tips, tapping patterns you can’t quite follow.
"Okay."
"Okay." he repeats. Kentarou digs into the hoodie's pocket and reveals a crumpled ball of paper. As he unfurls it, you can catch a couple words scribbled in the margins.
"Did you… take notes?" you ask. He flushes immediately, aggressively trying to smooth wrinkles down. He's scowling at the mess of graphite smeared across the page. The tips of his ears are scarlet, bright against his blonde.
"I … I'm not good with all this. This makes it easier." He shoots you a quick glance. "Is...that okay?"
"I just didn't expect it."
The sink's dripping again. It's a random droplet that collects at the faucets' rim before falling into the collection of dirty dishes below with a tiny plink. It catches your eye, the way it gathers slowly; maybe you could ask the landlord-
Ken's right. You are avoiding it.
"I don't like it when you yell." It feels good to state the obvious. The bounce of your calf shakes the table, jostling your joined hands, but it barely registers. "It makes me feel shitty. Really shitty."
There's still a weight of something upsetting you; it itches in the back of your throat. "And… and it scared me."
He clutches your hand tighter. There’s a slight tremble in his throat, the miniscule shake of his adam’s apple, as he swallows, but he doesn’t let anything reach his face. The firm hold of his brow is stoic, controlled, even as his body betrays him.
"I’m sorry.” his voice is firm. He opens his mouth to say something else, but only draws in a breath. His tongue flicks over his bottom lip, running over the chapped edges slowly as he contemplates in silence. “I... I’m sorry.”
“I know. I know you are.”
“I.. I just…” Kyotani’s unusually frazzled as his eyes flick down to the page in front of him. If you strain, you can make out some of the scribblings, but he adjusts away from you, covering the writing. “It's dumb, but…” he traces over his writing with his finger as he reads. “Sometimes, I feel some type-a way and… it, it comes out wrong. It’s easier for me to get angry than admit that I’m hurt. It’s not fair to you. It’s not an excuse.” he looks up at you. “I’ll work on expressing myself better.”
There’s a sincerity in his voice, a gentle truth that you want to cling on to, but that itch under your skin hasn’t gone away. The situation’s still bothering you, still begging to be addressed. As you turn over it all, the squeeze of his hand no longer feels comforting- it feels overbearing.
“Kentarou, I don’t even know what I /did/.” you try and pull away, but he’s holding too tightly. Exacerbation boils in your chest, bubbling over quicker than you can control. “One minute, we’re having a good time with your friends. The next minute you’re yelling at me and storming off! I don't understand what I even did!"
"But-"
The waver in your voice rings through the room as you give a final tug. “I can’t live like this, constantly hoping that I don’t push your buttons. It makes me feel like I’m living in a minefield.” Reluctantly, he releases you, hand still dangling over the ruined breakfast. His steady look has finally broken into one more recognizable, with downturned mouth and a glassy sheen to his eyes. It’s blinked away quickly with a sniff, replaced with his usual sternness, but it was there. “It can’t happen again, Kenta.”
“I understand. “ he says immediately.
The sink drips again. It’s all you can look at, that little shine in the corner of your eye. The uncomfortable squirm building in your stomach begs you to keep watching it, to focus on it until nothing matters. You’re only brought back to the conversation when his chair squeaks across the tile as he pushes away from the table. In a few strides, he’s at the faucet, wiggling the handle with just the delicate touch of his ring finger. “I’ll fix that tomorrow.”
Of course he will. He’s always clanking around your apartment, burying himself into a new task wordlessly. Wordlessly, without request, he strives to make your life better.
“I don’t even know what I did.” you repeat. The blonde leans over the sink, hunching over his elbows with a sigh.
"It's a dumb reason."
"If it matters to you, it's not dumb."
He says it without looking at you. "I don't like it when you call me maddog." he states firmly. "It hurts. Really fucking bad."
Your anger deflates, suffocated by the sudden weight of guilt. "I didn't know that."
He shrugs. It says all he needs to.
“I- your friends call you mad dog though."
“I don’t like it when they do it either.”
“But you don’t yell at them.”
"They call me mad dog because they think I'm mean. Feral." he shoves his hands into the sweatshirt's pocket and kicks at the tile. His sock, a pink polka-dotted thing he must have fished out of your drawer, skids across the tile. It doesn't match his other sock- a Kentarou staple."I don't care if that's what they think of me."
Kyotani gives you a half smile. "But I care how you see me."
You stand and slink over, reaching for the drawstrings on his hood. He straightens at your presence, but doesn't reach, instead just letting you fiddle with the frayed cloth. Neither of you can meet each other's gaze, instead just staring at the floor between you. It's not until now you realize that you are wearing the other pink sock. Sliding your foot in between his completes the set. "I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too." The weight of him suddenly leaning against you, relaxing into you, almost knocks off your balance, but there's a comforting warmth to him.
"Still love me?" he rests his forehead against yours as he talks, his fingers are trailing over your sides and gathering up the hem of your shirt.
"Of course." you tug the strings, tightening the hood around his neck, "Still love me?"
He grips your hips and pulls you flush against him as a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. "Always will."
His lips trail lower until they are almost aligned with yours, breath warm and sweet. You rise up ever so slightly to close the gap. The first kiss is fleeting, just a test of the waters, but the next one takes its time.The drag of his lips, the taste of mint on his breath, the hum building in his throat: it suddenly hits you how much you've missed him. As your hands slide into his hoodie, your hoodie, pocket, dragging him closer, Kentarou changes the pace and showers your face with a barrage of pecks. It's quick and needy, leaving you no time to even breathe.
"You know-" you manage to as you dodge his mouth, arching your back away from him to catch your breath. He grunts out something adjacent to a whine and dips with you to press against your forehead."I don't think you're mean."
"You don't? Even after all this?" As he continues tracing kisses down your face and neck, tickling you with his stubble, you laugh and squirm, but he's holding you steady.
"I think you're a big softy." you giggle.
"Hey now. Don't go around saying I'm soft." he nips at your neck with a warning growl, but you can feel the curve of his smile. "It's only for you."
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Three Minutes
Prompt: Harry slips up and it’s only right his wife serves him a little punishment.
Word Count: 3.2 k +
Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (sexting, dirty talk, public, subby!h)
AN: I’m excited to share this!! I’m pretty sure I’m going to do a part 2. Let me know if you’d like to see this! I’m dedicating this to @harrywritingsbyme because she’s an amazing writer and you need to read everything of hers! Requests open ☺️
Reblog if you can!
Harry was dreading his interview with Howard Stern. The guy was an obnoxious prick who had no filter and liked to put people on the spot - it’s what he’s doing right now.
You were off to the side, watching the interview next to Jeff. It was matter of time before Howard brought you up to pick and prod at your husband.
“So Harry, you’re married, yes?” Howard asks, typical sunglasses on and curly permed hair donned. His mouth a little to close to the microphone.
“Yeah, I am,” Harry smiles tightly, hands rubbing on this upper thighs. He spares a quick glance over to you.
“She’s here, right?” Howard looks over at you and winks, “Fucking gorgeous babe, huh?”
You roll your eyes at the interviewers remark and Harry’s isn’t pleased but nicely responds, “She’s amazing, way out of my league.”
Howard laughs, “Now I have to ask you, does she tour with you?”
Harry replies, “Yeah. For the most part, sometimes she’ll go off to visit family or friends for a bit.”
The interview smirks, “Does she get worried you’re going to fuck other people while she’s not there? I mean you have girls falling at your feet. It must be hard to avoid temptation.”
You blink owlishly, attempting to contain the offended scoff bubbling in your throat. Jeff snickers and you send him a elbow.
Your husbands face can’t hide his annoyance at the question, “Are you asking me if it’s hard not to cheat on my wife?”
“I mean you could have a line up of girls after every show willing to blow you. I couldn’t be satisfied going home to the same thing every night.”
The band is looking back and forth at each other - clearly uncomfortable. Mitch’s face completely blank - of course.
“Well, I mean - I think that kind of stuff like...people going crazy over you was exciting when I was a bit younger. But no, I mean I’m very much in love and also consider myself a monogamous person.”
“Man, I mean - some of the songs you write about her? Watermelon Sugar, that’s clearly about eating her out,” Howard laughs, the tune playing softly in the background.
Jeff nearly chokes on the water he’s drinking and you pat him hard on the back - as payback for making Harry do this interview.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had pussy so good I’d write about it,” the interview jokes crudely. The women interviewer tittering in the background at his antics.
Harry fumbles, “Uh-uhm, it’s not uh- necessarily about anything or any act like...in particular. Just about having a good time with the person you love.”
The female interviewer who stays mostly quite chirps in to break the tension, “Is it hard to be long-distance when she’s not on the road with you?”
“Not at all. Most of the time she’s with me but we’re lucky we have technology that helps us not feel so far away from each other.”
Howard smiles, “How do you not go crazy being without sex for long amounts of time?”
It’s odd how obsessed this guy is with sex. As well as painting Harry as some sex-crazed rockstar who can’t go a day without.
Harry then goes on to put his entire, big ass foot in his mouth. “Y‘know that’s uh-that’s what good about FaceTime and Snapchat.”
The interviewer grins like a predator at Harry’s admission. You’re face is bright fucking pink. You’re gonna murder him.
“Well you heard it here first, folks. The key to how Harry Styles - one of the greatest artist of his time- keeps a happy relationship with his wife while he’s on the road. Dick pics and FaceTime sex.”
Harry glances over at you, his face apologetic as he already knows he in trouble.
You’re not that embarrassed - it not like it’s a weird thing to do but you didn’t want him talking about it with a trashy talk show host.
The interview is almost over which is good because Harry’s about to lose his temper after he’s asked about his step-father’s passing and the stalker who was harassing you two.
During the interview however, you get a wonderful fucking idea as easy payback for Harry’s little slip up.
After Harry’s tossed his headset and microphone pack off with a little too much force to be unnoticeable - he’s sliding up beside you.
“Baby love,” He murmurs sheepishly into your cheek, nuzzling there for a moment, and breathing in the scent of your shampoo.
“You did good, H,” You reply softly, landing a soft kiss to his lips before pulling back to brush his hair off his forehead.
“Y’not mad?” Harry asks warily, knowing he got nervous and gave a little too much information.
“No baby, not mad at all,” Your voice steady and believable. It was true - you weren’t mad, just a little annoyed.
He seems confused. He knows you like the back of his hand and usually, you get peeved when he says something in interviews you’d rather the word not know.
Like the one time he let it slip you had an affinity for hooking up in hotel pools after dark. Prat.
**
Harry multiple appearances that day and it ends in a dinner at a fancy restaurant in Beverly Hills with big wigs.
You were invited but declined, despite Harry’s pouting and whines for you to go. You were the only thing that made these work obligations go faster.
However, you had other plans and a little bit of revenge to play on your unsuspecting husband.
All in good fun - of course.
**
Harry sits down with a group of people from his label. They’re all dressed in tight suits and rolex watches.
Harry on the other hand is in a flowy button-up only halfway done and a tight pair is skinny jeans. Jeff is dressed pretty casually too.
They were talking about tour dates and had just received their appetizers when he gets the text from you. Your name in his phone as baby love.
Harry nearly chokes on his water when he opens the message to reveal an image of you nearly naked in your shared bed. You skin tone standing out against the baby blue comforter.
You have one of his vintage tees on as well as some creme boyshort panties. The shirt is lifted though, rumpled up by your collarbones to reveal your breasts.
Harry wants to drool over the picture but doesn’t want to risk anyone else seeing his wife in any state of undress. So he quickly responds.
Baby, I’m at dinner.
You reply with another picture. A hand tucked down your underwear, cupping your heat. He can see the outline of your fingers underneath the thin fabric.
Already have something you could eat.
Harry can already feel himself twitch in his jeans. Cut it the fuck out now
Another. Fucking. Picture. Comes through.
This time you’re completely stripped, tits visible with soft pink peaks, and a hand strategically covering your cunt.
Make me, H.
It clicks what game you’re playing. You rarely sent anything risqué when you where together because you had each other physically.
Harry curses under his breathe, locking his phone and pushing back his chair a little too fast - excusing himself to the loo.
As soon as he clicks the lock on the single-person restroom, he’s pressing on your contact information and you pick up on the very first ring.
“You bloody brat, I’m out at dinner,” Harry hisses at you, giving himself a rough squeeze through his tighten trousers.
All he hears back is a breathy moan. He’d know that sound anywhere - you’re touching yourself.
“What the fuck are you playin’ at?” Your husband demands, but the clipped edge in his tone tells you how much it’s affecting him.
“Just a little payback, babe...for spilling our dirty secrets,” you hum innocently, deciding to send him another picture.
It’s a simple photo without context some might not even understand. It’s just your hand but your fingers glistening with your arousal.
Harry’s hand is about to crush is phone into bits as his eyes roam the picture. He was nearly panting, already able to imagine the taste and smell.
He takes a deep breath before he threatens you, “if you don’t pull your desperate little self together right now- I’m not going anywhere near that needy cunt and I’ll make you spend all night choking on me.”
Instead of the typical, sad whimpers he expects to hear - he receives a patronizing, high-pitched giggle.
“That’s not how it’s going to work tonight, H,” you inform him in a matter-of-fact manner before continuing, “we’re playing by my rules.”
Your husband laughs in disbelief, echoing against the bleak bathroom walls, “and what those rules, sweetheart?”
“You’re going to go sit through your nice little dinner, rockstar. And I’m going to send you pictures, maybe some videos to watch to keep you entertained. If you don’t open them within three minutes each time and reply - you’re not coming tonight. The couch will have a blanket and pillow ready for you.”
If he was in charge, he’d laugh and remind you that you two have three lovely guest rooms he could choose from. But he doesn’t want to push it.
“Fuck,” Harry spits, having to cram his hand into his jeans to adjust himself so he doesn’t look like a pervert when he goes back out.
But he was so fucking game.
He’d do anything you wanted from him - no matter if he could embarrass himself in front of business partners or fans. He was besotted, whipped, whatever you wanted to call him.
“Are you going to be good for me, baby?” You coo tauntingly, from the other end of the line. Basking in his little huffs of air and the agitated lift in his voice.
“Yeah, m’gonna be good,” he murmurs gruffly, his demeanor had changed now that he wasn’t in charge any longer - always willing to let you be dominant when you wanted to be.
It wasn’t often - but when you did, Harry would fall into a nice, fuzzy headspace of compliance and submission. He always wanted to please and this amplified all of his desires.
“Best husband I could ask for, you know?” You reward, knowing that the games are just getting started and you wanted to make this last.
“I love you s’much,” Harry automatically returns, with deep devotion and honesty. His voice as sweet as maple syrup.
“Are you hard, H?”
He grips himself, like he’d just remember, “m’really fucking hard for you.”
“Snap an picture for me, pull yourself together, and then go back to your table - don’t forget the rules.”
“Yes ba-“
Then you end the call while he’s talking.
Harry’s a little shaky as he swipes onto his camera. He grips the thick outline of his cock, rings glinting in the dull lights, and takes a picture.
He hopes it’s good enough and quickly sends it before splashes some cold water on his face and thinking of anything but his naked wife laying at home in their bed - wet and horny.
Jeff gives him a side-eye when he sits back down, casually throwing a napkin over his lap because he can’t help the semi that refuses to go down all together.
“You alright?” His manager asks him, the others still in the throws of tour venues and vendors discussions.
Harry nods, lying easily “the missus couldn’t find her phone charger - thought I nipped it.”
“You do love to steal those,” his friends agrees before cutting off one of them men to suggest three days at Madison Square Garden instead of two.
Harry’s clutching his phone like a lifeline, anticipating the indicative text vibrations that let him know you’ve sent something.
However, despite how many times he checks, fifteen minutes pass and still nothing has sent from you. He almost starts to worry if you’re okay.
But just like the sneaky little thing you are, you wanted to give him enough time to calm down and relax before rilining him up again.
When it finally alerts him, he’s unlocking his phone and opening the message thread as fast as possible.
The picture makes his jaw almost drop on the fucking carpeted floor. You’re in one the large closets in your home- the one that holds all of his Gucci suits in particular.
There is a massive floor to ceiling mirror in this room that you’re standing in front of. You’ve slid on one of his custom silk Gucci button-ups that has styles embroidered on the breast pocket without doing doing up any of the buttons.
He’s an absolutely goner for you in anything that makes you look like his property - the large engagement ring and wedding band on your left ring-finger satiates that feeling quite well.
It takes he a moment before he realizes what else you’re wearing. Your fucking collar. It sat tight around your neck, the expensive leather biting into your skin.
Your one hand was holding the phone and the other had a hand teasing at one of your hardened nipples through the silk fabric of the shirt.
He keeps his phone in his lap with a dim light setting so nobody can risk a chance at seeing such explicits pictures of what’s his.
You look so good with my name on you, baby. Please, want to see you in just the collar, take off the shirt.
Harry fumbles along with the conversation, that’s revolving all around him, “Yeah, I loved Argentina. Definitely want to got there again.”
Buzz.
How’d you already forget I’m in charge? Maybe I’ll just go to bed if you’re not going to follow instructions.
As punishment - if you can really call it that - in the next image you don’t have the collar on any longer and you’ve done up a few buttons on the silk shirt.
Harry feels panicked at the thought of you stopping. He was in a nice, soft headspace clinging onto anything you were willing to give him - desperate to make you happy.
I’m sorry, baby. I’ll be good for you. You’re so fucking sexy. I can basically taste you on my tongue.
“Harry?” Jeff draws him out of his haze. He’s looking at him expectantly, eyebrow quirked, and a martini in his hand.
“What did you say?” Harry asks, eyes itching to dart back down to the screen of his mobile.
“Would you want Kacey to open for you again in North America?” Jeff repeats with annoyance.
“Oh, uh-yeah, that’d be great,” he tells them without really think about it.
He should be paying attention to this pretty important meeting but he can’t when he gets another alert.
The video is back in the bedroom, your delicate fingers sliding down your torso with the button-up pooled around your ribs.
Your hand slowly, at a near crawl- traces down with the camera until the manicured tips of your fingers are at your mound.
Harry’s stomach is tensing in excitement as he watches your fingers dip into the part in your slick, swollen folds.
He has to bite back a groan when the video cuts off and he reads the text below the attachment.
Was this the pussy you enjoyed eating so much you won a Grammy writing about? Was Howard right in his interview?
If Harry was in charge, he would have delivered a few resounding smacks to your arse for how cocky you were being - despite it being the absolute truth.
Did he write and win a Grammy based on a song about how much he loved eating his wife out? Sure fucking did.
Baby love. Yeah, wrote it about you. Write all my songs about how much I love you and your body. Everything is yours.
Harry is so good when he’s subby - is the thing.
Harry was a sappy sod anyways, always ready to tell you how much he loved you and thousand of other sweet things. This just amplified all of his warm, fuzzy emotions.
Send me a picture of your left hand
He hesitates for a moment, still nodding along to the ebb and flow of the business talk but having no actual idea what they’re talking about.
Harry places his large, wide hand flat on the table in front of him. He knew why you wanted his left hand - you were just as possessive as him.
You want to see his long, slim fingers that feel so good inside of you. You want to see the glimmer of his wedding band as well as the tattoo of your name on the outer curve of his hand.
He doesn’t think to turn off his flash. It ends up going off in the dimly lit restaurant and blinding the table, reflecting off the silver flatware.
He looks like a complete knob - taking a picture of his hand but also something weird Harry may do anyways and upload to his Instagram.
The men blink a few times and look at him with a confused expression. Jeff jabs him roughly in the side.
“Uh, snapchat streak,” he mumbles, tucking his phone back into his lap and sending it.
You were cutting it close, babe. 2 minutes, I don’t like waiting. But fuck, who’s name is that on your hand, who’s that ring for?
You, you baby. All of its for you, promise. I belong to you, only you for the rest of my life.
The response is quick.
But...you have girls falling at your feet, lining up to blow you.
A direct quote for the interview today. Brat - she knew how he hated when people assumed or talked like he had no self control or morals.
Only want your mouth, your cunt, your tits. So bloody gone for you, baby. Please send me another video.
He really shouldn’t be egging you on.
Your being greedy but you’ve been following the rules so I’ll allow it.
The video does not disappoint. You’re hand is nestled down between your thighs, pinching at your puffy, stimulated bud. Just the amount of pain you like. It’s a short clip but it has him wriggling in his seat.
He watches it again but before he can finish it - Jeff is snatching his phone out of his shaky hands and tucking it into his own pants pocket.
The manager’s obviously sick of the lack of focus and honestly, how disrespectful Harry’s being which is something he usual never is.
“Pay attention,” he whispers with a sharp, irritated tone before clapping Harry on the back to play off the scolding to the group.
Harry feels a knot form in his stomach as his phone sits stagnant in his friends pocket. His wife sitting, impatiently waiting for his response that she’s not going to get.
He watches his vintage wristwatch as fifteen minutes pass, he hears a few buzzes from his phone that go unattended.
Harry’s not fuzzy anymore - well not in a good way. He has anxiety bubbling in his tummy and his semi had finally disappeared from nerves of disappointing you.
He decides to engage in the conversation to keep his mind off of what is waiting for him at home. He craved to look at those images and videos again. To have it in real life.
**
It had been three hours since he responded. The people at the table insisting on dessert and alcoholic coffees despite Harry saying he was exhausted from a long day of promo.
At the end of dinner, Harry would love to lie and say he’s recovered from his shakiness but he hadn’t.
After shaking the hands of the record label men, he walks to his car with Jeff. He gets a nice talking to before his phone is being placed back into his hand and he’s sliding into his obnoxious vintage Ferrari.
He takes a deep breathe before he unlocks his phone. The buzzes he heard where not all from you. A few from Twitter, his mum, Niall. There was only one from you.
Game Over. You lose.
—
Thank you for reading💕🥺
#harry styles#harry styles fic rec#harry styles masterlist#harry styles writing#harrystylesfanfic#fanpic harry#fic rec#husband harry styles#Harry styles shut#harry styles imagine#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles prompt
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Head Over Feet - Chapter 1
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairings:
Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader
Spencer Reid/Female Reader (Unrequited)
Word Count: 5,233
Chapters: 4/4 Complete
Tags: (Will be 18+, NSFW in future chapters) Unrequited Love, TW Suicide by cop
Summary: Falling in love with one of your two closest friends was never something you planned; it only makes sense that falling in love with the other would also come as a complete surprise. *Inspired by/in collaboration with @ssamorganhotchner.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Link to AO3 or read chapter 1 below!
It’s 3 AM—well, you are in a part of suburban Indiana where it’s 3 AM, but that makes it a Virginia 4 AM—and rain patters against the window behind your head as you slump over in your usual spot on the jet’s couch. You are exhausted, the whole team is exhausted, and you’ve just closed your eyes when a warm body presses against yours, thigh to shoulder, and there is a soft sigh in your ear.
“I shouldn’t make coffee. I shouldn’t make coffee, right?” Spencer murmurs, and you turn to look at him, can’t help the fondness that shapes your smile. His hair is untidy from running his hands through it, his eyes tired and rimmed red, and his headphones are dangling around his neck, just like always. He’s so close to you your noses are almost touching.
You return his sigh. So many things in life are unpredictable, but your partner, your closest friend, is always a constant.
“You absolutely should not make coffee,” you say, your voice quiet in the dim cabin. “We’ll be home in almost an hour, and then you’re going to go to bed.”
“At this point, wouldn’t it be better to just stay awake?” he asks with a groan, resting his head against the seat behind him, and you roll your eyes.
“I know the statistics, and if I do, then so do you. Being awake for 24 hours is equivalent to having a 0.10 percent BAC. There’s no way you’ll make it through the day without hurting yourself.” You hear a soft laugh from your right, and it’s Aaron; you hadn’t even realized he was paying attention. You raise your voice a little. “Plus, Hotch said we don’t have to come in until ten.”
He glances over his shoulder at you, eyebrows raised.
“Did I say that?” His lips curve up in a soft smile, and his expression is warm despite the exhaustion in his eyes.
“Don’t you remember? I said, ‘Hotch, you should let us come in at ten so we can get some extra sleep. I think it would really benefit the team.’ Then you said, ‘You know what, you’re right. Wow, you really are the smartest and most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.’” You smile brightly, fully aware you’re being silly; it surprises you when his smile falters a bit, nearly imperceptibly.
“Hmm. Now that you mention it, I do remember something like that. I’m a great boss for agreeing to it.”
“The absolute best,” you reply easily, and the two of you look at each other for just a moment before he turns back to his work and you turn back to Spencer. “So, like I said. Hotch said we don’t have to come in until ten. You need to sleep.”
“It will be after 5:00 by the time we get to the office, more like 5:30. Ten minute wait for the forty-five minute train home means I’ll get there at 6:25—” You are not normally one to cut Spencer off when he gets talking, but this is sleep-deprived rambling, not an informational address, so you place a hand gently on his arm and he falls silent.
“So come stay at my place. I’m closer and you won’t have to wait for the train. We can get a few hours in and then stop at the coffee shop before we head to the office, okay?” The way he looks at you, soft, appreciative, makes it feel like you’re the only two people on the jet for a moment, and he wets his lips, nods.
“Okay. Thank you.” You smile.
“Of course. Maybe rest your eyes; if you fall asleep, I’ll wake you when we get there.” He turns on his music, leans against your shoulder, and takes your suggestion; it’s only a few minutes later that his breathing evens out, softens, and you try and fail to ignore the way that makes your heart ache in your chest.
When the plane lands and you’re grabbing your things, you come up behind Aaron, curl a hand around his arm just above his elbow. He turns to look at you, and he’s more worse for wear than you thought, so pale and tired up close.
“You’re going to go home and get some sleep, right?” All that changes is the set of his eyes, but that’s enough for you to know he has no intention of going home; you sigh. “Am I going to have to force you to come stay at my place too?”
It would be the first time he’s stayed over, where Spencer has crashed with you a handful of times; you are close with the both of them, but Aaron you spend more time with at lunch, or late nights eating dinner in his office, where Spencer comes over for movies or board games regularly. The dynamics of your friendships with them are so different, but both so good, so unexpected. You wouldn’t trade them for anything.
