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heyiwrotesomethings · 3 years

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Research

Ririka Momobami x She/Her Reader (feat. Kirari being a nuisance)

A/N: Ririka’s relationship leaves Kirari feeling a bit envious and curious. Never a good combination. I think Kakegurui Kari ruined me from ever characterizing Kirari in a proper way. Anyway, hope y’all enjoy! Word Count: 3,456 (what are the odds?!)

“Ririka, how is it that you and (Y/n) are already in the hand holding stage of your relationship?” Kirari had asked out of the blue at dinner whilst swirling her drink, watching the liquid spin around.

Ririka recognized that look in her sister’s eyes. It was a dangerous one, boredom. And if there was one thing the older twin knew about how her sister dealt with boredom, it was to stand back as far as possible and disappear into the background. She couldn’t not answer Kirari though, that would just pique her interest even further. So, Ririka assumed the best disinterested face she could muster and answered her sister’s odd query.

“(Y/n) brushed her hand against mine one day when we were walking in the school forest. We looked at each other and we just sort of gravitated towards each other. Now it’s just something we do.” Ririka shrugged before savoring the last bite of her meal. Unfortunately her answer did not yield the desired effect as Kirari leaned forward a bit in her chair, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“So you’ve communicated your intentions telepathically. How does one go about achieving that in a relationship?”

Ririka swallowed, wishing she could have chewed just a bit longer on the delicious morsel. “Not at all. We just... read each other’s cues.”

“So it’s like gambling?” Kirari asked, intrigued.

“In a way, I suppose.” Ririka said. She didn’t think so, but if there was one thing her fish brained sister understood, it was gambling. It was just about the only reference she understood besides those related to outer space, baseball and the ocean so naturally, she applied it to everything.

“Hmm, I see.”

Ririka had a moment when she thought Kirari was satisfied and was about to excuse herself to her room. Unfortunately, Kirari wasn’t quite done with her yet.

“So will you use the same method when you share your first kiss as well?”

Ririka fumbled with the silverware before she could place it back on the table. A fatal mistake in the presence of her twin.

“You’ve already kissed then? My, Ririka, you’ve only been together a couple of months. Aren’t you moving a little too fast?” Kirari asked, an amused and all knowing smile pulled at her blue stained lips.

“I assure you my relationship is moving at a normal pace. (Y/n) has been wonderful and hasn’t pushed me into anything before I was ready.”

“Is (Y/n) often the one to make the first move then?”

“If you must know, she is. She has more experience than me when it comes to these things.” Ririka answered, eyeing the grand clock none too discreetly. She hoped Kirari would lose interest soon.

“I see, more experience then.” Kirari nodded thoughtfully.

“Yes,” Ririka sighed, “If you won’t be needing anything else, then I’m going to my room.”

“There was one thing.” Kirari spoke, pausing Ririka in her tracks. “I will be needing the mask for tomorrow. There is something I must observe.”

“Very well.” Ririka answered plainly. She knew if she turned the questions back on her sister she’d be met with riddles and she was too tired to decipher them tonight. Ririka leaned over the large table and set her mask in front of her sister. “Good night.”

“Good night.” Kirari grinned, pulling the mask up to her face just enough to cover her chilling smile. It was an action that was completely performative, that much Ririka knew. If only she could understand just what her sister was up to.

Ririka simply continued on her way, getting ready for bed in her en-suite bathroom before falling into bed and wrapping herself up like a burrito. She reached her arm out for her phone and pulled it into her cocoon, smiling as she read (Y/n)’s goodnight text. She sent one of her own and was about to put her phone back on her charger when she remembered she wasn’t going to be herself tomorrow and frowned. She messaged (Y/n) again to fill her in on the switch as she usually did when they came up. It was something she really felt compelled to do after she and (Y/n) started dating. The last thing Ririka needed was for Kirari to upset (Y/n) while masquerading around as herself. With her message sent, Ririka put her phone back on her nightstand and curled further into her burrow of blankets.

***

(Y/n) walked through the main gates of Haykkaou Academy the next morning, breezing right past the students loitering around, not quite ready to enter the property for one reason or another. Usually Ririka would be waiting nearby, but sadly this was not going to be one of those days.

(Y/n) decided she’d head right into the school and do some work at her desk or maybe gamble with her classmates if they were paying something that caught her interest. She had just finished switching her shoes at her cubby when another pair of feet stopped right beside her.

Craning her head, (Y/n) was very surprised to see a familiar theatre mask smiling down at her. A sight that she had grown used to over the past couple months she had been dating Ririka. (Y/n) stood up, confused but no less delighted by her girlfriend’s sudden appearance.

“Hey! I thought you said you were busy today.” (Y/n) said.

“...” Only a small crackle of static as Ririka took a breath reached (Y/n)’s ears.

“What’s up, is your sister driving you crazy again this morning? Is that why you’re here and not in the council room?” (Y/n) asked, closing her shoe cubby. She knew Ririka wasn’t much of a conversationalist so she wasn’t particularly bothered by the silence, but a, ‘good morning’ would be nice at the very least.

She did not receive a greeting, just a blank stare through the black holes of the mask.

“Well, I was going to go to our classroom and hang out until class started, but if you’d rather go somewhere more quiet we can do that too, what do you think?” (Y/n) asked.

“Let’s do what we normally do together in the morning.” The distorted voice replied. Not that (Y/n) could know for sure, but it almost sounded commanding.

“...Okay then. I’ll just have to change my shoes again real quick.”

(Y/n) changed her shoes and started walking back to the courtyard, pausing momentarily to give Ririka a questioning look as the masked girl watched her move.

“Ririka, are you doing alright?” (Y/n) asked. She felt like she was playing twenty questions without getting any hints.

Ririka tilted her head just slightly before falling into step beside (Y/n). Her knuckles brushed (Y/n)’s hand and made the other girl stare at her oddly from her peripheral but other than that, they continued through the students coming into the school as they left. Ririka was intermittently bumping hands with (Y/n)’s in the process until she surprised (Y/n) by taking her hand completely.

Ririka hardly ever was the first to initiate contact, much less when other students were around to witness it. Even when the president had happened upon them, Ririka would get flustered and shrink away. Now here they were in front of the school’s main entrance surrounded by students, and Ririka had scooped up her hand and laced their fingers like it was nothing. Her hand wasn’t even clammy or shaking at all. Needless to say (Y/n) felt that something was off with Ririka today. In fact, she would bet big money that the person holding her hand right now wasn’t Ririka at all!

(Y/n) knew about the twins tendency to switch off whenever Kirari deemed it necessary, but never had the president bothered with (Y/n) while pretending to be Ririka. Just what was the president doing? (Y/n) decided she’d play along for now, to hold her cards close to her chest until she figured out Kirari’s game. (Y/n) doubled down, curling her fingers over the incessant imposter’s hand.

Once they arrived at their destination, a secluded part of the school forest away from the noisy courtyard, (Y/n) assumed her usual position sitting with her back against a grand old tree. Testing Kirari, she patted the free space between her legs, intending for the president to sit with her back to (Y/n)’s front. Then they could listen to the songs of the forest as (Y/n) normally would with Ririka. Speaking of which, (Y/n) was going to have to apologize for showing Kirari their secret spot. Honestly, Ririka would probably not be too pleased about any of this situation but (Y/n) just had to find out why the president was doing this.

The masked figure loomed above (Y/n) for a moment before beginning her decent, but to (Y/n)’s shock, the other girl took the cue as a signal to straddle her so they were both facing each other. Years of gambling helped (Y/n) hide her horror well, as she smiled the fakest smile to ever exist. Just who the hell did the president think she was? Well, she was trying to be Ririka, but was failing miserably.

Swallowing her urge to lash out at the younger of the Momobami twins, (Y/n) continued to pretend nothing was wrong and continued her reconnaissance, resting her hands over Kirari’s thighs.

“Anything on your mind, Ri? Do you need something?” (Y/n) asked, feeling proud of how smooth and unassuming her voice sounded.

Another crackle of air and a tilt of the head was the only reply (Y/n) received. Really, it was like Kirari didn’t know how to be Ririka at all beyond the mysterious vice president. When Ririka took on Kirari’s role, she did so extremely well. It kind of scared (Y/n) how well Ririka could impersonate her twin. The same could not be said for Kirari. She didn’t seem to know how to act like Ririka at all. At least, not in this instance.

It was a bit infuriating really, to think Kirari actually thought she was getting away with her little charade while putting in so little effort. (Y/n) was about to tell Kirari to get off of her when a hand reached up between them and pulled at the mask, slowly lowering it to hover just above the president’s nose.

Perhaps she wasn’t too bad after all. Downcast eyes, timid yet deliberate movements, even the faint flush of her cheeks seemed legitimate and for a second (Y/n) almost believed her. Almost. But the amusement that seemed to be ever present in the younger twin’s eyes could only hide so deep in crystal blue irises.

“I need you. Show me, show me how you take charge.” The twin’s voice whispered, taking in the cadence of her sister with frightening precision. Yes, the tone was good but the words were so wrong. Ririka would sooner shoot herself in the foot than say something she would consider so embarrassing.

Just what the hell was this girl after? What was she gaining from this torment? Was this some kind of gamble and depending on (Y/n)’s reaction, could be someone’s undoing? What was the right move to make?

“(Y/n), please. Kiss me like we’re doing it for the first time again.”

“What the hell?” (Y/n) couldn’t keep it in anymore, if someone was losing a bet right now she was sorry, but she could only handle so much ridiculousness. “What game are you playing, president?”

(Y/n) tried to wiggle out from underneath Kirari but she held firm, the facade she had put up melted quickly as she allowed the mask to drop on the ground beside them and pushed (Y/n)’s back firmly against the tree trunk with one hand as she grinned down at her fellow classmate. The effect wasn’t quite the same without the striking blue lipstick but it was still enough to make (Y/n) shiver.

“So you did figure it out. I was wondering why you would be holding out on me. I was beginning to think my dear sister was wrong about you.” Kirari mused, eyes glinting. “The only other person that can tell us apart is Sayaka, what gave me away?”

“First, get off of me.” (Y/n) said, making a shooing motion between them that made Kirari giggle as she stood up. “Second, you have to tell me what your goal was in all of this.”

“My goal hmm?” Kirari tapped her chin thoughtfully as (Y/n) got up from the ground as well. “Well, quite simply it was for research.”

“Research about what?”

“About your relationship with my sister.” Kirari answered.

Like that made anything any clearer. (Y/n) pressed a hand over her forehead, the other a firm fist against her hip, “but why?” She asked.

“I think I’m entitled to having my curiosity sated now.” Kirari said instead, looking over her plain, pale nails.

(Y/n) pushed an audible huff of air through her nose, choosing to cross her arms tightly over her chest instead and even going as far as to tap her shoe against ground. Kirari actually rolled her eyes at the display, an action the president wouldn’t give the general masses the pleasure of seeing lest she appear too human.

“I just don’t understand how you and Ririka have only been together for three months and you’re already holding hands and kissing when I’ve been with Sayaka for nearly two years and we have done neither. Ririka said you were the more experienced one, I thought I could learn something from observing you.”

“Wait, you and Igarashi are actually together?” (Y/n) couldn’t believe her ears. Igarashi obviously worshipped the ground Kirari walked on but (Y/n) had always found it hard to understand if Kirari was just stringing her along or not.

“Of course we are. I didn’t build that tower for just anyone.”

Ah yes, Ririka had told (Y/n) about the tower. What lunacy. She would be surprised if Igarashi truly understood what Kirari was going for there.

“Did you actually ask Igarashi to date you point blank or did you just imply it? You should know how her mind works by now.”

“But I don’t. That’s what makes her so spectacular.” Kirari sighed pleasantly.

“Well trust me, if you make your intentions absolutely clear I’m sure you’ll see some changes in your dynamic. Tell you what, let’s go to the student council room and sort this all out now before classes start.”

“Are you hoping for a seat on the council? Is that why you want to get involved?” Kirari smirked.

“I’m just trying to help my girlfriend’s sister so she doesn’t pretend to be her in my presence ever again.” (Y/n) shook her head and started to walk back to the school. She took out her phone and texted Ririka to let her know they were en route, “and I knew it was you because Ririka doesn’t act like that with me. I will not elaborate because the last thing I need is for you to get anymore funny ideas.”

Kirari hummed with amusement before placing the mask back over her face and together they made their way back to the school and up to the council room. Thankfully Ririka must have been able to end the meeting early because only she and Sayaka were left in the room.

“Oh thank god,” (Y/n) sighed walking over to Ririka’s side to rest her forehead against the older twin’s shoulder, making her blush and ruining the carefully crafted persona of her younger sister.

“What are you doing?” Sayaka said indignantly. “You can’t just come in here whenever you wish. Anyone with council business could come in and think you were involved with the president instead of the vice president!”

“Sit down Igarashi, I’m about to do you the biggest favor of your life.” (Y/n) said, lifting her head from Ririka’s shoulder to point at Kirari as she removed the theatre mask and placed in on the table. “Kirari wants to date you.”

Sayaka blinked, processing the words before her skin turned beet red, equal parts embarrassed and angry.

“That’s not funny, Senpai!”

“It’s not a joke! C’mon Kirari, tell her.” (Y/n) said before cupping Ririka’s ear to whisper, “If this doesn’t work out, I’m gonna scream.”

“It’s true Sayaka, though (Y/n)’s approach seems dull and predictable, it has come to my attention that you may not understand that I wish to be with you,” Kirari glided forward, her hair flowing behind her like a curtain, her hand outstretched to Sayaka, “so, hold my hand Say-a-ka, and be mine.”

“Uh oh.” (Y/n) and Ririka muttered in unison as Sayaka babbled, her head moving jerkily between Kirari’s face and her outstretched hand before her knees buckled. She almost hit the ground but Kirari caught her just in time, grinning down at her secretary.

“I told her to sit down.” (Y/n) said, shaking her head.

“It appears that Sayaka needs a nap. You two can head to class, I’ll watch over her.” Kirari said, placing the unconscious secretary on the couch.

“Sure, you just want an excuse to stay out of class.” (Y/n) turned her attention back to Ririka, still in her sister’s make up, braids and annoying ruffled shirt. “Come on Ririka, let me help you get changed real quick.”

“Okay.”

Ririka grabbed her mask from the table and together they headed to one of the side rooms off of the main council room where the twins kept their spare uniforms. While (Y/n) helped Ririka gather her belongings and remove the fresh blue nail polish and smooth out her hair, she told Ririka all about Kirari’s invasive behavior.

“So yeah, it was super weird but I guess it was worth it if it means she’ll be too busy with Sayaka to be too interested in what we’re doing.” (Y/n) explained, brushing Ririka’s hair into place. On the last stroke, she reached in front of Ririka to put the brush back on the table and as she went to withdraw, her wrist was gently encased in Ririka’s hand.

“Ri?”

Ririka tugged on (Y/n)’s arm until she sat down on the bench beside her. It took (Y/n) everything she had not to giggle once she registered the sweet pout the older twin was sporting.

“You held hands with my sister,” Ririka grumped, “you held hands with my sister and let her sit in your lap.”

“Yes, very begrudgingly I did. Only because I wanted to know what she was trying to do, but I promise it’ll never happen again.” (Y/n) spoke seriously.

“Good.” Ririka sighed, resting her head on (Y/n)’s chest, making her laugh.

“We can’t stay here all day. We have about fifteen minutes before we have to get to our classroom and you still haven’t changed your blazer and shirt.”

Ririka whined quietly before tilting her head up to look at (Y/n). “May we, first could you,” Ririka bashfully tapped her lips, still stained with blue, “you know.”

“Happy to,” (Y/n) tucked a strand of Ririka’s hair behind her ear, “let me just wipe that lipstick off first.”

Softly but thoroughly, (Y/n) ran the cleansing wipe across Ririka’s lips a few times until all that remained was muted pink. Then she dabbed at them with a wet washcloth so no trace of the bitter tasting makeup remover remained. As soon as she removed the cloth she leaned in, meeting Ririka lips with her own.

(Y/n) pulled away after a moment, a smile splitting her lips upon witnessing the relaxed and dreamy look on Ririka’s face, her cheeks dusted in a pleasant pink color that complimented her bare lips.

“I’ll wait for you to finish changing and we’ll walk to class together, okay?” (Y/n) said softly.

“One more first, please.” Ririka asked, pulling (Y/n)’s blazer to bring the girl closer.

“Of course.”

Another kiss and the fifteen minute buffer before class became eight minutes and they had three floors worth of stairs to climb. (Y/n) waited for Ririka to finish changing in the hall. She would have waited in the main area of the council room, but Kirari was sitting on the council room couch with that little smirk on her face. Her calculating eyes watching (Y/n) move across the room as the president patted Sayaka’s hair while the secretary remained unconscious with her head in Kirari’s lap.

When Ririka emerged, mask set into place, (Y/n) looked down both ends of the empty hall. When she was satisfied that no one was around, she pulled the mask to the side, surprising Ririka and making the vice president’s breath hitch.

“What?” Ririka asked.

“Just making sure.” (Y/n) replied, kissing Ririka’s nose before covering Ririka’s glowing face with the mask once more.

(Y/n) took Ririka’s hand and they jogged up the stairs, managing to slide into the classroom moments before the teacher.

#kakegurui x reader #kakegurui oneshots #ririka momobami #ririka momobami x reader #ririka x reader

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gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

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It’s Not Living If It’s Not With You

Young!Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: After several moments having gone by of the two of you skirting around your feelings, the right time finally arises.

Word Count: 5.9k oops

Warnings: mild angst, smoking, mutual pining, fluff, kissing

It had been no secret that Sirius Black had a penchant for walking on the wild side, for being braver than most in nearly everything he’s done and will do. There were times where he had been perhaps too adventurous for his own good, but that would never stop him from continuing on with his habits. There was never a dull moment so long as he was around for it, but, over the years he’s come to realize those moments aren’t complete unless one person in particular is there to share them with. You.

October 19, 1977

You stood at the base of the carpeted stairs with your arms crossed over your chest, lips parted as you tried your hardest to mull over the words just spoken to you. The offer just given to you that required an answer of approval; anything other than yes simply wouldn’t be accepted. That would be downright ridiculous.

“On a what?” You ask once you’d thought about it for a few seconds, unsure if you’d even heard him correctly and immediately hushed for your nearly too loud tone of surprise.

Sirius stood before you with a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he tucked his hair behind his ear, a chunk falling back in his face. His smile was far more than telling that he was up to no good at all, but you were beginning to realize that he hardly ever was. He lifted his hand and swirled the lone set of glimmering metallic keys around his finger, his smile only widening at the thought running through his mind.

“A drive,” he said, speaking as if it were completely and utterly normal to be taking his best friends’ fathers car without permission. As if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

A laugh fell past his lips upon seeing your mouth open and close a few times in confusion, in contemplation, head tilted and brows furrowed as you looked up at him curiously. “You are planning on taking Mr. Potter’s beloved car?”

He nods, “yes, Y/n/n, that’s the one.”

“And you’re planning on dragging me along to get in the inevitable trouble you’ll be getting into once he sees it’s missing?”

“That’s the idea, yes,” he smiles.

You squint up at him and meet his gray gaze, his own stare holding something akin to mischief as he was rapidly growing more antsy and impatient by the second with your hesitancy. You turn and look over your shoulder, peering into the living room just mere paces away from where the two of you had stood in the Potter household. Mr. Potter had been reclined in his favorite chair as a miscellaneous television show had been playing, fast asleep with that morning’s paper in his lap and his glasses halfway down his nose. The setting sun had been spilling through the open blinds, casting stripes of orange on the walls as a lamp on an end table illuminated the room.

Mrs. Potter had taken her knitting elsewhere to avoid her husband’s very obvious snoring, presumably tucked away comfortably in their bedroom and would likely remain there except to wake her husband should he not be in bed by ten o’clock. James hadn’t come home yet, having been out in the town with Lily. Time never seemed to exist when he was with her, always finding himself returning home far past curfew to be teased by Sirius for being too lovestruck for his own good. Though, it was something James had readily fired back because he too was just as in love even though he’d denied it.

So, needless to say, Sirius was bored and itching to get out of the house.

You turned back to him with pursed lips, his brow raised in anticipation as he rocked back and forth from his heels to his toes.

“Why do I feel like this isn’t the first time you’ve done this?” You ask, voice just above a whisper.

“Oh, come on.” His eye roll is immediate as he grabs your hand, tugging you out of the door with a smile on his lips. You tried not to let your cheeks burn at the feel of his hand in yours, the hand that had yet to let go as he looked back and smiled at you. “And no, it’s not the first time.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes now as he let go of your hand in favor of opening your door with a dramatic wave of his hand to gesture towards your seat, nearly walking into the hood of the pristine car from being far too busy sending you a smile. He makes up for it as he hops over the door and into the driver’s seat with ease, flashing you a smile as he puts the keys in the ignition.