“That’s not necessary,” he says, doesn’t look like it’s a thought he wants to entertain. Maybe he thinks it’s crossing a line? Spencer will be there, so you don’t understand why he’d feel that way, but you don’t want to make him uncomfortable.
“I just want you to rest. It’s really no trouble, I have a guest room.” Spencer always opts for your long, overstuffed sectional sofa, so there’s more than enough room for Aaron to stay and get a few hours of sleep. He just shakes his head shortly.
“Thank you, but it’s fine. I’ll be alright. I appreciate your concern,” he says, and that’s clearly the end of the conversation. You just sigh, slide your hand off the back of his arm.
“Okay. I’ll see you in a few hours.” You walk away from him, over to where Spencer is waiting for you, and the two of you get into your car and head to your place.
By the time you get there, Spencer is basically a big, sleepy baby, and you have to carry both of your bags into your apartment and keep your arm around him so he doesn’t slump over. You lean him up against the wall while you unlock your door, then push him gently onto the couch while you grab pillows, blankets, and sheets.
He has clothes in his go bag to change into, but you don’t bother trying to wake him enough for that, just make up a bed for him and take off his shoes, maneuvering him into a somewhat comfortable position.
“Hmm. Thank you,” he mumbles when you cover him with a warm blanket, and he turns his head to kiss you softly on your cheek, then burrows his face into the pillow and falls asleep.
You walk into your bedroom, kick off your shoes, set an alarm, and flop down face first onto your bed.
Later that morning, you and Spencer bring coffee and breakfast pastries for everyone; you take Aaron’s coffee and a cherry danish and walk up to his office, knock on the doorframe with your elbow.
You are happy to see he looks a little better than when you left him, and he even softly smiles when he sees you standing there.
“Good morning again. Brought you a little pick-me-up.” You step into the room, set down the coffee and the napkin with the danish on it in the middle of his desk, then lean against it with one hand on the desk and the other hand on your hip. “You look decent.” He chuckles lightly.
“Somehow that doesn’t feel like a compliment.”
“It’s not, it’s an, ‘I wish you would have gotten some rest instead of being stubborn, but I guess it turned out okay.’” He looks into your eyes for a moment, and you hold his gaze. “When someone wants to take care of you, Aaron, you should let them.”
He looks away first, down at the lid of his coffee cup, clears his throat.
“That’s not always possible, but I really do appreciate your concern.” He sounds crestfallen in a way you don’t quite understand, and you hate that he feels that he can’t accept help. You’d hoped he was over that kind of backward thinking.
“You can talk to me about anything. I thought we were close enough for you to know that.”
“We are,” he agrees, looking over at you. There is that same dejected set to his eyes, and it makes you hurt for him. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him like this, years, back when his divorce was still a fresh wound. “Sometimes that’s not always possible either, even if I might want to.”
“I won’t judge you, you know. I care about you.” You reach out to put your hand on his, a gentle, comforting touch. “There’s nothing you could say to me that would change that.”
You are interrupted by a knock at the door—it’s Spencer, with a mouth full of cinnamon roll. Aaron pulls his hand away abruptly like the two of you are doing something wrong, and you furrow your brow. Spencer doesn’t notice, or at least doesn’t say anything.
“Hey, JJ said there might be a case. We’re meeting.”
“Another case?” You take a few steps away from the desk, cross your arms, give Aaron some space. “We just got back five hours ago.”
“Sounds like we should have gone straight there instead. Spree killer, five dead.” He ducks back out of the room, takes off down the hall, and you turn back to Aaron. He’s standing, smooths a hand down the front of his shirt, and you sigh.
“What are the odds I can convince you to take a power nap on the jet? 50:1?” He cracks a smile despite his earlier demeanor, takes the coffee you brought and passes you on his way to the door.
“I’d guess more like 75.” You roll your eyes, grab his danish, take a big bite, and then catch up to him and hand him the rest to finish.
The case takes you to Connecticut, where you are paired with Derek to take witness statements at the precinct. The local police know the identity of the killer, a forty year old man named John Jackson, and your team has predicted that he won’t stop until you find him, and that he will likely attempt to go down via suicide by cop when you do, so everyone is on edge.
After almost three hours of taking statements, you and Derek break for water and coffee, stand at the watercooler shaking your heads.
“This guy is unpredictable. There could be another five, ten bodies before we finally catch up to him,” Derek says, taking a long chug of water, and you cross your arms, lean back against the counter of the kitchenette.
“Hopefully it doesn’t come to that. We’ve got roadblocks, right?” He nods.
“Every road in and out of town, with cops at all highway exits.” You vaguely remember the chief saying that, now that he mentions it; the hours are all starting to blend together, between the case and the lack of sleep, and your team is relying heavily on each other to fill in the gaps.
“Right. And helicopters.” You rub a hand slowly over your hair. “I hate these cases; it’s like the profile isn’t any good until you get to him, and by then it’s too late.” You check your watch, and it’s nearing rush hour, a good time to touch base with the team; you shoot Derek a glance, pull out your phone and gesture toward the hall, step out and dial Aaron.
When he answers, he sounds tense, so you don’t bother with pleasantries.
“Hey, just checking in. Derek and I are about done here; where do you need us?”
“There’s a checkpoint on I-95, mile marker 48; we have a few officers manning it, but we could use a car here, so if you two head there you can send one of them our way.”
“Got it: I-95, mile marker 48,” you repeat as Derek joins you in the hall. “Send a car your way.”
“Yes. Be careful,” he says almost like it’s an afterthought, and you shake your head lightly—as if you are careless any other time.
“We will, you too. Bye.” You end the call, lock your phone, raise an eyebrow in Derek’s direction. “Want me to drive?”
“Oh, and put my life in the hands of Speed Racer?” He takes the keys out of his pocket, holds them out like he’s handing them to you, then pulls them away.
“I've taken several defensive driving courses; I’m probably a better driver than you.” He holds them out again and you snatch them out of his hand. “And sometimes you have to be fast.”
That statement proves true when you are on your way to mile marker 48 and Derek spots the car the unsub was last seen driving. He confirms the plate number, confirms it again, just because your brains are kind of mush, and then you share a look and slam your foot on the gas.
Thank god for all those defensive driving courses.
“Hotch,” Morgan barks into his phone a few seconds later, “we’ve got eyes on the suspect. He’s headed northbound on I-95—we just passed marker 44. We’re in pursuit.” The unsub weaves in and out of traffic, a chorus of colorful language and horns blaring in his wake, and you do your best to keep up while maintaining a safe distance from other cars.
The chase goes on for several miles, and there seems to be no end in sight until you can eventually make out the red glow of the car’s brake lights from across the highway. It’s both a good and bad sign, one you were prepared for.
“He’s gonna bail, Derek.” You cut across several lanes of traffic to make your way to the side of the road, so you can pull off as close to him as possible. “We have to try to talk him down. Think he’ll listen to me?” The whole rampage was triggered by the anniversary of the man’s wife’s death, and you look similar enough that it’s a good possibility. Derek agrees.
“Worth a shot. Just keep your damn gun drawn,” he says, and you huff. You’re pretty sure every member of the team has used the ‘weapons down’ tactic on multiple occasions, but somehow only you and Spencer are always reminded of it.
“I will, but if he wants me to kill him, I’m not going to make it easy.” The unsub goes several hundred feet farther before pulling over, and you follow behind, turn on your four-ways, jump out of the car. Derek covers you, and you approach the vehicle slowly, gun drawn. “John Jackson. Leave your weapon on the seat and exit the vehicle with your hands up.”
The door opens, and you see one empty hand, but he still clutches a pistol in the other. Derek looks over at you, but you don’t dare take your eyes off of John.
“John. Put the gun down. I know you feel hopeless right now, like there’s no way out of this situation, but I promise you there is a way. I’m here to help you.” For the first time, he looks over at you, and you can see the pain in his gaze; it’s clear the man is broken, eyes sunken deeply in despair. He raises the gun—doesn’t point it at you, just raises it into the air.
“You can’t help me. No one can. She’s gone, and I’m left here—in pieces.” The last word is a sob, and you swallow hard, take a step closer.
“I know how much Kathleen meant to you, John, and I’m sorry for your loss. So sorry. But you know this isn’t how she would have wanted things to turn out for you; you know that, right? She loved you.”
“It wasn’t enough, in the end.” He wipes his forearm across his eyes, and Derek tenses, you can see it out of the corner of your eye, but that’s the only move John makes. “She took everything with her and left me empty.”
“It doesn’t have to feel like that forever. I promise you.” You take another step forward, hand outstretched. “If you just set the gun on the ground, I’ll come over and put you in some handcuffs. We’ll have to go to the police station first, but then we’re going to get you help. You’ll feel better.”
John says nothing for several seconds; you are so aware of yourself, your surroundings, that you feel each breath you take as if your body is moving in slow motion. You can see Derek tense again, just slightly; you can hear the sound of another car pulling up behind yours, of doors opening and closing, of shoes on pavement and guns drawn.
“John.” He sighs, presses his lips together, shakes his head.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t want to feel better. I want to feel nothing.” He points his gun at you, and you don’t have another choice. If it’s not you, it will be someone else on your team.
He made his choice; you make your non-choice and pull the trigger.
You run to his side when he falls, and so does Derek: no pulse. You’re a good shot. It doesn’t feel like something to be proud of right now. You stand, and so does Derek; he reaches out a hand, places it on your shoulder.
“You tried, you know?” His voice is low, a little rough, and you nod your head. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
“Thanks.” You don’t say you won’t, can’t guarantee that. The two of you turn around, face the others, and you inhale deeply, exhale deeply, shake your head. Aaron and Spencer both come forward, and you’re a little torn, not sure whose eyes to seek for reassurance, whose words to seek for comfort.
Spencer makes the decision for you, jogs toward you and puts his hands on your shoulders, wraps his arms around you in a hug. You hold him close, rest your head against his arm, and look behind him, at Aaron, who seems more affected than you would have thought. You want to pull him in too, but he is not the public display of affection type, so you let Spencer be enough.
After a few minutes, local law enforcement arrives on the scene, as well as the coroner, and Spencer ushers you into an SUV so you can head back to the precinct.
That night, you are not just tired, but weary, when you make it home. You strip off your clothes and take a quick shower in hopes it will make you feel a little better, then pull on a short, fleece robe and pad to the kitchen to make a cup of herbal tea. You’re just throwing out the tea bag when there’s a knock at the door, and you take your mug with you to answer it.
You aren’t surprised that it’s Aaron on the other side.
“Hi.” Your voice sounds weak to your own ears, but he just nods, takes in your robe and mug of tea, offers his own greeting. “Do you want to come in?” You take a step back and he walks past you into the living room, sits down beside you when you curl up on the sofa. You face him, your shoulder against the back of the couch, your hands in your lap, holding your tea, and he mirrors your posture.
“I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I know what happened today was difficult for you.” The expression on his face is careful, guarded, but concerned. “How are you doing?”
You reach forward to set your tea on a coaster on the table, scooting a little closer.
“I’m doing alright.” He looks skeptical, stares you down with serious eyes, and you sigh, give in to his silence. You’re not one to easily fold under pressure, but when Aaron is the one applying it, it’s difficult not to. “It’s never easy to kill someone, but… it’s just a little harder when it's someone who clearly needed help, something we could have given him. It’s harder when we’re just too late.”
“I can understand that. Things could have gone so differently if he’d gotten help when he needed it. Maybe no one would have gotten hurt.” He reaches out a hand to carefully cover yours in your lap, looks at you with tender eyes. “Try not to focus on the maybe, okay? Life is hard enough without beating yourself up for something out of your control.”
You nod your head, blink back tears, and lean forward, resting your cheek against his shoulder; he puts his arm around your back and holds you tightly, allows you your moment, and when you begin to pull away he reaches for your tea, takes a sip.
“Minty,” he says, then hands you the mug, and you smile softly, take a sip too.
“It’s Sleepytime tea. Helps me wind down before bed.” It’s not until you say it that it dawns on you—how late it is, that he’s here anyway after almost two days with no sleep. “Let me make you a cup and then put you up in the guest room. Please,” you murmur when he looks like he’s going to decline. “It would make me feel a lot better about today. Just knowing you’re nearby.”
“Are you trying to guilt trip me?” he asks, arching a brow, and you shake your head quickly, reach for his hand again.
“No, no. Of course not. I just know you’re tired, and it would be nice to have a friend close tonight.” You squeeze his fingers, your hand warm from the tea, take a deep breath. “Stay?”
“I’ll go get my bag out of the car,” he says eventually, and you can’t help smiling.
“Okay. I’ll make you some tea.”
The next couple of months are fairly commonplace, with cases dotted here and there, but nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing like those few sleepless days.
You have dinner with Aaron in his office a couple times a week, and it’s always comforting and enjoyable, that easy companionship. You spend time with Spencer at one of your apartments a couple evenings a week, and that’s where things get complicated.
He’s one of your closest friends in the world, one of two people you would do anything for, drop everything for at a moment's notice. As it turns out, he may also be more than that.
You’ve noticed for a while that you tend to gravitate toward him, that you’re drawn to him when he’s speaking, like an invisible magnetic pull. That you can’t help staring at his lips when he talks, his hands when he adds gestures, the serious look of contemplation on his face when he debates his next move as you play chess.
It feels innocent, mostly, until one day he leans over your shoulder to speak into your ear while you’re getting snacks in the kitchen, and you feel your face heat, your heart pound in your chest. He lays a hand on your back, which is not unusual, but he may as well be putting it down your pants for the way it makes you feel in that moment.
You open your mouth to say something, but ultimately you stop yourself. What would you even say? I think I might be in love with you? I think I want you? I hope this doesn’t ruin our friendship? Anything of those things would be the wrong thing, so you just push it to the back of your mind and do your best to let it go.
“Are you feeling okay?” Spencer asks one day while you’re pouring coffee in the breakroom, and rightfully so, because you’ve been avoiding him like he’s contagious for the better part of a week. He looks especially cute today, and he’s in a great mood, smiling and laughing at everything Derek and Emily say, and it’s too much for you to handle. You’re just proud of yourself for not saying something embarrassing.
“I’m okay,” you assure him with a light smile you don’t feel. “I’m just a little off today; I’m sure it will pass. Thanks, though.” You fill his mug, and he smiles back, nods.
“Of course. We can skip movie night tonight, if you’re not feeling up to it. I think we’ve both probably seen An American Werewolf in London enough times that we could recite it line for line anyway.” You have to laugh at that, because it’s true; it’s one of your favorites, always so easy to poke fun at that the two of you dissolve into giggles half an hour in.
“You’re definitely right about that. Yeah, let’s cancel for tonight. I’ll go to bed early, get some rest, be good as new tomorrow. Thanks for understanding,” you murmur, turning to look up at him, and he puts his hand on your shoulder.
“You’re welcome. I just hope you feel better soon.”
You hope you figure out what to do soon, too.
You’re getting ready to leave work later that night, shortly after everyone else has gone, when Aaron steps up beside you, clears his throat.
“Do you have plans for tonight? I was just about to order dinner.” You sigh, run a hand over your hair.
“Um. I was supposed to watch movies with Spencer, but I cancelled on him.” His gaze sweeps over you like he’s looking for signs of distress, eyes gentle but appraising.
“Is everything alright?”
“Yes and no.” You immediately regret saying that, because it puts him on alert and you aren’t really in the mood to discuss it. “Yes—everything’s alright. I’d love dinner, if you don’t mind the company. And it’s my turn to pay.” You take out your wallet, shove the rest of your bag back under your desk, turn to look up at him. He’s still staring at you like he’s trying to assess your emotional state, and you exhale softly. “Can we just… eat and talk about Jack?”
It takes him a moment, but he nods, pulls out his phone. It’s nonchalant, just quiet acceptance of your terms; his eyes are kind when he looks back over at you.
“I have pictures of him from his last soccer game.” You feel almost overwhelmed with relief, lean against his arm to look at the photos of Jack and his friends in their uniforms, laughing and happy on the field. “Do you want tacos?” he asks, low, after a moment, and you nod your head and smile softly up at him.
“Yeah, but it’s Friday. Why don’t we just go eat? Work can wait until Monday.” It’s a suggestion you’ve made many times before, but this time, to your surprise, he agrees; you grab your bag, and he drives you to the restaurant where you have a margarita, and too many tacos, and so many laughs it’s like he’s almost a different person. He drops you off at your car afterward, and you lean across the seat for a hug, thank him again for taking you out—because, of course, he insisted on paying the bill even though it was your turn. It’s a better evening than you’ve had in the last few weeks.
You mess that up severely by going home and watching An American Werewolf in London anyway, and afterward you lay in bed, try to fall asleep, and think about what you’re going to do about Spencer. It’s almost midnight when you have the dumb idea to go see him—and it’s pouring, which makes it even dumber.
You text him to see if he’s still awake, and he doesn’t answer, but when you park you can see that his bedroom light is on, so you buzz anyway. He lets you up, clearly confused as to what you’re doing there so late; so are you, to be honest, but for some reason it finally felt like the right time to lay it all out on the line. When he opens the door, he looks even more taken aback than he sounded.
“Are you okay? It’s after midnight, and you’re soaked,” he says, pulling you inside and closing the door, and you shake your head.
“No, not really. I’m sorry for springing this on you, Spence, I really am.” You take a deep breath, try to calm yourself; your heart is racing. “I think I love you. You were the first person I clicked with when I started at the BAU, and it has become a genuine friendship that I treasure, but lately I’ve been feeling… more.” He wets his lips, frowns.
“I don’t think now is the right—” A slightly unhinged laugh escapes you, and it stops him mid-sentence.
“I know it’s not the right time, but I don’t think there will ever be a right time, so I’m just… just putting it out there, okay? I think I love you. I can see myself with you, I—I think we could be good together. And I know this is sudden…” you trail off when you see movement behind him; you lean to the side to peer around him, but he blocks you with his body. “Is someone here?”
“I tried to tell you it’s not a good time,” he says, and he sounds apologetic and maybe a little embarrassed on your behalf. You swallow hard.
“Who’s—who’s here? Is it someone I know?” He shakes his head, and you exhale a ragged breath. That’s a small miracle, at least, that you didn’t just spew a love confession in front of one of your friends—well, two of your friends. “I should go. I need to go—I’m sorry.” You back up, but you bump into the door noisily; you forgot he’d closed it behind you. Someone comes into the hall to check on the sound, and of course, it’s a beautiful woman wearing one of Spencer’s sweaters and not much else. She is your opposite in every way, and that makes it hurt so much worse.
You really never stood a chance.
“Spencer? Is everything okay?” she asks, arms crossed over her chest, and you fumble for the doorknob, wrench the door open, and take off down the hall.
You run for your car—the rain has only gotten heavier, and if you were soaked before, you’re downright sodden now, your clothes soaked through—and you tug on the door handle, but it doesn’t budge: locked, of course. You pat your pockets for your keys, but by the time you find them, the small surge of adrenaline you felt has left your body, and all you feel is heartbreak.
You rest your arms against the window, your head against your arms, and take several deep, gasping breaths; tears follow, burning hot, streaming down your face, and for a few moments you just let them, let yourself ache with embarrassment and bitterness until it physically hurts to continue.
You exhale softly, wipe your face with your wet sleeve as if that fixes the problem, and then unlock your car and head to the only place—the only person—you can think of with your head so messed up.
Taglist 🤍: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fanfic#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x female reader#hotch x female reader#hotch x reader#spencer reid x female reader#spencer reid x reader#head over feet
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Of Fire and Love (Pt. 7)
(Dragon! Yoongi x Reader) (Fantasy au!) (Coe-parenting au)
Summary: You dream, nightmares and sweet memories- Yoongi just tries to hold onto you as best he can but he’s never felt so lonely.
Genre: Fantasy! au, gender exploration, Coe parenting au, Dragon! Yoongi x Reader, Dragon! Hoseok x Sorcerer! jungkook, Minjoon, Taejin
W/c: 20.0k
Tags: Angst, loss of hold on reality, violence, non-explicit sexual content (taejin), possessive behavior, genderfluid characters, gender non conforming characters, gender exploration, alcohol mention,
A/n: For those of you who've followed this story you’ll know that I’ve teased there being a hopekook relationship and this chapter touches on their relationship a lot. i dont think it will make anyone uncomfortable because its explicitly stated their love is not sexual- but just a heads up!
- Hoseok and Jungkook cling to the side of a building, their feet gripping the bare inch bricks just narrowly. This library is old, with drafty long hallways and a crumbling facade that doesn't help their predicament, every other brick crumbles when they step to it.
- Every few shimmies Jungkook’s feet slip a little and fear lurches in his gut. he uses every bit of his body to cling. Hoseok has no such misgivings about falling into open space- now the arrows- that might frighten him. Their backs are weighed down with books that make it hard to move, while arrows clang below them against the red stone.
- One almost hits Jungkook’s head and Hoseok shoves it closer to the wall. Panic keeping it laced in Jungkook’s hair, “Keep your head in you idiot!” he shouts over the din and clank of metal armor. The nights and soldiers below them that gather. Every metallic clink against the stone another person come to kill them. Jungkook only grins, but flinches when one strikes closer to Hoseok’s head.
- Searching for books in the human realm isn’t an easy task. Not when all too often they face opposition like this. The humans might be semi-hostile to Jungkook but everyone is out for dragon blood. Enough of the men from this area have already been sent west to the war, but the sheer number of arrows shows that there are still soldiers here guarding this stronghold.
- They hadn’t been here until Jungkook and Hoseok had been spotted. It had been Jungkook’s fault. Dropping a book that echoed loudly- then someone had seen Hoseok’s horns when his hood had fallen and it was all over from there- they’d been made.
- One arrow pins Hoseok’s shirt to the brick as they shimmy along and he rips it loose without a second thought. He can’t shift when it’s like this- it’s too dangerous. Too likely that one of those arrows would hit him and hurt him- unless- “Kookie? any day now!?” Jungkook’s wide eyes are a balm against Hoseok’s frustration, lighting up with blue magic when he puts two and two together. “Oh! Sorry- I’ve got it!”
- The push-pull tide of magic fills the air, trembling with it as Jungkook’s arm glows bright blue along with the whites of his eyes. Every time Jungkook uses his magic Hoseok feels a protective pride flare. Especially when he hears and sees the arrows fall to the ground with a few dozen thuds. Another soldier tries to loose one and it falls like it’s made of lead. Maybe it actually is- maybe that’s the avenue the magic has chosen to take to stop the arrows.
- The soldiers below them stop their flurry brought to awe as the magic makes everything still (even them). The rust crusts in the joints of the armor bringing it to a squeaky halt. The break in the fighting finally gives him an opening to shift. And soon Hoseok is clinging to the side of the tower with claws instead of hands, wings stretching and fluttering. Jungkook gets on his back, a difficult maneuver with the precious books held close.
- One of them slips out and falls onto the stone, and Hoseok swings back around so that Jungkook can lean from his back, hooking his foot around one of Hoseok’s spines and reaching to scoop it up before he rights himself- abdominal muscles straining As he leans over and snatches it from the rooftop.
- Hoseok makes a noise and Jungkook interprets it. “Who you calling a showoff?“ he grins then settles in for a long flight back into dragon territory. A simple strap around Hoseok’s waist keeps Jungkook pinned to his back. It helps to at least elevate some of the strain.
- The first time they’d ever flown 12 hours straight, Jungkook had slid off of his back with a thunk. Looking up surprised at Hobi who’d sniffed through his hair worriedly, wondering why he’d fallen. “I don’t think I can move my legs” his muscles too sore to even clench.
- Hoseok had been laughing when he’d shifted. Helping pull Jungkook up- only to have him fall back down again. “You look like a baby deer Koo, come on- help me unpack at least.” They’d spent the rest of the night huddled around the fire, and not once had Hoseok complained about having to get up to fix dinner or stoke the fire.
- Hoseok and Jungkook have been hunting books on and off for the last ten years, it’s not like they’re unused to unprovoked aggression from the humans. Their two sides are at war- and it’s a wonder the humans aren’t more curious about the ragtag pair of book thieves that have been periodically dipping over the battle lines and raiding their libraries.
- Jungkook wonders what rumors if any, are lingering in the human lands. Jungkook would give anything to keep the smile Hoseok shoots him when he asks one night, “What you think they’ll make urban legends about us in 100 years? Keep your books close and your enemies closer?”
- Whatever the rumors, the pair can only hope that none of them make it back to their father and their uncle. If yoongi got wind of what Hoseok and Jungkook were doing without permission- then he might be tempted to end the war just to make sure they stayed safe. But What Yoongi doesn’t know won’t hurt him. If Hoseok and Jungkook were flitting in between the human lands and the dragon lands on occasion just to see if the nearest city even had a library- well then that’s just that.
- Hoseok and Jungkook never spend more than a month or two away from Yoongi and you. The timing of their homestays Often hinging on how successful their search is going and how many books they’ve collected. Hoseok can only carry so much on his back. They don’t mind coming back periodically to visit and drop off another load. If anything- it gives Seokjin and Yoongi an excuse to take a break or two and the young ones an excuse to enjoy a little coddling.
- Yoongi’s doing better, recently he’s started taking more flights like he used to when Jungkook was a kid. The air does him good and he no longer looks like guilt and sadness and longing are eating away at his soul- like he only comes alive when you wake.
- Over the years, Yoongi has read himself into a tizzy more than once. Always to be brought back by Seokjin encouraging him to rest his eyes and put the books down for a day or two. “This just doesn’t make any fucking sense- first the fairy anatomy and then this- if we could only get our hands on- ugh!“
- Yoongi is about to throw the book and would have if Jin hadn’t caught his wrist. snatching it out of the younger mans hand. Before he can- sparks light up the spine. Yoongi’s anger and fire meeting in the middle- the heat dosent hurt Seokjin’s hand as he extinguishes it with a brush of his palm. Cooling yoongi’s frustration with a knowing look.
- “Yoongi, you need to sleep.” Yoongi doesn’t fight him on it though both of them know he could if he wanted to. He’s been up for days and the bags under his eyes look dangerously like bruises. “Rest is an investment into future productivity Yoongi- you can’t read forever like this without resting your eyes every now and then.”