He pauses for a few seconds seemingly not of his own accord, momentarily taken by the way the setting sun glimmers on your skin and sparkles in your eyes. By the way you’re smiling at him even when he’s being a complete idiot who trips over his own two feet because he’s too busy doing exactly what he is doing in the current moment. Staring.

He often wonders how he manages to stay so collected around you, exchanging his fond feelings for charm and witty comebacks to your even wittier quips. But clearly, so clearly his attempts to appear so collected were rapidly crumbling around him with each passing second he spends staring at you. Though even so, he finds he doesn’t have it in him to cut it out.

“Well, are we going to drive or wait for Mr. Potter to catch us?” You tease, pinching his chin gently in your hand to further your taunting. “If you take a picture it just might last longer.”

He rolls his eyes and puts the car in gear, setting off down the road. You pretend your stomach isn’t a mess of butterflies at the way he’d been gazing, you try to keep your mind from playing into the flurry of possibilities of what it might mean. But absolutely nothing could stop the way your cheeks burned as a result, but the wind in your hair was easy to focus on, the wind pressing on your palms as you stuck your hands above you.

Sirius let out a holler as he sped off down the countryside, the breeze sifting through his hair as your brief moment of shared smiles only added to the exhilaration you felt having taken the car without permission. As he turned the radio up to an ever familiar classic rock song.

Yeah, it was totally worth it.

March 7, 1978

The common room was filled with giddy gryffindors and colored team flags that night, half of them still cheery over the outstanding victory of the quidditch team earlier that evening. Still dressed in their jerseys, their faces still painted red and yellow. The other half were having just as much fun as an endless amount of laughter filters through the room and bounces off its stone walls.

James, of course, had been amongst the happiest—it was his team that had won after all. And Lily had fallen close behind him, her fond gaze set on her lover as much as she would beg to differ. Remus was just happy to be there in the moment with his best friends, his smile near constant much like everyone else in the room.

Everything was a haze of gryffindor colors; red pillows scattered on the floor from those who’d stood on the couches, ruffled tapestries along the walls. The latest hits from Queen and ABBA had been playing on repeat as everyone in the room had been having the night of their lives in the name of victory, good natured fun filling boisterously in the cozy space. It was a good night really, but everyone you’d hoped to be there wasn’t in attendance, the one person you found yourself wanting to see most wasn’t there.

Sirius.

He’d disappeared shortly after the match, one he’d sat through with merely half as much enthusiasm as he’d usually had in support of one of his best friends. Of course he’d made it a priority to congratulate him on his winning, he always had and he always will, but you were quick to realize even amongst the bustling crowd of cheerful teens that he hadn’t made it back to the common room with the rest of the group.

It was entirely too easy to tell when he wasn’t around, it always was. Things had lacked a certain light, a certain energy only his charisma could bring forth in anywhere he’d gone. It wasn’t far off to say that he’d been important to your tight knit group of friends; he was chaotic, he was rebellious, he was Sirius.

You had barely gone ten minutes in that party before you found yourself slipping from the common room in search of your best friend. You knew just where to find him as you navigated the dimly moonlit corridors with purpose in your stride, the music still ringing in your ears despite your otherwise quiet surroundings. He was rather predictable to the select few who knew him almost better than he knew himself, but you still held hope in your heart that he’d be just where you’d felt he’d run off to as you climbed the spiral staircase.

You were right.

A soft smile tugged at the corner of your mouth when your gaze fell upon the raven haired boy, his dimpled chin in his palm as he sat alone. His gaze was set on the stars above, glimmering bright and high in the sky in the perfect view given from the astronomy tower. You sighed softly at the sight of him before you, shoulders slumping a bit as you approach him.

“The party is downstairs, you know,” you spoke lightheartedly, moving to sit down with him and nudging him with your elbow when you did so. “It happens to be one of our last here.”

“I’m not really in the partying mood, Y/n/n,” he grumbles with a soft huff, his gaze focused ahead of him and his jaw clenching. Though he finds himself nudging you knee with his moments later in hopes that it’d soften the accidental harshness of his tone. He hadn’t meant to sound so irritated, especially not with you.

You sigh softly, your eyes dropping to where he’d been continuously picking at a hole in the knee of his jeans before lifting to him once more. You were certain you knew just what was plaguing his mind for the entirety of the day, at least that long and possibly more. It wasn’t uncommon for him to linger on the past and rightfully so, but you decided against speaking further on the subject as a smile pulls at the corners of your mouth.

“Are you ever?” You jest, making light of the brooding expression on his face.

He finally looks at you then, his eyes narrowed in a gray stare at your words as he tries his very hardest to stifle his smile. “Have you come to bother me, Y/n?”

You shoved at his shoulder lightly as your mouth fell agape in only half surprise at his words, laughter leaving your lips nonetheless as you squinted up at him. “Sirius Orion Black, I wholeheartedly believe it is my job to bother you.”

He rolls his eyes then, a scoff sounding and soon to be followed by the laugh leaving his lips as he shook his head. “Well I’m wholeheartedly convinced that you’re doing a wonderful job.”

His quip is as lighthearted as your own as you share a look of scrunched noses and faux frowns, ones that fade into soft smiles as you bring yourself to look away before your cheeks burn redder than the crimson shirt you’d been wearing. Unbeknownst to you, and something that he doesn’t plan to shed any light on, he was grateful for the lack of proper lighting otherwise you just might see the matching shade of red on his face. Something only ever achievable by you even if you hadn’t known it.

Your mingled laughter had quieted as you sat with him, and you couldn’t help but to steal another glance in his direction. His lingering smile was evident even as strands of black hair splayed across his cheek from where they’d once been tucked behind his ear. One that just minutes before was far from making its appearance when he’d sat there by himself and drowned in the gravity of his past leading up to this point.

His closest friends had never failed to bring out the absolute best in him, something he found himself immensely grateful to have. To be able to be loyal to people he knows will always want what is best for him. But as he sits there, no longer alone as he had been in that tower for a short while, he’s with the one person he had hoped would come looking for him. The one person always stuck on his mind and he knows you always will be.

You found it in yourself to look away from your best friend just a little too late as you bit the inside of your cheek, having known he’d caught your stare but too prideful to check and make sure he really had. Instead, you drop your head to rest on his shoulder and grab his hand with a squeeze, the softest of reminders that you were there. It was an action that made his heart flutter and race all the same.

“Eager to hold my hand, Y/n?” He teases, his charm making its reappearance.

You lift your head and release his hand with a poorly attempted glare, holding his gaze only briefly before you fell back into your previous position. “You really do make it terribly hard to tolerate, do you know that, Sirius?”

His smile widens as your words, his laughter sounding once more.

“Well, I wholeheartedly believe it is my job to do so,” he states, repeating your earlier choice of words as he rests his head atop yours.

“And I’m wholeheartedly convinced you’re doing a wonderful job.”

He nudges your foot with his converse in response, cheek still pressed to the top of your head as he laughs when you do the same. You really were something else entirely and he knew that, you were witty and fierce and entirely too extraordinary for him to begin to fathom. He’s quiet for a moment as he thinks things over, as he enjoys your company and the way you chose to leave the fun of the party in favor of finding him. Yeah, he still can never believe it. He’s quiet for a few more moments as he mulls over his next words.

“I didn’t say you had to let go of my hand,” he mumbles, tossing it out as a suggestion he hopes you understood the point of.

He didn’t have to wonder too long as your hand soon slips in his once more, thumbs crossing over and fingertips curling over the backs of your clasped hands. A softer smile is shared but unseen, and he’s quickly reminded that a moment like this is much better than being by himself, than being at a celebratory party.

June 19, 1979

The lake. It was a meeting spot to rival all others the very moment your group of friends had first laid eyes on it. The discovery was entirely accidental, something stumbled upon in an attempt to find the absolute perfect spot to camp. In fact, it was so perfect that James had tied one of his old shirts around a tree branch for future visits, to unofficially claim it as your own. It was absolutely incredible and seemingly unknown to most anyone else which you found next to impossible—it was too amazing not to be. But, whenever the trip was made, which was more often than not, no one else had ever been there to spoil the fun.

Clusters of wildflowers and dozens upon dozens of trees lined the perimeter of the open water, each one a different height than the last but all extraordinarily beautiful in their own way. Those very trees were also perfect for tucking yourself against with your favorite book at the moment, the right amount of shade to combat the summer sun so long as you’ve got a blanket to sit on.

“Do you think they’ll ever get tired of throwing each other in the water?” Lily asks, a smile on her lips as she shakes her head.

You follow her gaze to the sight ahead of you, Sirius over James’ shoulder having had his fate set in stone as he’s thrown into the lake with an unceremonious landing. You watched as he rose to the surface, mouth agape in shock at the completely expected action as he’s quick to cast an aguamenti spell in his best friend’s direction. It wasn’t until his gaze fell upon you that you found it the right time to look away, his smile too distracting for your own good as your cheeks burned at the brief moment. One that most certainly did not go unnoticed by a very intelligent Lily Evans.

You were fairly positive that there wasn’t a single thing that could get past her, especially not the very obliviously in love friends she’s got. It wasn’t exactly hard to tell either, she’s sure that a complete stranger could even see it if they’d spent merely five minutes in the same room with the top of you. Your rosy cheeks and unbreakable smile were telling enough of that very fact, a reaction most always elicited by the dark haired goofball not far away.

“No, I don’t think they will,” you finally manage once you realize you hadn’t answered her yet. Your gaze darts to her once more and her eyes are already cast on you, her brow raised and the corner of her mouth quirked up. “What?”

She rolls her eyes, a laugh falling from her lips as she shakes her head once more. “You really are terrible at hiding your feelings, you know.”

Your mouth falls open slightly as your brows furrow, a scoff sounding as if she’d been entirely absurd. “Feelings? Don’t be ridiculous, Lily.”

“Then I suppose you’re blushing just for the fun of it, you’re smiling over absolutely nothing?” She says, getting up from her checkered blanket and walking backwards away from you.

“And where are you going?”

“Seems like someone can’t stay away from you!” She jests rushing off towards James after tossing a wink your way, leaving you to frown and scoff once more.

It wasn’t until you pulled your gaze from her that you understood what she was getting at, the very one in question making his way undoubtedly towards you. Your eyes rolled as you bit the inside of your cheek to contain your grin, your grip on your book clutching tighter as he approached you.

“You better not be looking to throw me in the lake,” you state, brow raised as you cross one ankle over the other.

“Are you going to read all day, Y/n?” He asks, snatching the sunglasses from the top of your head just to see your frown. His grin only became more teasing at the very audible huff leaving your lips at the action.

“Perhaps I just might be able to if you stop distracting me,” you quip, frowning as you watch the smile on his lips widen.

“Then I guess that’s just too bad,” he counters, fully realizing what you had just said in that moment as a smirk appears. “Wait a minute, I’m distracting?”

You shake your head and bite back your smile again as he sits the red framed sunglasses on his nose and roots around in his shoe, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter he kept tucked in there when he wasn’t wearing them much to your obvious dismay. And as if it weren’t already terribly obvious that he’d known of said feelings, his laughter before even seeing your expression was telling enough of that very fact.

“Sirius,” you start, frowning as his mischievous grey stare meets yours. “I told you not to smoke near my books. One wrong move and you’ll burn the pages.”

He’s quick to laugh as he lights it, nearly choking on the smoke as he’d done so and you laughed in response to it. “Y/n, that’s most definitely impossible and you know it. Besides, when have I ever followed the rules?”

He laid his head in your lap, his raven hair splaying across your legs and dampening the corners of your book pages and you’re absolutely convinced he’d done it on purpose. They’d warped almost in an instant and you huffed, knowing immediately that getting any form of quality reading done would be next to impossible beyond that point. Not with the smoke billowing away from you or your best friend making little effort to take your mind elsewhere.

“Those shades aren’t hiding the fact that you’re staring, you know,” you say, peering down at him over the wrinkled pages of your book.

He scoffed at your accusation, though a smile still tugged at his lips as he swiped the book from your hand and took another puff from his cigarette. “Was not,” he defends, though the way the very corners of his mouth quirk up and the softest of blushes stain his cheeks, you know you’d hit the nail on the head. He lifts the cherry red glasses and looks at you, no longer attempting to fight his smile before lowering them and letting his head fall back in your lap. “I definitely was not.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” you sigh, grinning up at the sky as you toss your book to the side. “Whatever you say.”

September 30, 1979

The wedding of James and Lily was perhaps the most special event that was shared amongst your group of friends, the most celebratory. It had been a small one; you were quite sure there weren’t more people there than you could count in both your hands, just close friends and family.

The location was nothing short of perfect and familiar; the beloved clearing by that lake you all had treasured so fondly. The trees had begun to fade from rich greens to even richer reds and oranges, the wild flowers still in full bloom regardless of the cooling temperatures as fall began to become noticeable.

This was perhaps one of the few and rare occasions everyone had dressed up, and even then you’d have to say it was rather casual compared to most weddings you could think of. But Lily and James weren’t ones to follow the norm, though Sirius had most certainly been pushing the envelope. He’d showed up in a suit of James’, his grass stained converse not failing to make their appearance to top off the otherwise perfect outfit. Lily hadn’t been exactly thrilled at the best man’s choice in shoes, but she quickly focused her attention on more pressing matters. Marrying the love of her life.

It couldn’t have been more perfect than it was, having been surrounded by the people that mattered most to everyone. Not a dry eye was left, especially not from Sirius and Remus, even more so Sirius. He’d tried his hardest to deny the fact that he was absolutely most certainly emotional over the union of two of his best friends, having cleared his throat more often than nod to rid himself of the lump within it. But no matter how hard he’d tried to play tough, it was far more obvious that he wasn’t as he read his speech.

Now, as the sun had nearly completely set and the night had begun, it was then that you found yourself reunited with the one person you always seemed to think about. The one person that had joined James and Remus in being the life of the party. Not a dull moment would ever exist so long as they were in attendance.

“Might I have this dance with you, Y/n?” He asks, a goofy smile on his lips and his hand outstretched towards you.

You rolled your eyes at his rather disheveled appearance, his once pristine suit now looking worse for wear as he’d discarded his blazer somewhere that would probably take some searching to find. The top buttons of his dress shirt had been undone, the very collar ruffled and his sleeves rolled up and wrinkled. Not to mention it was half untucked ever since he’d gotten his start on karaoke; all else had become unimportant the moment Queen had come on.

Perhaps your most favorite part of his newfound look was the black tie that disappeared from around his neck in favor of being tied around his head. Either he had no clue it was there or he simply didn’t mind the fact that it was, and your bets were on a little bit of both. His hair was a bit of a mess as it fell over the fabric on his forehead, but one thing had remained constant the entirety of that day. His smile.

“A dance?” You repeat, unable to fight your own grin as you look from his hand to his gaze.

The corners of his mouth quirk up higher than they’d been in that moment as his eyes roll. “I’ve only been waiting the whole night.”

“Is that so?” You inquire, slipping your hand in his and you’re quick to be pulled closer. Your giddy squeal of surprise had sounded amongst the boastful chatter and cheer all around you. Not to mention the same ABBA song that’d been playing for what had to be the fifth time now as per James’ request. “I had no idea you were so eager to dance with me.”

He lifts your hand to twirl you, hands clasped and arms extending as he spins himself for the fun of it. He nearly tripped over his own two feet but if it meant he’d see you smile then it made the slight embarrassment all the more worth it to him.

“There happens to be a lot you don’t know about me,” he says, brow raised as he falls as seriously as he could muster which hadn’t been very much. “A lot.”

You paused in your tracks as his hands settled on your waist, a mild look of concern flashing across his face until he saw the expression he knew so well in yours. “That is entirely untrue and you know it. In fact, I know more about you than I ever cared to.”

His eyes roll once more at your teasing as he lifts you off your feet in a lighthearted retaliation, spinning you once and twice and even a third time as the breeze washes over you and your laughter mingles amongst everyone else’s. He finds himself staring again as he sets you back on your feet, busying himself with reciting the lyrics to Waterloo as long as it means you hadn’t noticed his admiration. You seem to be far too taken by the off key singing, though you couldn’t bring yourself to ever be annoyed.

His singing dwindled and his voice lowered after a short while, his arm remained hooked around your waist save for when he’d twirled you a few more times. You tried your hardest not to play into the fact that your heart had been racing for reasons other than the dance you’d been sharing. To not dwell on the fact that his hand was in yours and his absentminded hums of music had filled the space between you. Should another Led Zeppelin song come on, everyone will simply have to be subject to more singing. Or the fading scent of his cologne that wafted your way with every movement and every gust of wind.

A laugh fell past your lips in that moment, catching his attention immediately.

“What?” He asks, amused and curious. He knows the meaning behind that laugh and he knows surely you’ve got something on your mind.

“I thought you hated ABBA,” you jest, raising your brows. He tips his head back at your comment, his hair flopping backward briefly as a groan fell from his lips. “I’m starting to believe otherwise with the way you know just about every word to every one of their songs that’s come on.”

“Must you be so observant?” He huffs.

“How could I not be?”

He scrunches his nose and mocks your words, your laughter immediate as you return the gesture.

Things fell quiet between you after that for a while then, leaving you both to bask in the music that’d since been turned down, the conversations that since lessened the more the night continued on. Leaving Sirius to think for more than a few moments about just how many hours and minutes he’d waited to dance with you. Or how you rested your head on his chest and he hoped you hadn’t heard just how heavily his heart had been beating. If you had, he’d simply just blame it on the way he’d carried on that night. The adrenaline.

He knew in the coming days and weeks and months and years, ever since the day he met you, that you’d take up the forefront of his mind and he’s yet to be proved otherwise. You’ve made yourself be the calm to his chaos, the one he will always seek out even when he doesn’t realize it. He knows as he dances with you to a song he always swore he hated that he wouldn’t trade it for the world. Not even when you tease him for knowing every lyric. Not even when you tell him he smokes too much and he knows it to be true. Not even when you put those bloody flowers in his hair. Not even when you push his buttons and argue with him for being so foolishly reckless at times. You were just as stubborn as him and he knows he’s met his match.

He doesn’t know quite when he’s known himself to be in love with you, it’s all kind of faded and muddled together. But in the current moment as minutes collect and time passes with the laughter of his friends and newfound family, with you, he knows he’s got what he needs.

“Sirius?” You ask softly, curiously after a while, your gaze falling upon him.

“Yes?”

He finds himself tucking your hair behind your ear, the tips of his fingers tracing over your flushed cheek. He was very much aware of the heat rising in your face at the action, very aware without the need to see it in the glow of the moon. Because there’s this thing you do each and every time you’re flustered, he’s noticed, and each time you look away and smile. You smile and purse your lips and it’s become painfully obvious to him that you were always trying to fight the crimson in your cheeks.

“Have you really wanted to dance with me all night?” You finally say, your smile soft as your eyes nearly sparkled in the moonlit glow you stood under.

A soft laugh leaves his lips as he himself looked away, knowing that habit of yours he knew so very well had rubbed off on him. But he turns back to you, eyes gray and full of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “Yes, Y/n. It’s always you that I want to dance with.”

You try your hardest to ignore the flutter in your heart at his words, to contain the butterflies in your stomach. The way he’d looked at you, a certain sincerity in his words and a certain something in his gaze making it near impossible to think straight. The way he looked, goofy and the embodiment of utter chaos—it had you unable to look at just anything else. Though you will admit, as of late it’s always seemed to be rather hard to look anywhere else for more than a few moments so long as Sirius had been close by.

So, as you stood there half-dancing to the melody of a song you hadn’t fully been paying attention to, you find yourself focused on him. Without second thought you lift your hand, grasping the tie around his head softly to you with the fabric between your fingers. He looked absolutely ridiculous and that was for certain, ruffles of black hair dusting his shoulders as that very tie tickled over his nose with every gust of wind. His cheeks were a bit rosy from the energy he put forth that evening you presumed, unaware that a good bit of it had been caused by you.

You tuck the charcoal colored fabric behind his ear, a laugh falling from your lips and mischief dancing in your eyes that told him surely you’d had something on your mind.

“Then I believe it is my duty to tell you that you really are the worst dancer.” There it is.

He pulls you closer, his laughter puffing against your skin as your own continues giddily. “And who’s to say I wasn’t just trying to give you a chance?”

You bite the inside of your cheek to stifle another bout of giggles, you refuse to give him that satisfaction. But the closeness between the two of you had proven to be far more effective in shutting you up as his nose nudged against your own. He couldn’t bring himself to refrain from resting his forehead on yours in a matter of moments, his lashes fluttering and mingling with yours. Your heart hammered in your chest yet felt calm all the same, as if this was exactly where you were meant to be. You knew it was.