- Yoongi has always found it hard to sleep with you gone, why waste the hours when every second spent brings them closer to a cure for mortality. Yoongi hopes it’s only a matter of time and not a matter of ‘if’ they’ll be successful. that question keeps him awake no matter how many days it’s been since he slept.
- The next time the boys come home carrying a pile of books for Seokjin and Yoongi to go through Seokjin gives them a look, fingering the spine of one. He corners both of them later- when Yoongi’s away in the kitchens putting a meal together. Happy to have them all home the nesting instinct itching under his skin.
- He fingers the edge of Hoseok’s shirt, his fingers hooking through an edge and tearing it further with a rip. His magic flares just as quickly to fix it and the tear is gone before the shock has left Hoseok’s face. Seokjin raises an eyebrow at Hoseok’s surprise. Seokjin is dressed in a flowy deep plum shirt- parted to show his chest, the rock at the hollow of his throat pulsing with life but swimming with something darker.
- He’s rightfully angry, “I know an arrow hole when I see one, where have you both been where you’ve been being shot at? Hopefully not in the human world” He taps the side of the book in his hands, “And I distinctly remember losing this book over a night of cards with a wizard 300 years ago- so there’s that too.”
- “It was only once-“ Seokjin gives them a withering look and they both melt “okay- maybe more than a few times, but you know how frustrating it was? For us to stay behind and-”
- Seokjin knows why they had to but still can’t reconcile that with his protective instincts. Before they can go any farther Yoongi comes back with a plate full of sliced meats. The fireplace crackles happily in response to him and Hoseok helps Yoongi set up a grate to fry it. The same recipe for marinated meat that you used to make them when they were children. A celebratory meal steeped in tradition and familiarity to welcome Hoseok and Jungkook home.
- Hoseok starts the discussion when Seokjin asks- pointedly if finding libraries and old dragon castles in the countryside and in the mountains had been any harder than usual. It has been- they ran out of places to search for books in the dragon lands years ago. Though they still occasionally spot a new one when they go over the mountains again. A hidden hovel or a falling down castle that’s abandoned or inhabited.
- “You’ve said it yourself Seokjin; a good portion of our family's records are on the other side of the world. I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal, Hoseok and I are more than capable of looking after ourselves.”
- Seokjin sighs, running his hands through his hair. Whatever spell he uses to keep it dark must be wearing off, the tips are looking a little silvery these days, it’s Probably stress. The pile of books in the study that they’ve gone through is becoming cumbersome as well they can barely walk around it. There are probably more than 30,000 that Hoseok and Jungkook have collected in the last 10 years.
- What Jungkook’s saying about their family isn’t wrong; Seokjin’s family did settle on the human side of the mountains first. They were responsible for enlightening humanity to the finer parts of magic. Without Seokjin’s family- the humans would probably still be waving sticks around and hoping for gold on the other end. The books they hunt for are the first records and spell books of witches and wizards that were taught by Seokjin’s father or books from the man himself.
- Not that their paltry party tricks could ever compare to the kind of magic that Seokjin and Jungkook were capable of. But the witches and wizards guilds do have strength in numbers. One which might have a droplet compared to the ocean of a sorcerer’s power, but 100? 1,000? That might be enough to match some spells.
- If the struggle at the border was enough to judge the powers of the guild, then they certainly were a formidable force to deal with. Their spells enchanting the humans swords and armor, making them resistant if not impervious to most fire. That was the only reason why the dragons hadn’t been able to immediately decimate the human army. They had to fight the harder way- with tooth and claw and brute force.
- The dragons would always have strength on their side and the humans would always have the numbers and carelessness with their lives. So short- you’d think they’d be more careful with their lives- but no. Over the years the death tolls have risen on both sides. It helps the human’s odds that they outnumber the dragons five to one.
- It’s been years since they left home- though it still feels weird to think of them ‘leaving’ in any capacity since they still come back almost as much as they leave. In the past few years, Hoseok and Jungkook have often flown across the battle lines or near them. But never close enough to see the battle or the carnage.
- Most of the time they divert their course north and fly over the tall mountains through brisk winds that would have Jungkook's muscles chilled for hours. a predicament usually only fixed by Hoseok curling up with his warm throat and chest cuddled around his too cold soulmate. quieting the protective urge in his stomach that said to breathe fire over the sorcerer- some sort of instinct, probably something instinctively dragon that he barely manages to repress.
- They’ve hunted books through the crags of long empty castles, through cities forgotten and new. They spend a good two months last year in the smaller dragon city to the south. Yoongi sniveled his nose up at them when they told him that’s where they wanted to go next. It felt a lot different than the northern city, the buildings rough made from wood and easily burnt and rebuilt. Definitely wilder and less aristocratic than the north.
- It’d burned down in the last war- so it’s no wonder the dragons there seem less attached to the buildings. some dragon had lit their board house on fire the first night they’d been there, roused from smoke and a shout. hoseok had shifted and carried jungkook out with his teeth hooked into jungkook’s shirt- lifting the younger like a cat would a kitten.
- Seokjin had gifted a map to Hoseok for his last birthday. It’s a delicate bit of magic, spelled to be paper-thin and bendable but the ink never fading or flaking off. Unable to be ripped or stained. The little red dot that shows Hoseok’s location and a black dot for Jungkook's. It changes each time they move- so that they know exactly where they are. Hoseok’s dot even gets a little more feathery when he shifts. The ink feeling fuzzy to the touch.
- The battle lines to the south also change too, rusty orange ink rough to the touch- with every league that the dragons push into the human lands ticking a lines with on the map. all So that hoseok knows how far he has to fly out of the way to avoid it if he wants too.
- Jungkook is just a little bit curious to see what dragons look like in battle, but a cautionary look from Jin and his father was enough to extinguish that possibility. “Trust me- it’s not a thing you should want to see” their father had said cryptically. “You never talk about the last war dad- what was it like?”
- “Bloody and long” was all Yoongi had answered. Because in truth- he’d given as much as he could give to that war. The end had left him broken and with the taste of blood in his mouth that just wouldn’t leave. He’d spent months looking for something in the mountains- an itch under his skin that wasn’t for more hoard.
- The wanting hadn’t abated until he met you and known deep in his bones that he’d never fight for another thing in his life. he’d found what his dragon soul hungered for more than gold or diamonds or anything that glitterd. a family- his hatchlings and his mate.
- But Hoseok and Jungkook are fully grown now and Yoongi still finds himself begging them not to go close to that battle- to stay out of it. Feeling like control and safety is slipping through his claws. The thought of both of them- of gentle Hobi and curious Jungkook getting a taste for carnage like that- Yoongi doesn’t ever want it to happen.
- Even though they already did that day in the manor house all those years ago. Still- a father can’t help but want to protect his hatchlings. Even if they’re both taller than him now they’re still his hatchlings. Jungkook especially likes to playfully lean his arm on his shoulders And Yoongi can’t ever correct him. He would let the youngster do anything without little more than an annoyed sigh, just as he had let him swing from his horns when he was a baby.
- When Seokjin had gifted the map, Hoseok had asked why they’re where two dots and not just one. “In case you get separated” the older sorcerer had said, a faint flush on his cheeks as he let Jungkook manhandle him into position on the couch perfect for snuggling. Sending smoke-filled bubbles to smart Jungkook’s nose when he keeps touching his thighs and rolling his eyes at his nephew’s endless touchy feely-ness. But even Hoseok can see the way that Seokjin relaxes with both of them around. Their presence a welcome reprieve from-
- “Yoongi- would you mind not breathing your lizard breath all over your sons?” Seokjin says haughty. Yoongi raises his massive head from where the coffee table should be (moved to make room for yoongi in his dragon form). blinking at Seokjin before his tongue darts out to lick at Hoseok’s hands- ignoring the older sorcerer.
- Hoseok can feel his happiness rippling out from his father at having his hatchlings back in his nest. He flicks his tongue out to hit Seokjin’s palm too and the elder recoils with a disgusted noise that makes Hoseok and Jungkook laugh.
- As if on queue, a book on the shelf falls, interrupting the moment.
- Every head flicks in the direction of the movement, the flecks of dust in the room pause, hanging in its shafts of light. the air too still to be from anything other than Seokjin’s magic or Jungkook’s- it doesn’t discriminate. After another moment. Hoseok gets up and puts the book back. the spine feels warm to the touch and for a moment- Hoseok holds onto it- savoring the warmth before he puts the book back on the shelf.
- There have been more moments like that than they’re all willing to admit, and despite their conversations- no one wants to admit what it is. The things that move on their own or flowers that Seokjin’s watched be plucked and fall to the ground in neat concentric circles. He’d gone out into the garden and found a whole pile of blooms- piles around a suspiciously shaped lump. It’s always the multi colored ones. Those moments are as startling as they are special.
- Everytime you wake Seokjin scolds you for it.
- “You realize the more you try to act outside of the dream world the more likely it is that you won’t be able to return back to your body?” Seokjin had snapped. Tae a happy puddle in his arms. You’re tearing into the food on the table while Tae just nibbles. He’s never hungry in the mornings really. Hadn’t been even when he’d been awake.
- Yoongi wonders if it has anything to do with the little field trips your soul takes outside of your body. The breaks you take from dreaming when you travel as a ghost in their world. Moving books and picking flowers and the countless other little moments.
- “It’s not like I’m trying to control it Seokjin, it just kind of happens. when I watch you guys- when I feel closer to you- it's easier” you definitely do not mention you’re only ever knocked out of your body after you’ve had a nightmare, but Taehyung knows. He looks up at your words, an egg yolk sliding out of his spoon and onto his plate bursting golden.
- Taehyung meets your eyes and you shake your head imperceptibly, and he keeps eating, declining to offer up the information that would surely make Seokjin and Yoongi more concerned. But the clock is ticking- and they only have 18 hours with you this year. No one wants to waste it arguing even if it does scare Yoongi.
- Every time when you wake and it takes a little longer for you to stir, Taehyung always awake and upright before you. Yoongi stroking your back in small circles- calling your name as you furrow your eyebrows and blink awake. kissing your face a few dozen times before you’re truly back. It only took 3 kisses the first year- and now it takes at least 8. Yoongi’s the kind of dragon that keeps track of that sort of thing.
- Later in their own private time together- Tae asks Seokjin with a pout “Why can’t I come out of the dream world to see you guys like she can Jinnie?” Seokjin washes his back in the bath, his hand warm and soapy. Jin exults in washing his love with long strokes, a little scratchy just the way that Tae likes it. just gentle enough to make his love squirm and make the water slosh against the sides of the silver tub. “It's not a thing you should want Tae, none of us know the long-term effects.”
- “But still,” Taehyung’s eyes are like warm honey over peaches, “it would be nice to see you more often.” Seokjin hums a gorgeous sound and Tae relaxes further into his lover's hold. Seokjin’s hands thumbing along his sternum counting his ribs and indulging in the touch. Tae shivers, shifting uneasily in the water, neediness sinking into his core like hot fire. Seokjin’s hand slips below the water and the layer of bubbles.
- “there are any number of reasons why the magic doesn’t want to work on her. It’s been a while and she’s probably just getting used to it, I probably just have to tweak the spell a little bit for y/n” Taehyung sighs, Seokjin’s mouth swallowing a bitten-off moan, kissing down his lovers throat and forsaking his mouth. Tae’s hips rock up, knocking the warm water out of the tub and onto the slate floor with a slosh that neither of them pay much mind to. “I’m not sure I want to hear another name from your lips when you’ve got your hands on me.”
- Seokjin smirks against Tae’s neck, the movement of his hand keeping up its pace under the water. His actions and his sly smirk betraying his words “Why wouldn’t I? We’re having a conversation, aren’t we? Or is something distracting you my love? Would you rather have me chanting your name?” like an incantation- if love were a spell then tae and jin would have the strongest.
- It is nice to see your family even for a few seconds on the occasion that you leave your body. It makes you feel like you’re helping, even just a little bit to watch over them. You try to disrupt something just to let them know you’re there. The first few years- the only thing you can manage is blowing out candles. but it gets easier to move books or make pages flip over as time goes on. and you get to ruffle their hair or pet over it as they sleep Where you stand and watch. Making sure their dreams don’t turn into nightmares.
- You wish you could say the same for your own dreams, but those are far more difficult to control.
- Often Yoongi will look at whatever just moved, and speak into the open air, through the glass barrier of the dream you can barely hear him. But he’ll go to the couch and sit, hold out his hand palm up on the cushion and you’ll touch it. Knowing by the way he shivers- that he can just barely feel the shape of a hand touching his. Yoongi has always had a thing for hand holding. And it’s worth it- just from the way he smiles.
- But too Yoongi it just feels like you’re already a ghost. It just makes him yearn for a time when it wasn’t like this. How will it feel? When he’s been without you longer than he was ever with you? If they don’t find a cure for mortality soon- then he’ll find out. His boys too.
- It feels like he can almost taste you on the air when you come and visit them in-between your naps (its easier for Yoongi to say they’re just that- just really long naps- even if it makes him feel childish, the weight of ‘eternal sleep’ is just too heavy on his mind some days).
- For that reason, he favors his dragon from more than his human one these days. it’s not like he can see you at all in either, but he can tell when you’re there and almost smell you when he’s in dragon form. And that feels more real than curling up around your coffin upstairs (or when he starts to worry that you actually are dead- that you won’t be able to come back).
- It’s been a long time since they started searching but it barely feels like a second to them. Like hardly any time has passed at all. Such is the way of immortals- years pass like months, and days like hours. It’s been years since Hoseok and Jungkook truly stopped aging. They’re both frozen somewhere in their twenties, their hair keeps growing, but their faces never change, their bodies don’t change either accept to get stronger or weaker with the care they show them.
- Jungkook doesn’t like to think about his age when he can help it. He still feels like a little kid whenever Yoongi and Seokjin look at him, sharing a special secret adult look that he’s not sure he’ll ever be capable of giving. He’s very content to stay the baby of their little family.
- But being the baby also means that Jungkook gets treated like a child too.
- “We’ve been over this, it's too dangerous boys,” Yoongi says it like it will make his heart break to see them in danger. If Yoongi knew they’d been shot at- even by one arrow- he’d fly over to the human cities and start leveling them one by one.
- “Not anymore, we’re not kids dad” Hoseok looks fluffed up, his curly hair and wild, so long it almost brushes his shoulders like Jungkook’s. (More than once Seokjin has snipped his fingers threateningly at it, “you both look wilder than the wind I swear, one night I’m going to take a pair of scissors to you whether you like it or not.”)
- That is just another thing that makes Hoseok ache all through his chest, and he’s never been able to put a finger on why it makes him uncomfortable. The thought of needing to have short hair for whatever reason. The same feeling lights up in his chest when Jungkook continues- “ right! we’re not boys- we’re men!” Jungkook’s swinging feet under his chair beg to differ.
- Yoongi sucks on his lower lip, hands tightening over the back of Jin’s chair. They talked about this possibility while the boys were gone, after the last time when they had a similar argument. In the years since your departure, Jin’s taken on something of a parental role with the boys- and it’s nice to have a second set of ears again. Even if it would make both Yoongi and Jin shriek indignantly to be compared to anything like what you and yoongi had. “They’re not children anymore Yoongi, you’re going to have to start letting them take their own risks sooner rather than later”
- “But I already did,” I already let them not be here he wants to say. Every single parental instinct of his telling him to keep his hatchlings close. But it’s better than it was before; now he rarely feels the urge to fly on after them and drag them back by the scruff of their necks. Sometimes when he’s out flying he pretends he’s doing just that.
- Seokjin taps his fingers against the table, sparks dancing between his fingertips. “As much as your parental concern is sweet, you have to admit- nothing can hurt Jungkook or me in any meaningful way.” Seokjin is being as soft as he can be. “You know this, and it's not like Hoseok is unformidable either.”
- Hobi gives Jungkook a toothy grin at that. Seokjin lets Yoongi stew with it for a moment. And the feeling in Hoseok’s chest dissipates. Strange. Though he’s glad to have it gone. Though he knows it will probably have him up later, turning in bed while Jungkook sleeps beside him in the little mock nests they’ve made together since they were kids. Sure that something must be wrong with him- something other than the feeling poisoning the happiness in his chest.
- “If you don’t let them go they might choose to go all on their own. Would you rather find out after? Or before?” Hoseok and Jungkook barely manage to keep a straight face. Their father will put two and two together if they even so much as grin. Yoongi’s pout as he looks down at the table and weighs the options is cute. Under the table, Hoseok’s leg jumps with nervous energy.
- You certainly think letting them go is a better option- standing in the corner of the room, not that any of your family can see you when you’re like this. A specter and a ghost and just as lonely. How your hand itches to reach out and smooth out that pout on Yoongi’s face. But you can’t, not in this form. Upstairs in your glass coffin, your hand twitches. Reaching out to do the touching that your soul wants to do.
- Yoongi can’t argue with logic like that even if he wants to. Honesty and freedom are better than a protective cage and lies by omission on both sides- no matter how loving the cage is.
- “You can go-“ he starts, interrupted by Hoseok and Jungkook’s excited whoops, Jungkook tossing his chopsticks into the hair where they hover and spin like pinwheels, before he jumps to Hoseok’s side, grinning at him while Hoseok pumps a fist in the air. The fire in the hearth flares higher from Hoseok happiness Sending sparks onto the floor. “yahhhhhh you’re going to burn the meat, and this carpet is 500 years old!” Seokjin fans it with his hand as if to knock the sparks off of the carpet and back onto the slate.
- They pull themselves over to Yoongi’s side and drag him into a tight hug, Jungkook pressing his forehead against Yoongi’s cheek in thanks. Yoongi goes stiff at first and then melts as they squeeze him tight. Hoseok hooking his chin over Yoongi’s narrow shoulder. Pulling away only to immediately begin to lay out plans of where they want to go first. Jungkook jumps up to go get that map, already dreaming Cities and wizarding guilds that they only know from the maps and Seokjin’s stories.
- Not that they haven’t been to half of them already- but going there with Yoongi’s blessing is much more exciting than sneaking around behind their backs. There were a few places that they were too worried to brave alone and without backup should something bad happen. But Now they can ask questions and learn where more books might be hidden, what cities to avoid and the secrets Seokjin might know of each.
- “Maybe a little bit of a change of scenery will do you good” Seokjin comments, a small smile tugging at his lips at the boy's excitement. Hoseok almost asks if he wants to come too- just to get out for a little bit. But the moment passes when jungkook unfurls the map in front of the hearth. Seokjin never leaves Tae’s side unless he has to. “I’ll teach you some cloaking spells and the like to hide Hobi’s horns.” His hands hover on Yoongi’s shoulders, reassuring him that he’s made the right choice.
- Weeks later, on the other side of the mountains Hoseok and Jungkook cling to a rooftop again pressing their bodies close to the slate roofs. A few new books in their bag and a group of angry soldiers shouting at them from below the parapet, enchanted arrows seeking them out until Jungkook cuts them off with a wave of his hand, learning to do it first off rather than wait until they are shot at.
- “Was this what we bargained for Hobi?” Jungkook asks with a grin as he looks over at his soul bonded partner. Hobi answers his grin with one of his own. “Maybe more- but I think we’ll raise hell either way.” Jungkook laughs, “imagine dad’s face when we tell him about this.”
- There isn’t a place they’d both rather be.
- Hoseok and Jungkook don’t like to fly at night when they can avoid it. but they need to when they’re closer to the border- where traveling bands of warriors might have sneaked around the battlelines and sunk into dragon territory. It’s safer to sink into the humans lands under the cover of night and fly up ahead. They’ve flown too close to traveling bands of warriors during the day before and though their arrows had fallen short it was still frightening to fly over a hilltop and be suddenly shot at.
- After accumulating a fresh thrush of books in a rather small library from the southern human lands- They’ll head to the coast for a day or two and stay at Jimin’s and Namjoon’s seaside cottage castle crossing over the mountains just north of the battlefield. It would be shorter to just fly straight home. But they have a few more books than usual this time. And the sea air and updrafts will make the flight north easier on Hoseok.
- Too many times have they overshot their load. only realizing when Hoseok had landed to find his once broken shoulder mottled and strained, unable to fly or even move it in human form for several days after. Staying at Namjoon and Jimin’s cottage always brings back fond memories too, though their favorite fairy and uncle Joonie isn’t there of course still south in the thick of the war.
- They’d run into Jimin a few years back- though they still send regular letters north to stay in contact. Jimin had spotted them in the skies and fluttered in their direction. One minute the only thing they’d been able to see was puffy clouds and the next, Jimin falling out of the sky whooping in joy when they saw them. His wings moving so quickly that they where nearly invisible.
- He’d made camp with them and lingered for as long as he could. It was nice to have someone familiar with them on the road. A face that loves them. And Jimin is perfect at giving them the right amount of affection.
- Since the wars started Jimin has split his time between helping Namjoon at the battlefront and going back and forth to the fairy world in an attempt to negotiate an alliance between them and the dragons. he’s Constantly trying to convince the royal family to come to the dragon’s aid.
- It’s not something jimin likes to consider- but if the humans managed to push through dragon land. They’re no telling how far they’d try to go. and if the dragons side seemed bountiful to human kind- then the fairy world would be something out of heaven.
- But just like the last war the fey are refusing to get involved and Just because they won’t help doesn’t mean Jimin won’t. He’s been Namjoon’s right-hand man in the war, the hidden second general to the dragon army. He’d even convinced a few of his brothers and sisters to join in the battle.
- “How do you actually get to the fairy world? Isn’t it like- on the other side of the ocean? Can you fly that far?” they’re stretched out around a fire, the woods a dark and impenetrable barrier beyond their little hallow of sparks. There isn’t anything that the three of them fear in these woods. though they had heard the single howl of a wolf earlier- lonely and echoic in the tall hills that eventually melt into the eastern mountains.
- Jimin had split his affection equally- running his fingers through Hoseok’s hair and head rested on one thigh and then through Jungkook’s on the other. It’s been a while since they’ve seen each other. Even longer since they’ve been small like Jimin misses. It’s hard to reconcile these gangly twenty-somethings with the tiny dragon and human he used to baby.
- Jimin doesn't like to think of the children now, the ones at the capitol without families (orphaned or displaced by the war) or his own...forgotten hopes. War is not the time to want something so gentle. Not when jimin needs to be strong as much for his mates sake as for the world. Jimin needs to forget his own hopes now more than ever. Even if seeing Jungkook and Hoseok reminds him so much of those times when he’d felt like a parent- as close as he and namjoon had ever gotten to having kids of their own.
- Maybe as close as they ever would get.
- Jungkook and Hobi remember seeing the fey ships at the market. Their hulls like skeletons, made of silver and a strange clear material, not glass- but certainly not any kind of wood. Jimin shakes their head at hoseoks question- the fey world is not on the other side of the ocean. It’s an easy mistake to make. “ I don’t think I could fly there if I wanted to-it's more like stepping through a very cold doorway. You can come there with me one day if you want.”
- “Do you think they’d have anything that-“ “that would turn you immortal?” it goes without saying that Jimin knows why Hoseok asks. Sucks on their lower lip as their eyes turned shadowed with your ghost. God- Hoseok shivers, he hates thinking that you’re dead, hates when everyone acts like you are.
- “Probably not, fey have good memories and there isn’t much of a reason to write things down, but it’s still a beautiful city- makes home look like ruins,” Jimin says the words like he wishes he hadn’t already. Because all of them know how likely it is one day- that the dragon city might one day fall to ruins.
- There is more than one live ghost- that threatens to haunt them.
- Jungkook can’t help but remember that day as they get close to where they’d run into Jimin the first time. It’s been a long day of flying, and they crossed over the majority of the mountains in one good push. As the sun dips close to the horizon coloring the world in orange and gold, Hoseok and Jungkook spot a glittering speckle among the forested hills of the Southern part of dragon territory. A small waterfall that runs clear and strong.
- He leans over, gripping the band around hoseok’s waist with one hand and pointing in it’s direction with the other until he gets Hoseok’s attention and he spots it too, listing to the side and settling into a slow dive. Jungkook hooks his feet into the squishy side of Hoseok’s ribs to make sure he won’t fall off. His thighs protesting from the strain of gripping Hoseok’s back for many hours.
- He remembers when they’d been younger- Hoseok nearly flipping when they’d first flown together. Jungkook eager but still nervous on his back, hugging Hoseok’s neck so so tight. Jungkook remembers when his neck got thicker- and suddenly he couldn’t link his hands around it- how he’d clinged with every other muscle in his body- only airborne for a few minutes until they both plumited towards the ground in a way that made Jungkook’s stomach lurch. Tossed onto the soft grass in a flurry of feathers and dandelions puffing.
- They’d both tumbled, Hoseok shifting mid-roll spitting grass and dandelion fluff. “Stop putting your feet there! I’m ticklish!!” he’d laughed. That was a far cry from how he felt now, Hoseok was used enough to it that it didn’t bother him. Jungkook an extension of himself on his back, tucking close when they flew fast and leaning to help Hoseok make those tight turns easier.
- They’re not far enough away from the battlefront that they can entirely let down their guard. But they’re both tired enough to make the risk unavoidable. They’re Only a spare 50 miles away is where the fighting’s thickest. It’s probably okay, There probably isn’t any danger here. Maybe they shouldn’t light a fire- just in case.
- As Hoseok touches down into the pebbled bank of the waterfall his claws sink into the sand with his and Jungkook’s combined weight, buffering the trees with flaps of his wings. Keeping them tucked in tight so that they don’t hit any stray branches. Jungkook slides off his back- hitting the ground with a lurch, almost falling in his tiredness. Jungkook has always had that floppy puppy way about him when he gets sleepy- every bit of his body a little more limp and sweet than usual (if that’s even possible).
- The water runs clear and cold as Jungkook stoops to fill up their canteens, unlatching their packs from Hoseok’s back with a push of magic. The roaring from the falls nearly blocks out the sounds of Hoseok’s bones shifting. His hair windswept, fangs clicking against the ones on his lower mouth- what he needs to say doesn’t necessitate a full shift. “I’m going to circle overhead and find us a place to make camp okay?”
- It’s too dangerous to camp so close to a water source. They can hardly hear each other over shout over the thunder of the falls- let alone any intruders that might try and sneak upon them in the night. Jungkook makes a small noise in agreement, the hours of flying in silence lingering.