“Well,” you start, voice soft as he smiles softly, more so when you accidentally step on the toes of his grass stained converse. “Then I’d say that was awfully nice of you.”

The scrunched noses and soft laughter you share only lingers for mere fleeting moments before his lips brush over yours, featherlight and hesitant. But it was then that you lean on your toes and kiss him fully, his hand squeezing yours as his smile presses against your lips as you continue to sway together. Never mind the three friends of yours watching that very moment with the largest of grins and maybe some teary eyes from James. Never mind Lily high-fiving Remus before extending their hands to James to collect their bet money. You were kissing your best friend, the raven haired wizard that never failed to get on your nerves in the best of ways. The one that could bring life into any room he’d walked into.

“Does this mean you love me too?” He asks, eyes crinkling from his grin and laughter immediate, “Because that would really be awfully embarrassing if—”

“Yes, I love you,” you laugh against his lips to shut him up, closing the space between you once more. “I love you.”

In that moment as he kissed you, as the tips of his fingers brushed across your cheek and the light of the moon washed over you, he knew. It has been you that ignites every moment into the light that it is, the one he finds he can’t ever stop thinking of.

It’s not living if it’s not with you.

—

Tags: @anchoeritic @gxtitobxby @vogueweasley @ch0colatefr0gs @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @writeroutoftime

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black oneshot #sirius black fluff #sirius black imagine

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chocominnie · 3 years

Text

Desperado — 09 (M) | JJK

Pairing: Badboy!Jungkook X Reader

Summary : A messy situationship at it’s finest. You don’t even know whats headed your way, just even engaging in the slightest within him. See, he has an assignment to complete. A mission granted by his father thats do or die. You just so happen to be a major pawn in that assignment. He didn’t mean to take an interest in you. Surely it was an accident right? Only except. you hold much value in this game that he’ll do anything to complete it. Oblivious is what you are. Poor thing. Poor.. Poor thing.

Genre: Mature/ Mafia!Jungkook

Trailer: xxxxx preview 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08

Word Count : 7.3k

Warnings : This honestly isn’t for the light hearted and the weak…High angst, usage of drugs, drug mentions, mental illness, switch!jungkook, Brat reader, possible stockholm syndrom, kidnapping, assault, death of side characters, murder, weapons, usage of weapons, masturbation, physical violence, blood, alcohol, weed, unprotected and protected sex, spanking, honestly its a lot of aruging…

Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

TW : Suicide, Body Hanging for display.

Her hair moves so flawlessly and the her breasts spill over the mini triangle bra with each sensual move she makes. The way her waist and body whines against the pole could leave absolutely anyone in a trance.The rhythm of the music blasts in the air and she’s directly on beat to it, not missing anything through the song playing.

The led lights are dimmed low enough in a red color, but enough for everyone to see. Shes uncaring at the men in the room sizing her up in her designer high waisted thong that hugs her hips very well, showing off her round, plump ass. That was what she wanted, the attention all on her while they throw hundred dollar bills for her.

“ Who knew someone could get down and dirty like that.”

To no suprise, Jimin, the ladies man but heartbreaker for sure, enters the private room and closing the door beind him. He throws a stack of money towards her, as he was the seemingly late one to the meet-up.

“ Jungkook is late, he’s never late. What’s taking him so long?” A grumpy Namjoon says, looking down at his apple-watch. It’s half past 10 pm and usually he’s the first one here.

“ He’s probably sucking up to yn-”

The girl turns her head sharply towards the boys, overhearing what they said. She furrows her eyebrows at them, “ Why would he be doing that..”

Taehyung lets out a small groan. “ Because Mr. Lover boy has gotten himself a crush. The worst part is, she’s his target for this mission.”

“ Shut the fuck up. I don’t have a crush on her, i’m just doing my job.” A semi-loud voice roars through the doors. Everyone stops to look at the sudden intruder and to relief it’s him, Jungkook.

Of course he has to lie about that. He knew for sure he caught himself up with you and the feelings were strong. Though the big bad mafia boy catching feelings for his target is highly uncommon, and Jungkook doesn’t know the consequences.

“ Jungkook..” The girl says, frowning at him with her hand on her hips. He takes a seat on the couch and tilts his head at her to go on. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at the young boy. “ You fell for her.. so what about us?”

It isn’t hard to say that he doesn’t have any more feelings left for the girl. She and him both knew what they agreed upon. The pair had history together, sexual to be exact. Romance was hardly there if he were to be honest. She’d began actually working for Won-Shik, under this club they’re in now which is owned by him, a year ago. Jungkook had entered the club once when he was considered a minor, but that was to pass a message along to the girl from his father. He was told to go straight in and straight out. Of course, he did the exact opposite. Sat around looking at all the half naked women that night as the music blared loud.

It wasn’t until his phone rang and it was Casper telling him to hurry up and come back to the car, is when he finally decided to get up and look for the girl. When he did find her, it was over with for him. The girl was, and still is, stunning. One of the many foreign girls in the club but she’s the one that stood out of all. She wore nothing but a small outfit as she danced on the pole. Her beauty mesmorized Jungkook that night as he watched her dance in awe. Soon enough she came to him showing her her dimply smile and perfect teeth.

He was stunned alright. She knew he looked to be too young for the club so she asked him his age. He told her, and thats when she nearly called security on him until he told her who he was and affiliated with. The message was passed along accordingly to her, she got the memo. Jungkook though, kept coming back to that club and always going to where she was, following her around the club like a lost puppy. She enjoyed his time, as all she did was sit and talk with him and that turned out to not be enough for him. He wanted her, and she insisted that he was too young for her.

So Jungkook did what any other person would do when feeling rejected, he started to present himself like a true man and mafia boy. The gym was his favorite place after that and he buffed up very well. That jawline of his got sharper and his personality gained more confidence and dominant by the time he turned nineteen. He of course kept going at her, shooting his shot anytime he could and yet kept getting denied. It wasn’t until his nineteenth birthday is when he begged her telling her how bad he wanted her, and that lap dance he kept suggesting months before. Since it was his birthday and he was legal, she gave him what he wanted but that still wasn’t enough for him. He wanted her underneath him bad. The slight age gap between them didn’t phase Jungkook at all. What he wants, is what he gets.

And he did.

And kept getting it, and getting it, and getting it since then.

“ Relax baby, I’ll still be coming around you know that.” His voice is smooth, smirking at her. He wasn’t going to be coming around as much, but he knew that would disappoint her.

She purses her lips and begins walking towards him and sits directly on his lap, straddling him. Jungkook can’t push her off the way he wants to because it would confirm the crush rumors from the boys about you. So he lets her sit there, uncomfortable as hell for him.

Namjoon clears his throat to get the rest of the group attention. It’s nearly 11 pm and Crystal has been blowing up his phone ever since he stepped foot in the club. He told her beforehand about the meeting, but she wanted him at her apartment by at least 1 am.

“ We all know you love yn, but remember who you are Jungkook.” Namjoon says, glaring at the boy who returns the glare back at him. “ Fuck you. Like I said, im just doing my job.”

“ If you were doing your job Jungkook, there’s no way in the hell that it should take you this long. “ Jin retaliates. He knows hes right.

By this time, Jimin had finished preparing seven perfectly rolled blunts filled with the most finest imported weed. He places them onto the tray, taking his own and then passing the tray to Yoongi. Each of the boys take their own until it reaches down to Jungkook who takes his and puts the tray back onto the table.

“ Enough about her. I was summoned to go over the details for the next seven days. “ Jungkook groans, sparking his blunt and inhaling. He passes it Melanie, who takes it to inhale as well.

A malicious smile comes upon Yoongi’s face as he exhales the smoke into the already fogged up air. One thing he loves to talk about is torture. One of bangtan’s best walking torture device to be known.

“ Tonight we are starting.. I say you let me go first.” Yoongi pauses, taking a long inhale of his blunt. “ I’m coming for their trade transaction place. Arson, let me burn the bitch down and then fuck around with their father.”

It’s a good idea. Sending a message after burning it down straight to it’s opponent. Fire is Yoongi’s thing, and that’s his signature marking in the Bangtan Boys. The father of the shooter was one of their dealers, until the shooter’s father fucked up by taking money out of bangtan’s cut little by little. The boys knew about it, they waited for the perfect time back then to take action. Of course, giving them a mission to complete.. or so he thought. The mission was a false one. Created by Jungkook to catch him off guard. Jungkook used some of the mafia men on Won-Shik’s side to set up a trade off of drugs, decieving the shooter’s father by thinking they were just setting up a regular mafia trade from another gang. The trade was complete, but their protection was no more. Needless to say, the men didn’t even make it back to their cars. It was a bloodshed war between Jungkook’s assigned men and their men. The point was to send a memo that the Bangtan Boys were coming for them, and coming hard.

Everynight for two weeks unimaginable signs were sent to their family. Ranging all the way from several gunshot bullets going through their home, to severed heads of previous betrayers of the bangtan boys, sitting right on their porch. By now, all the other gangs in Korea knew not to have any business with them.

“ Day 2 I want it. I’m going for the mother. That scamming bitch and her precious flower shop? I’m shooting it up. Whoever lives, lives. Whoever dies, dies.” Jimin shrugs, smirking as he leans back in his spot.

“ Day 3, for me I’m sending another message. One of their men is gonna die in my god damn hands. I’ll be sure to take a selfie and send it to the father. The body will lay hanging on that pretty little oak tree in their yard.” Taehyung says. The boys are roar with shock that he’s said that. Normally he doesn’t like touching a dead body, so it’s a change for him.

The boys continue listing off the days and assigned tasks for the rest of the night into the wee early morning. Namjoon left after his, of course going straight to his girls apartment. They don’t judge him, seeing as though the boy really is in love and knows when and how to handle it. He definately doesn’t mix business and his love life together, unlike his other hyung. Soon enough the banter and socializing ends and it’s time for Yoongi first.

Night 1

It doesn��t take long for Yoongi to find the place. The empty steets of Seoul have soon faded into just dirt roads with the city left behind. The humming of his porsche echos through the night time air. Yoongi takes one final turn, making sure to pull into the place slowly like a true hunter keeping it’s eye on its prey. It’s not a full house tonight, even better.

Taking the jug of gasoline out his car, he carries it with ease up to the empty warehouse. The wildlife outside don’t make a noise. As if they know who’s approaching and just shut right up. Forty degrees fahrenheit outside and lastnight’s snowfall piled all around.The darkness outside is haunting, anything could pop out at any second to kill the man. That doesn’t scare him at all. Darkness is always what he crave. Inside and out.

“ Sir.. do you want us to go in with you?”

Yoongi stops dead in his tracks. He’d almost forgotten about the back-up men Jungkook ordered for him. It’s not like he needed them anyways, but since Jungkook can’t be there with Yoongi, that was the next best choice.

Rolling his eyes without turning around,“ No. Wait in your cars. I’ll handle it on my own.”

Just like that. The boys are off like lightening. Yoongi takes one final step towards the two double doors, and begins to pour the gasoline at it’s starting point. Usually, he’d go from the inside out, but seeing as though he wanted them to scurry out fearing for their lives, this is the next option as well. Soon enough, the enire jug is empty and he’s now poured all of it around the outside of the warehouse. Leaves crunch with every step he makes back to the starting point. Part of him hopes they can’t hear him from the outside. It’ll ruin the plans.

The lighter in his pocket feels so smoothe against his palms as he reaches for it. It’s one of his signature ones with his initials on it. An andrenaline rush runs through his veins as flicks the ignition with his thumb. The flame all bright and orange as he stands there infront of the building. It’s going to be a damn good night.

Without hesitating, Yoongi runs his fingers through his hair and throws the lighter right onto the gasoline puddles. The way the whole ring of fire lights up infront of his eyes makes him laugh hysterically while watching the whole building go into flames. The loud crackling sounds of the now decomposing warehouse jumps him back into reality.

He heads right towards the big tree next to the right of the warehouse, leaning on it with one foot up against it with his hands crossed. That sinister smile doesn’t leave his face. He enjoys the view of the men from the inside running out as fast as they can. Some falling in the ring of fire in the process. The fire is no match for any human as they try to stop drop and roll. Ha, as if that would work with a 15 foot fire consuming the warehouse. The dead bodies pile up on their own, just burning in the fire over their simple mistakes of falling and thinking they would survive the fire.

Until the golden egg comes out. He’s furious as runs out perfectly, as if he’s been through this, without managing to catch on fire. Yoongi chuckles, leaning off the tree. “ Kang Dong-Woo.”

Usually Yoongi would use the honorfics to people who were much older than him. In this case though, he doesn’t deserve honorifics.

“ Min Yoongi.” He says, harshness laced within his voice. Dongwoo frowns when nearing the man. He knows what Yoongi is capable of, and that’s what sets his fight for flight into action.

“ Let’s get straight to it. Your daughter is after our leader. She seems to be doing the dirty work for you yeah? Did you not train her enough? Of course you know she wont be able to live after this right?”

Dongwoo laughs right into Yoongi’s face as if he was joking. It angers Yoongi, so he grabs Dongwoo by the shirt and drags the man over to the fire where he kicks the back of his legs to where he’s kneeling inches away from it.

“ I don’t think this is a laughing matter, Dongwoo.” He growls, tightening his grip around Dongwoo’s arms that are behind his back. “ You want to die?”

“ She’s gonna fuck you all over.” He growls.” You may think she’s not capable of finishing off you guys one by one, but she is. I raised and trained her since a kid. She’s stronger with more energy than me. She’ll kill you all when you least expect it.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes at him.” The dumb bitch can’t even shoot right. Going for someone else knowing Jungkook would save them is an ameteur move. Should’ve went straight for his damn head.”

“ I’ll make sure she’ll bring you guys hell Min Yoongi. All of you. Tell that shit to Jungkook and his daddy for me alright?” He mocks, laughing again at the boy to taunt him.

Yoongi doesn’t care for it. He’s had enough of this foolish talk. With one swift move he kicks the man’s back making him fall down to the left side, away from the fire. He’s lost it. He’s totally lost it at this point and there is no going back. Kick after kick after kick, he doesn’t stop. No. Not until the Dongwoo is sure to cough up blood. The crimson liquid poors from his mouth as he lays there. No remorse is felt.

Besides, the bastard bitch needed to get the message. Consider it message recieved.

Night 2

The flower shop is full, but not full to its entirety. There's tons of different bouquets and arrangements set around the pretty shop, from what he can see from the outside. It’s almost closing time, an hour left. Jimin’s fingertips grip on the steering wheel, anxious but patient to make his move. He’s running off of pure adrenaline and 2 cans of monster that are crushed and sitting in the passenger seat. Waiting isn’t his forte and he’d honestly like to get this show on the road now.

The moon is out and shining bright tonight. A sigh escapes his lips when he glances again at the shop. The only reason he’s not done it yet is due to the fact that there is a child and his mother inside. Rule number 2 of Bangtan, injure no child. The price to pay if you were to break the rule? Simply it would cost you your own damn life.

As if time would of went any slower for the boy, the child and his mother finally made their transaction and made it out of the store, heading across the street to continue their journey of shopping. It’s go time.

He knew to come prepared with his bulletproof vest and full face ski mask, long Sleeve black shirt to cover all the markings he has and also the two tattoos on each of his arms. He knew that the little lady wouldn’t be so dumb to not carry, or at-least have someone inside that would be her undercover security. Considering who her husband is, there’s no way she won’t be protected.

Oh how innocent the people look to not know what’s coming next. Jimin loads his Glock 19 with golden bullets that have Bangtan Boys initials and symbols on it just before pulling his mask down and getting out the car. He makes sure to signal his back-up men to create a distraction so he could make his entrance. Sure enough, a loud boom in the near distance of what sounds like some type of construction falling, echos loudly. It turns heads from all around to look where the sound came from, making it easy for Jimin to slide into the flower-shop.

Not a sound made by him. He draws his gun and pulls the safety off the trigger, then cocks it. Eyes are all on him as his eyes shift around the room looking for his target. There she is, eyes wide in the middle of a transaction for two middle aged couple. His eyes set into hers, lowly smiling and pointing it at her. The way everyone frantically screams and cries out doesn’t phase Jimin, no. It just encourages him even more as he starts firing shots mid air, shooting any and every person in sight for the hell of it. Bodies drop to the ground, and the bloodbath begins.

Jimin doesn’t hesitate to step over everybody, eyes still set on his target. The middle aged couple’s shrieks were cut short by their bodies dropping to the ground with three shots each to their hearts.

“ Park J-” He cuts her crying off with a finger to his lips, daring her to say his name in public. She gets the memo. “ I wouldn’t if I were you.”

The barrel is pressed against her temple as she trembles with fear. He cocks his head to the side, smiling at her when he taps the gun against her head harshly, repeatedly. “ You know why I’m here.”

“ You kill me and she will murder you all.”

Jimin chuckles, “ That’s what you guys think. We don’t have time for your gimmicks. It was you guys who stole money from us. Why did you think you’d still be protected from the law from us? Getting your daughter to go for the leader first is dumb, like the rest of you.”

“ We almost went to prison for you guys, remember that? We needed that cut money from you guys to pay off our legal fees. Thats why we stole. We completed your dirty work while trying to pay off the fees, its the least you guys could of did as a reward.”

“ That’s not how it would’ve worked. You fucked up. All of you.”

With two shots to the leg, she falls into Jimins arms. He rolls his eyes and throws his body off of him and onto the floor. It’s going to be a headache trying to explain to the dry cleaners why there is blood stains on his designer ripped jeans.

Night 3

It was too easy, way too easy. It took nothing to lure that man right into Taehyung’s trap. Nothing but a simple few slick comments made to him for him to get a riled up at the wrong person. Taehyung had spotted the man prior heading into the park with a small duffle bag. He assumed it was for a night trade off for some other person who had delivered drugs for him. Nontheless, it was merely too easy to pose as the alleged person who completed the mission.

A rookie. That guy must’ve been a rookie.

When the money was handed off to Taehyung, he tossed it to the side and struck the man down. The two did fight on the concrete floor for a bit but the man was no match for Taehyung’s quick moves. Taehyung’s pocket knife dances around the man’s throat as his body is pinned to the ground.

“ Rookie mistake not verifying if I’m the real one.” He chuckles, pressing the blade against the mans neck. The man pleads for his life but it’s no use. Message must be sent, that it’s no way you’ll fuck around with Bangtan and escape.

“ You know, I would’ve trained you more than Dongwoo. Letting the weakest link go run an errand? Ha. Your boss set you up for that one.”

Although the man is merely innocent, it doesn’t stop Taehyung from slicing into the man’s neck. A blood curdling scream comes out, but soon hushed over as his will of breathing and screaming is cut. It’s music to Tae’s ears.

The body is transfered per request of Taehyung to his back-up men. It’s not like him to touch a bloody dead body. So they take him into the back of their car and follow Taehyung to the residential house of the shooter. Nothing more than 10 minutes away.

The lights are cut off in the neighborhood. Not a sound made other than the two cars coming down the street. Everyone seems to be at peace and quiet in their homes. Sleeping to say the least. Upon arrival, Taehyung parks his car right infront of the house. The back-up men drag the bloody body out the car and onto their lawn, placing it right under the oak tree.

Taehyung takes the rope be brought along with him, and begins to tie multiple knots around a sturdy branch from the tree. When done, he wraps some of the rope around the dead boy’s neck, tying it into a slipknot and hoists him up high into the air.

The body dangles from the tree like a flag waving in the sky proud and high. He signals for the boys that the assignment is done and that they’re free to leave. Taehyung though, he just sits back in admiration of his work. It’s been a while sinice he felt this way. So he stands there soaking it all in.

Message recieved.

Since it’s been three entire days of hell, Jungkook knew his day will be approaching faster than ever. If only it could get here faster though. Truth is, Won-Shik isn’t too happy about Jungkook’s plan still not being complete. At this point, the father is going against him any chance he gets to just get this over with.

Luckily, tonight he’d be able to meet with his father again with some good news. It hasn’t been brought to his attention yet about your father being in Taiwan. With the technology of Won-Shik’s men, your father could be brought here within 12 hours tops.

“ Father.” Jungkook says, entering his office doors. The boy fixes his leather jacket upon entering and places his hands back into his pockets. “ I have news.”

Won-Shik is one to not play around with. Interupting his office time is a big, big deal. One is to not enter without it being urgency. That rule still applies to the heir of the company. “ It better be damn good because your plan isn’t getting anywhere Jeon Jungkook.”

Won-Shik takes his glasses off and sets them to the side on his desk. Its full of papers and photos of himself and Jungkook when he was a child. His favorite one right in the middle, where Jungkook had just ate some cherry flavored ice cream and his lips were all red as he smiled for the camera showing his two front teeth. It reminded him of when Jungkook was easier to manage rather as to now where he’s a damn menace.

“ Taiwan. Her father is in Taiwan. I don’t think it’s Taipei though.. he’s hiding so a city wouldn’t be ideal. I say search the mountains first, then the city.”

Bringing this proposal to the table meant that Jungkook wanted to atleast gain his father’s trust back. Hell, he wanted all this to be over with by now because you were driving him crazy to the point where he’s beginning to actually forget who the hell he was and why he was assigned this mission. The plan was not to fall, but to complete. He’d be lying if he wasn’t knee deep in love with you right now. It all comes down to him protecting you from his father at this point.

“ So your little plan is suddenly working huh.. still doesn’t mean she gets to run free Jungkook.” He says, smirking at the boy to challange him. Jungkook knew that. Once it’s proven that your father is the snitch, all of the family dies.

You’re innocent. Too innocent to know that or to be even tangled in that mafia mess of his. Part of him wishes he never met you and never had been assigned this mission. Then everything would be so damn different and emotions wouldn’t be caught up in this. From the moment he met you, he knew it would be hard. You have always held a special part in his heart. Only because you acted just like his mother. Sweet, but sassy and it hurt him a lot on how you remind him of her. You even word your words just like her, even when upset. Everything about you, is just like her.

It was hard to not get attached to wanting to get to know you more. Somehow he thought that if he got to know you, he’d somehow fill that hole inside him of his mother’s disappearance. As if you were going to be his new replica as you would be the one to put a band-aid on that hole to patch it up.

Here you are, not knowing you could die any moment and it will all be thanks to Jeon Jungkook, who couldn’t save you fast enough.

“ I know. But she’s innocent. She doesn’t even know her dad worked with us. I swear she doesn’t.” Jungkook bites his lip in hopes that there could be someway to save you by the hands of your father.

“ I dont care!” He roars, jumping out his seat. Jungkook flinches, backing up a bit from the sudden outburst. “ You know not to mix business and pleasure. You reap what you sew. You get to pay the consequences.”

Jungkook knew that though.

“ Father-”

“ Nothing more. I’ll have my team start the search right now. You on the other hand, get you god-damn shit together Jungkook. You’re the heir, not a damn lover-boy. Got it?”

It is no use of arguing with him. Jungkook looks down at the ground and nods his head yes just before Won-Shik dismisses him. It’s going to hurt. Seeing you dead. He hopes for a miracle can happen, that your father will not be the snitch. That you and him could live happily ever after. There will no be any happily ever after about this situation though. One will die. Just a matter of who it will be.

The vibrating sensation in his pocket snaps him out of his trance. An incoming call from Namjoon. It’s alarming since today is Namjoon’s day of hell, and only one thing could be happening right now if he’s calling for Jungkook.

There’s been a mistake.

“ What is it Namjoon.”

“ She fucking outsmarted me. The bitch caught on to where my location would be for the next kill. I don’t know where the fuck she is Jungkook.. this is bad.”

Jungkook sighs heavily, closing his eyes while letting out strings of curses come from his mouth. Shit couldn’t get possibly worse than this right now. Namjoon said he’d wanted to go straight for the killer and bust her up a bit. Give her some words and a branding on her. He had wanted to do it with a knife, carving the initals of Bangtan Boys into her upper hip. Namjoon had zero problem tracking her next location down, as he had been keeping an eye on her all day. To him, it seemed as if she would be heading to an orchestra shop in the city. Every step she took, Namjoon took it too.

Until she rounded the corner to go inside the shop and she wasn’t there. There wasn’t any outlet. The shop was on a dead end street surrounded by other shops that they both had passed. There was no way she didn’t go back, he would of saw it. He saw her go into the store, so she had to be there right?

Wrong. You see she knew all this time that Namjoon was followering her while in disguise. The orchestra shop where she led him to, she knew the owner. They were good friends. She had spoken to him asking if that she could use his upstairs office to read over some of the newest edition of music pieces for her to practice. He obliged, and she made up there in time before Namjoon came inside.

Up there, she’d be lying if she wasn’t scared to death. All this week the boys had definately given her hell. Each day with zero remorse. It was taking a toll on her for sure. Taking up this assignment by herself wasn’t something easy but she wanted to prove to him that she can be just like him. That she wanted to work with him too to take down Bangtan for decieving them and leaving them in the dust.

She can’t do it. The boys are to expierenced for her. It’s a bad mistake that she cannot come back from. You see, she thought it would be easy to befriend you and become close to you after you’d laid eyes upon Jungkook your first day here. She knew you’d soon fall for him, like any other girl did, and that would be her easy acess to him from you. It was all planned beforehand. To be quiet and observe you and your moves with him. In her mind, Jungkook needed to die first. The boys can’t function all that well without him, so that would be the weak spot to take advantage of if he would’ve died when she knew he’d take the bullet for you. She coudn’t shoot him first, it’d be too straightforward and blunt.

It was going all well. Deep in the inside she was jealous of you as well. Sungmin had been her crush for years, they even almost dated. Until you came along and he left her in the dust for you. Sungmin is everything she wanted in a boy, but you took that away from her. Her chances to date him ruined by you. It hurt everyday to see him head over heels in love with you, when that was just her at one point before you came along. Not only that, but she seen the way you play with Sungmin’s emotions. It made her upset that you do that. Sungmin’s love is a drug, whether it be friendship love or romantic, nobody can get enough of it.

All this stressed her out to her max. Her family being hurt because of her, her mom unable to walk for the next few weeks is all because of her. Only cause she cannot complete this task she brought onto herself. As if being in danger because of Won-Shik and Bangtan wasn’t enough beforehand, she just made things worse all in all. There is no way out of this for her and her family. So it’s time to just accept it and say goodbye to it all and start a new life.

“ I’ll find her. You wait at the base and I’ll report back to you guys after I find her. When I do, you will come and finish your damn task Namjoon. Do you hear me?” Jungkook’s beyond pissed at this point. If it wasn’t for him, the boys would be lost as fuck without him.

He shoots Casper a text, letting him know that he is to follow him closely as he searches for her. To his luck, Casper was already outside his apartment building in his car. Not long after he pops those contacts in and changes his outfit again, he’s cruising the streets of Seoul in his midnight purple lamborghini.

The pain in his shoulder throbs with each turn he has to make with the wheel of his car. A little pain medicine would of helped beforehand, but rushing to get this shit over with was more important. This bitch definately has it coming. It’s been taking Jungkook these past few days to not just up and kill her. No that would just be too easy. Torture and marinating her to lose her shit at the last minute is something so satisfying to him.

The streets of Seoul soon end behind him and the Mappo Bridge comes into view. It had been an a whole hour searching around the areas of where she could’ve been, including where she was last seen. No sights of her at all. She’s good at this for sure. Text messages are sent back and forth between the boys and Jungkook. They’re all on edge, tired, and frustrated at this chasing game that they’re all playing.

He’d almost missed it. The body walking alongside the side-walk of the bridge with their head hanging low and hoodie on. It’s the hoodie of his school, but most importantly it has their class graduation year on it. It has to be her. Jungkook flashes his hazard lights on, letting Casper know to pull over with him.

It’s now or never.

After sending the text to Namjoon, he’s out the car and jogging towards the suspect. Height, body type, and shoes match the alleged identity. It seems she’s too into something to notice the extra footsteps behind her. He can’t do anything to her though, it’s not his night.

“ Kang Minlee.”

She stops dead in her tracks as if a ghost had called her name. Frozen, she stands there contemplating on running or staying. If she runs, she’s dead. If she stays, shes dead.

“ You think..” He pauses, grabbing her arm and turning her around to face him. Her face is red from crying and her glasses all fogged up from underneath her mask. For a split second, Jungkook does feel regret.

Killing a classmate of his wasn’t something he’d ideally let happen. But it’s far too late to not have her killed off. “ You think that running away is the best option?”

Minlee trembles underneath his grip, “ I made a mistake. Please just let me go. Let me and my family go and we’ll leave you alone forever.” She breaks down into tears, placing her hand over his in attempt to let her go.

It didn’t hurt Jungkook to see her like this. All in all it just feels weird to him. Weird to have one of his classmates begging for her life to be spared from the gruesome events to come.

“ You know I can’t do that.” It honestly can’t be an option at this point. It’d be better to just continue out her days of hell with her family. “ You came for me, that means you die.”

Finally she jerks her arm back from his still in tears as she starts to back away slowly. Jungkook knew that she wouldn’t run. Not in this case. Letting her cry it out was the best way, hell it’s the only way because Namjoon would be here any minute to brand her. It would mean she belonged to Bangtan after that, and she’d have to keep quiet as they planned out her death.

Her sudden movement from the ground to climbing up the railing of the bridge alarms Jungkook. She cries louder when Jungkook comes closer to getting her down so he stops. Suicide? Right now? What happened to being all big and bold? It confuses Jungkook as to why she would take her own life right now. Either way she’d still end up dead and unhappy if Bangtan would kill her or she’d kill herself.

“ Jungkook!” She semi-yells, pointing to the direction behind him as another guy approaches them. Just in time, the sound of Namjoon’s car can be heard from afar. He’s getting close.

The guy she’s pointed to is Casper, who’s also alarmed at the fact that she’s close to the edge right now. Jungkook holds his hand up at Casper for him to stop right there and shakes his head, meaning that it’s too risky for Casper to step in right now. Casper nods and Jungkooks turns back to the scene.

“ Don’t you think that I’ve suffered enough? Everyday you guys give me hell. My mom can’t walk because of you guys, and my dad has health issues. You left us in the dust when we needed your support the most! I was almost put up for adoption a year ago because of you!” She sobs, wiping her never ending tears with her hoodie sleeves.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say, or do. It’s not like him to have sympathy over a rival. It’s just not in him at this very moment.

Minlee continues on, “ Yn? She took what’s mine. My Sungmin. She plays with his heart and it hurts him a lot. I wouldn’t have did that. But no, he’s head over heels in love with him. I got left in the dust when she came along and it looks like everyone loves her, including you Jungkook. My friendgroup does anything and everything she wants because she’s just oh so little miss perfect. That was supposed to be me!”

There it is. The jealousy. Jungkook would have never known it. It’s all news and shock to him. Sungmin and Minlee? Didn’t seem like a match to begin with.

Her dramatic meltdown continues on, but Jungkook allows it. Namjoon will be here any minute to sneakily get her down. Where is he and why the hell is he taking so long?

As if on cue, Namjoon pulls up to the scene and immediately gets out his car running towards the girl. Jungkook waves his hands for him to stop, eyes wide with a finger to his lips. The last thing he wanted was for the girl to jump. A death from their school? Surely was to be put on him and his boys.

Namjoon stops infront of Jungkook’s car, confused as to what’s going on. Jungkook mouthes to him the words suicide attempt. That’s when Namjoon gets it and decides to let him handle getting her down.

“ Yeah it was meant to be you. But I plan to take Yn away anyways. Then you and Sungmin could come together again.” Jungkook’s convincing isn’t convincing enough, she doesn’t buy it at all.

“ If I get down I’m going to die. There is no escaping that within the next few days i’d be dead in your hands. I made a mistake and there is no going back. Spare my parents. Let them live. I’m the one that started this. I’ll be the one to finish it.”

The girl lifts one foot off the railing and leans backwards. Jungkook’s breath hitches along with Namjoons. No. It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

“ Kang Minlee!” They both scream, running towards her. It’s too late though. Her body falls gracefully down as all three of them watch over the railing. She looks peaceful, a smile on her face while her body is sprawled out in the air.

Inches before she hits the water, the three of the boys look away with only the sound of dense water splashing to fill their ears. Namjoon sighs, putting his hands against his head. Jungkook stands there in complete shock. Casper, well Casper just shakes his head knowing the two boys weren’t prepared for that.

“ We fucked up Jungkook.”

“ I fucking know that Namjoon.” His voice cracks. It isn’t like Jungkook to cry. No not at all. Especially for a target like that. At the end of the day she was human and she did what any daughter would do for her family.

She was also your friend.

You hadn’t heard about her death yet the next day. It’s a normal saturday morning for you. This time you’d decided to go to the cafe with your laptop and write your essay for your Psychology class. The cafe is nice, it’s cat themed and has some pretty kittens running around the outside of the kitchen and customer service area.

As soon as you order and sit down with your Caramel frappe you spot a white kitten laying near you on the floor. A smile comes upon your face when it comes to you when you call for it. They don’t have these in Canada. Cat Cafes. The kitten lets out his purrs when you rub his back as he lays across your lap. The nametag says Mochi, a cute name for a cute kitten.

Minutes seem to pass by without your knowledge. You’d been too into typing to hear the news on the tv being broadcasted live. It wasn’t until you heard suicide of a teenage student on Mappo Bridge. That got your attention.

You listen carefully as the news reporter goes into detail of how the body was found. It had gotten caught on a rock as the stream moved it around. A mother had found it with her kid as they walked across the bridge that early morning to look at beautiful water. It saddens you to know someone took their life. Maybe if that person had access to getting help, they’d live to see many more days.

When they announce the name and show a school picture of the student, the look on your face drops.

Minlee. It’s Minlee on the screen. Its all too much for you right now. Your stomach twists and turns along with your hands that begin fidgeting. She seemed so healthy and happy these past few days when you saw her. It didn’t add up. It wasn’t going to ever add up to you that you had just lost one of your new friends.

Packing your things up in a hurry, your phone begins to go off with a bunch of text messages at a time. You know it could be the groupchat. What you wanted to the most right now, is to go home to cry and calm down. You shove everything in your backpack and place the kitten back on the floor nicely before taking off towards the door. You bump into somebody on the way out, causing them to drop a picture in their hand. The two of you both reach to pick it up, but they pick it up first before you.

“ I’m sorr-”

You’ve seen her before. Long curled hair, big dimple on her left cheek, and bangs.

There’s no fucking way.

183 notes · View notes

kythed · 3 years

Note

I have a fic request for Kuroo! A childhood friends to lovers situation based off the song Take my Hand by Picture This! (Just a cute song that has been haunting me because Kuroo ❤️)

I have been through and stalked your blog and I love it! I also saw the ficmas prompt list and I’m looking forward to requesting those too!

I hope this is okay and thank you so much! Your stuff is a joy to read! ❤️❤️❤️✨✨✨

take my hand

kuroo tetsurou x reader

hope you enjoy <3

five.

“You’re my best friend,” he tells you, swallowing the heart that keeps straining to burst from his throat, to lay itself at your feet in all its humiliating devotion. “Of course I love you.”

And he does love you, he reassures himself, letting you walk ahead of him. Just not in the way you think he does. He struggles to keep his eyes above your waistline, tearing his gaze from the hem of your skirt and pointedly pinning it to the back of your head, where your hair is loosely tied with a glossy silk ribbon. His efforts succeed for nearly thirty seconds before he again finds his eyes tracing their way down your neck, down your back, down to the arch of your waist and the flare of your hips, relishing the curve of your--

Damn it. He abruptly stops in his tracks, rubbing his eyes until he sees only stars. (Maybe if he rubs his eyes with enough vigor he’ll stop noticing things he shouldn’t notice while looking at his best friend.)

“Tetsu,” you say, turning around with a laugh. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says gruffly, blinking hard.

He’s not fine.

four.

Life is painful when you’re in love with your oldest, dearest friend. Let Kuroo Tetsurou be the first to testify that when you’ve grown up with someone your entire life, when you’ve made the long, tedious trek from diapers to graduation gowns with them, it feels almost sinful to find yourself slipping into daydreams about pressing that person against your wall, about hearing them whisper your name on soft linen sheets, about kissing them breathless and glassy eyed until the sun plunges beneath the horizon with a brazen wink.

He hates himself for staring at you and hoping to catch you staring back. He hates himself for letting your words wash over his head, unheard, in favor of watching the way your lips curve and curl when you speak.

Most of all, he hates himself for loving you so fiercely in a particular way that would surely sour your stomach and send you running.

“I love you too,” you say, waiting for him to catch up and fall into step beside you. You take his hand and lace your fingers with his as you make your way up the street to your house. The windows glow a domestic orange, dimly illuminating the patch of asphalt before your front door.

It’s nearing seven now-- the gentle clinking of silverware and some sort of faint, savory scent from within inform you of dinner’s impending commencement.

“I know,” he says, cracking a crooked smile. You roll your eyes as he brushes a mocking kiss over your knuckles. “I’m hard to hate.”

three.

Most of the summer passes uneventfully, according to Kuroo’s standards. He manages to keep himself in check, even as he spends each and every day with you, dawn til dusk, savoring your presence the way a starving man savors his last ration.

He manages to treat you almost exactly as he’s treated you his entire life-- like a best friend. He tells his silly jokes that make you giggle and groan simultaneously. He pushes you off the pier when you least expect it, howling with laughter as you resurface, sputtering and flinging fiery invective. He shares an earbud with you as he walks downtown with you by his side, arm slung over your shoulder with carefully calculated composure.

He almost makes it to autumn without incident.

The small, hidden moments are what gives him away, though, layered within false nonchalance and easygoing grins like brightly painted matryoshka.

The way his chest constricts almost painfully when you laugh at a pun he’s ad-libbed on the spot, sending a flurry of butterflies freewheeling in the pit of his stomach.

“It really wasn’t that good,” he chuckles, tenderly watching as tears of laughter prick at the corners of your eyes and you grip his forearm in an attempt to steady yourself as giggles rack your body.

“No, it wasn’t,” you agree, struggling to catch your breath. “It was awful, and that’s what made it so funny.”

(He makes about a dozen more puns that day, feeling like he’s won the lottery whenever you so much as smile at his pitiful attempts at wordplay.)

The way his hands tremble when you turn around and ask him to tie your bikini string before you jump into the lake, the way he bites his lip so some horribly incriminating comment about how he really thinks you’d “be better off without the bikini at all” doesn’t slip out from his mouth.

“Thanks Tetsu,” you chirp after he ties the string around the back of your neck in a neat double-knot. You give him a wink and take off towards the water, kicking up sand in the process. “Last one in buys lunch!”

(He was already planning on paying anyways.)

The way he sits up a little straighter when you lean over and slip a hand under his arms to press ‘skip’ on his phone while you listen to his playlist-- you’re so close he can smell your lip balm.

“Sorry,” you say, smiling apologetically. “I don’t really like that band.”

(Later that evening, Kuroo goes through his Spotify and deletes every single song from that band he has on all of his playlists.)

Yes, he manages to keep himself in check outwardly. But inside, he can feel himself digging his grave a little deeper with each passing day. He watches the sands of summer run through his fingers with the dread of a man counting down the days to his funeral.

He just knows that one of these days he’s going to slip.

two.

He’s right, of course. There’s only so much emotional torment one person can humanly endure. It’s just that he’s hoping he can extinguish this inconvenient, one-sided flame before August comes around. Maybe then everything can go back to normal, whatever normal might entail.

Needless to say, Kuroo’s hopes are dashed before summer comes to a close.

It’s a sticky July evening when you and he drive out to an empty parking lot at the edge of town, a blanket and an old transistor radio in tow. You’re wearing a pale yellow sundress that falls to just above your knees-- he’s glad it’s not any shorter, and that the breeze isn’t quite strong enough to lift your hem.

“I think I can see Orion’s belt,” you say, pointing towards somewhere far into the cosmos. Kuroo squints, trying to follow your finger.

“I don’t think that’s Orion,” he says. “Looks like a cat to me.”

The two of you are sitting on a blanket spread across the hood of his car, craning your necks to make out vague shapes in the stars. Between you, slow, muffled music trickles out from the radio’s small speakers, some sort of vintage tune from the forties.

“How in the world are you seeing a cat?” You shake your head, giving him a hard poke on the shoulder. “Looks more like a swarm of astral bees than anything.”

“Astral bees,” he repeats with a laugh. “Laziest constellation interpretation I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s not lazy,” you protest. “It’s accurate.”

Kuroo just smiles and shrugs, sneaking a glance at you. Your face is bathed in milky starlight, eyes wide as you peer up at the cloudless sky with a blend of wonder and appreciation. There’s some competition, but he thinks this might be the prettiest you’ve ever looked in a single moment.

As if you can feel his stare, you turn to catch his gaze. A gentle smile breaks onto your face, and you absentmindedly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with the endearing shyness of a schoolgirl. “What is it?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he says, mirroring your grin. “You just… look nice right now.”

“No, seriously,” you laugh disbelievingly. “Is there something on my face?”

“I am being serious,” Kuroo insists, fidgeting with the blanket beneath his palms. “You look good. Yellow suits you.”

You flush, glancing down at your dress. You bought it two summers back, and he’s seen you in it a million times before. This is the first summer where he’s really seen you, though. “Well, thank you. It’s a warm night, so I figured I was better off in a dress than pants.”

“Yeah,” he says softly, breaking eye contact to squint up at the stars. He grins and points, finger trembling slightly. “I think I can see where you’re coming from, with the bees.”

one.