- Hoseok can tell his soul bonded partner is only a few minutes away from needing to sleep- probably even forgetting to eat, which is pretty typical as far as traveling goes. Jungkook will push himself to the brink before he drops, and it’s Hoseok’s job to make sure that doesn’t happen. He’d never say anything to Jungkook but it’s a little scary to see the magic sustain him even farther than Hoseok’s own stamina will take him.The magic will suppress his need to sleep and eat the more he uses his magic.
- When Jungkook stretches in the morning, arms above his head pulling his shirt up to show a few inches of skin, Hoseok takes each and every rib that shows as a reminder. As Hoseok circles overhead, he reminds himself that he has to make Jungkook eat something before he falls asleep.
- Hoseok usually does a good job of keeping Jungkook well taken care of and Jungkook takes care of him in turn. Many a night have they curled up together; Hobi in his feathers and Jungkook rubbing soft soothing motions over the sensitive’s scales of his face, they’re never more than a few feet apart these days.
- They go hours without talking during the day, but the silence never bothers either of them. Who else can you truly be silent with if not your soulmate? Sometimes- Jungkook looks at Hoseok and wonders ‘are you thinking what I’m thinking? Or are your thoughts and feelings just as much a mystery as my own are to me?’
- Is it a soulmate bond? Or just a soul bond? Sometimes, Jungkook isn’t sure- and finds himself questioning that which never should be questioned. he’d never asked Jin if his and Namjoon’s bond had drifted into more romantic territory- sensing there was a story there somehow that maybe the younger one shouldn’t pry into.
- Hoseok takes off, the wind from his wings buffering his clothes; the flowers that grow near the waterfall- red and bright, sway under the weight of their heavy nectar.
- Jungkook breathes in then out, settling himself into wait. It’s easier for Hobi to search while he’s not on his back; it’s a little harder for him to make his tight turns with all of that weight altering his center of gravity. No matter how hard he tries Jungkook doesn’t have the same sense of balance that Hoseok has. He’s been unseated by Hoseok landing in trees more than once.
- When Jungkook remembers enough to check back in with Seokjin, the elder is still very intent on teaching him how to alter that. Jungkook may have mastered a hundred or so spells, but he still doesn’t wield magic in the same easy way that Seokjin does. He hears his uncle’s voice now; ‘Breathe in Jungkook, feel the energy around you, the pulse of that which gives things their life- and you- your powers.’
- And ‘don’t get frustrated- you’ve got all the time in the world to learn magic. You can’t expect to be as good as me with only a few years under your belt... especially given the circumstances.’
- It's hard to find time to practice on the road, So Jungkook takes a second for this, closes his eyes, and reaches out, his mind like a bubble, the edges of it swirling and turning multicolored. He feels the offal energy in those red flowers. Poisonous his magic tells him, stay away- sweet but don’t eat. The water turns and curls and he feels the life of the little fish below in the deepest parts, the way the air moves as it falls with the water, and endless hello between the two.
- He’s so calm, so intent on being peaceful (breathing with the slowly moving things that are immortal like him) that he doesn’t hear the rustle of movement behind him. The sharp eyes that have caught his human scent and found it unwelcome here. The dragon in the woods. They eye the thin sword on the ground, the only one Jungkook still keeps for those just in case moments of misfortune.
- Jungkook hasn’t been a sorcerer long enough to smell like the magic, and this far into dragon territory; it’s no wonder why they consider him a threat. Though most dragons know there is another sorcerer alive by now or have heard of him. Yoongi is a historical figure after all, and their family does have proximity to Namjoon and the dragon council.
- Before they exhausted the dragon realms libraries they’d used that to their advantage often. There are many older dragons that own those old castles, charmed by his and Hoseok’s mere mention of the council. Many had asked how their father was doing.
- Hoseok was usually the one who talked with them and heard their grievances; (too many taxes, too few social programs- the usual), while Jungkook raids their libraries and fills out his little booklet so that he knows which books come from where. He and Hoseok aren’t intending to be thieves so hopefully they’ll be able to return them (Most of those books now sit in a pile in Seokjin’s library, pages unturned for years with no drive to give them back- but it’s the thought that counts right?)
- The dragons that hoard books are the worst ones to deal with- always-eyeing Hoseok like he’s here to steal their trove of musty moldy tombs. As if the golden bands that line his fingers and dot his ears now aren’t enough of an indication of where Hoseok’s proclivities lie.
- Hoseok’s hoarded object will be gold, not unlike his father. Though you’d once called Yoongi a crow- only interested in that which was pretty and shiny. Many a time when they were children, Hoseok had watched their father growl at you playfully and snag you close by your waist, snapping his teeth close to your neck and nuzzling there, “maybe that’s why I’ve kept you.”
- Most dragon folks are much more interested in Hoseok than they are in Jungkook. But the gossip mills and rumors haven’t touched the people here this far out into the countryside. No one knows who- or more importantly what Jungkook is.
- Least of all the dragon in the woods.
- The growl ripples and Jungkook straightens, searching in the cover of trees. The hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He instantly goes on the offensive, the waterfall behind him goes still in the magic as does the softly falling leaves, hovering in the air like baubles- like time has stopped.
- The magic reaches out at the threat with greedy hands, and the shadows part around it, letting in the hazy afternoon goldenness that glints off of sharp claws and even sharper teeth.
- Jungkook is used to dragons more so than he is to humans, but the sight of an aggressive one is still enough to have him nervous. He holds his hand out, showing that he’s unarmed. He sets a foot back- boot sloshing in the water, sending one of their packs tumbling in surprise. “I’m not- I’m not a threat- calm down- I’m no soldier.” his voice shakes.
- He’s never been one to attack first when it comes to dragons But this one stalks forward with Jungkook as it’s prey. Tail raised like its ready to attack. They’re about as old and as large as Hoseok if not a little larger and meatier. Their mouth sparking with bright yellow fire. Eyes angry and unchecked by restraint.
- And still- Jungkook isn’t afraid, and it takes him a moment to realize why, even when he sees the dragon preparing to spit jet of fire in his direction. It’s not that the magic has made him reckless; Jungkook just knows in his heart that nothing can hurt him.
- But if it tries- then the magic might act without Jungkook knowing. The magic will always protect its host and there’s no telling what damage it might do to his opponent. “Please- please don’t do that” why does is own voice sound tired to his ears? “I can’t be held responsible for what happens if you do.” If Jungkook weren’t scared for the dragon’s safety he’d release a tired sigh.
- Nothing is interesting anymore when nothing can hurt you.
- The dragon growls before spitting it’s fire- and Jungkook is just about to hold up his hands to throw the protective bubble around him when Hoseok falls out of the sky. Crashing down in front of him. Wings flaring to stop the fire from crashing into Jungkook. Dealing out a savage kick that sends the other dragon out of the shadows and into the light.
- Jungkook’s breath hitches.
- They’re the same species- or if not the same then similar. Their feathers mix in the fight- Ruddy red yanked out by Hoseok’s claws falling to the ground with Hoseok’s bright crimson coral. Rather spill feathers than spill blood.
- Hoseok doesn’t notice much about the other dragon beyond a particularly strong scent in his nose. When he spotted them overhead he acted without another thought. Air going out from under his wings and fiery anger filling his heart when he saw them. No one flashes their fire at Jungkook without him retaliating.
- He manages to pin the dragon for a moment before they turn, swiping out with their wing. Sending small stones scattering in Jungkook’s direction, One nearly hits his face before the magic hurls it in a different direction. Jungkook flinches regardless.
- For the first time- Jungkook can see the differences between Hoseok and his species. Where Hoseok has dark red feathers on his underbelly they have white golden ones, their secondary feathers are different too- striped with a slightly darker red like blue jays would be striped blue-black. Comparatively- Hoseok is more colorful but less ornate.
- Where Hoseok’s horns go in theirs point out, the other dragon tries to bash their head into Hoseok’s sideways. Hoseok flips them over with a push of his tail. Their wings tangle, flap against the ground in a thwack that leaves the poison flowers crumpled, but then Hoseok get his jaws around the other dragon's neck and the fight is as good as over.
- His growl ripples out along the forest floor making the leaves shake. He doesn’t mean to really hurt them but as the other dragon moves against his jaw and a little bit of blood splatters. A shallow cut on their neck. The dragon continuing to thrash even with Hoseok’s jaws around their throat until they yield. It's obvious that Hoseok is the only one out of the two of them that’s been trained to fight, those sparring sessions with their father and his schooling at the academy paying off.
- The dragon shifts below Hoseok. Red feathers melt away into red-brown hair. the girl that shifts below Hoseok is so much smaller and vulnerable compared to her dragon form. “You’re one of us! Sorry- just got startled by the human!” she’s not scared of having Hoseok’s teeth so close to her, still bent over her with his mouth parted, nearly as wide as she is tall. She pushes his snout away with one hand and Hoseok- blinking perplexed- lets her. She looks like the kind of woman that isn’t easily scared of anything.
- Her clothes are grubby and worn from weeks on the road, her skirt thick and woolen pulled over her legs. She’s doing a good job of concealing how scared she is but Jungkook sees her fear in the slight tremble of her shoulders as Hoseok stays shifted between her and Jungkook as if he doesn’t believe that she won't be a threat anymore. Hoseok’s tail flicks agitated, splashing into the water.
- Jungkook sees another flash of movement at the edge of his vision, brings up his hand in defense as he turns. But the smaller heads in the woods just look curious and frightened. Two other small dragons, a small one sandy with fluffy feathers, a hatchling whereas the other is shifted. Her horns are a deep bronze. They nearly get caught in the underbrush as she cocks her head like a bird.
- “He’s a city thing.” she comments at the smaller dragon, which sniffles and snorts around her waist. He curls around the shifted one with his head hidden behind their back. Shy- Just like Hobi was when he was younger.
- They’re others of his kind, the same species. Jungkook knew they had to exist but he doesn’t know why he’s so shocked.
- Hoseok finally shifts, obviously furious, a head taller than the woman and instantly combative. Her blood a harsh brand at his mouth, red and dripping around his chin. “Don’t you have a little more sense to wait and see if he was doing anything harmful? God-” freaking savages Hoseok curses internally- but then immediately berates himself for that choice of language.
- That kind of rhetoric was the words that dragons from the capital often used to refer to the dragons that wanted to exist out here where they were naturally more comfortable. Unburdened by the comforts and expectations of polite society. The girl tosses her long dark hair, matching his energy with her hands on her hips, “well he should know better than to come into dragon land unaccompanied-“
- “He wasn’t unaccompanied- he has me, I scent marked him this morning, and if you stopped to use your senses instead of just going fire first and thought second- You’d have realized he’s spoken for.” Jungkook remembers the scenting and barely suppresses a flush.
- Hoseok had extensively rubbed his chin all over Jungkook’s chest this morning. They’d been curled up in the dewdrops, staying cozy until the absolute last moment they had to leave the small clearing where they’d made camp, a hanging valley in the mountains. Secluded, safe, and quiet.
- It makes Jungkook shy to think everyone can smell that on him- that they’d been so close. and in the next second he’s questioning his own shyness- what was there to be shy about? Hoseok is his soul-bonded partner so it’s only natural…right?
- The girl sniffs the air, crossing her arms. The shallow gash under her jaw is already healing. Really- it wasn’t more than a scratch, and Hoseok won't feel guilty for that- not when it was her who tried to move when she obviously should have yielded the fight to him. “You’re right- he does smell like you” the way she says this- like she thinks it’s a bad thing but that’s rich when she stinks like something heavy and heady. A sweet scent that’s so strong it hurts Hoseok’s nose. No one else has ever smelled this way to him before.
- Another older dragon dashes through the forest, accompanied by a third- both of them are male and at least as old as Jungkook and Hobi. Hoseok steps a little more firmly in front of Jungkook. Hiding him from view.
- “What’s going on? We heard a roar?” the smaller one asks, though the larger of the two turns to the female dragon his eyes only for her. His thumb running against her blood-soaked throat, checking to make sure she’s not hurt. The second he verifies she’s not hurt he turns his attention to Hoseok, putting himself in front of her the same way Hobi had stepped in front of Jungkook. He even steps up- about to shove Hoseok but she catches him around the waist. Stopping him from hurting Hoseok.
- Jungkook takes a second to size the three of them up- he and hoseok could definitely take them in a fight, he shakes off his trepidation and steps up too- holding the glare of the smaller of the two men.
- More of that smell fills Hoseok’s nose and he wants to choke on it, or gag. Hoseok scoffs, arms rippling in his shirt. (Jungkook’s brain sure chooses the weirdest things to fixate on, but when did Hoseok gain so much muscle?) Jungkook reaches out to tug on Hoseok’s sleeve, “Hobi- it’s okay, let's just go,” Hoseok’s eyes lose their anger the second he looks back at Jungkook, hot fire melting to burning coals.
- Jungkook doesn’t like to be hated by dragons, even if he’s used to it by now and grew up with it. Hoseok’s priorities shift in a second; to getting Jungkook away and where they can be alone and safe unthreatened in their little bubble. He’d rather make sure Jungkook was safe and comfortable than devote any more energy to these people. “It doesn’t matter Hobi.”
- The woman that Hoseok’s fought goes white as a sheet, her knees going weak in a second. “What did you just say?” the beefier male dragon steps forward and Hoseok barely manages the impulse to cover his nose. The other one sends a nervous glance at the two of them, then back at the kids.
- A knowing look shared between all of them, and Jungkook is hit with the realization that something is about to change. And in the same second, it happens before Jungkook can tell what it is and protect Hoseok from it. The woman pushes the beefy man to the side, stepping up to Hoseok.
- “Did you just say Hobi? What’s your name?” the woman is still staring at Hoseok open-mouthed, and all at once- Jungkook sees it. The same way their hair falls, their face shape, their similar small noses, and their eyes. The kind of familiarity that only genetics can cause.
- “My name is Hoseok,” Hobi says, and she rushes forward, tears spilling over her cheeks, Hoseok flinches back from her hands, “I thought you were dead- I thought you were gone- Hoba- I’m so sorry- I-”
- Now it's Jungkook’s turn to put himself in-between her and Hobi. Catching her wrists in both of his. though the larger dragon’s nostrils flare at her being touched- he’s gentle when he takes her form Jungkook’s hold a second before her legs give out and she devolves into sobs. Holding her protectively against his chest as she cries, staring at Hoseok like she’s seeing a ghost.
- Hoseok looks stricken for a moment before it hits him “Dawon- my sister's name was Dawon. Is that you?” she nods, eyes still shining as she drinks in Hoseok, wiping the tears away so she can see him more. The other smaller male dragon grimaces- looking about as uncomfortable as jungkook feels.
- “You have a sister” Jungkook breathes, a weird feeling of betrayal welling up in him. “You didn’t tell me.” Hoseok is scared- that’s the only emotion Jungkook can pin down when he turns, his hand closing around Jungkook’s shoulder, “I didn’t know- I always assumed she’d died. And I haven’t-“
- Jungkook sees something settle between Hoseok’s shoulders, the tension dissipating “I barely remember you. I’m sorry.” And he really is, her sadness doesn't well in him a protective urge- he feels nothing at all but discomfort as he watches a stranger cry over him. He wishes he remembered her like she remembers him.
- “If it helps,” the dragon holding dawon says, “she thought you were dead too” he holds out his hand, “I’m Jinseok and this is my brother Felix, what’s your name human?”
- The little ones seem to be the perfect distraction- the midsized one shifting- while the hatchling bounds forward in their direction. Felix is finally knocked out of his reverie to try and snag them by their feathers but missing at the last moment. They flutter around Jungkook’s and Hoseok’s feet- curious at the newcomers. It gives dawon the opportunity to wipe her eyes.
- The larger one of them barely braves enough to sniff at Jungkook's hand, recoiling when he smells the magic sparking at his nose. Shifting with a pop. Her hair is red-tipped like Dawon’s, but black at the roots. “You smell funny,” she says before she pops back into her dragon form The smaller hatchling brushes up against Hoseok’s legs as a cat would weaving between his ankles.
- Though he doesn’t say it aggressively, Jungkook still feels his annoyance prick at this and at the whole meeting. “i’m Not human- but my name’s Jungkook, I’m Hoseok’s brother,” the small one shifts back and forth with a crack, “how can you be his brother if you’re not a dragon?”
- “Areum!” Felix scolds. trying to grab at her again as she shifts and darts away. “It’s okay- we- we can talk about it,” Hoseok says, Hand smoothing over the head of the smaller one, the hatchling presses up into Hoseok’s hand.
- As Dawon gets her feet underneath her the other dragon- Jinseok- who hoseok gathers is her mate judging from the way he’s been trying to comfort her steadies her with a hand on her elbow. He’s significantly meatier than felix- who like Hoseok is lithe and delicate by comparison.
- And Jungkook knows without being able to smell him that maybe- this means he’s an alpha. Not all dragons split themselves up into designations of alpha, beta, and omega. When they were younger Jungkook pored over every book they could come by about dragons to learn about Hoseok’s type.
- “Why are you even reading about me- you know you can just ask Namjoon right?” Hoseok had teased in the old library of their manor house, a book from jimin’s library on the study table. “Cuz I wanna know everything about you- don’t you want to know too? Which one you are?”
- “Not really- it doesn’t matter to me” and maybe back then it didn’t. Neither Namjoon or Yoongi were the kind of dragon that split into designations and neither could tell. Jungkook wonders if that’s still true. If Hoseok still doesn’t know- it’s been so long and Jungkook’s never asked, he wonders if the others can tell.
- “Come this way- we’ve already set up camp and you both should join us,” the smaller one shifts finally, hair fluffy and red-blond just like their feathers, tugging on Dawon’s skirt. He’s a soft sweet thing, barely more than a toddler. “why is it all like that unnie?” pointing behind Jungkook and Hoseok.
- They all turn, and Jungkook isn’t at all surprised to see the waterfall still frozen in time, no sound of it tumbling, still the same way it was when Dawon first attacked. The other small dragon tries to touch the water's edge and finds it impenetrable. Like it’s glass.
- Jungkook leans down and runs his hand through it letting it ripple slowly- much to the excitement of the youngsters who stand on the surface. Pouncing and trying to break it. Neither of them can break through the surface like Jungkook. “Kookie,” Hoseok asks, “sorry- that’s my fault.” He holds up his hands and with a flash the water unfreezes and resumes its rushing and roaring. The older child falls ankle-deep into the water, squawking and splashing back to the shore- Shaking her feathers out.
- The dragons go white, Felix mutters a low curse. “We’d heard about another sorcerer- but we didn’t think” Jungkook rubs his hands on his thighs, picking up his pack, suddenly shy. Still Hoseok and Dawon stare at each other- this time not trying to get close.
- Jungkook sighs, the heaviness in his chest aching. “You said you had camp set up already?”
- Hours later after the fires been stoked and the foods been made and the sun has set, Jungkook tries not to let the food in his mouth taste like ash. Rolling it against his tongue, the meat-rich with spices as he watches Hoseok and Dawon from across the fire. Ignoring the clamor of Felix wrestling the hatchlings into a makeshift nest.
- at one point tonight Hoseok had mistakenly referred to the two hatchlings as his sister’s children and she’d laughed, her mate blushing and melting underneath her playful look. They’re not her kids, but that they’re all orphans from one of the last attacks at the border before the war began. In much the same boat as Dawon was when their nest was destroyed. The group of three are on their way north to drop the youngsters off in the capital before they head back to the battlefront.
- the two children seem terribly attached to the group of three- Hoseok comments on this. Felix looks down at the small one- the little boy curled up in his lap, cheek pillowed against Felix’s thigh. His voice hushed and pained “We want to fight. Even if it means we have to leave them, we can’t take care of them like they need to be taken care of.”
- Jungkook doesn’t say that you were younger than he was when you first started taking care of him and Hobi. But things are significantly faster passed for humans. And maybe parenthood has more to do with personality and attitude than age. If Jungkook had to judge it- he’d say that out of this group- Felix seems the fondest of the hatchlings.
- Jungkook doesn’t intrude much onto their conversation. For the most part he just sits across the fire with his empty bowl and listens. Nursing his skein of wine that they’ve so graciously gifted him and Hoseok. Marveling at the refilling spell that jungkook shows them half way through the night when it begins to run dry.
They don’t notice the difference- but to Jungkook the wine tastes flat and bitter the magic stealing away the joy of its taste. There are some things that the magic just can't recreate and maybe jungkook’s just sensitive to that.
- But it does enough to liberate his anxiety regardless; Jungkook’s head is spinning as he watches the dragons, feeling apart from them on the other side of the fire. The two youngsters sleep on soft packs a little bit away, packs piled up to keep the light of the fire out of their eyes.
- “How did you- how did you survive? Did you run away?” (The memories that Jungkook’s seen flicker back across his eyes, a tiny Hoseok sitting in a treehouse nest, hiding until his mother came. “Stay here- your sister will be back in a moment” and then Hoseok leaving, heading out into the fray of the battle. So small and so so brave.)
- Jungkook tightens his lips. Hoseok knows what he saw that day when he became a sorcerer and they don’t have many secrets between the two of them. But this feels too private for Jungkook to pipe up. The fact that he might be the only one of the three of them that has a clear picture of what happened that day lingers on his mind.
- Jungkook wonders, and has asked Seokjin about how, and why- the magic showed him what it did. ‘I think it probably wanted you to understand, wanted you to know what had happened and how it did. Every sorcerer has a different specialty, maybe yours is time.’
- “I almost didn’t, I went out to fight but our parents were already-“ Hoseok cuts himself off. Everyone knows what happened and he doesn’t need to say it in any detail. “I went back for you- but you weren’t there- and the others were leaving.“ she doesn’t need to say anymore. Takes a swig of her wineskin too, the words rolling off her tongue better with the alcohol lubricating them. “Two other hatchlings got killed because I went back to look for you.”
- Hoseok doesn’t have anything to say about that. He’d been as good as dead, and she must have been about 11 when the attack happened. Hoseok would tell her that he forgives her but really there’s nothing to forgive. “What have you been doing since then, where did you end up?” Hoseok needs to ask- needs to know. What could have been his life if Yoongi had never found him?
- It says something that this woman in front of him left him for dead, while their father didn’t. Now that her scent buffs over him from the hot wind he thinks he recognizes it. In the first few weeks he’d been with you he remembers missing her scent. Longing to curl up around it and the rest of his nest.
- Hoseok remembers smelling Jungkook His snout pressed to Jungkook’s black curls trying to recreate the same smell. It smells kind of like family- but not really. Jungkook would never smell the same way she did- and that was a good thing. Hoseok subtly leans away so that more of it doesn’t get in his nose. Craving Jungkook’s clean sweet scent across the fire.
- “I ended up getting adopted by their rookery” she gestures to both of the boys Felix leans back on his hand's feet playing with the soil while he gazes at her fondly. Felix is the only one of them who doesn’t have horns, instead- his dragon mark manifests itself in his clawed feet.
- That’s how I would look at her if we’d grown up together Hoseok thinks. It’s clear they’re close though he can already tell her bond with the alpha runs deeper than her bond with him. “Their parents died three years ago in one of the first battles, we were sent north to the city and the academy before we were approved by the council to head south when we found them.”
- “Hoseok studied at the academy too” jungkook supplies quiet, no one but hoseok acknowledges he spoke.
- In their little nest, the two hatchlings breathe on, “we were trying to make it to the battlefront to finally fight but now that we’ve got them- we’re on our way back to the city.” Hoseok sees the way that Jinseok touches her hand, soft and cradling. It’s strange to Hoseok, who doesn’t often pick up on the scents of other dragons that those of his own kind smell so strong.
- Dawon smells sweet and cloying, like a baked cake or like an overly ripe fruit. Nearly spoiled. Whereas Jinseok smells like incense and burning oranges (a smell that Hoseok finds it hard to like to be honest), and Felix smells like the edge of winter and fall, clear air, fresh in a way. Other dragon’s scents have never been so pungent to him- even his own. if they smell so bad he wonders what he must smell like.
- “How did you…” Hoseok’s eyes hover on the tender way they hold each other hand, Jinseok brushes over the scent gland on the inside of Dawson’s wrist something so intimate and gentle. He can see the way she viscerally shivers. “You’re both mated right?” he asks, wants to know, both of them blush but nod eagerly.
- Felix leans back further. “I told them to wait until after the war but-“ he lifts his shoulders, “when you know you know.” Dawon smiles brightly in his direction, knocking her forehead with Jinseok. “You’re not-” Dawon sends a glance in Jungkook’s direction as if shaking her head at the very thought. Jungkook bristles (and so does Hoseok) but as if sensing some sort of possible conflict, Felix pipes up. “It makes sense that you’re not since you're like me, we don’t often mate.”
- Confusion replaces the tension as everyone turns to Felix, Hoseok’s eyebrows furrow. Something’s not lining up “what do you mean?” Jungkook asks. Hoseok is wide-eyed “how am I like you?” Felix- seeming to realize that he’s overstepped or supplied information that he shouldn’t have, has the good sense to look a little bashful. “You didn’t know? You’re a beta-”
- Hoseok and jungkook share a startled glance, hoseok's hands shake a little- he tries to hide it- but Jungkook notices (Jungkook always notices). Hoseok had never thought it mattered- but now it feels like it does. the way that felix says it- like it’s something to be happy about. “You didn’t know? ah- I’m sorry I didn’t mean to”
- “It’s alright it's just-” Hoseok looks down his hands tightening into fists, a small smile pricking at the corner of his mouth. “I’m a beta?” Jungkook can’t help but feel like he’s slipping even further away his breath hitching. Felix relocates to Hoseok’s side, taking his shaking hand in one of his “yes, you’re a beta- like me. there aren’t many of us left- even fewer now, but you’re a beta Hoseok.”
- Jungkook can’t stop himself, physically can’t keep himself in his seat at the sight of Hoseok and the other beta sitting so close on the tree stump. The way his sister seems so close on the other side in Jungkook’s spot. Felix touches Hoseok’s neck- the spot where Jungkook knows his scent gland is even if he can’t smell Hoseok the way the dragons do. explaining to hoseok what he smells like- It makes Jungkook’s blood boil with an acrid something that feels like wanting and shame at being so impossibly jealous.