A staticky, syrupy waltz comes on the radio, bleeding into the cracks in the comfortable silence. You sigh contentedly, leaning back onto the windshield. “I like this song. It’s… nostalgic.”

Kuroo cocks an eyebrow at you. “You’ve heard this before?”

“No,” you laugh, biting the inside of your cheek. “But it reminds me of times gone by, you know? Like, this is the sort of music I imagine playing when a soldier reunites with his wife after the war.”

“When he comes running out of the train and drops his bags on the platform,” Kuroo continues, watching you carefully, “only to sweep his girl off her feet and spin her around wildly.”

You nod, sneaking a glance at him. “You really know me that well, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes crinkling with humor. “But I get it, too. It has that old fashioned romance thing goin’ on.”

“Mhm,” you agree. You reach over and fiddle with the radio’s volume, turning it up just enough to round out the sound completely.

Kuroo sits for a moment, watching you close your eyes and hum along to the music. Then, a sudden boldness taking the reins, he hops off the hood and walks over to you, extending his hand. “Take it.”

“What?”

“Take my hand,” he insists, so you do, gingerly placing your palm atop his. “We’re going to dance.”

“Oh, no,” you laugh, nonetheless letting him help you down from the car and resting a hand on his shoulder. He lightly places his own on your waist, leading you out into the parking lot. “You know I can’t dance.”

“I can’t either,” he reminds you. “But I want to dance with you right now.”

As you begin to sway slightly to the music, Kuroo pulls you a little closer to his chest, letting his chin brush the top of your head. “Why are you into that whole idea?”

“What idea?” you ask quietly, letting him lead you in slow circles around the lot.

“The idea of an old fashioned love.”

“Oh,” you say, laughing as Kuroo spins you in his arms, catching you before you stumble. “I’m not sure… maybe because it seems more constant than love today. Like, today, if you tell someone you love them, it’s a compliment, not a promise. But back then, it was a vow. It meant something.”

Kuroo swallows, looking down at you. His heartbeat pounds in his ears, threatening to burst out of his temples. I’m about to do something I might regret.

zero.

“I need you to do something for me,” he says, voice low and thick with caution. “Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Please,” he says, voice breaking. He knows that if he doesn’t do this now, he never will. You look beautiful to him in this moment, dancing with him in the empty parking lot to the faint melody of an old waltz. Your eyes glisten with life, your lips gently parted, hair slightly curling over your cheeks.

You roll your eyes once but nonetheless close them obediently, relying a little more on his arms to steady you. He swallows. “Okay. So, imagine we’re living in the 1940s.”

“Okay,” you say, smiling slightly. “I’m imagining.”

“Imagine I enlisted in the war, and I just got back home. Imagine you’re waiting for me at the train station.”

“Mhmm,” you say, trying your best to envision the platform. “You look good in that uniform, Tetsu.”

He chuckles. “I look good in anything.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, squeezing his hand. “Get on with it.”

“Imagine I come sprinting out from the train and you’re waiting there with open arms. This song is playing on the platform speakers. I ask you to dance just like we are now.” Kuroo watches you grin, feeling his heart flutter. “Then, imagine I tell you something.”

Unconsciously, you shift closer to him, almost pressing your body flush to his. A breath hitches in his throat. “What do you tell me?”

He leans down, brushes his lips against your ear. “I love you.”

You open your eyes, head cocked, slight confusion cloaking your features. “You mean, like…?”

Kuroo shakes his head. “No. I mean, like, I love you. Not just in a friend way. In that old fashioned way you were talking about. I love everything about you. I’m in love with everything about you.”

“Tetsu…” you breathe, searching his face. He gazes down at you seriously, not a trace of humor tainting his stare. He takes a deep breath.

“I love the way your hair falls in the summer. I love your stupid, annoying laugh. I love how your hand fits in mine. I love the way you rant about anything and everything and expect me to listen, and I do because I can’t help but get excited about what you get excited about. I love you like a soldier loves his wife,” he says, the words flowing out like a river bursting from a dam. “I love you so much it hurts, and it scares me, and I’m sorry if this ruins stuff between us, but I just had to--”

“Shut up.”

He blinks, mouth gaping. “I-- what?”

“I said,” you whisper, gripping the back of his neck and guiding his face down to yours. “Shut up, Tetsu. You talk too much.”

Then suddenly you’re kissing him, and he can’t believe it, but he kisses you back like it’s what he was born to do. He lets you crash your lips into his and watches as shooting stars burst forth and the planets align. Somehow, your hands find their way up into his hair, tangling themselves in his dark locks, and his own travel down to your lower back, pulling you as close as humanly possible, so tightly he never wants to let go. He revels in the warmth of your skin, the icy, tingly sensation of your lips, and when you pull back, it’s all he can do to refrain from pulling you right back in again.

There’s a brief silence. His lips are swollen, his lungs are devoid of air. “I… wow. Just, wow.”

You grin wickedly, slipping your hand into his. “I’ve been waiting to do that for a while now.”

“You have?” he asks, eyes wide in disbelief. “I didn’t notice.”

“Of course you didn’t,” you laugh. “You were too worried about not letting me notice you staring at my ass every chance you got.”

Kuroo flushes but gives a sheepish smile, massaging the back of his neck. “You know, I really thought I was being smooth about it.”

As it turns out, you love him back. And not just in the best friend way. You love everything about him, his stupid jokes, his loud, booming laugh, his teasing, his smile, his successes and his failures. You love how your hand fits in his. You love that it took him years and years to admit to himself that he loved you, too.

Kuroo Tetsurou may not be the smoothest guy in the world, but he’s certainly the only one you want. And you’re certainly the only one he wants.

And that’s really the most you could ever ask for.

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo headcanons #kuroo tetsurou headcanons #kuroo imagines #kuroo tetsurō x reader #kuroo scenarios #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x you #friends to lovers

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idontblushsrry · 3 years

Text

SFW Alphabet|| Megumi Fushiguro

A/N: Uhhhh I’m back on my bullshit >:) it’s missing Fushiguro hours folks.

Word Count: 2050

A: Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

(If you want some more in depth affection headcanons click here)

Fushiguro is someone who isn’t big on pda but makes up for it in private. In public, he’ll hold your hand but in private he’s laying i your lap while you massage his scalp. Basically, he’s a big softie that just represses his urge to cuddle until he’s alone with you.

B: Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Best friend Megumi is literally the president of the Y/N defense squad. If anyone has a problem with you, they have a problem with him. Of course, you have to rein him in sometimes and remind him you can fight your own battles, but just know he’s lookin out for you.

C: Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Fushiguro loves to cuddle, but he will repress the urge to do so for as long as possible. Because of that, he doesn’t let you go, preferring to cling to you throughout the night. His cuddles are always deceptively loose too. His arms give you just enough wiggle room but the second you try to get up, it’s like fighting two pythons.

D: Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I don’t think he ever really planned on settling down, Megumi figured that he’d die long before he ever got the chance to settle down. Everyday is pretty much a new experience in terms of domesticity for him, he doesn’t have plans for the future, but as long as you’re with him, he’ll be happy.

E: Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If he ever had to break up with someone, he’d probably ask for help on how to do so. The first person he’d ask (regrettably) would be Gojo who’d tell Megumi to just ghost the person. After asking around some more, he figured Kugisaki’s approach of getting it over with as bluntly as possible (although less mean) was the best option.

F: Fiance(e) (How would they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Megumi isn’t really the type for wedding ceremonies. He’s all about commitment (even though working up to marriage for him is longer than most) but he’s not a fan of being the center of attention, so a wedding ceremony/reception wouldn’t be his thing. If you wanted a ceremony, he’d be willing to compromise somewhat but otherwise, he’s perfectly fine with just going to the courthouse.

G: Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s kind of rough around the edges. In private, he can be the sweetest, most tender soul, but in public he’ll put 7 yards of distance between you both if you try to hug him. Basically, he’s very shy, so anything that’ll draw too much attention is a no go (he isn’t opposed to linking pinkies though).

H: Hugs( Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?

At first Megumi really only hugged you when he was missing you, sad, or tired. Over time though, he got better at becoming more open with his affection and he’ll hug you whenever he feels the urge to. Despite that though, his hugs still have an undercurrent of desperation in them. He holds on just as tight each time like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

I: I love you (How fast do they say the L-word)

He’s operating on a very strict ‘If you don’t say it, I won’t’ policy and as such this man will not say a single thing to you unless prompted. He knows deep down that he loves you and that you set off butterflies in his stomach every time you smile, but he never really thought to verbalize that until you say ‘I love you’ first.

J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous)

Megumi doesn’t get jealous, he’s fought side by side with you and he knows you’re more than capable of fending off any unwanted suitors. Megumi put a lot of trust into you by already being in a relationship so to him, it makes no sense to be jealous over you. That all being said, he’s not above the occasional side eye if someone’s getting a little too buddy buddy.

K: Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

On a normal day, his kisses are so natural, he’s so slow and the pressure is just enough to have you thinking you’ve got all the time in the world. In near death/ post-near death circumstances, he’s a little more feral. When he kisses you like that, it feels like it’s the end of the world and he’s trying to make the most of it.

L: Little ones (How are they around children)

Fushiguro isn’t good with kids that aren’t old enough to communicate. Older kids are fine with him, but guessing what a baby needs based on how loud it’s crying? Hard pass for him and he doesn’t even feel bad about it. The last time he had to watch a baby, he tried to leave one of his shikigami to watch it; long story short, he had to explain to a cackling Gojo why his demon dogs wouldn’t let him leave to go to the bathroom.

M: Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings with Fushiguro are pretty rare. Most of the time you guys don’t really get to sleep in or even spend mornings together since most of the time there’s missions or trainings you’ll have to go to. When you do get the rare morning off, Fushiguro makes the most of it. He sleeps in and doesn’t wake up before 10 no matter what you try. When he does finally wake up, he loves cooking breakfast with you, he’s not the best cook, but he treasures the experience over anything.

N: Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights with Megumi are also rare as most curses come out at night and that’s kinda your guys’ job. If all goes well though, you’ll both come back a little earlier and just go straight to sleep. If it’s a late night where the curse took more out of either of you than expected, yall usually stay up and talk and snack until one of you falls asleep or the sun comes up.

O: Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It takes him an extremely long time to open up to you about his past. Not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he’s embarrassed and doesn’t want you to think less of him for it (especially during his problem child era). To be honest, you probably find out about certain things from other people. Once he’s cornered confronted, he’ll be completely (albeit a bit grudgingly) honest about it.

P: Patience (How easily angered are they?)

His anger is kind of weird, whereas before, he was a lot quicker to explode, bluntly telling off or even fighting whoever pissed him off, he’s changed. He tries his best to repress his emotions and as such, he comes off as patient, never expressing his true feelings/desires until pushed to the brink.

Q: Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He’s the king of remembering details you mention in passing. His love language is partially acts of service so for him, remembering details about you helps him later. Oh remember that one time you needed a pen/pencil but didn’t have one? Never again, this man has a section of his shadows dedicated solely to pencils because of you. Oh what’s that, you like this random song? Guess what just got added to the playlist he made for you. Basically, while he may not look like it, he’s actually a simp and so if he can make your life easier/ make you happy, it’s worth it.

R: Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

So Megumi is someone who doesn’t play video games but is really good at them for no reason. One day, you’re playing a game of smash bros. and he’s just kicking your ass, like it was sad. Needless to say, after his 4th win, he “accidently” pressed the wrong button and let you win. He thinks you don’t know he did this but when you won, you kissed him and completely flustered him, to the point that he couldn’t play for a solid 5 minutes.

S: Security (How protective are they? How would they like to be protected?)

Despite knowing and trusting that you can defend yourself, he’s still super protective of you. You’re one of the few people that he cares about in the world and he’d give everything to see you safe and protected. As for how he’d like to be protected, knock some sense into him every once in a while. He has a habit of self sacrificing so if you want to protect him, remind him that you want to keep him alive as much as he wants to keep you alive.

T: Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

On the outside, his dates are very simple. They usually consist of you and him either staying in or just hanging out at stores and the like. Every once in a while, he’ll try to take you somewhere special, like a cove he found or a festival. For most people, these may be simple dates, but Fushiguro puts so much effort into so may aspects of your dates that honestly, anything bigger would lose the personal touch your dates have.

U: Ugly (What are some bad habits of theirs? (I’m gonna add arguments here because they aren’t on the prompt list I found))

One of his worst habits is his self-sacrificing tendencies. Even during a baseball game, he can’t help but sacrifice himself (especially if it means his friends/ you get to get the glory). With time though, he grows out of this and realizes it’s not selfish to want the best for yourself.

V: Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s giving “I woke up like this” and it’s... it’s something. One might think the style is intentional since obviously, the look could only be achieved with gel, and to an extent, it is intentional. He might use gel to spike it a little more but the man legit rolls out of bed and chooses to leave his hair up like that.

W: Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

No, as much as he loves you, Fushiguro is an introvert. He needs time to just be by himself and unwind every once in a while, so he’s got no complaints if you leave him to his own devices or have to be gone for a long time.

X: (E)xes (Any previous relationship experience. How does that factor into your current relationship?)

Megumi has negative zero relationship experience. He’s never found someone that was worth the risk/ worth opening up to, hell, he just barely got friends when he entered high school. Because of this, every part of your relationship is like navigating uncharted waters.

Y: Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner)

He’s less someone to dislike a specific thing/ personality trait, and more someone who doesn’t like different people for different reasons, ex. Todo and Mai. If he had to pick a single trait, it’d probably have to be hypocriticism.

Z: Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

He is someone who will fall asleep spread eagle one night and the next be huddled into a tiny little section of the bed. Mercy on you if you try to cuddle because now you’re wrapped up into his unconscious acrobatic routine.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen imagines #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro jjk #jjk x black reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #black reader #black!reader #idontblushsrry #x black reader

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winchesterxxi · 3 years

Text

A Link (Din Djarin x Reader)

Rating: PG-13

Type: Angst

Request: “Fic request - reader is a Jedi ( untrained) and Luke requests she also joins him. She has to choose between leaving Din or going with the child. After watching that episode I’m already depressed as hell so the more angsty the better!”

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: CH.16 SPOILERS

A/N: What’s the most depressing love song you can think of? Play it.

MASTERPOST | REQUEST HERE | KO-FI

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

You’d never think this rescue mission would lead to this. The plan was to get in, rescue Grogu, get Moff Gideon and walk out - the less damage the better. Needless to say, things didn’t go exactly according to plan, not in a single way.

But you definitely were not expecting an X-Wing to land on the ship and for a Jedi to walk out of there. Not any Jedi: Luke Skywalker. You’d heard a few gossips here and there about how he was the last great one of his kind, but you couldn’t predict that he’d sense Grogu and come get him. Ashoka? Sure. Luke Skywalker? Not in a million years.

It all happened so slow yet so quickly. One minute Grogu was in your arms, pointing at a screen, the next Din was saying goodbye to him, letting him see his face for the first time, while tears pooled across his vision before putting him down and letting the child waddle to Luke and the droid.

All eyes were focuses on Grogu as he exchange some sort of conversation with the beeping droid, before Luke’s eyes met yours.

“The force is strong with you too, Y/L/N”

“Just Y/N is fine.” you correct him, deferring his statement.

“Were you ever trained, Jedi?” he questions you, clearly noticing how unlike a Jedi your garments were - a beskar armor Din made sure to make buy you in Naboo as to protect you as much as possible, given the jobs you carried alongside him. It had cost him a great deal of credits but he didn’t want to hear a word about it. If it’s to keep you safe, I’d sell my own armor, he said.

“No?... I don’t know, I’ve just always felt The Force, I kind of taught myself everything I know."

“Have you ever maneuvered a lightsaber?”

You shook your head “No. Just blasters and spears.”

“A Jedi must learned to use one.” You don’t like where this conversation is headed and you can see by the way that Din’s shoulders are tensing up, as he stands next to you, that neither is he.

“Do you know the dangers of being your age and untrained, Y/N?” look questions, eyeing you only.

“No.” Din cuts in abruptly, stepping in front of you in a protective manner, his frame towering over you completely cutting your form from Luke’s vision “You’re not taking her as well.”

You can hear the croak in his voice. He is still on the verge of tears but there’s anger in there as well. Luke wants to take his lover away.

You step out from behind him to his side, left hand on his shoulder, forcing his bowed head to look at you. Your eyes meet his and it’s as if every muscle in your body felt like floating up to space. This man melted you every time.

But you have to own up to yourself, looking up at him with eyes as if to exchange a message in a language that only the two of you spoke. As if saying I should go.

His lips tremble and he shakes his head.

“Not you too, cyar’ika.” he begs.

“Din...”

“Don’t leave me. I’ve lost my home, my son, I - ... Please, don’t leave me” he grabs both of your hands in his, bowing his head and sniffing, as a single tear falls in the back of your hand.

The feeling of the wet drop in your hand opens your own gates, but only slightly, as you try to keep it together for the both of you.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” you sniff, palming his cheek in your left hand “you have... plenty to figure out on your own.” you say touching the handle of the dark saber hanging from his gun belt.

“I don’t care about that piece of junk, I care about you.”

You wan’t to fight him back. You want to tell him how big of a deal that saber is and how much he should indeed care about it. But that wasn’t Din, that wasn’t Mando. He didn’t care about some stupid weapon or the status that it’d bring him. He went as far as to yield it to Bo-Katan as soon as he could, but unfortunately that’s not how it’s supposed to work. But he didn’t care. He only cares about the people he loves. And that made your heart ache all the most.

You are standing there, shaky breaths looking down at your hands, before sniffling and facing Luke.

“What happens if I go with you?” Din’s head shots up, looking at you,

“Given that you’re way past the normal age gap in which a Jedi is trained, you’d probably be assigned to a Master right away and they’d be responsible for all your training.” Luke explains, Grogu at his feet.

You nod and turn your head to look in Din’s eyes, your voice quieter now “And if I stay?”

“That’s... that’s not recommended as the grasp you have--” he starts

“What if I stay?” you insist.

“You’ll stay untrained, to put it simply. You’ll keep not understanding the dimension of your powers and the responsibilities that come with it. You might misuse it, you might not be able to control it and hurt the ones you love. You might kill without intending to, and you might turn to the dark side.”

“I would never - “ you interject, defending yourself

“It’s a faith you can’t control. Unless you train yourself. Unless you refine your skills.”

You ponder his words. The weight of both options dawning on you as you consider them.

“Even with me having a different Master from Grogu, will I still be able to make sure he’s okay?” you look at Grogu, adoringly. Who knew that little green ball of bald hair, if there even was such a thing, would become such a big part of your life.

“Arrangements can be made, yes.” Luke assures you.

You nod your head to yourself, eyeing the floor. You have made your decision.

You grab both of Din’s hands once again, this time his are the ones in between yours and you grab them hard. Not as to hurt him but to comfort him about what he knew you were about to say. But before you can say anything he shakes his head, another tear falling down his right cheek.

“Please, no.” he breathes

“It’s what’s best for everyone, Din.” you plead

“For everyone? I’ve lost my home, I’ve lost him, I can’t lose you too.” he takes a break to catch his breath, sniffling a few times “No, not you.”

“Din... let me go, please, don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“How can you ask me that?” He looks you in the eyes. Those sweet brown eyes and his furrowed brows, asking you how you can even dare to break him this way “Please don’t walk out of that door.”

“If I stay, I might hurt people and I - “

“You’d never do that. You care for everyone you meet you’d never hurt people.” he brings your hands up to his chest, planting them there. You can feel both his breathing and heartbeat.

“You heard Luke...I might not be able to control it.” you try to reason with him “Din, if I ever hurt you I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

He bites his bottom lip trying to keep it from trembling and you grab the back of his head, feeling his curls and pulling his forehead to rest against yours.

“Do you trust me?”

“What? Of course I do.” he says in less than a second

“Then please...” you breathe out“ trust that I’ll keep him safe. Trust that I’ll come running back to you as soon as I finish my training.”

Seeing the scenario unfolding in front of him, Luke decides to help you out “She might also act as a link between you and the child. The three of you are connected by a very strong bond and Y/N can act as a communication link.”

You look in his direction, silently thanking him.

“Din.” you whisper his name. Oh how sweet his name has always sound in your voice. Every time you’d call him his heart would flutter inside is ribcage, but he would never admit to that. But he understands you.

“It is for the best, isn’t it?” he whimpers quietly, barely above a whisper.

“It is. I know it hurts. Fuck, it hurts so bad, but it is.”

Pulling slightly away from you, he reaches into his back pocket taking out something before offering it to you, on the side that is hidden from the other presences in the room. He reaches down into his pocket taking out the sphere. When he opens his gloved hand, you can see it’s the tiny sphere from the Razor Crest that Grogu loved so much.

“I want you to give him this.”

You shake your head, carefully closing your fingers over his “No.”