- So he gets up and walks to the edge of the makeshift camp trampling someone’s feathers as he goes. Hoseok starts after him and the alpha makes an unhappy grunt at Hoseok leaving. Almost reaching out.
- Logically Jungkook knows Jinseok is his sister’s mate- so of course, he’d be worried about her younger brother leaving- especially if it hurt the feelings of Dawon. But Jungkook can’t help but hate that they’re already trying to stake a claim over Hoseok. Typical alpha behavior already trying to exert his will over someone he barely knows.
- Jungkook doesn’t know if Hoseok had felt his displeasure down the threads of their bond, but he calls Jungkook’s name again as he stalks into the woods. Jungkook ignores it, stomping carefully through a grove of ankle-high toadstools that glow a faint pink. They’re enough like to see by, and they illuminate the forest in great swathes. A fairy lifts its head from the surface as he jostles one, hissing in Jungkook’s direction as he disturbs their sleep.
- “Kookie slowdown- just STOP” Hoseok has never shouted at Jungkook and sounded like that. Jungkook’s so surprised he stops in his tracks. He steps on a toadstool and it winks out- the rosy glow beneath them diminishing. A flurry of sprites are startled from their hallow by hoseok's shout, the cloud moving sleepily away from the clearing, wings whistling in the quiet. When he turns around, Hoseok’s stricken expression is lit from below, his lower lip glossy from the wine.
- One of the things about their bond is that Hoseok doesn’t have to wonder if Jungkook is upset. He can feel it echoing hot into his own body, jealousy and anger and deep underneath- fear. Fear that Hoseok had found something he’d been looking for that Jungkook couldn’t offer.
- Jungkook can’t get the happy expression out of his head- the way Hoseok had looked when they’d told him. “I’m a beta” the smile like an answer he’d been searching for but hadn’t found. Jungkook couldn’t fit into that system- couldn’t be an alpha or a beta or omega. He could just be Jungkook.
- And For the first time, being only that doesn’t feel like enough for Hoseok. Hoseok had never cared that Jungkook was a dragon or human but now it feels like it matters.
- “Do you- are you going to stay with them Hoseok?” Jungkook’s voice doesn’t sound like his own. Hoseok recoils at the mere suggestion of it like he’s just been slapped “what?! Of course not- we’re going to leave in the morning? And then they’ll head south. Dawon and I have already talked about it while you were getting firewood.” Hoseok reaches out to grab Jungkook’s wrist but Jungkook takes a step back- out of Hoseok's reach.
- “It didn’t look like you had any intention of leaving just then” Hoseok steps forward into Jungkook’s space. Between them, personal space rarely exists, but now, Jungkook feels like he he needs some. Jungkook never thought their bond might hurt- but now he’s worried it is.
- “You don’t need to be scared Kookie,” Hoseok says because he can feel his fear, “I don’t want you to feel scared.” one of the terrible things about their bond is that Hoseok can feel everything every emotion. Good and bad, secret and shared all wound in an anxious ball that only Hoseok can tease through.
- “Maybe it would help- if I knew what you were thinking” because thoughts and feelings aren’t the same things. hoseok knows jungkook is feeling this way- but can’t understand why more than a good guess.
- Jungkook sits on the edge of a stump, a fallen tree, and beside him, Hoseok stoops to sit too. Careful to rearrange their feet so that they don’t hurt any of the toadstools, through the underbrush they glimmer and bloom more brilliant than flowers.
- They remind Jungkook of the flowers that grow in aunty Jimin and uncle Namjoon’s house. Jungkook doesn’t watch them, leaning his head on Hoseok’s shoulder, looking up at him from his perch. After a second, Hoseok pulls him closer, pacifying him with the contact.
- Hoseok starts slow. “You know im different.” it seems silly to say- to voice this when jungkook can feel the otherness in his bones. “that I feel like I’ve always been in-between kind of in the same way that Jimin’s been in-between.” jungkook’s egear nodds encourage Hoseok on to talk more.
- “I’ve never been worried about it because I knew- I know whatever it is- that I feel loved- I know you love me.” Jungkook’s heart feels like it’s going to shake in his chest, lit from below. Hoseok reaches out, touches his cheek in just the right way that Jungkook knows it’s not- not that sort of love. The thing that’s built itself into something formidable in his chest.
- A love that is neither purely platonic nor brotherly or romantic- something different and new and definitely not sexual but still love. Hoseok is apart of Jungkook’s soul in a way that nothing else could be. There is no space left in his heart. Nothing left for anyone else. All of Jungkook belongs to this and their bond.
- Briefly, he wonders if maybe all this confusion is just Jungkook’s magical body getting re-used to the bond. Jis magical body can feel it so much more than his human body ever could.
- “I know” Jungkook feels breathless- but the whole in-between thing, he knew that too. For years Jungkook Has watched Hoseok battle with his hair enough times to know that the frustration was deeper than any superficial change. Jungkook has seen the looks- the longing when he sees something pretty and golden.
- When they were younger, Hoseok jokingly put on one of your corsets, almost too big for him. You’d loved it- thought it was just the cutest thing and hadn’t made him take it off until bedtime. “I promise you don’t want to sleep with it on Hoseok.”
- “This- all of them- Dawon” Hoseok takes Jungkook’s hand- more of a routine then any motion- and unlike before Jungkook lets him. “that just feels like a reason for all of that- that discomfort. If i’m a beta- then it all makes sense you know? but still I-”
- Hoseok steals himself to say the next words sighing them out “-I don’t think I could love anyone the way that mom loves dad you know” Jungkook thinks those words should hurt. But they don’t. He’s been thinking about the pain recently. How their father is their mother’s constant shadow, a ghost that cannot sleep, a love that haunts more than it loves.
- No question. Yoongi would tear apart himself for you if given the chance. But Hoseok- Hoseok doesn’t know if he’s ever felt something like that with such intensity. Sure he’d fight to the death for Jungkook and fight even harder if something was to separate them. But was that foundation built on the same kind of love? Could more love even fit in the space of his heart- with so much Jungkook already filling it up? Could this love change when it has no room to grow?
- It would be easier if they were bloodily related, jungkook realizes- then there would be no question. But the fact of the matter is that any romantic relationships that they might have with other people would feel like too much of a betrayal on both sides.
- Hoseok and Jungkook cannot love each other the way Yoongi loves you. and yet- Jungkook doesn’t want that with anyone else. Can’t even think about loving someone who isn’t Hoseok. Jungkook holds Hoseok’s hand to his face for one moment, then lets it go- lets the idea of this fall away, “I’m sorry for getting angry- let's go back”
- When they go back Hoseok sits next to Jungkook on the log. The others give them both a measured look- like theyre trying to find any remaining discord between their bond, leaning back satisfied when they find none.
- Jungkook doesn't need to know what they talked about while they were gone. Especially when hoseok immediately launches into another conversation with dawon- talking through their childhoods- and the parents that they’d both eventually found. “I think you’d really like my mom, she’s like a healer- a good one too” Hoseok can’t help but boast. “Healed my shoulder after-“ he trails off but tilts to show her how he can roll it.
- Jinseok comes over and inspects Hoseok’s shoulder, tilting it between his big hands and unlike before- it doesn’t make Jungkook jealous, (but that might have something to do with Hoseok’s hand on his thigh). Jinseok’s eyes are appraising when he lets it go “of course you healed! I’ve taken a few tumbles myself over the last few years. Almost thought my tail was gonna fall off that one time.” Felix laughs and Dawon rolls her eyes at it. “Yes we’re all aware of your stupidity that one time when-”
- “You’ll always be my person Kookie- I don’t need anyone else. I don’t want anyone else” Hoseok tells him when they’re pressed close underneath their bed things, set out underneath the stars. They’re both Significantly more full of wine than they’d been before and Hoseok’s words are nearly slurry.
- “I think…I think I might be a little broken.” Hoseok’s says like the words are a secret, eyes fluttering with tiredness. Jungkook presses closer in reply like Jungkook is making up for pieces Hoseok might be missing. He presses his forehead to Hoseok’s. Hoseok smells like home- Hoseok will always be home to Jungkook.
- “If you’re broken, I’m broken too” Jungkook’s words are cushioned against the skin of Hoseok’s shoulder. That night, Hoseok lies on his back and Jungkook slings a leg over his thighs. they revel in the closeness, loving every moment.
- Jungkook is already asleep- but Hoseok speaks anyway. “I don’t need anything else but you Kookie.”
- The next morning the two groups part ways. Dawon hugs Hoseok so tight that Jungkook feels his own spine ache a little. Hoseok must have explained to her last night about their goal of saving you. she seems like she understands why they need to leave. But Even so, she’s a little teary-eyed, reluctant to let him go. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Hoseok nods, his red curls bouncing, not a hit of hesitation.
- Hoseok hands her a little scroll. If they do make it to the Southern front where Namjoon is, the scroll will make sure that she and her flock are well taken care of by their uncles. Hoseok thinks that Jimin and Namjoon would like his older sister. That she’ll fit in well with the army.
- It isn’t until a few days later when they’re staying at uncle Namjoon and Jimin’s house that Jungkook and Hoseok have a chance to talk about any of it again. Jungkook could feel the flickers of uncertainty down their bond, judging that Hoseok needed to parse through his feeling and figure out what he needed to say.
- They only stay for the night, happy to have a familiar bed instead of curling up under the stars before they fly north. The house is empty besides them, though a housekeeper still comes by every day to water Jimin’s plants and make sure too much dust doesn’t settle.
- They ready for a long day of flying in one of the many guest rooms. Jungkook is just leaning down to tie his boots when he catches Hoseok looking at himself in the mirror. Running a brush through his curls. Hoseok thinks back through his memories of this house- and of the fairy and dragon that should be here with them. And particularly- words that Jimin said to Hoseok long ago when he’d asked about Himin’s gender.
- Hoseok can’t remember how old he was- but he remembers the fairy bending down to his level in the garden. “To tell you the truth, being a girl or a boy doesn’t matter much in our part of the world. What matters is that you’re good to the people who need you and kind to the people that don’t when you meet,”
- Its that memory that gives Hoseok the strength to finally meet Jungkook’s gaze in the mirror. “I think…I want to grow out my hair.”
-“Like aunt Jiminie?” Jungkook asks, standing and moving to stand behind him, Jungkook’s hands play in the small hairs at the back of Hoseok’s neck, and he leans forward to sniff, Hoseok already smells like the ocean. “Yeah” Hoseok looks worried- like it might not have Jungkook’s approval. the set of his shoulders tense like he’s readying jungkook to say something negative. But there isn’t a change he could make that would put Jungkook’s love and devotion in jeopardy. hoseok knows that but the worry still lingers.
- Jungkook tangles a hand in Hoseok’s hair, his reflection grinning back at Hoseok- Boyish and beautiful in a way that makes hoseok ache. “We’ll grow it out together” and they do, flying back and forth across the world. When Jungkook cuts his- Hoseok doesn’t. All until it’s down to his shoulders. The first time Yoongi sees he doesn’t even mention it- not even a little bit- too busy preening and what can only be called nesting.
- It’s something he’s started to do over the years to relieve his stress, piling up every single soft thing in the room around where your glass coffin is. No doubt preparing for you’re waking in a few days. A healthy flush in his cheeks that hadn’t been there last time they’d been home.
- Seokjin doesn’t say anything, but he does tug on the end of Hoseok’s hair, twining the long red strand around his fingers. He doesn’t say anything like he might have before, sensing Hoseok’s tenseness. He leaves a few spells tacked to his and Jungkook’s door spells for hair lengthening and to change the color should Hoseok desire it.
- Yoongi is so happy to have them home he doesn’t even notice anything’s different until the day Hoseok gets into your makeup collection. It’s only for them, just a tiny bit of rouge on his cheeks and to plump up his lips. Yoongi puts down his book when Hoseok walks in, eyes tracking him as he walks in. and Hoseok feels the worry sink underneath their skin before Seokjin taps Yoongi with his book, and they both go back to reading.
- But when Hoseok goes to his room later he finds a tiny pile of cosmetics on his bedside table. A delicate sea green brocade shirt that’s flowy- all but the sleeves opaque and embroidered with tiny flowers. It looks like something jimin would wear and Hoseok touches it with a reference he doesn’t quite know how to handle. A fondness growing in his heart.
- The next time they leave, Yoongi corners him, while not corners him- but sidles up to him while he’s on the back patio when the sun is just cresting over the trees just past sunrise. Hoseok might be an early riser but Seokjin and Jungkook still need a little while to sleep. “So, should I call you she now? Is that better for you?”
- Trust yoongi to go straight to the point. He’s so awkward, so cagey and quiet. So obviously wanting to offer comfort and understanding but unsure how to reach out. He’s used to using the rolling pronouns with jimin, but to use them for his son- his child- will take a second. It’s better to ask than wonder.
- “No, not yet- if ever.” and then in the quiet of the morning, a simple truth, “they is fine for me dad.”
- “When did you know?” Yoongi has to wonder, had you and him not being open enough? You’d both never talked to Jungkook and Hoseok about jimin, but you’d both believed you’d raised your children to come to you when they had a question or a concern. And Yoongi doesn’t like the idea that Hoseok could have been holding onto these feelings for some time. too afraid to be honest.
- Hoseok doesn’t answer right away, because there isn’t a good one. Was it the way he’d never played with strictly the girls or boys in grade school? The way he’d often found himself clinging to you and wanting to dress in your pretty fabrics than the drab black clothes his father favored?
- it was hard to tell what if anything had made Hoseok first question their gender. Did his betaness cause it? Or was the difference caused by not settling purely into one side? “I met my sister.” is all he can say, the only bit of information it makes sense to proffer up.
- That- out of everything they might have said does get a reaction out of Yoongi. his hands tightening on the edge of the stone wall. “I didn’t know she was still alive.”
- “Neither did I” Hoseok busies their hands with playing with the flowers that have gathered along the rock wall, small and pink. The ever spring around them so delicate and careful. The exact way that Hoseok feels today. “She told me I’m a beta, and after that- it all kind of makes sense?”
- Yoongi makes a noise in the back of his throat. Then suddenly, turns his golden eyes on his…child. (That train of thought will take some time getting used to) “Well if there’s anything I can be doing better- let me know okay?” he pulses Hoseok in for a quick scent mark, and the sudden affection nudges a purr from Hoseok’s throat. But overall the conversation just leaves them feeling soft and taken care of, understood and accepted in a way Hoseok had never realized they’d craved.
- By the time they leave, Yoongi is pushing a small velvet sack of coins in their directions. “You should get a few things that fit you better the next time you're in the city.”
- And they do, Hoseok and Jungkook work their way through the cloth market with a vigor they haven’t found in years, fine silks and velvets- perfect for the cold weather up north. Most in rich tones of gold, purple and red- red is Hoseok’s favorite color. Hoseok gets their ears pierced on a whim- fills his studs with little bits of gold that make them glow when they catch sight of themselves in a mirror.
- And when they come back after a day of shopping. It's Jungkook who pulls him close. Running a finger over the corner of their mouth to correct the placement of their lipstick. A fresh tube. Sometimes Hoseok doesn’t bother putting it on, or with the more cumbersome pretty clothes, but if they’re going to see anyone, even if that someone is just Jungkook- the red lip color stays.
- When you wake a few months later; you cup Hoseok’s cheek- hands still a little shaky and reluctant to move. “You look-” you search Hoseok’s eyes for something- anything that would show misgivings, “it looks so pretty Hobi” Hoseok plays with their fingers in their lap. It’s a cute behavior, one that Jungkook’s noticed appears more as time goes on and hoseok gets more comfortable with changing their body.
- “Don’t you mean handsome?” they say, swallowing back a lump in their throat. Their long hair is pulled back today, to give the same appearance of masculinity at least from the front. Jungkook braided it this morning, he’s been learning how to do it for hoseok- not quiet as nimble with their fingers yet like Jungkook is. The moments in the morning when Jungkook brushes their hair and winds it back- are some of his favorites- the soft moments he can spend with hoseok. Hoseok didn’t want to scare you too bad, from the front- they almost look the same. “Not if you don’t want me to mean it. You can be pretty too.”
-It’s not until the next time Hoseok and Jungkook set out that they actually quantify it in words. “I think I’m like Jimin- well not- like jimin. But I think I could be.” aunty and uncle Jimin, who’s just as comfortable in a skirt as they are in a pair of pants. Jungkook leans over, combing through Hoseok’s long hair. Reaching down to the sensitive spot between his- their shoulders. “Okay” is all he says, but his smile is sweet even in the light. “That’s okay with me Hobi.”
- And it is- it always will be, as long as Hoseok has people like this, the ones that have always made him feel like it was safe to be himself- no matter what form he wants to take. Hoseok will be okay. At night, their arms tighten around Jungkook. “I want you to be okay too Kookie” Jungkook sleeps on, oblivious to the turmoil-taking root in Hoseok’s heart.
- Yes, he loves Jungkook, but can Hoseok really love in the way that Jungkook needs? Are they just keeping each other from happiness or is this the only thing they’ll ever need?
- In his arms Jungkook dreams fitfully. But down to his core, he knows If there was ever a time when he felt like he needed more from Hoseok- if what they have ever felt like not enough, He’d never do anything about it. Never ask for more. Never. They don’t need anyone else- no lover, friends, or mates. Just each other. Their bond will always be enough.
- The days spent waiting pass like sluggish honey for Yoongi, sweet when they meet the tip of his tongue but only a hint of the sweet eternity he promises you. They blend together for you- more than the dizzying cacophony of dreams. Sometimes you forget where you belong, and forget that you have to wake up.
- When you can- you strong arm and squirm your way into wherever he is, curled up around you and set a hand on his scaly cheek, there is a limit to how far you can go from your body, and that seems to be a fair mile from where you sleep. So if you wake when Yoongi flies, it’s enough to be able to sit in the garden and enjoy the flowers and sunlight. Every time you manage to knock yourself out of a dream, you can go a little bit farther. Like your soul is getting used to how it feels outside your body.
- And when you do actually stay in the dream world- lucid dreaming becomes an avid habit of yours. Taehyung teaches you how to do it. As dangerous as it is lovely to feel real things when you can, you do often get lost in the way you can change the world you’re in. Are you a god? Or just a dreamer? Taehyung’s hand in yours keeps you tethered. You wonder how he managed to keep his sanity living alone like this for so many years. In the dream world- days are years and years are eons.
- And what makes it worse is that you know it won't feel like so long when you wake- the sluggish feeling that not so much time could have passed even though you know it has. The spell around you keeps you dreaming like it's been days, while your body lives those hours as a second. Your mind and your body age out of sync.
- Yoongi’s timed it before, every hour he sees your chest rise and fall. One breath for every hour
- You feel like you’ve spent years in the dreams at this point, recreating each of your wildest fantasies. Though some feel too real not to be born of your memories. You dream of The walls of your cavern home that you haven’t gone back to in years, feeling the cold stone with a warm body behind you- Yoongi. Or hours spent just outside the front doorsteps of your manor house, waiting for Yoongi to come home with Hoseok while Jungkook plays in the field.
- Flowers that flash like beacons out of the corner of your eye, and then it’s not only Jungkook but Hoseok playing in the field too. Both of them running through the field and casting the dandelions onto the floor that spark like embers. Yoongi chases after them- both of them barely come up to his waist. You watch it from the corner of your eye knowing it will feel less real if you turn your head and look at the memory directly.
- The smell of cooking peaches stings in your nose- sour- and you know if you went into your house you could probably find taehyung there- cooking a peach pie. Though it’s a toss up if it would actually be him- and now just a memory you don’t have confused in this.
- You Watch as Hoseok flashes red from human to dragon tackling Yoongi to the ground with a warped grumbly giggle. Jungkook is quick to flop on top with one hand fisted and knocking against Yoongi’s chest, the other buried in Hoseok’s feathery coat.
-It makes you smile- the dreams- these memories are the only thing that makes you remember you’re dreaming. Because you know Hobi and Jungkook haven’t been that small for years. Your children are fully grown now.
- You wish you could go back to those times when it was simpler. And the dreams let you do just that, again and again until the memory barely feels real.
- What surprises you the most are the nightmares. They always bleed into your dreams the moment you least expect them and when you truly let your guard down. Ink darkening the edges of this story before you realize the badness is bleeding through. Anger and a wordless hunger tainting the happy moments.
- You dont think the anger comes from you- maybe its anger from the dream- the world that has found you an unwelcome guest. People aren’t supposed to sleep for so long. And the dream world tries everything it can to get you to wake up.
- Maybe it’s worried you’ll learn how to dream when you’re awake.
- The worst part about the nightmares aren’t the fear- It’s not the falling through the sky, or faceless men chasing you, monsters, or tragedies that you can’t escape. It’s that the nightmares don’t feel the same as when you were awake, no blurry edges- everything too real. These nightmares are born of your memories only to be twisted by the dream world into something more sinister.
- Sometimes you feel like they’re showing you the future- or if not the future- then something that could have happened to your family.
- The nightmares show you realities where Jungkook still wants to be a warrior. Ones where Yoongi never found him and you all meet another way, Not as a family but as enemies on the battlefield.
- In the nightmare, the war has come earlier with Yoongi at the head of the council. And he’s become everything he always feared he could have been, those whispered confessions he’d uttered to you and you’d uttered back under only the cover of darkness. “I think I might be a bad person” “it doesn’t matter if you’re good- just that you’re good to us Yoongi, and for the record- I think it shows the content of your character that you care so much- even when caring hurts”
- In the nightmare world He’s everything he would have been without you. Easily tempted to war without knowing softness and love, without having something to protect. And he’d never chosen a mate either- Yoongi is as lonely and touch-starved as he is bloodthirsty and violent.
- In this nightmare Hoseok is just another dragon soldier who hates humans because of what they’ve done to him. Hoseok and Jungkook first meet each other on opposite sides of the war. Not as brothers but as enemies. Does Hoseok fall by Jungkook’s blade? Or will Jungkook burn without ever knowing about the magic that lurked in his veins? Or worse- would he have found out and used his powers to aid the only people he’d ever known.
- Would he and Seokjin fought in that reality? Two forces so destructive that they could only take out each other- flattening the mountains and ending thousands of lives when they clash. You hear them- from where you watch them fight. the dream war is just as bloody and terrible as the real one- and it's worse to see your family fight.
- Seokjin’s face is tense, eyes slowly dripping blood as he holds the magic in his hands. and jungkook- jungkook looks almost evil. Jungkook’s words don’t sound like your son- his voice deeper- like the dream just can’t get it right “this issue here uncle- is that you have something to fight for and I do not.”
- You beg the dream world to let you wake up but Seokjin’s spell holds you there with ironclad hands.
- You wonder what’s become of taehyung in this reality. Would he have woken from his coffin without Seokjin’s magic to keep him there- or would he have stayed asleep? Never to be woken again? would he sleep the same way Seokjin does, chest broken open on the battlefield, his heart removed clutched in Jungkook’s hand?
- In the dream where Jungkook doesn't know he’s magical, you’re a medic for the human army walking along with the isles of the wounded. Treading over piles of feathers and blood to check the faintly moving chest of a young man, so beautiful despite the fact he’s nearly dead. You don’t recognize Jungkook when you look at him- barely 19 and dying without the magic to protect him and keep him alive
- Maybe it’s some consolation that this other version of you gets to hold Jungkook as he dies. Gets to soothe him and say, “it’s alright, it won’t hurt in a second, you just have to stop breathing and you’ll be at peace.” As he sputters and tries to breathe through his torn lungs. You know what those claw marks mean on his chest- that they’re too deep to ever heal. Jungkook only has minutes left with his shredded lungs.
- You’re so focused on comforting the fallen soldier that you don’t notice the beast that lurks in the shadows. Yoongi might be large but he’s also near-silent and invisible in the darkness. Yoongi only feels hate and not love as he watches you, fire growing in his belly. You might be a medic but you’re still a human and every man you save is just another that will one day fall. The kiss of fire on the back of your neck burns hot and painful one moment, and then the touch of his lips soft the next as you breathe through the nightmare.
- Those are the worst sort of dream because part of you is convinced that’s what could have happened if Yoongi had never killed Jungkook’s blood family. As gruesome as it sounds, you think you’d rather have it this way than be doomed to that fate. At least now- you’re all loved, though you’ll have to see if one day, the one you love becomes the reason the other dies. For both you and Hoseok.
- Maybe soulmates hurt each other just as often as much as love each other.
- When you wake- you tell Yoongi about the dream and kiss his forehead where his head is pillowed against your thigh. Head tilted so his horns don’t knock into your hip. “Do they feel real? The dreams in which I kill you?” he asks you. He doesn’t want you to ever think of that, the improbability of him deciding to hurt you. that you could ever believe that his hands that love you could ever hurt you makes his stomach drop. Yoongi would let himself die, would turn his hands on himself- before he let himself hurt you.
- “Sometimes” you admit, as you kiss him more, deeper now that you can verify it's real. Kisses in the dream world always feel 2d, not like now- when you can taste him and feel his warmth. Kissing him is like hello and a new daydream all at once. Sweet and sweeter because you know it's real. Syrup and honey in equal measure. “But don’t worry, I never believe those dreams for long,”
- But Yoongi does worry, And the day comes that you do forget.
- It’s one of the rare times that Hoseok and Jungkook haven’t come home in time to see you wake. They’re kept south by a snowstorm wiping through the northern lands. But Yoongi’s glad they weren’t they're- glad they didn’t see it.
- It’s the first time that you wake and don’t remember them, your memories and your mind lost to the dream world. Screaming for Taehyung of all people as you fight Yoongi’s hands (only trying to hold you up seeing as you look about ready to pass out). You backpedal on shaky legs and hit the glass edge of your coffin with a violent thud. It shatters against the floor in a great cacophony of glass shards.
- Yoongi barely scoops you up in time so that you don’t fall against them and hurt yourself. Your hands weekly pushing at him to stay away, a monster that you never learned to love, a face you don’t know.
- Taehyung is crying in his coffin as he says your name. Hand weakly reaching out to Tae, Your panic stinks in Yoongi’s nose. Your body is afraid of him- that’s what breaks his heart the most- that he can smell the fear on you and he knows he’s caused it. it's all he can do to repeat in his mind that you’re just Sleepwalking, that’s what it is. You don’t actually hate him- you couldn’t.
- But you won’t wake up- no matter how much Yoongi calls your name. How is it so much harder for you than it is for Taehyung? Seokjin’s never said he did anything like this, Taehyung has never lost himself in the dream world like this.
- The second Tae feels like he has control of his legs he pushes Yoongi off of you. Cupping your cheeks and pulling you up and onto his glass coffin. “It’s not a dream- you’re not dreaming” but your eyes dart around the room like you’re not really seeing it. Yoongi sits there surrounded by glass watching as you don’t fight Tae.
- “Y/n you’re awake- this is your real life- this isn’t another nightmare” But his words fall on your unhearing ears. You stare at Taehyung like they’re something growing out of his head- and who knows- maybe there is. A piece of the dream world that you’ve carried into your waking hours. A hallucination. Yoongi doesn’t want to think about what you might have seen when you looked at his face.
- “Why are you calling me that? That’s not my name.” that’s the final straw, Seokjin knocked out of his reverie and Yoongi pining himself to the wall while Seokjin puts you back to sleep, a thumb pressed to your forehead until you slump in Tae’s arms. Tae holds you so delicately. And it takes seeing him cry for Yoongi to recognize the wetness on his own cheeks as tears too.
- He almost wants to reach out and keep you here. Because he knows- Yoongi knows- once you go into that coffin again they’re no getting you out. One more year to tick by without you. Two at once- They’ve never done this before and they can only hope it works- that you come back whole the next time.
- By the time Jungkook and Hoseok get home at noon, Hoseok’s wings are coated with a faint layer of frost. Yoongi is still sitting out on the edge of the property, watching the faintly raging snowstorm outside the barrier. Eyes wet and dark. His arms wrapped around himself like he’s trying to comfort himself. To alleviate the ache of being untouched. Maybe it’s dramatic- but Yoongi aches like he’s been shot down by an arrow. He never knew he could get so touch starved.
- His children watch him, mixed terror and discomfort at finding their father without their mother on the one day they should be seen together. “She’s not awake- you can get inside and see her though.” yoongi feels like he’ll never be warm again.
- The eternal spring of Seokjin’s home is more than enough to have the cold dissipate, but the cold at seeing you in Tae’s coffin stays. Yours shattered to the side (Seokjin will repair it for Tae later), is something that chills Jungkook to the bone. Jungkook doesn’t realize he’s using the magic in a panic until Hoseok touches his cheek and calls his name.
-All Jungkook knows is that your coffin magically replaced behind Tae’s and that the roses on the trellis outside are sneaking in through the open window. The warmth of Hoseok’s palm is welcomed comfort that Jungkook leans into. Trying not to cry.
- Jungkook and Hoseok get the story from Tae and Seokjin and then go back outside to sit next to their father. “Am I doing the right thing? Or should we just let her wake up and-“ Jungkook is the first to shake his head. “Mom doesn’t want to die dad- she’d say the same if she could” Hoseok’s hands tighten on their pants. Their whole body shaking at the thought of letting you- just letting you die.
- “Next year- it will be different.” No one says that they don’t know that for sure. That they’re just trying whatever they think will work without knowing if you’re right. If you even can come back. Jungkook and Hoseok stay for longer this time, to comfort their father. But then-one day weeks later, he stands up.
- They’re out of books. At least for now- until Hoseok and Jungkook can rocket across the world, every swipe of Hoseok’s wings faster- harder, pushing themselves to carry more. They feel like time is ticking down.
- The next year you wake without a fuss. And no one mentions the last year to you; you don’t remember what happened at all. You have no idea that it’s been two since they last saw you. And this time- Yoongi treasures it even more. For 18 hours- he doesn’t stop touching you. A hand on your lower back or your cheek. 18 hours of love after two years of nothing.
- Hoseok watches you carefully, looking for a hint that you know what happened, that you remember it in any way. But the day remains lost to the tangle of your memories and dreams. More than once- Hoseok catches you watching them, eyes furrowed like you’re having some sort of inner debate or trying to decide if what you’re seeing is real.
- Your brief wakefulness might be their favorite part- but it’s also the scariest.
- It gets a little better, the dreams can’t create new things for you- only things you’ve experienced before really. So when you see them in newer clothes, when they actively change things about your surroundings before you wake up it makes a difference.
- Seokjin changes the spell around his castle to fall just for you, and you spend ages in the garden, pressing sweet tomatoes to Yoongi’s mouth and cooking pumpkin seeds with Hoseok and Jungkook. Hoseok excitingly shows you their new trick- a little jet of fire that they can manage on their hands in their human form. It’s far from Yoongi’s near magic control of fire but it still makes you smile and shout and give Hoseok little scratches on the head a proud feeling in your chest.
- No matter that you need to reach up to do it now- they’ve been taller than you for so long it’s hard to remember they were ever so tiny. Hoseok’s change is also another thing that makes it easier. You dislike it- and you’d never treat your child any differently than how they wanted to treat them- but when you dream Hoseok- they’re still listless in their skin, a boy along with Jungkook.
- It’s reassuring when you wake and find them still the same as ever but so much more comfortable in their skin than they’d ever been before. As a child, Hoseok had been quiet and easily anxious (only soothed by Jungkook) now they’re louder and happier, a little bit of something shimmery gold on their eyelids, dancing around the kitchen and sending off little puffs of yellow fire (only to be contained by Jungkook’s magic).
- “Really Hobi- the kitchen is made of wood- you’ve got to be careful’). Their face stretching in a familiar heart-shaped smile that you all love. Hoseok is so so happy.
- You’ve never seen them this happy, and that makes the discontent rise in your chest because- how had you never realized they weren’t? How did you never see that Comfort was a fickle thing in Hoseok’s chest in a way it wasn’t for anyone but Jimin.
- You try to remember back to their meeting sometimes. Hoseok had looked at Jimin like he hung the stars and asked more questions than anyone else. You’d assumed it was just childlike curiosity- but maybe that had a deeper meaning than you’d initially thought.
- Before you sleep you unpack some of your old clothes and hand them down to Hoseok. Fine clothes and silks that Yoongi had made for you when you lived closer to the dragon city. Seeing as you have no use for them anymore, they’re a similar size- and Hoseok is only a little bit larger than you, maybe a tad bit broader but you liked your clothes flowy and loose anyway.
- You anchor yourself with their smile when you go into the dreams again. Excited to wake and help Hoseok explore their feminine side more.
- The nightmares are ever vibrant and feverish, with reality at a resolution just out of clarity. You dream of each of your family hurt beyond repair and you dream that they’re happy without you. Those hunters grabbing a tiny Hoseok by his feathers and tear them- his beautiful- delicate wings, and pluck him like a chicken.
- They do the same to Yoongi- albeit slower, removing every inch of his wing membrane until his bones clatter together like a wind chime. You have to watch, unable to move regardless of his roars that shake the earth. Maybe it says a lot about your love if the thing you’re scared of most is not being there to comfort Yoongi.
- Other nightmares of black fire that climbs the walls and sinks close to Jungkook in his baby basket. A calamity that you cannot end, like the trudge of time- the nightmares feel like they last forever. The wand in his arm burning too- unable to bond with him. His soul burned from the inside out. You scramble over his ashes, grasping at them like it will bring him back.
- You can’t help it, sobbing like your heart was ripped out. Hoseok falling too, crying in anguish as part of his soul dies. his wings fall limp- unable to fly without Jungkook. The saddest death is that of someone who can no longer do what they love, and the second saddest is a dragon without its wings.
- It’s so sad, It’s just like that time you woke up and saw only strangers in your bedroom, the nightmares always feel so real.
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Part 8: The Woman and The War *coming soon*
#min yoongi x reader#bts fanfic#bts#bts fluff#bts angst#bts fanfiction#bts fantasy au#bts au#min yoongi#yoongi x reader#bts hybrid au#bts shifter au#park jimin#kim taehyung#jung hoseok#kim seokjin#kim namjoon#jeon jungkook#hopekook#taejin#minjoon#bts hurt/comfort#bts gender#bts genderfluid#min yoongi fic#yoongi fluff#yoongi angst#bts x reader
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You Just Wait
gif is from @twilightofficial
A/N: The hardest part of writing a fic is honestly choosing the love interest XD I have so many fictional boyfriends it’s hard to choose just one. I have noticed a significant lack of Jared Cameron content and he’s super adorable so here it is! Also, I left the concept a little bit more vague so more people can relate to it. It doesn’t specifically say vaginismus, it’s more of a general “sex doesn’t normally go well for me” type thing.
Bottomless, covered in chocolate sauce, walking through the woods, phone dead, in the middle of August on a weekday. How did you end up here? Jared Cameron. Your boyfriend. He had roped you in to an elaborate prank on Paul that hadn’t exactly gone as planned. Needless to say, you were desperate for a shower and a nap. A hot meal wouldn’t hurt. And you were beyond irritated, not even looking Jared’s way as he walked next to you in a similar state.
“Babe, if you let me carry you, we’ll get home way faster,” he whined.
You didn’t respond, only walking with more frustration around the roots and fallen trees. It was growing dark, just about twilight, and you knew you wouldn’t be reaching either of your houses at this rate. You were miles into the forest. But your pride kept you from accepting Jared’s wolfy-back ride, because he tended to make lots of jokes about being between your legs and you riding him and blah blah blah, and you honestly might punch him right now if he did that.
So you just kept ignoring him, arms folded tightly against your chest because, yes, it was August, but this was also the Washington coast. It got pretty chilly no matter what time of year it was.
“I can see you shivering from here,” he pleaded, almost sounding in pain at the thought of you being uncomfortable. “It’s only gonna get colder. Let me help you.”
You ignored him.
“C’mooonnnnnn,” he cried. His preferred way of cracking your silence was usually by annoying you out of it, and it was working. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon c’m-”
“Jared, I swear to God!”
“Aha! She speaks!” he laughed.
“”Only to tell you to be quiet, or I’ll-”
“Or you’ll what?” he cut you off. “I’m way stronger than you!” He was teasing you into talking to him. Even if it was in the form of arguing. Damn, he always got you to crack. You stopped walking, turning to face him, arms still held tightly around yourself. You couldn’t resist a good bicker, and Jared knew that. He would get the sass to come out, and then once you got tired, he’d apologize and you’d be made up within half an hour. That’s what always happened. And you couldn’t exactly stay mad at those big brown puppy eyes for long.
“Physically, maybe,” you chided, “but I’m definitely way smarter than you.”
He stepped closer to you, a playful smirk on his face. “What, are you gonna read me to death or something?”
“I’m gonna strategize a huge plan, manipulate you, and leave you here in the forest by yourself. That’s what I’m gonna do,” you sassed. He never took arguments to heart, which is one thing you loved about him. He knew how grumpy you could get and would let you vent, and then make you forget all about the problem.
“Oh, okay, yeah sure,” he giggled, hands going up in defense. “I’m just saying that in this situation, there is no way you come out on top. You run, I catch you. You hide, I sniff you out,” he teased. This made you crack an almost imperceptible smile, but one he noticed nonetheless. “And if you did somehow manage to get away from me, you’d freeze to death in an hour flat.” The cold breeze that caused you to shiver more violently could not have had worse timing. Obviously, Jared noticed, and his face dropped. He approached you slowly, silently asking if you were still mad enough to not let him touch you. When you didn’t step back or stop him, he wrapped both his arms around you and brought you into a huge bear hug. You sighed at his warmth, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso. He’d given you his hoodie hours ago, and was left in only a pair of shorts, though he didn’t seem to notice. Damn him and his werewolf heat.
You still shivered in his arms, but his feverish temperature was a relief to your aching bones.
“See? Could’ve been warm hours ago,” he teased once again, noting your clinginess.
“Shut up. I’m still mad,” you mumbled into his neck. He laughed softly to himself, rubbing his hands up and down your body to create more heat. After a few minutes, you were starting to struggle to keep your eyes open. It had to be close to 2 in the morning, and you’d been walking for what felt like hours. Jared could have easily run home and let you brood alone, but he stuck with you no matter how long you went without speaking to him.
“Sleepy?” he murmured into your hair. You just nodded softly, and didn’t protest as he bent down, one hand going behind your knees and the other staying around your back. He picked you up with ease and started walking through the woods once more with an “Okay Princess, I got you.” His stride never faltered, easily avoiding tripping over roots or slipping on rain-soaked moss. He must have been walking for about 30 minutes, never so much as breathing hard or shifting you in his grip. You didn’t sleep, but welcomed the rest he allowed you. Your eyes were closed, head resting on his shoulder when you felt him stop. You looked up, and in the distance, maybe 50 yards away, you saw a small building.
“Hunter’s cabin, I’m guessing. No one’s home,” Jared stated, anticipating your questions.
“Think there’ll be blankets?” you wondered, tired, yet still playful.
“What, am I not enough for you?” he feigned mock hurt as you giggled at his unshakeable good attitude. Without another word, he began walking towards the small cabin, which was about the size of an average bedroom. When you reached the door, he set you down gently, holding his hands close to your waist while you found your footing, and then wrapping an arm over your shoulders to keep you warm.
“I’m assuming it’s locked,” you sighed, disappointed.
“Babe, no door is locked when you have super strength. Honestly, I thought you’d have more faith in me by now,” he smiled brightly.
“You can’t just go around kicking random people’s doors in!” you scolded.
“Okay, first of all, I can tell by the smell that no one’s been here in years. Second of all, how would anyone know it was us that broke in and not, like, a deer? And third of all, I’d say this counts as an emergency,” he sassed right back at you. You looked at him in annoyance, too tired and cold to actually care.
After a long sigh, you muttered “fine.”
He immediately turned to the door, not letting you so much as inhale before he slammed his foot into the space next to the knob, the door all but flying off its hinges. The whole scene caused deafening noise that interrupted the silence of the trees.
“Jesus!” you called out in surprise, a hand shooting up to your pounding heart. You look around, though knowing no one was around for miles. Jared only turned to look at you, a cheeky smile adorning his face, and said,
“See? Told ya.”
You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the loving and admiring energy that overcame you. Jared really was one in a million, and you were lucky to be by his side. He could be in the worst situation in the world and still find something to laugh about.
He motioned for you to go in first, ever the gentleman. Walking through the door, the first thing you noticed was the dust. The entire inside of the cabin was covered in a thick layer of it. There was a small, rickety couch with cushions so worn they had holes in them throughout. And the fabric… my God. It looked like something from the 60’s, an obnoxious floral that had faded over time, and now just looked flat out stained. There was a flimsy throw blanket over the back of the couch, a cooler in the corner of the room that was covered in dirt, and on the opposite wall, a fireplace! No wood, no matches, but it was there. The floor was scattered with bullet shells, receipts, and decayed leaves. It was obvious no one had been in here for at least 3 or 4 years.
“Okay, I can work with this,” Jared said. You really were jealous of his optimism. But, as disgusting as this place was, it beat the frigid breeze of outside, and had a place where you could rest your heads. You walked over to the couch, grabbing the blanket and beating the dust off of it. It was really only meant for one person, but you guys were okay with getting close. It would do.
Jared walked over to the opposite corner where the cooler sat by the fireplace and opened the lid, peeking inside.
“Just water,” he said, sounding almost disappointed.
“Were you really gonna eat whatever was in there?” you spoke incredulously.
“Babe, I’m starving. You have no idea how close I am to licking that chocolate sauce off of you,” he voiced. You had almost forgotten about the sticky sauce that covered both of your clothes. That prank really was a disaster. You looked down, face heating at the thought of Jared’s mouth on you like that, and turned to the fireplace where he stood. He was looking on the mantle, oblivious to the effect his comment had on you, and exclaimed “Aha!” before reaching up to grab something. “A lighter. We’re saved! Well, you are,” he laughed looking over at your shivering form once more. “Stay here and get comfy. I’m gonna go get some wood.”
You tried your best, sitting on the edge of the couch and immediately feeling a spring poking you in the butt. The couch really was tiny. You guys were gonna have to bundle up close to fit. The thought excited you. Sure, you and Jared had always been comfortable touching and holding each other, but there were certain areas of your relationship you had yet to explore. More… intimate areas. It was your fault mostly. To make a long story short, you’ve just never enjoyed sex. You found yourself not able to get aroused, which made things painful. Sure, you wanted to. You’d thought about it a ton. But in the moment, your head was so full of thoughts of ‘What if he thinks I’m ugly? What if I smell? Am I doing this right? Is he having a good time? Am I taking too long?’ that you just stopped trying. And obviously you wanted to have sex with Jared, but you were worried he’d be disappointed. By the time he got back, just a few minutes later, you had brought your knees up to your chest, holding your legs close in an effort to preserve warmth.
“Doing okay Sweetheart?” he asked gently. You gave a small smile and nodded in response. He plopped the logs in his arms down into the fireplace, scavenging the floor for receipts, dried leaves, anything that would catch fire. He dumped these into the fireplace and lit them, the fire catching within seconds. He walked over to the other side of the room where the couch was before bending down, grabbing the bottom lip of it, and pulling it (and you) across the floor, one-handed, and closer to the fire. “Better?” You had always been in awe of his strength. Let’s be honest, it was just plain sexy. Again, you just nodded your head, staring at him in adoration.
He sat beside you on the couch, throwing an arm over your shoulders again, and leaning back, taking you with him. You cuddled into his side, watching the fire.
“Ya know, if you take away the shitty couch and sticky clothes and add a few more blankets, this would actually be pretty nice,” he finally spoke.
You laughed softly, replying, “It would. The couch isn’t even awful, but these clothes are really ruining the mood for me.”
“Well why don’t you get out of ‘em, hot stuff?” he joked. You knew he wasn’t serious because you guys haven’t gotten that far yet, but something, maybe the exhaustion or the way he kept challenging you today, made you want to actually do it. Before you could lose your nerve, you reached down, pulling off the hoodie and shirt in one go and tossing them onto the floor. You relaxed back into his arms in just a bra, acting like nothing had happened. He was frozen beside you. Maybe it was mean, but you wanted to tease him a little. He’d put you through a lot today, so you wanted to mess with him a tiny bit. So, coolly, you brought a hand onto his thigh and began running it up and down, going higher and higher with each pass. He was still frozen, so you gave a light squeeze, and heard him inhale sharply, though he tried to hide it.
“I thought you were tired,” he commented.
“Guess I’m not anymore,” you responded, turning to face him boldly. He immediately leaned in to kiss you, softly as always. You reciprocated, bringing your other hand up to cup his face. His arm that was around your shoulders slipped down around your waist, pulling you in further. Jared had always been gentle when kissing you, so you knew you’d have to make the first move to deepen it. Which is exactly what you did. Running your hand up his head and grabbing his hair, you pulled him towards you even more and traced your tongue across his bottom lip. He responded by matching your energy, tongue slipping out to caress yours before bringing your bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling softly. You guys had never kissed like this before. You felt a bead of warmth pool in your abdomen, something you’d never felt with a guy before. Sure, you’d been turned on while watching certain videos or reading certain fanfiction by yourself, but you’d never actually experienced it with someone before. It was exciting. Maybe it was the knowledge that you could stop things at any time and he wouldn’t be upset, or maybe it was how in love with you he really was, but you didn’t feel nervous or worried. You felt comfortable.
Taking things a step further, you swung your leg over both of his, moving to straddle his lap.
He pulled away slightly at this, making you ask, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he responded, “I just don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do.”
You smiled, “I’m not doing anything I don’t wanna do. Are you?”
“Are you seriously asking me that question right now?” He laughed, making you giggle along.
You leaned back in for another kiss, when he stopped you again. “What exactly… are we doing, though?” You knew what he was silently asking. Are we about to go all the way? And you didn’t know yet. This had started out as playful teasing, but now you were beginning to think that maybe you did want to try something. With Jared. He was it for you, the one you wanted to spend forever with. If you couldn’t trust him, you couldn’t trust anyone. And he’d taken such good care of you these last few hours, keeping you warm, making sure you were storming off in the right direction, that you knew he’d appreciate you in a more intimate sense.
“I- I kind of would like to try… some stuff,” you answered.
He looked at you, eyes wide, before answering, “What kind of stuff? I mean, I will do literally anything you ask me to do and you know that, but I didn’t really prepare for this. Like, I don’t… have what we need.” Oh, a condom. What a responsible boy.
“I’m on the pill,” you replied a little too quickly before looking down and fiddling with your hands. “If you want to.”
“Y/N, I would be absolutely fucking honored,” he breathed, before cupping your face and pulling you into the most heated kiss yet. Your tongues danced, hands wandering. Yours, across his muscled chest and abdomen, and his, down your waist and around to cup your pantsless ass, squeezing firmly. It felt nice. He handled you in a way that was gentle and painless, but still dominant and firm. And it made the heat in your belly grow. You continued kissing for several minutes, your hands moving up his neck and eventually landing in his hair once more, and his remaining on your ass and waist. You softly sucked at his lower lip, nibbling slightly, and it made him let out a low growl and pull your hips forward onto his, where you felt something hard push against you. You knew what it was, and it didn’t scare you like it normally would. You did, however, feel your damp underwear. Shit, that’s never happened before. You were normally bone dry at this point. You let out a soft sigh, grinding your hips onto him once more.
He softened his kisses slightly, bringing a hand around to your stomach and running his knuckles lightly across your lower abdomen.
“Can I?” He questioned delicately.
“Yes,” you replied almost immediately. He brought his hand under the waistband of your underwear, when you said, “Wait,” and he stopped. “Just one thing. I kind of… have never been able to do this without it hurting a lot, so maybe you could just try to be gentle?”
“Oh, baby, you’ve been in pain before? I’m so sorry,” he whispered genuinely.
“It’s okay, I just…” It was now or never. He should know. “Normally I’m super nervous about everything, so I can’t really… get into it, and when girls aren’t into it it’s kind of… dry? And that makes it kind of hurt really bad.” You faded out at the end, feeling embarrassed. He brought his hand out of your underwear and up to your chin, tilting your face up to look him in the eye, looking concerned. “But I’m into this, I mean, right now. I’m excited. I just thought I should warn you,” you awkwardly laughed at the end.
“You promise? Because you know that if you want to stop we will, and I would never be upset or pressure or anything like that,” he spoke sweetly, making your heart flutter. And you did know that, which is why you felt comfortable. Every other time, you felt that if you went past a certain point, you couldn’t say stop. Couldn’t call it off without making whatever guy you were with super mad and then… who knows what would happen. But when Jared spoke those words, you believed him.
“I promise. And I know you’ll stop. But I don’t want you to.”
With this, he scanned your face one more time for any signs of hesitation, and when he found none, brought you down into another heated kiss. You felt his hand trail from your chin down to your breasts, skimming over your bra, down your stomach and once again to the waistband of your underwear. Only this time he didn’t go under. He stayed on top of the fabric and brought his hand down between your legs, index finger brushing lightly against your core. You barely felt it, and began to worry that you’d once again feel numb. Oftentimes, when guys would touch you or go down on you, you felt nothing. It was like you were broken or something. And you started to become concerned that tonight would be no different.
But he brought his finger down again, repeating the same movement, only with significantly more pressure this time, and it had you release an involuntary sigh. And instead of removing his finger like he had the first time, he kept it over your clit, drawing firm circles.
Your mouth dropped open in a silent moan, Jared staring intently at your face.
“Oh, wow,” you finally breathed.
“Good?” he asked cockily, wearing a large smirk. He repeated the movement again, drawing a line from your core to your clit, stopping to rub circles.
“Mmm hmm,” you sighed. He leaned in once more to meet you with the sloppiest, dirtiest kiss you two had shared yet, and it only made you grind your center into his hand. He repeated the action several times over, and you were a writhing mess in minutes.
He brought a finger under your waistband once more, stretching the elastic out before letting it snap lightly against your skin. “Let’s take these off, hmm?” You’d never stood up so fast in your life, practically ripping the panties off of you, taking your bra off with it. Jared stood up to remove his shorts, but stopped to stare.
“What?” you questioned shyly, moving to cover up.
“You’re literally the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”
The boy quite literally had heart eyes for you.
“Oh,” you responded meekly, cheeks heating up. When you kept looking back at him, he seemed to snap back into the moment and hurriedly ripped off his shorts and underwear, sitting back on the couch and opening his arms for you. You moved to straddle his hips the same way as before, and he brought his arms around to embrace you as you shared another heated kiss. One of his hands moved up to cup your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple as if you were made of glass. Jared pulled his mouth off of yours and trailed his lips down the side of your face, to your jaw, and down onto your neck, suckling lightly and leaving wet kisses. You tilted your head to the side to give him better access, and brought one of your hands down between you two to grasp him. He shuddered, only grabbing your hips and bringing you impossibly closer. His other hand trailed down to your center once more, going straight to your core and gathering the slight wetness there before bringing his finger up to your clit and circling. With your underwear out of the way, you felt almost lightheaded at his touch. You never knew how girls could cum during sex before, because you never seemed to feel much at all unless it was pain, but with how aroused you were right now and Jared’s movements, you thought for the first time that you may actually be able to finish. People do say that 90% of sex is mental, and you guessed this is what they meant. The more into it you are, the more physical sensation you actually feel. Groundbreaking.
“Can I finger you?” he murmured huskily into your neck.
You tensed slightly at this, but trusted him. If you said stop, he would. “Ok, just go slow.”
“Of course,” he responded before placing a sweet kiss on your shoulder and bringing his index finger back to your core, swirling around the entrance a few times. You took a few deep breaths to relax your muscles, and he looked at you, wordlessly asking, Ready? You nodded, and he slipped his finger in, just to the first knuckle, and held it still while he brought his thumb to your clit and continued rubbing. When he noticed you visibly relax, he slipped his finger in further to the second knuckle, stopping for a few seconds, and then all the way. He kept it here again, giving you time to adjust or tell him to stop, all the while keeping you stimulated with his thumb. It felt really good. Well, you didn’t exactly feel his finger at all, which was better than pain, and his thumb was making you crazy. Your breathing was labored at this point, eyebrows furrowed as you held onto his shoulders, nails digging in and sure to leave scratches. He pressed the finger inside of you onto your front wall suddenly, massaging the ridges firmly, and you let out a moan. Your first real moan ever. And damn did it get Jared excited. He continued this motion again and again, building in intensity and pressure slowly. When he felt how wet you had become, he pulled his finger back out to the first knuckle, and added his middle finger next to it, sliding them both back in slowly so as not to hurt you. Your eyes widened at the stretch, but it didn’t hurt. It felt amazing.