“But the kid -”

“Din, keep it.” you know it’s the only thing that he’ll have to remember the kid “You’ll need it more than him.”

There is silence, at last. Only both of your altered breathings can be heard for a while until you notice Din’s hands shuffling at the bottom of your peripheral vision. Looking down, you can see that he is taking his gloves off and your brows furrow in confusion.

Before you can process whatever was happening, his hands, his ungloved hands, come up to rest on both sides of your face and he holds you there. His hands are a little rough but you don’t mind - they are all the more warm and gentle as you feel his skin against yours. His thumbs wipe a few tears away from the corners of your eyes as they stare at him. His right hand slides slightly down from your cheek to your lips as he wipes your top lip, carefully, feeling the softness of them. His delicacy causing you to lean into his palm and placing your corresponding hand on top of his.

He wanted to touch you. If this were the last thing he gets from you, he’ll be happy with it. Slowly, Din then dips his head to join your lips with his in a passionate but sweet kiss, your hands still on top of his, cherishing his touch as much as you could. Despite your eyes being close, you can tell he was crying just as much as you as you could feel tears that weren’t yours come in contact with your cheeks.

Pulling away, but not enough to separate your faces, your foreheads rest once again against each other. One of his hands finds it’s trail to where your heart would be and he rests it there, you doing the same to him with your opposite hand. Feeling each other's heartbeat, connecting.

A few moments pass until you hear his voice again.

“This isn’t a goodbye is it?”

You shake your head slightly. “Not in a million years. We’ll both be back to annoy your ass before you can even notice.”

This causes him to give a half-hearted chuckle, yearning for the day when that happens. “If you come back-”

“When I come back...” you are quick to correct him.

“ When you come back, the first thing I’m going to do is make you my riduur, I promise you that much.” you squeeze his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

“And I promise you that I’ll say yes, in a heartbeat.”

His head shifts slightly and he rest his lips against your forehead, whispering the words that until a year ago he would’ve never dreamed of ever saying to someone, but that he has since said so many times. But only to a single person. Only to you,

“I love you.”

“I love you.” you assure him against his chest.

Taking a big breath in, you pull away taking a good look at him one last time. Until suddenly you feel a tug on the bottom fabric of your armor. Looking down you can see Grogu with his little arms up, gesturing for you to pick him up.

Laughing between the tears, you reach down and pick him up, facing Din. In any other occasion, one could interpret the way the three of you were standing as a mother holding her child, saying farewell as the father heads out to work. But this reality is so much more painful. In this reality you’re both the ones leaving, and what you leave behind has a wound that won’t be fixed for a long time.

Tilting your head close to the kid you prop him to say his goodbye “Say bye bye to Din.”

Grogu’s little 3-fingered hand shakes as much as his arms allow him to in front of him as he coos, probably thinking he was articulating an actual farewell. Before you can a step away, Din grabs the back of your head one last time, kissing you between your eyes, before letting you go.

You step in Luke’s direction, communicating through The Force how grateful you were with him for being so patient, and he nods in acknowledgment.

“May The Force be with you.” he says to Din, who nods his head.

The four of you turn to walk away, but Grogu manages to climb up your arms and stay looking at Din as he gets farther and farther away. When you all reach the elevator you turn to face him one last time, using the force for what you never did before - connect with him.

I will always let you know where we are.

And as his eyes soften, you hear a response.

And I’ll always be at the ready to fly to you.

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

Want a completely personalized imagine just for you? Click here!

#hope you had tissues #if not WELL #winchesterxxi #din djarin x reader #angst #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal #star wars #jedi reader

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loupettes · 3 years

Text

Some Ten/Rose domestic fluff for the DoctorRose Fic Marathon, mostly to soothe my mental health but who doesn’t need more Ten/Rose in their lives?

T W E N T Y O N E

SUMMARY: Ten/Rose. It's Rose's twenty-first birthday, and she's invited the Doctor along to a party thrown by her mum. A night of pub celebrations, boisterous friends and family gatherings, quizzes, a little bit of jealousy and some hard truths ahead, the Doctor must grit and bear the domesticity for his best friend — well, the love of his life. If only there was something to make it worthwhile..

TAGS: fluff, domestic, romance, jealousy, pub quizzes, everyone loves Rose Tyler (the Doctor being top of that list), mutual pining, longing, etc etc

Read on AO3: twenty one

***

“See you’ve found a way to pass the time,” she muttered once Laura was out of earshot, slipping her arm out from his and grabbing the napkin from the bar. She looked at it distacefully for a moment, before she passed the napkin to him.

“Enduring terrible flirting and being come on to is just one of the many things I’m voluntarily subjecting myself to to be here with you tonight.”

“How hard that must be for you.”

He couldn’t put his finger on why, exactly, she seemed irritated, and when Laura put the drink in front of her and begrudgingly took the tenner from the Doctor, Rose seemed to only sadden as she swirled her straw around in her drink.

“Just didn’t think you were interested in this sort of stuff, s’all,” she shrugged.

He frowned; he assumed she must have meant flirting. “I’m not.”

Rose looked at her drink for a moment, a pinch in her brow that he couldn’t translate. It wasn’t indifference, it wasn’t even the irritation she was projecting on her voice, but he wasn’t fond of it, he knew that much.

“Only got eyes for you, promise.”

***

It was one of those days, the ones he hadn’t really ever had to subject himself to in his many years of life, and he calls them ‘obligatory domestics’. The kinds of days where he needs to drop Rose off so she can do a bit of ‘life admin’: check in on her grandparents, nip to primark to get some basics, cash her birthday cheques, all that sort of stuff.

And then, of course, there were the days he needed to attend parties.

Now, he wasn’t a party person. Awkward small talk, terrible music — depending on the decade, of course — dreadful finger food, that annoying needless obligation to stay and ‘enjoy yourself’ when all you really wanted to do was leave. This was one of those days where Rose had a party to attend, and had asked him to just drop her off back at home for the night and they could get back to travelling the next day.

The problem was, it was her birthday party.

Now, if it were his birthday — if he even had a birthday — then he wouldn’t exactly call it a mark for celebration. Not even at the turn of a new century, and he most certainly wouldn’t call turning a thousand a celebration, which he was sure was coming up soon. And the funny thing was, Rose didn’t feel the need to celebrate birthdays, either. Well, unless they were somebody else’s; she would go out of her way to make that day astronomically special for them. So when she had turned to him last week, when they were out enjoying a milkshake in a diner on Panvorix, and told him, regrettably, that her mum wanted to throw her a birthday party with her friends and family for her twenty-first, which he was sure meant something to humans, he wondered whether he really needed to be there.

But, and this is where he finds it difficult: he somehow knew she wanted him there. She hadn’t explicitly said so, she had just sort of shrugged and said ‘you can come, too, although I doubt you’ll want to’. But other than that, she had talked about it as though she was going to go, not they. And if he only paid attention to her words and what she was saying, like he thought most humans — and, well, every other species in existence — did, then he would have felt no obligation whatsoever to join her. But these humans, and especially the British, have this odd sort of way of communicating where they would say one thing with words but also without them, and usually, the things they weren’t saying was quite different to the things that they were. And it seemed as though this was the case with Rose. Her lack of eye contact, the slight reddening in her neck, the indifference that he just knew wasn’t as indifferent as she would have liked it to be. She’d slurped her milkshake and changed the subject and that was that — no need to dwell. But once she had gone to bed that night, he wondered. He tinkered away in the control room and tried to interpret all those little things and he just couldn’t, so he gave up and decided to take her for her word. So he told himself, if she brings it up again, if she asks-but-doesn’t-ask him to come, then he’ll go with her. Otherwise, he’ll leave her with her mum for the night and come back for her the next day as she asked.

That was until Jackie called.

“You’re coming,” she had said flatly, and she had said it in such a frighteningly threatening way that he only nodded and agreed.

Rose had seemed most happy when he had said they were getting to her mum’s for midday on Saturday. She had quickly tried to hide it, and once more he got the impression that she was only acting nonchalant. But he wasn't quite sure, so he double checked just to be safe.

“You sure you want me there?”

She had frowned, and again shrugged without looking at him. “Course, you’re my best mate.”

And so here he was. Waiting in the control room for her, in a blue suit this time, while she packed her things in an overnight bag.

Today was her actual birthday. Her mum had called her all excited, wishing her a happy birthday — even though she was about to see her in a couple of hours. The Doctor had made her a cup of tea and said happy birthday, too, but Rose’s cheeks had flushed pink and he took that to mean that was enough making-a-fuss over her birthday for the day. Other than that, he hadn’t seen her all morning, and so when she entered the control room freshly showered and now in her jeans and a hoodie, her backpack slung over her shoulders, she grinned quite sheepishly and said,

“Hello.”

“Hello,” he echoed, a little less nervously. “All packed and ready, then?”

“I am indeed,” she nodded, and skipped over to him with a bit more gusto. “You mentally prepared?”

‘Oh, absolutely not.”

“Me neither,” she chuckled, and tugged on his arm. “You didn’t see mum on my eighteenth — she gets several octaves higher, just to warn you.”

He shuddered. “Well, lucky for you— and me, I suppose— my capacity to detect high pitches gets less and less with each passing century.”

“That’s good to know.”

After they had gone to Nando’s for lunch, Jackie had asked the Doctor to join her and help set up at the pub while Rose got ready back at the flat with a couple of her mates. He hadn’t been in love with the idea — a few hours alone with Jackie filling him in on the gossip of somebody called ‘Bev’ while various 90s pop songs echoed through the room, that was — and she certainly did like to talk when she was excited. They had pinned a few ‘Happy 21st Birthday!’ banners around the room, chucked a lot of small plastic ‘21’s across the floor and the bar, and, by the time Rose called to say she was on her way, the room had filled with quite a lot of people indeed. Some family members he was sure he had met before, little kids of cousins he definitely hadn’t, and a few of Rose’s friends who seemed to know her family quite well. It was the first time that day he had sort of warmed, seeing that Rose had grown up with such a loving group of friends and extended family, and he even loosened just a little as he chatted to a few while they waited for Rose to turn up.

“Everybody, she’s at the bottom of the road!” Jackie called out loudly, when she received a text from Shareen. At that, people picked up nearby birthday poppers and whistles, getting to their feet with excited and anticipatory smiles — the Doctor even had a confetti cannon himself ready to go for when she walked in.

But of course, when she did walk in, he couldn’t do anything at all except look at her.

As people called out excited ‘happy birthday!'s and set off their poppers, the Doctor found himself completely anchored to the spot while the room only burst with colour and into life. He had always found her quite beautiful, especially when she was giggling away or saying something particularly clever, and he had even found himself breathless once or twice to watch her. But tonight, goodness �� he wasn’t convinced he had two bloody hearts because neither one was beating and certainly neither of them were supplying oxygen to the rest of his body.

It was her smile, without a doubt. It was different somehow, like an old smile he was sure she must have used before she met him, to see all these familiar faces of her loved ones. That, and her cheeks were dusted a delightful pink, a little shy he knew she must have been to have so many people around her for her. Her hair was wavy for once, and she wore a black dress that the Doctor was momentarily ashamed to find himself looking at; the way it sculpted her curves and defined the most enchanting silhouette, cut mid-thigh and exposing her legs — and he was especially ashamed for his gaze to linger on those, but she was simply so exquisite, everywhere, that he soon felt instead the same overwhelming awe he gets when he studies a painting, ones in which the colours tell a compelling story and the shapes express feelings that words could not completely.

He still hadn’t managed to find his breath by the time she caught his eye, and he found himself desperately trying to cling to coherent thoughts when she nervously made her way over to him.

“Hello,” she said again when she got to him, pausing for a moment before she reached up on her toes to give him a hug. He had just enough semblance of normality to return the gesture, albeit weakly — still trying to process his thoughts as he was.

Tell her!

“Happy birthday,” he whispered instead, and he heard her giggle by his ear before she released him, and there was a moment where he could have told her just how breathtaking she looked, but of course, he didn’t.

Instead, she scratched her arm and looked around the room. “Thanks for helping mum set all this up.”

“Oh, right—” he cleared his throat “— sure, no probs.”

“You’ll have to fill me in on all the gossip later.”

“Don’t worry, I took notes.”

She chuckled, and her eyes softened as she looked at him, taking him in, and they seemed to even darken somehow, which sent an odd sort of sense of affirmation through him — he was right not to shave today, then.

“Listen, er—” she began, her brow creasing in awkwardness, and she started scratching her arm again. He watched her curiously, wondering what she was about to say and feeling strangely nervous, all of a sudden. “Please don’t — I mean, thank you for coming, it— I just wanted to say please don’t stay, if you don’t want to— if you’re feeling awkward or anything just feel free to, you know—”

“Rose, it’s alright,” he grinned, putting his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be alright.”

“I know, I just didn’t want the last of the Time Lords to perish here in this pub in Southwark out of boredom.”

“Yeah, would be a dreadful end to their race I must admit.”

“Not one for the textbooks,” she giggled. “Nor one I’d particularly like on my conscience, either.”

“Blimey, you’re right — lot riding on the entertainment this evening, then.”

“Well in that case, I should remind you that mum planned this party.”

“Oh,” he groaned, and sighed defeatedly while she only continued to chuckle. “It’s just a couple of hours. I can do it.”

He sort of regretted saying that. Well, no, he definitely regretted saying that.

He’d spent the first hour or so meeting Rose’s family, and then after that getting to know five or six of Rose’s friends, sat around in a booth. They were all friendly enough, inviting him in as one of their own and of course, he thought, Rose’s friends would be charming, since they were Rose’s friends after all.

And then there was Callum, he thinks his name was, and at first the Doctor was able to maintain a calm composure despite his irritability when the lad put his arm around Rose, but after twenty minutes or so and he still hadn’t moved, the Doctor started to sincerely regret his decision to come here tonight and wondered whether he could quietly slip away and narrowly avoid some other, less painful end. But then Rose would give him that look, that smile that just seemed to settle him if only for the fact that it was hers. And so he stayed, listening to stories of their school days and joining in with their laughter until it became just a little too much, when Callum started whispering things to Rose when nobody else was paying attention. Rose didn’t seem particularly bothered by him, nor was she giving off any signs that she was uncomfortable, but he certainly seemed to have more of an agenda than she, and just enough that it pissed the Doctor off enough for him to excuse himself to get a drink instead.

“Just a Coke, thanks,” he said as he reached the bar, but the bartender looked back at him apologetically.

“Pepsi alright?” she said.

His shoulders slumped in disappointment because why would he want a Pepsi if he was ordering a Coke—

“Just kidding,” she grinned, reaching down for a glass and picking up a glass bottle of Coke. “Wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Oh,” he only half smiled, and loosened his tie just a little to finally just be able to breathe. “Well, that’s a relief.”

“You look like you could use something stronger, though.”

“Do I?” he frowned, somewhat surprised but not entirely that he must look exhausted to others. It was exhausting, realising that he was far too in love for his own good. But the bartender didn’t look like she thought that, not at all, as she grinned over to him.

“Parties don’t really seem like your sort of thing.”

He shook his head, resting his elbows on the bar. “No, not really.”

“So what is your thing, then?”

Earth wasn’t quite ready for the question to be answered with ‘time travel, mostly’, so he flustered a little in search of an answer more reasonable for the time period. “I tried soap carving, once. That was fun.”

She looked back at him completely confused for a moment, and he only added the admission to the long list of things he was regretting about this evening, before she gave him a friendly smile.

“Not something I would have expected you to say.”

When the Doctor only shook his head in hopeless exasperation, she grinned,

“I’m Laura, by the way.”

“John,” he retorted, as she placed the Coke in front of him.

“Nice to meet you John — this one’s on me.”

It took him a second to realise she had just bought him a drink — of Coke — but a common gesture nonetheless he was sure indicated flirting. “Oh— er, thanks.”

She nodded, but didn’t turn to serve any of the other guests, not that it was all that busy up at the bar, anyway. “So, John. Did you, er, come here with anyone tonight?”

As dreadful to admit as it was, he couldn’t say that he had. And it seemed so odd to him to think about, because he went everywhere with Rose, but he had never been anywhere with her. It wasn’t really something he had ever considered, whether he would like to start going places with Rose as his and he as hers, but now, as he thought about Rose with that slimy little git behind him, he rather wished that he didn’t have to fret. Not about the dreadful moment she tells him tonight that she’s going back to Callum's, and not about any other time in the future she would admit to having fallen in love with somebody else. It wasn’t a possessive thing, he didn’t want for nobody else to want her because she was his, but he wanted to just love her and be free to; no more of this pining and hiding and instead just be able to say that he was so terribly in love with her and that wasn’t going to change, no matter how much he wanted it to. Except he highly doubted she would want that, this nine-bloody-hundred-year-old alien who had murdered and cowered to be hopelessly devoted to her when she didn’t exactly ask for it. So, he swallowed, feeling his hearts sink in defeat as he did.

“No. Just me.”

Laura’s lips curled in triumph, and she leant in a little bit closer. “In that case, what are you doing tonight?”

If he was just that little bit less in love, he might have been tempted, he had to admit. But he was far beyond the point now of needing a distraction to this dreadful torment, he was much too in love with Rose to even be able to be distracted in the first place. Yet, he couldn’t quite find his voice to decline, so he only started to fluster as he broke eye contact, and took a sip of his drink in the meantime.

“Tell you what,” she smirked, taking a napkin from the bar and began to scribble something on it. “I finish at eleven-thirty. Here’s my number, just in case.”

As he helplessly watched her, he felt somebody put their arm through his as they approached the bar from behind, and was somewhat mortified to find Rose appear beside him. She looked quite peculiar indeed, an expression he had seen a couple of times aimed directly at the woman in front of her, and he glanced down in confusion when she placed her other hand on his arm.

“Malibu and Coke, please.”

Laura looked over to her, then down to her arm, then back up with a look that only seemed to mirror Rose’s. “Got any ID?”

Rose scoffed. “This is my party, you know.”

“Can’t serve you unless you’ve got ID.”

“Tell you what—” the Doctor interrupted, reaching into his pocket for the psychic paper as he heard Rose about to counter “—this one’s on me. Can’t have the birthday girl paying for her own drinks.”

Laura only looked back at him in disillusionment, her eyes flickered back to Rose. “Okay, but it was just you I was buying the drink for.”

Rose scoffed incredulously, and wrapped her arms around the Doctor’s only tighter as the two women seemed to be engaging in a fight without actually fighting. Or from what he could tell, anyway.

“Enduring terrible flirting and being come on to is just one of the many things I’m voluntarily subjecting myself to to be here with you tonight.”

“How hard that must be for you.”

“Just didn’t think you were interested in this sort of stuff, s’all,” she shrugged.

He frowned; he assumed she must have meant flirting. “I’m not.”

“Only got eyes for you, promise.”

She seemed to only laugh in spite of herself at his words, and seemed to receive his joke — although he couldn’t be certain he had meant it to be one. She looked up at him through those devilishly long eyelashes of hers and he tried desperately to think of just about anything to say to change the subject.

“Having a nice night?”

Rose pulled up a bar stool and hoisted herself up, wiggling about to get comfortable. “S’been nice, yeah. So many mates I haven't seen in forever — not since we all went to get our GCSEs.”

He gazed to the side of her in thought. “Five years ago, that must be now?”

She raised her eyebrow, but didn’t smile. “Yeah. Can’t believe it.”

She started poking at the ice in her drink now, but not consciously. She was distracted, seemingly saddened by the thoughts running through her mind. He watched her hand, her nails recently painted, wearing the ring her mum had got her for her birthday.

“I’m twenty-one,” she almost whimpered.

“Wait till you get to nine-hundred.”

He was relieved to hear her laugh, a real one, and she glanced at him with kind eyes, her eyes, not those strangely woeful ones she looked at her glass with. “Yeah. If ever I’m feeling old, I’ll just think about you instead.”

“There are some benefits to being ancient, then.”

She giggled, and it only seemed to tickle her more until he saw her completely, Rose as he knew her returned back to him. It relieved him, and he realised he had stiffened to see her so glum. She glanced once more down at the napkin and he sighed, unsure exactly what she was thinking, before something told him to lift up her glass and place it underneath instead. She turned to him with a shy smile, her lips thin as she tried to hide whatever emotion was surfacing, and she was unable to hold his gaze for long when she leaned against him to nudge his arm with hers. An apology, he guessed, and he himself tittered in response. She was less saddened certainly, but her silence was not quite unburdened, so he sought,

“What’s on your mind?”

“Hmm?”

“You,” he said softly. “I know you don’t like your birthday, but something’s up.”

She once more gave him one of those thin smiles, a smile he recognised was one she was trying to put on for him but unsuccessfully — he knew her, afterall. She sighed, and shook her head.

“Everyone’s… it’s just so strange. Being back, after having been away. Things have just… happened. Like Charlie’s had a baby, can’t believe it. She’s younger than me.”

So that was it. He felt an odd sense of guilt in the centre of his chest that only sank lower, and he realised she had only been confronted with how much she had missed since travelling with him. How much she was missing out on, and how much he had taken from her while he only wanted to keep her for himself. But he didn’t suppose she needed his self-loathing tonight, so instead, he frowned as he thought.

“Charlie’s your…” he began, trying to remember as he scanned the room.

“Cousin.”

“Right,” he nodded. He was surprised to find her watching him with a gentle smile when he looked back at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” she grinned, sheepishly, looking down briefly as her smile only grew less so and slightly more endeared, might he say, instead. “Just you, trying to learn all my family and friends.”

“Trying being the keyword there — there’s a lot of them.”

“I know, but it’s funny,” she teased, that tongue sticking out of her teeth that he had to quickly avert his gaze from, “You can remember something complex and yet still get lost remembering the names of my family.”

“My mind sadly is not a TARDIS,” he jibed, and she chortled delightfully into her glasses as she took a sip. “Everytime I have to remember one of your cousin’s names, I have to forget about something else. I’ve forgotten Einstein’s special relativity equation to remember you have an Aunt called Jeanette.”

“Well, that's a bummer for relativity, because my Aunt’s called June.”

He frowned at her, momentarily fooled, before he rolled his eyes. “No she’s not.”

Rose scoffed with her mouth agape in shock. “Yes she is!”

As she giggled away, he vaguely recalled meeting a month, before his eyes widened and he blinked in defeat.

“Blimey, right then.”

Rose put her drink back down on the bar and struggled to contain her giggles and, goodness, he simply couldn’t look away. Her eyes scrunched shut, her nose wrinkled and smile so bright, she was impossibly beautiful when she was like this, her laughter sounding so pure and so wonderfully joyous. He wasn’t convinced she was laughing solely at his complete inability to remember anything remotely related to something so important as her family, because he only imagined it to be quite disappointing, but he wasn’t about to step in and stop her, especially not when he felt his own smile begin to grow at seeing her this way. She shook her head and opened her eyes as her giggles subsided but smile remained and she looked at him in the most breathtaking way and he could feel himself falling, needing to physically stop himself from leaning in closer to her.

There was a moment, one terribly long agonising moment, where he thought he might just falter. Despite everything inside him begging him not to, he found himself unable to hear himself when her eyes locked with his in such a way, in fact, the only thing that was able to prevent him from kissing her was knowing how terribly awkward it would be when she pulls back, wondering what on Earth he was thinking to presume she would want him to kiss her. So he swallowed, and looked away, back down at his drink and he took another sip.

Thankfully, before he had a chance to make a fool of himself and try to string a sentence together, he was interrupted by a voice sounding from a microphone behind them. They both turned, and, over at the corner of the pub stood two of Rose’s girlfriends, both of whom he remembered were with them at the table earlier, standing with a few pieces of card in their hands.

“Ahem — can we have everyone’s attention, please?” one of them — he was sure her name was Grace — announced, a smug anticipatory smile donned her slightly flushed face, and the room went quiet a moment before the music turned down, too. “Hi! Good evening, everyone! So, in case you aren’t all aware yet, today is our very own Rosie Tyler’s twenty-first birthday!”

The room broke into applause, a few cheers and the odd wolf whistle as many turned to look at Rose beside him.

He teased quietly only to her, “Rosie?”

“Shut up,” she muttered as she elbowed him, but couldn’t stop grinning despite herself. “Little gits know I hate being called Rosie.”

“So before we get started, a very happy birthday to you!” the other girl — Cara, was it? There goes Euler’s equation, he surrendered — said into the microphone. “We hope you’re having a great night, and we love you—”

“Even if she did nick my GHDs.”

Rose snorted when Grace stuck her tongue out at her. “I did not! I just forgot to give them back to you!”

“Hmm, how convenient— anyway,” Grace stressed, and the room was chuckling to their playful teasing. “We thought we might play a little game, before we start the, er, slideshow in a bit—”

“Oh, god,” Rose muttered under her breath, and the Doctor sniggered quietly.

“— just a quick ‘How well do you know Rose Tyler’ quiz. No teams, no competition, strictly for embarrassment purposes alone.”

“Get me out of here,” Rose whispered to him, but he stayed firmly put.

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m staying for this.”

“Then I’m going to fly your ship myself and leave you here stranded.”

“Fine by me, I want to see all those pictures you’ve been so adamant remain hidden away in a box every time we go round to your mum’s.”

She groaned, and hid her face in her palms.

“So, without further ado: question one.” Grace paused for dramatic effect, reading the words on her paper with a teasing smile. “What was the name of Rose’s first boyfriend?”

“Oh my god, my mum’s here—”

“Jimmy!” one of her friends shouted, and the Doctor felt Rose bury her face against his arm.

“No,” she whispered, about the same time Grace called out,

“Incorrect!”

“Craig David!” a male voice shouted, and Rose groaned loudly as the room went quiet.

“That is correct!”

The Doctor scoffed next to her as the rest of the room erupted into laughter. “Oh, come on.”

“Rose absolutely believed she and Craig David were meant to be back in year six, and told everyone they were boyfriend and girlfriend,” Cara giggled, and the Doctor only chuckled to hear Rose repeatedly whispering ‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god’ into his arm.

“Had to get her a poster!” Jackie called with a squeal of delight.

“Get me— you’re a Time Lord for god’s sake, go back in time and stop this from all happening!” Rose urged.

“Not a chance.”

“Question two!” And once more, the room went quiet in anticipation. “And a little less embarrassing, maybe—”

“Thank God,” Rose mumbled. At that point, he couldn’t really stop himself from giving her arm a gentle stroke.

“— Which film was Rose obsessed with at the beginning of secondary school?”

“Easy! Back to the Future!” another one of her friends called out.

The Doctor scoffed, “You’re kidding?”

Rose pulled away, then, unashamed. “Marty Mcfly, hottest fictional character in the world, I stand by it.”

“If I dress up in that puffer vest and the TARDIS gets her act together to disguise as a DeLorean, are we just playing out your secondary school fantasy?”

“Why do you think you had me so hooked with ‘did I mention it also travels in time’?”

“And that is correct!” Grace called, and just on queue, The Power of Love began to play through the speakers. Rose shook her head, and broke into a timid but unabashed smile.

“How many gigawatts to travel in time, Rose?” Grace called.

“One point twenty-one!” she volleyed, unashamed.

“Is that all? I’ll remember that for next time,” the Doctor whispered, and she elbowed him with a smirk.

“Question three — and sorry, Jackie — but why did Rose get two weeks of detention in year eleven?”

“Oh my god no!”

“Two weeks!” The Doctor kept his exclamation hushed, and once more Rose turned back around to face the other side of the bar, but he tugged on her arm to bring her back around, leaving her unable to hide her embarrassment and red hot cheeks.

“For skipping maths to snog Jimmy in the art room!”

“Rose!” Jackie gasped loudly as the room cheered.

“This is the worst thing that has ever happened in my life ever,” she groaned to the Doctor, and he only found her that much more gorgeous as she looked so delightfully mortified.

“That is correct!”

Rose whimpered quietly to the Doctor as the rest of the room erupted into laughter, “Please do that thing again where you make me forget all of my memories.”

“The snog wasn’t that great, then?”

She shuddered. “Far too much tongue.”

“How delightful,” he chuckled, feeling a peculiar sense of victory.

“Question four!” Grace called, and waited for the room to settle. “Which medal did Rose win in the county gymnastics?”

“The bronze!” the Doctor called, surprised but unashamed for calling out himself, and the room roared in cheer and a thunderous applause broke out.

“And quite right!” Cara hailed into the microphone, and Rose bumped arms with the Doctor.

“Was only the bronze,” she mumbled.

“Hey!” he denounced, “The bronze is bloody excellent!”

Her smile was thin and bashful and begged to be attended to; he responded without thinking by pulling her into his side and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Okay, okay, our last and final question—” somebody at one of the nearby tables began to perform a drum roll as Grace paused to read the card “— What did Rose do on her eighteenth birthday?”

“Get absolutely hammered?” someone suggested, and by the way Rose only hid herself further into his chest and shook her head, he imagined they were right.

“More detail needed!” Grace called.

“My whole family’s here,” she whimpered quietly.

“How PG are we keeping it?” one of the boys from the table they were all sitting at earlier shouted, and they giggled amongst themselves.

“Oh god, was it that bad?” he whispered to her, but she just kept shaking her head.

“More PG than your eighteenth, Liam,” Cara pointed out, to which Liam held his hands up in his surrender.

“Didn’t you throw up at Tottenham Court Road bus stop?”

“That was not me!” Rose called out, releasing her hold on the Doctor. He folded his arms, now very aware that the rest of the room was looking at them. “That was Shareen!”

Shareen gasped somewhere in the crowd. “You little grass!” She slammed her hand down on the table and stood up. “And for that, I’m breaking my silence — on Rose’s eighteenth birthday, she got drunk and performed ‘Steps, Tragedy’ up on a table on Carnaby Street in front of the entire street with accompanying dance moves — and she fell down at the end.”

“And we have the video to play to you all later!” Cara beamed, just as the room erupted into an excited cheer.

Rose shrieked in protest, her cheeks burning red and the Doctor only cackled at the image of Rose drunkenly bearing her heart and soul out to what he knew was her favourite girl band of the 90s, so he could only imagine how animated that performance must have been. People had got to their feet, cheering and clapping as Rose hid her face in her palms and Tragedy began to blare through the speakers. Some chanted along, some were too lost in their own giggling and retelling of old anecdotes, and some flocked to Rose to give her gleeful hugs and cheer her on. But something about it saddened him all of a sudden, watching as Rose was swallowed up by the love of her friends so fierce and unashamed, a dull and remorseful ache somewhere in his chest that he couldn’t quite place but certainly didn’t like.

He turned back around and spotted Laura, now leaning against the back bar, and he caught her eye.

“I’ll take that stronger drink, now.”

She glanced over at Rose, now completely lost to the crowd, then back at him, and nodded.

He didn’t drink often, not at all, so he insisted only on a single, handing Laura a fiver and telling her to keep the change. He got to his feet, grabbed his jacket, and slipped quietly outside and into the pub garden.

The night was pleasant, the stars for once visible over London, but he imagined most might not catch them so clearly amidst the surrounding light pollution. There were strings of warm fairy lights hanging from the brick wall that surrounded the quite large garden, a few pub benches dotted around with even less people quietly chatting amongst themselves over a beer and the odd cigarette. What encouraged him the most was the quiet, the peacefulness that greeted him as he stepped out of the pub, sitting down on one of the vacant tables just under a tree with yet more fairy lights hanging from it.

He sighed deeply, but he found he wasn’t quite fully able to breathe in all the way, like something caged his chest and prevented it from fully expanding. He took a sip of the — what he discovered was — whiskey and shuddered to feel its heat trickle down his throat, settling something that had been rising in his body all night. He looked down at his hands, quivering now although he was not cold, and swallowed thickly.

He was in love, he had known that for a long time. But tonight he had realised how terribly irrevocable it was, how awfully trapped he had made himself in his dreadful and unavoidable addiction to her, how he had known this was going to be devastating and he was going to regret it but yet hadn’t cared. And now here he sat, alone as he always was and always would be, wondering just how he might survive this in the end.

It wasn’t that he worried about the day she would no longer be with him, although that wasn’t a thought he liked to entertain. It was this horrible ache, a dullness in his bones, a contradiction to the life she inspired within him. It was twisted, it was confusing, and it was devastating.

He looked up at the stars, a universe above him that he knew and yet didn’t. Taking another sip of his whiskey, and following another subsequent involuntary shudder, he closed his eyes to the return of that hollowness in his chest. The vacuum above felt infinitely small in comparison, and he knew there was no fighting it’s torture except to grit and bear it for as long as she stayed with him, and even longer than that.

He didn’t shudder when he took a third sip of his drink.

He had been so lost in his thoughts for so long that he only realised the environment had altered when a figure sat beside him. There were less people now he realised, only one or two at a table a few away from his, but none of that seemed to matter when he saw it was Rose who had sat down next to him.

“You alright?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

She shivered, and looked down at his drink. “Bit too much back in there, yeah?”

He couldn't reply at first, but his lie found his tongue at the time that he swallowed. “Na, it’s been alright. Just needed five outside in the quiet.”

Rose grinned, a warm smile he knew well, and shivered once more. The goosebumps began to line her skin, soft hairs rising on her arms, and he glanced down at her things to see the same pattern emerging there. He unbuttoned his jacket and slipped it off, attentively hanging it over her shoulders and she looked down with a smile, pulling it tighter around her.

“Thanks,” she whispered, a soft sound that settled on the air and he closed his eyes to it, trying to still what it did to his hearts. Once more, he breathed deeply, now that he could as she sat close to him, and when he opened his eyes on his exhale he saw her looking down at the table, mulling over something in her mind.

“Are you alright?” he murmured, and she closed her eyes to that.

“Mmm. Just needed to step out — don’t like havin’ all the attention on me, you know that.”

Funny, he thought, if she knew just how much she claimed all of his attention, his thoughts and dreams, his hopes and longings, even down to his physiology and heartbeat, she would flee.

Her legs had started to bounce — anxiously or because they were cold, he didn’t know — but he found himself looking at a mole on her thigh, one he of course had never seen before. He closed his eyes once more in a desperate plea to try and stop the thoughts from drowning him, of how much he wanted to see every piece of her, to know all her moles and the feel of her skin under his fingers, to learn her and know her in a way nobody else did or ever could possibly again.

“Y’know, I remember the first time you met all my family, when we were huddled in my mum’s living room watching the telly,” she grinned, and her voice encouraged him to avert his gaze, and, thankfully, his thoughts. “Said you didn’t do domestics and all that.”

“I still don’t,” he pointed out, and she sniggered. “I have no idea how I keep finding myself in these situations so often.”

“I think you like them, really.”

“I like you, there’s a difference.”

She chuckled, “So if I’m understanding you correctly, the last of the Time Lords bends to nobody’s will except mine?”

“You understood that correctly, yes.”

Her gleeful hum in response was enough for him to let her believe he was exaggerating. After a minute or two, she spoke again.

“I used to come here all the time. Most Thursdays after work. Sometimes it’d be all of us — it was quite central for where we all worked — and sometimes it’d just be me and Mickey.”

He grimaced as she rubbed salt into the wound unknowingly. He was reluctant to admit to himself just how many hours he had spent thinking about them, of their dates in the park and stolen kisses in her lunch break, of nights spent together and mornings in love. He glanced back down at the mole on her leg and knew of course he wasn’t going to know her as nobody else did, he never could even if he did ever give in to his hearts.

“It’s like a different life,” she sighed. “I always thought this sort of stuff would hit you in your thirties, lookin’ back over your school days and realising how much had changed since then. But I’m twenty-one, and it feels like a completely different me and it was only two years ago!”

He was still while she spoke what was on her mind. He didn’t get the feeling that she regretted it so much, and he was a little relieved at that. But he thought perhaps it was more the speed of time passing that stunned her, her perspective of it all shifting and she wasn’t quite ready for it. As a Time Lord, he so wished he could slow it down for her, make it just that little bit more manageable because, truthfully, it terrified him sometimes, too.

“It’s only that you fill your life with so much that it feels that way,” he tried, and she sniffed in the cold. “It feels a bit like time passed you by because, well, it has. You didn’t even see it go, you were far too busy moving and adapting but it passed, at the same rate it always does. But you didn’t.”

She frowned, and gave him a lopsided smile. “I suppose you would give me some nonsensical explanation of time that oddly makes sense.”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

“Really?” She scrunched her nose. “I thought you were here to protect time.”

“Whoever told you that?”

She rolled her eyes with a more symmetrical smile now, her hands moving to cover her face as she attempted to hide just how funny she found his joke. “If it’s this bad at twenty-one, must be bloody awful for you.”

He inhaled sharply, making her giggle more. “The trick is not to think about it.”

“Take each day as it comes,” she reflected, and he hummed beside her in agreement. “They were right, all those adults. Everytime they said to live each day to the fullest.”

“That they were.”

And then she seemed to sadden again. After a moment, and with a quiver to her voice, she whispered,

“If only it didn’t make time pass faster that way.”

He nodded slowly in agreement, although he protested she be thinking such morose concepts on her twenty-first birthday. She began to pick at the skin around her nails, the nail polish on her thumb had chipped and he knew she must have been doing this all night, then.

“Why don’t you like your own birthdays?” he asked, realising that he never had.

She shrugged. “I used to love my birthdays. Birthday cakes, party bags, trips to the London Fields Lido and all that stuff.”

“Then what changed?”

She hesitated, and frowned. He waited while she thought, but he realised at some point she wasn’t searching for the answer, she was only debating whether to give it to him. Eventually, she swallowed, and spoke flatly,

“I met a Time Lord.”

And there it was. He felt his thoughts click into place, then, that strange sadness about her all day that he hadn’t quite been able to interpret finally making sense. It was, truthfully, his biggest regret, although he should have seen it coming, and he only gritted his teeth at his own negligence.

“Rose—”

“No, but think about it,” she insisted, and for once he found himself wanting to listen to her, to hear her worries about something he considered constantly. She seemed too intent on bearing herself to him here, in this garden, on this night, and he could only let her. “Every day I get older—”

“You’re twenty-one, that’s hardly you getting older—”

“But it is!” she retorted, a strange smile that wasn’t a smile by any means only holding back her tears now and he didn't know how they had got here, but his hearts ached to see her like this nonetheless. Her mouth hung open as if to say something else, but she seemed unable to and only let out a small croak instead.

“Hey,” he murmured, and he took the opportunity to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, curling his fingers as he dared himself to brush her cheek. “I do not want you to miss out on any of this because you’re afraid of getting older next to me.”

“M’not afraid of getting older,” she contended plainly. “I’m afraid of leaving you all alone.”

His breath was uneven as he exhaled, but he didn’t think she would have detected it. He dropped his hand back down to the table, and she sniffed wetly, seemingly annoyed by herself for some reason. She bit down on her bottom lip with her eyes closed before she opened them to find his, holding his gaze firm. He saw all of her, then, the things she didn’t want him to see in her eyes even in this light, and he knew she must be seeing all of him, too.

Because it consumed him to learn that this was how she felt. That she regretted each passing day because it was one less day — not that she got to spend with him, but that he had left to spend with somebody. The dreadful wringing of his chest at that, at knowing how much of her life and how many of her days she was spending in fear for his inevitable loneliness when that was only his worry, his concern. Rose wasn’t supposed to feel any of that, much less break her own heart every day, and he realised he must have been doing a terrible job at keeping those worries and concerns to himself. Rose only ever wanted everybody else to be okay, and now, on her twenty-first birthday, she was furious with her own mortality for getting in the way, stopping somebody she cared for so deeply from hurting.

So he had no alternative, really, when he leaned in to her this time. He just about had enough control to pause, give her the chance to pull away if she so wanted, and it seemed as though time completely stopped as he did. He could hear her breathing shallow, see the goosebumps line her neck and he took that moment, those few seconds, to learn her as he had wanted. His eyes found another mole on her collarbone, and upwards, the pulse in her neck at having him this close to her. A quiet and strained whimper on her lips, a plea, and then the feel of those lips against his.

He had always wondered how she would taste. The time he had kissed her on Satellite Five, he had only done so to take the time vortex from her, and for that his senses were mostly dulled. Now, as time slowly began to resume once more, he couldn’t taste a thing either; all he could do was feel. This overwhelming relief surging through him, his hearts beating as they should to feel this alive, and, for a moment, an assertion that nothing could tamper with his hope.

And then she gasped; her mouth opened and that’s when he could finally taste her. And he did, the tip of his tongue finally tasted home as it explored the texture of hers and everything he was learning about her he already knew. Because she was familiar, she was her, he knew her lips already and running his tongue along them told him nothing new about them but yet wanted more even still, to know how her bottom lip felt between his teeth, and he was a quick learner, picking up on the sensitive spots that would draw her moans and which of them would catch her breath in her throat.

His heightened senses had thus far only proven to be most valuable, until now, because she consumed all of him to a point where it was too much, and he had to break away, just to focus. But she didn’t hesitate to keep going, so keen was she on tasting him too, and she trailed her kisses across his cheek and along his jaw and this was new, feeling her learn him with her own senses, the moans she drew out herself at certain points on his skin.

“Rose,” he breathed, a plea and a promise in itself, and she brought their lips back together once more.