“Oh, fuck,” you whispered to yourself, before moaning once more as his fingers began the ‘come-hither’ motion once more.
“Am I hurting you?” he asked, concerned at your cursing.
“No, feels so good,” you moaned, and he smiled at this, increasing the pressure even more. Your eyes screwed shut, hips stuttering over his hand, letting him finger fuck you for several more minutes as you began to feel a tightening in your stomach. He brought his thumb off of your clit finally, adjusting his hand for a better angle and bringing his other hand off of your waist and up to his mouth, licking his thumb and bringing that down to your clit, resuming the tight circles. You could hear how wet you were, feeling too good to be embarrassed. The heat in your stomach was building, spreading. You felt your legs begin to shake, muscles begin to tighten around his fingers, and your eyes screwed shut as you opened your mouth in a silent scream and came. The waves of pleasure washed over you for a long time, Jared slowing his movements down so as not to overstimulate you. When you finally opened your eyes again, you were panting, legs feeling like Jello. Jared was staring at you with a look of absolute awe on his face, mouth agape and dick rock hard, red, and leaking precum. He was more turned on than he had ever been from actual sex before, and it was only from watching you.
“Fuck, baby that was so hot,” he all but moaned.
You reached down to grasp him, panting a “your turn.”
He grabbed both your wrists, stopping you. “Nuh uh, this is about you. Lie the fuck down.”
You gasped, his dominant tone turning you on despite your recent climax. You both knew that if you were even slightly uncomfortable, things would stop immediately. But it was fun for both of you to let him be a little aggressive. You did as told, lying long ways across the couch cushions, Jared moving to kneel between your legs, moving your knees softly apart so he could look at all of you. You didn’t feel insecure being exposed like this. You felt excited.
“Are you absolutely sure you wanna do this?” he questioned.
“I have never been more sure, Jared baby, I want to,” you pleaded. This was enough for him, so he brought his dick down to line up with your entrance, rubbing the tip up and down a few times to collect your wetness. He was worried that there wouldn’t be enough lubricant, so he brought a hand up to his mouth and spit, rubbing the saliva on his cock.
“You just wait ‘til we get some real lube and a real fucking bed, Princess. You won’t be able to walk for days.” You shuddered at the thought of this, and of the sensation of his dick rubbing around your clit and back down to your entrance. He pushed in slightly, letting the tip in before pausing and checking your face for any signs of pain. When he found none, he pushed in slightly more, and more. He was being extremely slow, and you appreciated it. Guys normally would just shove themselves inside, not giving you any time to adjust before pounding away. But Jared was careful, despite how turned on you knew he was. He still had your best interest in mind. Within a couple of minutes, he was fully seated inside of you, staying still until you told him to move. He brought his face down to give you a sweet kiss, waiting for you to give him the signal.
After a few seconds, you didn’t feel any sort of stinging or pain, so you nodded, saying “Just start slow.”
“Of course,” he replied genuinely. He pulled his hips back just a few inches, before slowly grinding them back into yours. You closed your eyes, focusing on keeping your muscles loose and relaxed as he continues this movement a few more times. The next time he pushed in, he ground his hips further into yours, hitting the deepest parts of you. This had you release a gasp, eyes opening to meet his. “Okay?” he questioned.
“Yes.”
He did this several more times, letting you get used to the feeling of him being so deep inside of you, before your hips began to grind back into his. It felt really good. When he noticed this, he began pulling his hips back more, pushing back in slightly faster, and this had you moaning. You threw your head back, back arched, just enjoying the sensations. Your hands were grasping at his shoulders, definitely leaving scratch marks.
“Oh my God,” you whispered.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he responded, planting sloppy kisses to your neck and collar bone. “Baby, I’m not gonna last much longer.”
You smiled at this, glad he was enjoying it as much as you were. “Go ahead, cum for me,” you spoke, and your words had him right on the edge. He pulled out of you quickly, hand fisting his cock as he stared at your sweaty, writhing body below him. He came hard, spilling onto your stomach as he growled out, the sound making your toes curl, almost animalistic. You both remained in this position as you came down, breaths labored and eyes barely open. He stood up fully off of the couch and reached for the flimsy blanket on the floor, using it to wipe off your stomach. He threw it into the corner of the room and lay down next to you on the couch, gathering you up into his arms to cuddle.
“Did you have a good time?” he asked almost nervously after a few minutes.
“Nah, kinda sucked,” you teased, and he let out a playful laugh, lightly shoving you away before pulling you back and planting a kiss on your temple.
A pause. “For real though,” he prodded, beginning to panic slightly.
You burst out laughing. “Of course I had a good time, Jared. Best i’ve ever had, if I’m being honest.”
“Ok good,” he sighed, relieved but trying not to show that you actually had him nervous for a second.
Another pause. “Did… did you have a good time?” you questioned back at him.
He seemed almost offended at the question, bringing a hand up to cup your face so that your eyes met his. “Y/N, this was the best night of my entire life. That was perfect. You are perfect. And I’m glad you trusted me enough to do that with you.”
You felt your eyes sting slightly, emotions running wild. You considered yourself the luckiest girl in the world to be with Jared Cameron. Not only was he totally gorgeous, but kind, hilarious, and great in bed.
In an effort to switch the tone back to a more playful one, you replied, “Yeah, well I was promised some more fun involving real lube and a real bed so…”
He tugged you further into him, wrapping his arms around you in a way that made you think he might never let go. He laughed, and said “Oh, you just wait.”
#jared cameron x reader#jared cameron#twilight#wolf pack#paul lahote#sam uley#jacob black#embry call#seth clearwater#quil ateara#edward cullen#twilight smut#vaginismus
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How the Batch helps you with your cramps! (gender-neutral reader)
AN: This was written with period cramps specifically in mind, but it doesn’t mention periods at all. I understand that not everybody likes seeing that word, nor being reminded of it, so I’ve tried to keep these headcanons as ‘plain’ as possible. These can be read as platonic or romantic!
Hunter
As someone who's always happy to help, and deeply cares about you, Hunter is there for you before your cramps have already kicked in. Heightened senses and all that, you know?
He has a rough idea of how to help, but will appreciate any suggestions that you have.
Medicine is a must, and whilst you're taking it, Hunter prepares a hot water bottle for you.
He'll tuck you into bed, and if you ask, he'll stay. Hunter almost climbs straight into bed, but then remembers his armour, and makes quick work of removing it.
You don't need to ask for a cuddle, because Hunter's already wrapping his body around yours. His hands will roam as you curl against him, fingertips trailing over your skin, keeping his touches light and comforting.
"I've heard that stomach rubs can help. Do you... want one?" Hunter awkwardly asks.
Spooning is a great position for stomach rubs!
His hands will lightly rub your stomach as he chats with you about anything and everything, attempting to distract you from the pain, asking every so often how you're feeling.
You'll definitely fall asleep on him, Hunter is just so comforting! He stays in bed with you, eventually drifting off after planting a gentle kiss on your temple, smiling to himself when you sleepily smile at his small gesture.
Wrecker
This man was built to give out love and affection, and maybe punch through walls, but mostly to care for others.
So, the second he sees you in pain, he heads straight over to help.
Wrecker makes it his personal mission to help you out however he can, but he's not exactly sure how to...
He puts on his thinking face for a few seconds, and then decides to ask Tech for some medical advice. Tech hands him medicine, along with instructions on how to care for "a generally ill person, as I've never researched into cramps before."
Following Tech's advice, Wrecker urges you to take the medicine, and then begins caring for you to the best of his abilities.
He'll make you a pillow fort, or some form of den, depending if you're on the Marauder, in the Barracks, and so on. He only has so many pillows and blankets to work with, but it's cosy enough, with a holopad inside, waiting to play some of your favourite holoshows.
If you want, he'll let you curl up in his lap, or sprawl across his chest. "Whatever makes you the most comfortable!" he'll say with a nod.
Wrecker has his own secret stash of snacks, and he happily shares them with you, feeding you himself because "you need to rest," and for some reason, that means you're not allowed to move your arms.
Naps are one of Wreckers favourite past times, and he encourages you to have one after a few episodes of your holoshow. You're free to sleep wherever you like, and Wrecker is the perfect cuddling partner!
Tech
Tech doesn't notice that you're in pain at first, until you let out a heavy groan. He then finally catches on to how you're feeling.
"Unfortunately, I have never researched the pain that you're currently feeling, so you'll have to guide me on what I can do to help."
After listing to your demands, Tech decides that the first thing you need is some medicine. He orders you to get comfortable in bed whilst he finds something that will help, and he appears moments later with medicine and a hot drink.
Tech is tapping away at his holopad whilst you take your medicine, soon to put it down as he states that he's quickly researched a few things that can help.
He disappears, and reappears a few minutes later with a hot water bottle. Tech remains sat on the edge of your bed as you snuggle down into it, frozen like a deer in the headlights.
If you ask him to join you, then he'll look slightly shocked, but accepts and begins the lengthy process of peeling off his armour. The goggles, however, always stay on!
"My... research also indicates that c-cuddling and stomach rubs may help. Would you like them?" Tech awkwardly asks whilst lying back beside you.
Tech is understandably tense at first, but once his hand begins gently rubbing your stomach, and the other massages your scalp, then he begins to relax.
He'll talk about anything and everything; the deeper the conversation, the better. This is his attempt of distracting you from the pain, and for some reason, him telling you all about ion cannons really does help.
Tech's so deep in his rambling that he doesn't realize you've dozed off, cuddled up to him. He smiles to himself whilst peeling off his goggles, and finally enjoys a well-deserved nap.
Echo
Echo isn't too sure on what he should do. He's never been in a situation like this before, and he didn't exactly get trained on how to handle cramps whilst on Kamino.
He's going in blind, but he's also going to do everything in his power to help.
"Whenever I'm unwell, I take some medicine, grab some snacks, and put on a few of my favourite holoshows. Do you... want to do that?"
The second you nod in agreement, Echo begins walking off, making it his mission to retrieve medicine. He suddenly stops in his tracks, turns to you, and orders you to get into bed and wait for his return.
Echo doesn't take long, but his arms are full of things that he think will help: a wide array of snacks (that thankfully aren't ration bars,) some drinks, medicine, and a stack of DVD's.
He instructs you to take your medicine whilst he sets everything up. Echo puts a holoshow on, goes through the snacks that he's brought for you, fluffs up your pillows, tucks you into bed, and so on.
He's about to leave you to it until you ask him to stay, to which he freezes up whilst questioning, "you... want me to stay?"
With your permission, Echo snuggles down into bed with you. If you want to cuddle, then he'll hold you tenderly, ensuring that you're on his left side so his prosthetic doesn't accidentally jab you.
Echo's rather tense. He wanted to help out however he could, but he didn't think that you'd want him to stay! Give him some reassurance, and he'll be back to his usual self.
However, don't be surprised if he falls asleep on you. That poor man doesn't get much rest, nor does he ever get to relax in an actual bed. He's at peace, and you're so warm and comfortable, he can't help dozing off!
Crosshair
The first words that Crosshair asks are, "what can I do to help?"
He knows that some people have a set routine, or specific things that help ease them, so Crosshair wants to know what yours are.
He'll ensure that you're somewhere comfortable and quiet, and if you're stuck on the Marauder, then he'll shoo everyone into the cockpit, shut the door, and begin padding out one of the racks to use as a bunk.
Crosshair will order you to get cosy whilst he finds something to help; medicine, food, tea, whatever. Your comfort is currently his top priority, and it's a sniper habit of his to ensure that he reaches his target, which is easing your pain.
"Drink," is all Crosshair says as he hands you a hot drink and medicine. He stands there with his hands on his hips until you've taken it, studying your body language to see if the medicine has already begun taking effect.
If you ask, Crosshair will happily join you on the bunk. He'll strip himself of his armour, knowing how uncomfortable it is to cuddle, and lounge about with you.
Crosshair isn't much of a talker, but suddenly he wants to talk about anything and everything. He's doing whatever he can to distract you from the pain, and with him, the conversation usually ends up as a bitching session.
Now is the time to let off some steam; rant about anything and everything that's bothering you. Crosshair is going to encourage it, nodding and chuckling along, adding his thoughts and comments.
Before you know it, the pain has passed. Crosshair will shrug and say, "I don't want to get up. Pretend your pain is back."
You two will spend as long as you'd like cuddling and gossiping, maybe sharing some snacks, ignoring everyone who walks past to use the refresher.
#swwriting#tbbwriting#star wars#the bad batch#fluff#comfort#gender neutral reader#gn!reader#periods tw#reader insert#tbb hunter#tbb wrecker#tbb tech#tbb echo#tbb crosshair
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Something to Consider
Chapter One | Sometime In 2007
Chapters| One Two Three Four Five
Synopsis| Having a special technique that hasn’t been passed down in over a 100 years, you’ve been amongst the strongest since birth but with no clan of your own to clam this technique. It causes the Clans to offer arranged marriages left and right. Overwhelmed parents turn to your aunt's clan and the Zenin’s are happy to step in, in hopes you will pass down the technique down to them.
Whole story contains themes| arranged marriage, angst, violence, death, swearing? sexual harassments(nothing crazy) and of course SMUT.
Authors note| This is about the road to marrying Gojo, it’s gonna be long and filled with angst because I'm mean. This story starts with the reader being around 11ish. Has a little bit of manga spoilers from vol.8 because it has Toji. Hope you like it. This is written for my two whore best friends. :)
Sitting in the back of a black sedan, the rain and some random talk radio station playing softly. The sounds of the rain on the roof made you sleepy. You let out a sigh, pressing your head against the window, watching as the water droplets race. You had just gotten out of school when you heard your mothers fussing through the thick wood of the front door. Not even getting the chance to greet her, she was already on you about changing into something nice; tossing clothes around in a hurry. Your father on the other hand was calm, casually chatting with you while your mother rushed around in a tizzy.
You didn’t have the time to ask what this was about or why you needed to hurry before your mother pushed you into the car with Suzuki. Suzuki was your personal driver and bodyguard appointed by the Zenin clan. She was always so kind and patient, putting up with your snappy comments and pre-teen attitude. Even when you were being difficult she never got upset with you. You never understood why she was appointed to such a low grade job. She was incredibly strong. What was all the fuss about you and your technique anyway?
Suzuki taking you to the Zenin Estate after school was a common occurrence, usually it was for training but today it seemed more important than just that. You were your parents' prized possession because the Zenin clan convinced them of it. Your parents weren’t sorcerers but your mothers family was long ago. They possessed The Divine Panther, it hadn’t been passed down in over 100 years and by some miracle you got it. The Zenin’s took the opportunity, hoping you would pass it down into their clan but that wasn’t completely up to them. Not like they treated you like you were special. Pushing you so hard to master your technique while most of them looked down upon you. Most likely because your cursed energy was “weird” as Noaya said. Most of the youth are scared to train with you. So why train when everyone is already scared of you in the first place? The Zenin’s didn’t even fully understand your technique or so they say but they knew you were strong. Special grade strong, up there with the six eyes. “But just appearing strong isn’t the same as being strong.” Noaya would always say to you. I’m sure someone older and wiser than him told him that. Those words are far too sophisticated for a boy like him.
“Where are we even going, Suzuki-san?” you ask, moving your head from the window.
She looked at you through the rearview mirror as she spoke. “We are headed to the Zen’in residence, they wanted you to attend a clan meeting. Did your parents not tell you?”
You shake your head, crossing your arms. “No, they were too busy picking out clothes and telling me how to properly greet people, like I don't know how to.” Shifting your kimono as you grumble. “I’m not even a Zenin. Why do they want me there?”
“I’m sure they just want to include you.” She smiled in assurance.
She wasn’t wrong, but for some reason you didn’t like the feeling you got. It wasn’t that they wanted to include you in a clan meeting. The clan meeting was about you. They wanted you to marry one of theirs for the gain of power but they weren’t the only clan that wanted it. It was like a bidding war. It wasn’t really up to them, it was up to your parents in the end and the Zenin’s would do anything to sway them their way. A nice home, the best schools, private drivers. It was all just a ploy to get them to agree to an arranged marriage.
The soft sound of the radio and the rain made the ambiance of the car relaxing, distracting you from the scenery slowly turning into landmarks you didn’t recognize, the winding road getting more and more wooded as she drove.
“Well, now where are we going?” You question, bringing your attention up to her. “You’re not gonna murder me right?”
Your comment makes her chuckle. “No, I wouldn't dream of it!” The car turned into a long driveway. “I forgot to mention I had to stop at Jujutsu High to pick up Gojo Satoru.”
“A Gojo? I thought you worked for the Zenins?” Your little eyebrows furrow as you settle back into your previous position against the window. Looking at the well manicured landscaping as The car comes to a stop outside a large stair walkway that looks like it leads far into the woods.
“I work for a few people. I have to drop him off for something.”
“Something? Like what?”
“Well, that is not my business.” She shrugged.
Your attention was brought to the stairs, watching as a tall, white haired boy ran down the steps with his hands in his black uniform. He looked smug wearing sunglasses in the rain. His cursed energy grew stronger as he approached the car. Your head turned back to the window as he got closer. Seconds later the car door opened. Watching his reflection in your window as he got in. His cursed energy was strong, stronger than yours. You could see him look over at you through the reflection of the car window.
“Oh man, it's really pouring isn't it Suzuki-San?” He said, leaning forward to greet her.
He smelled like expensive cologne and hard candies. Almost like he had melted ones in his pocket. Suzuki turned around to look at him with an expression you have never seen.
“Hello, Gojo.” She smiled, leaning her arm on the middle console.
Your head still resting against the car window, watching the interaction. Pre-teen angst stirring around your aura. This isn’t worth missing your favorite show and you have to talk to people you don’t really like in the most uncomfortable kimono to ever exist. Now you have to watch Suzuki swoon over this Gojo guy. You had a good feeling he might be annoying, usually you’re pretty good at reading people and he seemed full of himself. The whole thing makes you want to just jump out of the car.
He leaned back in his seat as Suzuki started driving. He gave off an interesting energy to say the least, intimidating in a way but you felt a childishness that radiated off of him making you assume he couldn’t be much older than you. Not only that, he was texting someone; the clicking of his phone slightly irritating. Yeah, you weren’t a fan. He definitely was going to be annoying.
“You shouldn’t run down stairs with your hands in your pockets.” You stated.
Watching his fuzzy reflection pause, his attention moving to you. A smile grew on his face as he looked at you. All angsty and pretending to be uninterested. Don’t think you're the only one who can feel cursed energy and read people. He felt yours far before he got into the car and by the looks of it, you would be fun to mess with.
“Hm and why is that?” He placed his phone in his lap. What an interesting way to greet a stranger.
“You really don’t know?” You looked over at him with a scowl, only to be met with an amused smile and sunglasses.
“Nope.” he shook his head. “You shouldn’t start a conversation so harshly. Maybe try with your name next time.”
Oh, another Naoya? Fun. You thought. The way he spoke was like he was mocking you. So smug like you should be grateful to be in his presence and you couldn’t stand it. “You shouldn’t wear sunglasses inside, it's rude, plus it's raining.”
His eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. “It is raining, good job kid.”
“Whatever.” You turned away. Mostly to stop yourself from starting something that would get you in trouble.
“You know.” he pondered, finger tapping his chin. “If you treat people this way, you won't find a husband.” You felt him lean over to you, hand resting uncomfortably close to your leg but moving away would let him know you were affected by his actions and the more you react the more they keep being annoying. You learned that from Naoya.
“Oh, I don’t want one.” You stated, looking at him. “I-um.” The second part of your snarky comment dying on the tip of your tongue. The edges of his lips turned up into a cheeky smirk, crystal blue eyes and white eyelashes peaking over the rim of his black sunglasses. In all honesty It made you shut up, his closeness made you lose your edge and Gojo ate it up. He noticed how your posture changed ever so slightly, shifting around nervously as you tried to remember your sarcastic comment. Gojo was right, you would be fun to tease.
“Go on?” He teased, leaning ever so slightly closer to you. You didn’t answer. Scrunching your nose at him. His close proximity made you blush. Why did that make you nervous? It’s not like he was that handsome. (This is a lie, he is very handsome. Unfortunately.)
“Satoru.” Suzuki’s soft voice cut in, her head shaking lightly as she looked at the pair of you through her mirror. Her expression was sharp as Gojo made eye contact with her. He then looked back at your flush face before falling back against his seat with a sigh. Suzuki’s looks speak a thousand words but she must have known him well for her to address him like that. You were just grateful she saved you, the blush on your face fading while the sounds of talk radio filled the silence in the car.
Your thoughts brought you to the Zen’in clan meeting. You really didn’t care too much about these things, everyone was always so pretentious, always going on about something you pretended to listen to. Noaya was the worst, of the younger ones that is. Always bullying everyone, especially the girls. He was so vulgar about it too but It didn’t bother you the way he wanted or at least you didn’t show it. Plus it was too much fun to watch his reactions. Boys like him need to be kicked down a peg or two anyway. A/N:(Or be pegged..hehehe)
“Suzuki-san? Do you think Noaya will be there today?” You question breaking the silence.
“I’m sure he will, why do you ask?”
“No reason.” you sigh.
Gojo glanced over at you. “Is that your boyfriend or sumin’?”
“Ew No.” You shook your head. “He calls me a dog or... other things.. So, I bite him.”
“Ya’ one of those weird kids?” He chuckled.
“No. But if you're going to call someone a dog, don't act surprised when they bite you.” You shrug. He was silent, looking at you over his glasses with amusement— you did have a point.
“You’re kinda proving my point here.”
“If you knew him you would understand, he definitely deserves it.”
“Mhm.” Gojo nodded, turning back to his phone. It was quiet again before he spoke.
“Well, he's probably just got a crush on you.”
“Ugh, I hope not.” You say with disgust. “Plus, I don't think you would say the things he says to someone you like.”
“Like what?”
“I’d rather not repeat them.”
The car parking ended your conversation. You had stopping in a part of town you’ve never seen, It was fairly creepy. No bus stops or open stores, just abandoned stores and warehouses. You heard Gojo let out a small sigh before he unbuckled and opened the door, the sound of the rain filled the car as he got out.
“Where are you going?” you ask. “Why are you getting out here? It's creepy.”
You had leaned over the middle seat to speak to Gojo, looking up at his tall frame as he stepped out. “Wait? Don’t tell me you actually like me?” He said, you could practically hear the smirk on his lips as he spoke.
“No, I’m just concerned for my own safety.” You said, smiling up at him a teasing glint in your eye. He chuckled, straightening his jacket as he bent down to look at you. Your Seat-Belt stretched as far as it could go in to speak with him. And for the second time since meeting him he makes you blush. His eyes locked with yours as he spoke, his tone no longer filled with its usual teasing nature.
“That's probably a good thing.” He smiled, swinging the door shut.
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo saturo x reader#gojo sensei#gojo saturo x you#gojo saturo#jjk x reader#jjk gojo#gojo smut#gojo x you#gojo fanfic#Gojo Satoru smut#Gojo Satoru x reader#Gojo Satoru x you#Gojo Satoru#gojo satoru fanfic
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𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭 || 𝐍𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐝!𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞
summary: Steve always loved tying you up when he had to work.
warnings: SMUT. dom!steve. heavy bondage; hogtied. degradation. dirty talk. rough oral sex. overstimulation. asphyxiation.
word count: 1,730
author’s note: based off the gif of Chris Evans telling Dodger to “Stop”, but then Nomad!Steve came to mind and the rest was history.
📖 Master List
This work has Adult Content. If you click “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content.
The dark kitchen flooring is harsh under your naked chest as a puddle of drool forms below your face forcing you to keep your head elevated. The ropes were pulled tight this time around leaving no room for compromise.
You teethed around the small red ball gag, softly groaning from the ache and the pressure forming in your tendons. You’d need a long, soothing bath after Steve was done with his meeting.
Pins and needles prickled your feet as they reached towards the sky bound securely to the rope forcing your hands to your lower back. Any time you shifted your rope covered arms, your ankles would move with them, making it impossible to have any control.
Your shoulders were starting to groan under the tension. Maybe if you were able to turn to one side your feet would no longer tingle and the pain in your upper body would quell.
You could feel his eyes the moment you started wiggling more than usual.
He always loved tying you up when he had a meeting, he relishes knowing you’ll be there waiting for him. The obvious distraction of peering over his laptop to find you so helpless drove him mad. He couldn’t help but smirk when you’d huff at him through the gag and writhe for his pleasure.
You angled your feet as far to the side as you could without dislocating your shoulders but without good momentum you were going nowhere.
His boisterous laugh meant he was still paying attention to the conversation coming over the small speakers but you knew he’d be keeping a close eye.
Swinging your feet to one side you threw them to the opposite almost succeeding and rolling to your side but you fell back onto your belly with a soft grunt.
“One moment.” Steve said with a hint of annoyance.
He muted his mic and walked a few paces to your struggling form, still pathetically attempting to turn on your side.
His fingers dove between the band of the ball gag and your scalp keeping you stock still. He tipped your head up looking down at you through his lashes, “If you make any more noise, I won’t hesitate to get the wand and leave you strapped to it until dinner.”
You whimpered under his hard stare, eyes falling to the floor in humiliation.
“Understand?”
You slowly blinked in response, moaning around the gag causing more drool to slip out the corners of your lips.
“That’s my Good Girl.” Steve beamed, slipping his hold from the gag and turning you back onto your belly. Your ribs compressed against the flooring uncomfortably causing you to groan as he walked back to the table and unmuted his mic.
“Sorry about that. Now, where were we?”
His eyes flicked to you, wishing you’d make a noise just so he could watch you suffer a bit longer in the intricate bondage. The thought of standing over your body as you squirmed and cried out to him made his cock harden.
“Not a problem, Mr. Rogers.” A fellow colleague chimed before breaking off into hapless chatter.
The discussion passed by slowly. You stared at the base of the kitchen island and at the rug where you’d stand while doing dishes, barely listening to the conversation.
It was hard work keeping your head up for so long. The muscles in your neck screamed at you to let them rest. The tendons were burning and felt ready to snap at any moment. You tried to move again, wiggling your secured body as much as you could away from the growing puddle beneath your chin.
You struggled endlessly, trying to not hit the ground with your knees as you gained enough drive to fall onto your side with an ‘oopmh’. Your face pinched, a mix of fear and failure painting your features knowing everyone on the call heard you.
If your jaw could tremble it would’ve once your eyes landed on Steve.
He hid the fiery blaze well when a co-worker asked if everything was ok. Steve flashed his million-dollar smile and smoothed a hand over his beard, “All good, Ma’am.”
As much as the pain receded in your arms and your feet no longer felt numb, the shame of disappointing Steve consumed you. You let your head fall to the side, resting while you could because once the chat was over you knew there would be hell to pay.
Not long after you shut your eyes you heard feet pounding closer to your frame shocking you from the light slumber.
Steve pulled you back onto your belly by your arms and loosened the knot at your knees before forcing a wand vibrator harshly between your thighs and nestling it against your folds flicking the power on to the highest setting.
Your body jolted sharply in the binds. You wriggled trying to lessen the intense vibrations as they pulsed through your core.
“You brought it on yourself, Doll.” He crooned, stepping on your arms with his wing tipped shoes forcing you to pause your movements, “If you want to make it up to me, you’ll stay still.”
He unlaced a cord of rope from your ankles and unstrapped the ball gag from your tired, over stretched lips. He gave you a moment to work your jaw around, easing the tension it held before looping a strand of rope around your neck and pulling taut.
Your head was now locked in an upright position by the rope around your ankles keeping you exactly how he wanted.
“You fucked up big time… but I’ll just take it out on these pretty little holes.” You whimpered pitiably as his fingers dove between your lips causing you to sputter and cough. His free hand pulled out his girthy cock and tapped it over your tear-stained cheeks.
The powerful sensation between your legs was making you squeal and shimmy your body, unsure if you were trying to get away or move closer to the wicked piece of plastic.
“Look at you making such a mess.” He grinned wickedly as he lined up his cock to your swollen, spit soaked lips. “These are my fuck holes. Isn’t that right?”
You instinctively nod, cutting off your air with the rope as it pulled on your ankles. Your eyes bug fearfully as your breathing diminishes quickly. Steve loosens the tension with his fingers, sliding between the rope, “Gotta be careful, Sweetheart. I’m the only one who decides when you breathe and when you don’t.” He says with a sly grin.
Suddenly, his cock slides past your lips with a swift punch to your tonsils and it makes you heave.
“Shhh, you’ve taken my cock like this many times, don’t be so dramatic.”
His hips shove forward, grunting with every pass over your tongue as he slots his hands behind your head and literally skull fucks you. There was no time to breathe, his thrusts were so fast and steady you only got air when he allowed it.
Spit and precum fell from your lips, traveling down your neck and gracing your bosom as his balls slapped against your sticky chin. Steve looked like a lewdly pantied watercolor as you shed tears freely while he had his way with your mouth.
He pushed on your ankles, forcing the rope to tighten around the sensitive column of your neck, muffling, frantic moans vibrated his cock as you struggled in your binds like a wild bird caught in a net.
“I love it when you get desperate, makes my cock so fucking hard.” He growled, releasing his grip on your ankles and sliding free from your lips.
You suck in panicky breaths before his bulbous crown is kissing your lips once more. The rope eats into your skin with every needy thrust, pushing you closer to the edge as the vibrations from the wand make your core spasm.
“Can’t believe you haven’t come yet. You must be learning, Doll.” He teased, leaning over your frame and grabbing the wand, “But right now, you’re gonna come.”
Spit landed on your plump cheeks, dripping down to your puckered hole, “Gonna have you screamin’ around my cock. Hell, maybe I’ll even make you pass out. I’ve always wanted to try that.”
There was no time to consider his threat as a digit swirled around your rim before pushing past the tight muscle. His cock rumbled from your hearty moans as he fingered your ass, double penetrating you brazenly.
Everything was too much and not enough. He brought you to the edge so quickly as he dragged his finger over your walls and invaded your taste buds with his musk.
“There’s nowhere to go, Sweetheart. I want you to come, so you’re gonna come.” He ordered before shoving his length into your throat and cutting off your air. Your body shook in the confines when he added a second finger, spreading you open obscenely.
The twisting in your belly goes taut and you scream your blissful release around his thickness. He slides from your lips finally allowing you to breathe as you suck in copious amounts of oxygen and try not to cough them away.
Steve shifts back onto his knees, sliding his fingers from your hole before wrapping them around his spit soaked length, curling with precision as the burning in your lungs tempers.
His face pinches with ecstasy as he jerks his cock over you, ragged grunts fill the room when he comes with a deep growl. Warmth hits your face in abundance; splatters of thick seed coat your skin, sticking to your brow and hairline.
The spend slowly dries in a rich layer as you hear him shuffle and zip his pants. “Well, you’ve got about another hour and a half to go before dinner.” Steve mentioned in passing, as he glanced at his wrist watch.
Steve didn’t bother to wipe his seed from your face, pleased with how debauched you looked hogtied on the kitchen floor. His sticky spend sealing your eyes shut as you writhed under the forceful vibrations from the wand still strapped to your mound.
He fixed the ball gag back into your mouth, “tsks” at your annoyed whimpers when you pathetically fought him. By the time he opened his laptop and set to work again, you screamed out in euphoria as your second of many orgasms that afternoon consumed you.
#steve rogers#steve rogers smut#steve rogers one shot#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers/you#steve rogers/reader#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fic#steve rogers fanfiction#nomad!steve rogers#ozzie writes#lariat#chris evans#chris evans x you#chris evans x reader
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lonely people | b.b.
pairing: bucky barnes x reader
rating: fluff
warnings: slow burn. kinda long.
a/n: i’m not dead. i just had zero inspiration. here’s to me kinda getting my groove back. it took me way too long to finish this, but i think y’all will like it. it’s one of my faves.
People were...people.
And people were complicated.
That’s all you could really say to describe your relationships, or lack thereof. You could blame it on your social anxiety or undeveloped communication skills or just the sole fact that you strongly despised the human race. In fact, you could spend the rest of your life alone in your apartment and you’d be fine, but your therapist mentioned that loneliness was damaging. No one deserves to be alone, she had said. Maybe she was right, you just shrugged it off. You had been alone most of your life. It wasn’t something that you shut the door on like a nosy neighbor. You welcomed the solace being alone provided. A comfort and a calm that couldn’t be interrupted. However, the words of your therapist seemed to etch themselves permanently in the back of your mind. You could hear her calm, almost motherly, voice as you carried on with your week.
You need friends, Y/n. You need people that you can relate to and depend on. I’m the only human contact you get every week and yes, you can depend on me, but you need someone else. Anyone else.
You sighed, your eyes squeezing shut as you tried to rid your mind of her voice. Making friends was something children did. You were a grown ass adult who still panicked when it was your turn to pay in the grocery line. Getting to know someone required putting yourself out there. Being vulnerable, but before that you just actually had to talk...to another human. Which you weren’t good at. But maybe, just maybe, Dr. Smith’s voice would go away if you gave it a shot.
So, you got up and got dressed in your favorite hoodie and jeans and topped it off with a pair of hightop converse. You weren’t exactly sure where you were going to go, but the coffee shop down the street was always your first stop before you went anywhere. It was apart of the routine. No, it didn’t inspire change. It was small and quiet, the people were nice, and the coffee was five star. It was the perfect place for you to pop in every now and then and gain that sense of familiarity. You ordered the same thing every time; vanilla sweet cream cold brew. The first time you walked in, it’s the what the barista recommended. You figured that he knew best, so you went with it. Now, every time you grace the coffee shop with your presence, you don’t even make it up to the counter before they start on your order.
“How’ve you been, Y/n?” Your favorite barista, Donnie, wore a kind smile as you leaned against the counter. He was a tall redhead who always seemed to be working the same days you went in. It was comforting and regular.
“Good,” you said honestly, “Sorry, I haven’t come down to see you. I bought the Keurig you recommended. It works wonders for an introverted individual.”
Donnie chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re saying it’s my fault?”
“Precisely,” You hummed as he slid you your daily dose of caffeine. “You’re the best, Don.” You slid him a ten and he just glanced up at you. “On the house...I know,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “It’s a tip.” Before he could protest, you were half way out the door and stepping out onto the busy Brooklyn streets. Immediately, you shoved your left hand in your hoodie pocket, making your body as small as possible. Trying to walk through downtown Brooklyn would have been impossible for you a year ago. It was too crowded, too many bodies, too much noise. It was overwhelming. Even now, it still overwhelmed you, but your sessions with Dr. Smith had made controlling your anxiety easier.
Taking a hard right, you cut through an empty alley that was a shortcut to your apartment. You had gotten out of your house today. That was enough for you. Tomorrow, you had a session with Dr. Smith.
The office building that Dr. Smith worked in was nice. Really nice. The whole building was reinforced glass, whites, grays, and blacks bringing to the modern feel. It was a great contrast to the red, brick buildings that bore the history of the city. Today, the sun radiated throughout the whole building bringing it’s warmth and a multitude of people with it. There were different businesses in the building, a dentist on floor eight and an insurance company on floor ten, so, naturally there were always people in and out of the elevator. Today, though, there was a lot of people. You had managed to squeeze your way to the back, your shoulders brushing over the ones next to you. You fingers meddled with the gold rings that you rarely took off, eyes casted at the floor. Your breathing was quick and shallow and the small child who couldn’t seem to take their eyes off of you only made it worse.
When the elevator dinged and a bright red ‘NINE’ ran across the screen, you shoved your way out of the steal box and tumbled into the waiting room. You were almost gasping for air as you approached the front desk.
“Too many people?”
You nodded meeting a pair of green eyes. Cynthia was probably the nicest lady you had ever met. She was nearing 40 and married with a couple of a kiddos that you seen running around the offices. She wore a kind smile and had a soothing voice that you could listen to all day. “You changed you hair color?” Her usual brown hair, was now blonde with brown highlights. It was pretty, but it was different.
“Yeah,” Cynthia sighed, running a hand through her long locks, “Ready for a change, I suppose.”
You nodded, signing your name on the check-in sheet.
Change. Even the thought made you wanna puke. Brooklyn, New York had been your home all of the 25 years you had been alive. You knew the streets like the back of your hand. You knew what diners were the best, how to get from one place to another without getting stuck in traffic, the best and worst places to live, the names of the all the older men and women whose businesses were still kicking. Brooklyn was all you had ever known. It’s all you wanted to know. You didn’t want different. You didn’t want something you would have to get used to, something you would have to learn. You had discovered that even the smallest inconveniences were hard for you deal with. Like right now, two teenagers were in your seat. The black leather couch that you had grown accustomed to was taken. You stopped, your breath hitching ever-so slightly. The only available spot was next to a man with cropped brown hair and a brooding appearance that made you want to settle for the tile floors.
Get over yourself, L/n, you said to yourself. The man only glanced at you when you sat down next to him. He shuffled over to give you more space and that’s when you noticed his gloved hands. It was 60 degrees out and sunny. Why this man was wearing gloves, you weren’t going to ask. You just shrunk further into your seat, your knee bouncing with every second that ticked by. A few minutes passed and you could feel the man’s eyes on you. You caught a glimpse of his steel blue eyes before he looked away.
“Sorry,” he muttered under his breath.
You shook your head. “Uh, don’t worry about it.”
Minutes of uncomfortable silence seemed to go on forever until your name was called. You stood up wiping the imaginary dust off your jeans, not sparing the unknown man a glance before disappearing down the hallway.
“Make any friends this week?” Dr. Smith asked. Her glasses were perched atop of her nose, her brown eyes already searching for a lie.
“I went to see Donnie.”
She rolled her eyes, clicking her pen twice. “Did you make any new friends?”
You sighed, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth. “I talked to a guy in the lobby before today’s session.”
Dr. Smith hummed, raising an eyebrow. “Did you get this guys name or number?”
“No, but he wore gloves. Who wears gloves in the middle of spring?” You asked, more to yourself than to the shrink.
“That’s James,” Dr. Smith revealed. Her first name was Marlinda, most called her Mar. “War vet. He doesn’t get out much either. You two might be good for each other. I want you to talk to him.”
You groaned. “Mar-“
“Y/n. You are 25 years and have no friends. No one to talk to. You. Are. Alone. And I know that’s hard for you to hear and you may not understand nor realize it. I want you to have a life, Y/n. I want you experience things without being crippled by your anxiety. But it’s going to take work. Work that you have to do. There are mountains you’ll have to go over and valleys you’ll need to travel through. But I will not allow you to let your anxiety control you.”
You swallowed thickly, Dr. Smith’s words hitting you like a ton of bricks. Her words were genuine. She wanted to see you be free, but they were stern. You met her eyes before glancing out the window. “I’m trying, Mar. I just don’t know how to do it.”
“Start by getting James’ number. I expect good news next week.” You nodded, standing to your feet. You stuffed your hands into the pocket of your hoodie as you trudged over to the door. “And Y/n?”
You turned around raising an eyebrow.
“You’re more than your anxiety.” Mar’s voice was soft and didn’t have the edge to it like it usually did. You could only send her half a smile before grabbing the door handle and walking out of the office.
It rained for three days straight after your session with Mar. You spent those three days moping in your apartment. Most of time, the rain didn’t bother you. You loved the rain. You loved the cozy atmosphere and the peace those gray, rumbling clouds brought. You would always turn on a good movie or pick out a book to read. You sighed as you read the same line for nearly the tenth time. Your mind was elsewhere. It was cluttered. Dr. Smith’s words rolling around in your head like a bowling ball. You’re more than your anxiety.
“For goodness sake,” you muttered under your breath. You stood up from your couch and made your way into your room. “This’ll have to do.” You were in a pair of light wash jeans, a plain back tee, windbreaker on top, and the same pair of converse from a few days ago. You grabbed your phone, keys, and wallet before heading out the door. The rain had slowed down just enough for you to reach Brooklyn Roasting Company. As soon as you stepped in the door, the floodgates opened and thunder rumbled in the sky. You shrugged off your jacket as you approached the counter, catching the sight of the familiar mop of red hair.
“I get to see you twice in a week,” Donnie said catching your gaze. “Someone’s getting adventurous.”
You scoffed, a small smile playing on your lips. “Don’t get used to it.”
“I’ll grab your cold brew, but I hope that you didn’t plan on sitting in your usual seat.”
You furrowed your eyebrows following Donnie’s gaze to the man sitting in your seat..the one next to the window. You recognized the cropped brown hair, sharp jawline, and gloved hands.
“You think you could bring that cold brew to my table?”
“Yeah, give me a couple of minutes.”
You muttered thanks.
Start by getting James’ number...
You’re more than your anxiety.
You sucked in a sharp breath, your feet carrying you over to the table James was sitting at. You cleared your throat when he didn’t notice you at first. His eyes ran over your frame, a hint of confusion mixing in with the ocean blue.
“H-hi,” your voice was soft and you smiled, nervousness laced in your eyes. “Do you, uh, mind if I sit here?”
James’ eyes looked at the empty tables behind you and then to the seat across from him. “No. It’s all yours.” An awkward silence fell between the two of you, your eyes focused on the rain drops rolling down the windows.
“Vanilla sweet cream cold brew for the pretty lady,” Donnie said, interrupting the silence.
“Thanks, Don,” you said with a small smile. He nodded mouthing, ‘good luck,’ before sending you a wink and heading back into the kitchen.
“You’re the girl from the therapists office?” James’ voice was deep and smooth.
You nodded taking a sip of your coffee. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m Y/n.”
“Bucky.”
“Bucky,” you repeated, his name falling effortlessly from your lips. You both liked the way it rolled off your tongue so easily. You glanced out the window and then back at Bucky. He looked tired, dark circles starting to form under his eyes, but that didn’t take away from his striking features. There was a light stubble lining his jawline almost up to his high cheek bones. His blue eyes stuck out against his pail skin, long eyelashes grazing his skin when he blinked. He wore the same black jacket he had adorned at therapy, black jeans, and black combat boots. You could see a dark blue shirt poking out at the top, dog tags hanging loosely around his neck. “It’s nice to meet you, Bucky.”
“The pleasure is mine, Y/n.”
Bucky couldn’t get his knee to stop moving. Up and down, up and down. Faster and faster. He was waiting. Waiting for you. You ended up spending nearly an hour at the coffee shop together. Few words were exchanged, but neither of you really desired to talk. It was the presence of another person that both of you were content with. Bucky glanced at the clock, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth. He had ten minutes before his session and he really wanted to see you. Another minute passed and soon enough you were stepping out of the elevator. At just the sight of you, Bucky’s knee came to slow, his shoulders relaxing.
“Hi,” you said softly. You sounded almost out of breath, your chest rising and falling quicker than normal.
Bucky sent you a small tug of his lips as you sat down next to him. “Hey.” No other words were exchanged.
The following week, you were late and missed getting a chance to see Bucky before your session.
“I made a friend...I think,” you told Mar.
“James?” Mar questioned.
“Bucky,” you corrected sitting back in your seat.
A small but proud smile graced Mar’s lips. You didn’t realize it, but there was an ever so small light in your eyes that she saw. A light that she had been trying to dig out of you since your first session. “And did you get Bucky’s number?”
You shook your head. “I talked to him though. I took the first step and asked if I could sit at his table. I sit next to him in the waiting room before sessions. He’s- he’s nice.”
“There was a time when I thought your smile would never reach your eyes,” Mar said honestly. “I’m glad to see you’ve changed my mind.”
The next week, you got there before Bucky. You were half and hour early. Why?
You wanted to spend time with a friend.
Ten minutes later, Bucky stepped out of the elevator his eyes searching the room until they landed on you.
“You didn’t come last week.”
You slid over so the brunette could sit. “I didn’t miss. I was late.” Bucky hummed. “You miss me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, L/n,” the man scoffed.
“You can admit it. Besides, it’s nice to know someone enjoys having me around. I like having you around too.”
Cynthia called your name before Bucky got a chance to respond. You stood up, sending him a smile before disappearing down the hallway.
“Leaving so soon?”
You jumped, your hand flying to your chest, heart beating wildly. You turned to face Bucky who was leaning against the glass building, a smug smile playing on his lips.
“What the hell, Barnes?”
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Bucky said pushing himself off the wall. The sunlight only seemed to illuminate Bucky’s features further.
“Yes, you did,” you deadpanned.
“You’re right,” Bucky shrugged, “I did.”
You rolled your eyes continuing down the street. Bucky caught up with you quickly, his stride matching yours. “What do you want, Buck?”
“I wanna...hang.”
You stopped in your tracks, your eyes narrowing. “You want to...hang?”
“Um, yeah. If-if that’s okay with you.” Bucky seemed nervous as you guys moved out of the way of those trying to avoid you.
Your eyes softened. “That’s more than okay with me, Bucky. You got anywhere in mind?”
“You’re place?”
Bucky was in your space. Your space. If someone didn’t out right tell what they were really like, their home definitely did.
It smells good in here, Bucky thought to himself. Your apartment was exactly how Bucky pictured it to be. Simple, yet organized. The living room held a gray couch and two plush chairs, a TV mounted on the wall. A glass coffee table sat in the middle, a few books and a half consumed coffee cup on top. You dropped your jacket over the back of the couch, noticing how Bucky was still standing by your door.
“Can I get you anything?” You offered.
Bucky shifted his weight into his right leg. “I’ll take a water.”
As you reached into the refrigerator, you could hear Bucky’s footsteps against the hardwood floors. When you looked up, he had taken a seat at the countertop, his jacket and gloves still on. You tossed him the water which he caught with ease.
“What?” Bucky asked. Your arms were crossed over your chest, that look of curiosity that he had grown to recognize on your face.
“You gonna take your jacket off?”
“I’m comfortable,” Bucky shrugged.
“I’ve known you for a month, James.” Bucky’s eyes narrowed at the use of first name. “What could be so bad that you have to hide it from me?”
Bucky was quiet for a moment and when he looked at you there was a sadness laced in his eyes. “A lot.”
You pushed yourself off the counter moving to sit next to the larger man. “We’re both messed up, Buck. If I can’t handle your flaws, then I shouldn’t call myself your friend. Look, you don’t have to tell me or show me, but you’re kinda all I got so I’m always gonna be here.”
“I just need some time,” Bucky said softly.
You nodded placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Come on,” you gestured towards the tv, “You said you wanted to hang.”
This hang out continued. Every week, Bucky would come and spend the rest of the afternoon and evening with you after therapy. He slowly started to loosen up around you and you around him.
“So, he’s your best friend?” Mar asked.
“Um, yeah,” you nodded, “You could put it like that.”
Mar stared at you for a moment, her eyes studying your face. You shifted in your seat, your knee bouncing slightly. Her stare made you uncomfortable. She knew you better than anyone so whatever she was going to say was going to hit you deep. “You like him.”
You choked on air, your eyes wide. “I- what?”
Mar rolled her eyes. “Don’t play dumb, Y/n. You’ve fallen for him.”
“Mar-“
“Y/n, it’s okay,” she said noticing the scared look laced in your eyes. “You’re allowed to feel again. You know, when you walked into this office you only spoke...maybe ten words to me. You hated it. You hated me. You didn’t want to trust anyone because you lost someone.”
“...I lost everyone,” you said softly.
“I know,” Mar agreed, “but you allowed yourself to let Bucky in and you’ve only known him for two months. He’s special to you-“
“He’s all that I have, Mar.”
“So why not give him all that you have?”
There were tears threatening to spill. “Because everyone that I’ve ever loved, I’ve lost.”
“But it wasn’t your fault. What happened to your dad came with the job, okay? And we both know that it’s better that your mom was not in your life. And your grandparents? They hung on until you were legally an adult. Loss is apart of life, Y/n. It’s not something you can run from and hope never happens.”
“But it hurts,” your voice was barely above a whisper, but the pain was there.
“It’s supposed to because you cared. I know that you’re scared, but you and James both deserve someone who cares and loves unconditionally.”
The next day, there was a knock on your door.
“It’s open!” you called from the couch. You knew Bucky was planning to come over. He had texted you a few hours before asking what you wanted from the coffee shop. You heard the door slam shut and Bucky’s shuffling from behind the couch.
“Hey,” he said. He extended his arm to hand you your cold brew except in front of you was metal. Your eyes raked up the metal arm until you met Bucky’s blue eyes. His bottom lip was tugged between his teeth, jacket and gloves discarded. He was waiting for your reaction. Waiting for you to kick him out and tell him that you never wanted to see him again in account of what he had done. But that didn’t happen.
“I knew it,” you muttered softly.
Bucky was tense as he sat down next to you. “You knew what?”
“I’m not an idiot, Bucky. I started to piece things together. The gloves, the jacket, your overall hatred for humanity..”
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”
“Because I knew that you’d tell me when you were comfortable,” you shrugged. You sank down in your seat taking a drink of your coffee.
You could see from your peripheral, Bucky setting his coffee on the table, his body moving closer to yours, knees touching. He took your hand in his metal one squeezing it gently. “Thank you.”
You responded by bring the black and gold metal to your lips. The gesture caused both you and Bucky to freeze. Neither of you were used to displays of affection, giving or receiving. It wasn’t hard to tell that both of you were touch deprived and longing for something gentle and real. Even though Bucky couldn’t really feel your kiss, the gesture was enough for him to realize how special you were. His heart was beating wildly in his chest as he craved more. He wanted to feel every inch of you, not just your body, but your heart, and your soul. He wanted to know you, all of you. He wanted to know how you liked your eggs cooked, your favorite song, what books you were reading, what made you laugh, what made you cry, your favorite places to eat, your favorite movies. Bucky wanted you.
“I’m sorry,” you said, the heat crawling up your neck. “I- it felt right. Everything with you feels right.” Bucky could sense that there was more you wanted to say, so he stayed silent, his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand. “When I met you, I wasn’t looking for anything. I actually was against relationships as a whole. But then I met you. And that was...it just happened, I guess. I found myself wanting to spend time with you. And then I found myself falling for you. It was simple and easy. I was comfortable. I think that’s how the best relationships start. You’re not looking and then there’s something. Someone. You’re my someone.”
Bucky’s heart swelled at your confession. God, I don’t deserve her, he thought to himself. He didn’t think that it was possible to have someone feel that way about him, nor did you think it was possible to feel the way you felt about Bucky.
“This whole relationship thing...I don’t really know how to do it,” Bucky said, his voice low and laced with a kind of disappointment. “I’m not sure I remember how to love or what it’s like to be loved, but I’m will to try for you. You’re all I got and you’re all I want, Y/n L/n.”
You sent him a sweet smile, a smile that reached your eyes and was filled with warmth. Suddenly, the distance between you was slim to none, your breaths mingling together. Bucky’s hands had found themselves gripping at your waist pulling you impossibly close. You were hoping he couldn’t hear your thundering heartbeat, your bottom lip tugged between your teeth. Before you lost the courage, you pressed your lips softly against Bucky’s. It was as if time stopped for this moment. The kiss was sweet, the feeling strange and foreign but you welcomed the change. Your lips seemed to fit together perfectly as Bucky took the lead, clearly more experienced. When you pulled away, Bucky grunted chasing your lips hungry for more.
“Damn,” you muttered, chest heaving. “That was...nice?”
“Nice?” Bucky laughed. It was probably the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. “You’re an angel, ya know that?”
A shy smile tugged at your cheeks as you placed your head on Bucky’s shoulder. You two had a lot to learn about yourselves, about each other, about relationships. And you were scared....terrified. But as you sat there, a warm feeling turning in your stomach, Bucky’s arms wrapped around you, you decided that the risk was worth it. And the man next to you was worth everything.
—
tag list: @hellishseaqueen
#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x reader#james buchanan barnes#bucky fluff#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x reader#fatws#fatws bucky#avenger imagines#marvel fluff#marvel fanfiction
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