She began to shift without breaking their kiss and he felt her move one of her legs over him, soft chuckles she released onto his lips as she fumbled onto his lap on the most uncomfortable bench he could remember sitting on. But he quickly lost all conscious recognition of the world outside him, outside them, when he felt her hands move to cup his neck before her fingers slowly trailed up and through his hair. Her lips curled when he groaned and a second later so did she when she ran her nails back down. Their kiss was broken when her head rolled back to the feel of his hands on her thighs, sliding up to her waist where they held her hips close to his and in their respite, his lips found her neck and he sucked, just over her pulse, her breath catching in response. He felt her hands loosen as they became less conscious of their actions and more reflexive to her feelings and he felt her pulse drum fervently beneath his lips. With a final nip to her skin, he released her, the darkened bruise forming he could see even under this light, and pride raptured his veins to have finally claimed just a part of her as his. But then the trouble was he wanted to claim all of her as his, if she would let him, and by the way she rocked into his hold when he pulled away only confirmed that she would. As her lips began their descent once more down onto his skin, pressing sweet and messy kisses down the bridge of his nose and to his lips, he realised he couldn’t find the trouble in it at all.

He deftly slipped his jacket off her shoulders and shuddered at the speed in which her goosebumps prickled beneath his fingers, before he dragged them slowly across her shoulders and down her back, as far as her dress would allow. One hand stayed where it was, exploring the planes of her shoulder blades as they contracted with the movement of her hands, and the other travelled south and to the small of her back where he pressed, gently, until she arched into him. That move released another sound from her lips, much lower this time, much deeper and hungrier and his was only lustful in response. She tore her lips from his to bow her head to his shoulder, pausing only to catch her breath with the intent of resuming, so he peppered his kisses this time further down her neck, softening as they pressed across her shoulder until he felt her lips on his neck, her teeth grazing his skin as she matched the mark made on hers. He shivered to know she was doing the same, marking him, and he moaned into her skin as he allowed her to.

“I want you,” she breathed, he was sure she was trying to sound firm but her need strained her request. “But not here.”

He remained still as his surroundings began to settle into their rightful place and he remembered where they were. He was in no way ready to pull back, but he couldn't exactly keep going, so instead he kept his eyes closed as he followed the trail of his hands on her body, slowly tracing the curves and dips of her frame. She didn’t move either, but it seemed she too was focused only on his hands, as she had since stopped exploring him herself. To feel her in this way, to roam freely as he wished while she remained compliant and willing above him, prevented him from asking if she was sure she wanted him, and if was even a little bit more level-headed than he was at the moment, he would ask if she had really thought this through.

But all he could seem to focus on was her words, the sound of her telling him she wanted him. After that, nothing else mattered.

“Doctor,” she whispered again, and he opened his eyes to find that mole on her collarbone beneath him. He swallowed, and with considerable difficulty, and pressed his lips to it before he finally pulled away.

She cleared her throat and started to shift off of him and he spotted the other table glance over in their direction. Right, he thought, scratching the back of his neck and neatning his — he was sure — disheveled hair. Public decency, must remember that one.

Rose was grinning sheepishly by the time she settled down next to him, and for a moment, neither looked at the other. He swallowed, now that he was finally able to, and ran his palms over his trousers to neaten them down just a little. Rose tugged on the hem of her dress to bring it a bit further down her thighs and he swallowed again to see her legs bare, having only very recently felt them beneath his hands, and the tips of his fingers tingled at the memory.

Rose let out a breathy laugh, then, and he glanced over to her just at the time she looked up at him. She drank him in, her eyes flickering across his face, but he couldn’t quite do the same; he found himself transfixed only on her eyes.

“C’mere” she grinned, licking her thumb and rubbing it across his cheek. “You’ve got lipstick all over you.”

He nodded, before he gestured to her. “Funnily enough, so do you.”

She pressed her fingers to the side of her lips and giggled while he fumbled around in his suit pockets for some makeup wipes, and then she brought them down to her neck to press gently into the bruise beginning to form over her pulse.

“Bit more worried about everyone seeing that.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Didn’t hear any complaints from you when I was giving it to you.”

“Nope,” she affirmed smugly. She tugged at the wipes when he pulled them out, taking one and began cleaning up his face. “Think I’ve got some concealer in my bag, anyway.”

“Your bag’s inside.”

“Bugger,” she cursed, and he chuckled. “Reckon you could go and grab it for me before anyone sees?”

He pointed to his neck. “I think we just have to own this one, Rose.”

“It’s a lot easier to own it when everyone doesn’t know you.”

“It’s only you they know.”

“Right,” she beamed, “so you won’t have a problem going and getting my bag then, will you?”

“Bugger,” he cursed, and she chuckled.

He watched her, then, the golden lights shimmering in her eyes as she smiled, her lips still a little swollen and hair messier now. She wasn’t aware of him watching her, he didn’t think, so she was caught off guard when he began to smooth down the strands, running his fingers softly through her hair to bring back a bit of order. As he did, his gaze remained fixed on her, the shy way she kept herself still and allowed him to sort her out, to fix her back up as if she needed fixing in the first place.

“You are…” he tried, but the word was lost on his lips. He had no way of surmising her beauty at that moment, and he supposed that's why people looked to poetry or song in times where words weren’t adequate to suffice.

Perhaps she didn’t need any of that, because she seemed to understand exactly what he was trying to say, or at least the depth of it. She took his hand then, which had since frozen in his quest to articulate just how captivating she was, and brought it to her lips. She kissed each of his fingers deliberately, carefully, attentively, her eyes closed as she spoke the words caught in her throat on his skin and all he could do was listen.

God, she was divine. He felt the way his hearts completely responded to her alone, their slight quickening as her lips brushed his skin and the harder they beat for her when she released him. He was sure they had a song about them, her song, and he could have them converse with her for as long as he lived.

“What are you thinking?” she murmured, and he had been mostly — no, completely — unaware of her watching him. He wasn’t quite ready yet to translate his hearts’ intent, so instead he leaned back into her, touching his lips to the corner of hers to kiss her where he was hesitant to pull back, captured instead by a sweetness that lingered on her skin. When her lips curled beneath his, he finally did pull away; not too far though, just enough for her to hear the words he didn’t speak.

Neither said anything, for a while. Not through their searching for something to say, but simply because this was unlike them to be so close and they were familiarising themselves with it.

He was falling in love with it.

“You know,” she whispered with a smile, “I don’t think I’ve ever known you to say so little.”

“Would you prefer it if I were babbling away instead?”

“God, no,” she chuckled as he pulled away. “Think I can safely say that’s one of my preferred ways you’ve made use of your tongue.”

He raised his eyebrow and her cheeks flushed pink furiously.

“Oh my god, no! I didn’t mean— not that!”

He raised his other eyebrow and, after quickly searching his eyes, she raised hers.

“Wow, okay so maybe that, if you’re—”

He chuckled, and kissed her shoulder before climbing to his feet. “I’m going to go and get your bag.”

“Or—” she grabbed his hand to stop him “— how about we both go back to the TARDIS and pick up where we left off?”

He snorted. “No chance am I missing your drunken Steps performance.”

“Not even for a good shag?”

He stilled to hear her say it, and only then did it occur to him that that was where this was heading. It was sobering, but he couldn’t say in any way it was repellent — not at all — only completely unbelievable.

“Oh god—” she slapped her hands to her face “—you didn’t— that’s not what.. what you— oh my god you didn’t say that’s what you wanted—”

“Rose,” he stressed, although gently, pulling her hand away as he crouched down in front of her. He tried to look at her, peering up from underneath her, but she wouldn’t look back at him. “I don’t think we’d be fooling anybody if I said I didn’t want that, too.”

She nodded firmly, still unable to look him in the eye. He rubbed his thumb over her fingers as they rested firmly in his, still a little nervous was she while he was completely certain.

“But it’s not all I want.”

“Yeah?” she said as she chewed her bottom lip. He nodded, and she paused for a moment, hesitant, before she spoke. “But…”

And then it was lost on her, either the rest of that sentence or her confidence to say it. Her fingers began to fidget in his, and he loosened his hold but not entirely, simply only allowing her the freedom to dwell without letting her drift entirely.

“But what?” he probed.

She looked even further down now, her chin tucked to her chest. “Wither and die, and all that.”

Ah yes, he grimaced. That.

The truth was, of course that’s all he could think about. And he regretted saying that to her every day since he had, because it shouldn’t have been her problem and yet he had made it her problem. By only showing her how much it anguished him, she had taken it upon herself to fix it for him, only to realise that she couldn’t. Nobody could, and for that, she couldn’t simply rest and allow herself to be happy while he only awaited misery. He wondered, then, if that was why she was so hesitant — not because she didn’t want this with all her heart, but because he had given her reason to believe he was petrified for his own survival, for a future of solitude without her but it was specifically that last part that tortured him now.

Without her. How could she possibly begin to resolve her heartache when she worried tirelessly over something she couldn’t control? He had to unburden her, assure her that he wasn’t scared for him, when truthfully he felt sick by his awaited grief. So for that, he bent his head to kiss her knee, and swore to inherit all her anxieties himself and free her of them.

“I know you’re a whole twenty-one-years-old now, but I don’t see you withering anytime soon.”

She didn’t laugh, but he still smiled reassuringly, intent on fulfilling his promise.

“But I will, one day,” she countered, and he fought back a sigh.

“Are you always this miserable on your birthday?”

“Doctor!” she pleaded, but she was beginning to smile despite herself. “This is serious!”

The worst part was that he had had this exact argument with himself, time and time again, only he was normally on her side himself. But it had all changed when he had heard her tell him she wanted him; up until then, those arguments with himself were a response to the very hypothetical situation she might want him, but now that she actually did, he found himself quite unable to see her side now.

“Alright, alright,” he held up his hands in defeat. “You’re right.”

She didn’t exactly bask in it, but he knew he wasn’t about to give up anytime soon. So he perched himself down next to her, the picnic bench groaning as he settled his weight. A silence extended between them and he watched as Rose played with her ring, fiddling about with it in the interlude as she tried to find her words. But as the silence passed and she remained quiet, he realised perhaps she had nothing to say unprompted, so he asked a question he was sure he never would in the hope that she might finally release herself.

“What do you want?” he whispered.

She hesitated even still, before her breath carried her answer in a sigh. “You.”

He could have her say it over and over again and never tire of it; perhaps that serenely restful truth caused the words to tumble from his lips so desperately. “You have me. Christ knows why you want me out of anyone else in the whole bloody universe, but whatever you want is yours.”

Perhaps it was the slight inflection on just the right word, or perhaps it was all of them together, but he felt her somewhat loosen beside him. Determined though he was, he was misplaced to hear himself say it, something he only ever imagined might terrify her now only somehow consoling her.

“This is… mad,” she shuddered with a smile. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

“I can take an educated guess.”

“And you really want this too?”

He shrugged. “Probably— I don’t know, haven’t really thought it through.”

She whacked his arm with a chuckle she couldn’t quite suppress. “Oh my god—“

“Rose,” he whispered, urged perhaps, and she all but stilled completely to hear him say her name in such a way. He turned to look at her but she had closed her eyes, so he took her hand, small and fragile and soft as it was, and started to settle the ache in his fingers by running them across her skin. So warm, even if she didn’t think so in the cool April chill, and the softness against his, coarse and tired, was sublime.

“Why me?”

“Why you, what?”

“You said I could have anyone in the whole universe, well what about you? You’re a Time Lord,” she breathed the name of his race with such wonderment while he only regretted it, but he kept still. “And you’re the last one! You have literally all of time and space to choose from, why would you choose somebody with such a short life span— somebody who you can’t exactly share the rest of your life with or even a substantial part of it. Sixty years, that’s all I have! That’s all we’ll have!”

“This is a bit like talking about breaking up before you’ve even gotten together,” he pointed out, and she grinned again despite herself at that, and it only seemed to frustrate her that he joked when she searched for an answer much more reassuring. But the fact was, it would seem she had thought about this, and perhaps had even used it to convince herself he didn’t want her in return, which was utterly absurd to him. Joking with her wasn’t seeming to do the trick, lightening the mood in the hopes of lightening her worry was proving to serve no end to her own perceived stalemate, and she wasn’t just taking him at his word and allowing herself this.

So he bent his head to kiss the ball of her shoulder and he lingered there, breathing her in, unable to stop himself from kissing the same spot again. He needed saving from this, he realised, because kissing her seemed entirely unpreventable since he had allowed himself to only minutes ago, and right now she needed his reassurance.

“I’ve seen it all, Rose. Nine hundred years of travelling, I’ve met some spectacular people. But you have something on me that I can’t describe, and I know for a fact it’s irreversibly binding. I know, because I feel it in the way you smile, the sound of your laugh, I know I don’t stand a chance when you say my name as you giggle and I’m a complete lost cause when you touch me in any way. What I’m trying to say is I’ve met so many people in this universe, from so many corners of it across so many ages and none of them have ever given me something so completely tangible to hold on to.” He frowned, realising how he must sound completely bonkers, and he wasn’t exactly the greatest romantic of his time, but he really was limited by his words in describing what she was to him, so he settled instead on one final, simple sentiment. “You’re everything.”

He sniffed, because it sounded so terribly feeble and uninspired, and pulled away. She had been watching him as he spoke his mind, perhaps thinking he was an absolute nutter, but her palm touched his cheek and she leant forwards, brushing her lips to his and only holding on to time, savouring each passing second in this point in time and he felt how overwhelming it was, even to him. All the seconds passed, all the ones following it were immeasurable, literally, and for only a few of them, just one or two, they kissed. When she pulled away, he found himself wondering how he could possibly not chase more of those seconds.

“And don’t even get me started on that,” he breathed, and she giggled delightfully.

“You know, when you told me you were coming tonight, I thought maybe I might be lucky enough to hear you tell me I look beautiful—“

“Which I still haven’t done,” he chastised.

“— I never imagined any of this might happen, not for a second.”

“You didn’t?” he retaliated. “I was spending my day hoping that I could just survive it — and I have to say, there was a moment when your mother was telling me about Bev’s one night stand where I really, honestly, thought I might not.”

“And yet, you stayed,” she grinned, somewhat smugly and a little sweetly. “And you hate domestics!”

“I could get used to them,” he shrugged, and she only looked back at him in surprise. “Well, okay, I could learn how to tolerate them.”

“For me?” she said, still a little in disbelief.

“I told you, anything in the universe, time and space, all of it, is yours,” he assured. “If that includes family gatherings and ‘life admin’ days, then so be it.”

“Christmas dinner?”

“I’m there.”

“Even Mum’s fiftieth birthday bash?”

“Even that.”

“Christenings, baby showers, all that stuff, too?”

“If Charlie pops out any more kids, you bet I’ll be meeting them all.”

Rose scoffed, “Who are you and what have you done to the Doctor!”

“S’what you’ve done to me,” he corrected.

“It’s what domestics have done to you.”

“No, no, it’s definitely you.”

The sound of these giggles in particular, the ones where she was endearingly timid as he all but worshiped her, were entrancing; a new world he had yet to explore lay in their sound and he was a traveller, after all. It was far too tempting, she was far too tempting, and her darkened eyes as she looked at him here and now held a map to a path unknown, a whole universe in itself and he was ready to be lost in this one.

Her eyes flickered to his lips and she licked hers almost straight after, before she met his gaze once more and they were somehow even darker now. He found himself falling before he had even let go; their noses touched and her hand on his thigh sparked, and this was ridiculous, it was completely without sense that it all should feel like this. How many times had he fallen in love, how many moments had passed like this one and yet none of them were like this one, nobody looked as she looked at him, nobody’s touch was as devilishly hypnotic and never before had his hearts drummed so mercilessly for a moment in time to pass and yet remain—

“Rose!”

They both tore away to the sound of her name being called from the door, and all at once it came back: the sounds of merriment inside, the rustle of the leaves above them, the very harsh reminder that they weren’t alone.

“We’ve been looking all over for you, your mum wants to do a speech.”

“Oh, god,” Rose groaned as Shareen trudged over to them. But her steps slowed as she got closer, until she stopped completely just before them, her mouth open as she realised what she had interrupted.

He wished, with everything he had really, to be anywhere else but here.

“Oh my god, are you two—“ she gasped, narrowing her eyes at them before she pointed at their necks. “What! is that a— have you two got hickeys?”

Rose fidgeted excessively, pulling her dress down as much as she could before slapping her hand to her neck. “Shareen— please can you go get my bag?”

She scoffed indignantly and folded her arms. “Concealer ain’t gonna cover that up— what did you do to her!” she teased at the Doctor, and he only hung his head low and desperately willed for this to be over.

“Shareen,” Rose groaned. “Please, c’mon— I got two bloody weeks of detention covering for you when it was both of us skipping science to snog our boyfriends!”

The Doctor scratched his neck and shuddered to realise he was now in a situation akin to snogging his high school girlfriend when he should be in science class. He’d always wanted the human experience but this was not so high up on his list.

“As your mate, it’s my duty to have you completely mortified on your twenty-first — but—“ she insisted, when Rose began to protest “— as your best mate, I’m going to do you this favour and help you cover up the fact that you were out here neckin’ with a bloke none of us have really met before.”

The Doctor leapt to his feet, finally deciding to remove himself from this dreadful situation, but Shareen put her hand on his chest to stop him instead.

“Nope— you stay here, you look even worse than she does,” she smirked, before turning back to Rose with a wicked grin. “Give me two mins, but if your mum finds you in the meantime then I can’t help you.”

“Nobody could,” the Doctor muttered, mostly to himself, but Shareen caught it and giggled in agreement, before she turned to head back into the pub.

“I take it back,” he insisted as Rose got to her feet, too. “None of it, you can have none of it.”

“Nope,” she grinned. She took his tie in her hand and began to fiddle with it, but the look in her eye told him she was doing this deliberately, the little minx, and, worse yet, she knew exactly what it was doing to him. But she released him from it, this torture of being in a very public place when he so very much wished that they weren’t, and stood on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down for a chaste kiss, smiling into his lips as she whispered, “No taking it back now, Time Lord.”

And it was worth it, he thought, to see a smile he hadn’t seen before. Well, that and the way she had called him “Time Lord” in a way that sent shivers down his spine. But her smile now was one where she was so completely happy and at ease, and he was quite happy indeed to bear the weight of her concerns if it meant she could enjoy her time alive.

He supposed, then, for her twenty-first birthday, he might have given her time itself.

#ten x rose #tenth doctor #rose tyler #dw fic #loup.fic #doctor who #ficandchips #oh god these two

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kdjamlabel · 3 years

Text

Tendencies

Pairing: Hawks x GN!Y/N

Summary: Hawks with bird tendencies, but he’s faking it because he thinks you’ll like him more.

Hawks fluff for the soul~

~~~~~~

Everyone assumes because of his animal quirk, Hawks should have animal tendencies. It would make sense since people with animal type quirks often share habits with their animal counterparts. These “bird hero headcanons” stem from the various theories his [rabid] fans have of what the hero is like behind his cocky, charming exterior. Unfortunately for them, the most bird-like qualities he has are his wings, which is why he gets a little confused when some fans ask him to coo when he signs things for them.

Being in a relationship with the bird boy is a whole ‘nother ball game. When you gave him a cracker and some trail mix as a joke, he nibbled at it while making chirping sounds and doing a little happy dance. You thought it was absolutely adorable and started to pull out your phone when he noticed and immediately stopped, desperate to convince you that it had to be a secret because it was too embarrassing for the public to know about.

Opening the door into your shared living space after work one day, you found him sitting on the couch surrounded by an assortment of pillows, blankets, some of his feathers strewn about. When you asked what all this was for, he got up and gently pulled you to come sit in his “nest” for cuddle time. Needless to say, you two were nice and cozy for the rest of that night.

You don’t know when, but one day he started bringing you things. Shiny things. Rocks, shells, the occasional piece of overpriced jewelry, you name it. You had asked him why he, and he simply answered “Because I thought you would like it!” with the sweetest, most innocent loving smile. You now had a box in the closet labeled “Y/N’s shiny things” written on the side messily in glitter glue. Looking at it every morning before you got dressed never failed to give you the warm and fuzzies.

One night he came home from a mission covered in some weird sludge and you had offered to help him clean up. You had him sit on a stool in your-unreasonably large-bathroom while you ran a warm damp towel through his feathers. He spent the whole time giving little hums of approval as you worked your way through. When you reached the base of them however, he shuddered and gasped, causing his wings to fluff up and push you away. He had his hands covering his face in shame while you were rolling on the floor laughing like crazy. In your fit, you didn’t notice him peeking through his hands, smiling softly down at you.

He had made it his mission to learn how to do your hair. It didn’t matter what type it was, or if he had no previous experience, he was going to do it. You had told him it was fine and he didn’t need to, but he insisted. It was supposed to be payback for how well you had been taking care of his wings. He’s gotten really good at it now, confident enough to let you show up to work in a “Keigo original” with only the smuggest of grins when your coworkers compliment your hair.

It happened one afternoon when the two of you were just chilling and listening to the radio. He started bobbing his head to the music ever so slightly, then started doing it harder as the song got to his favorite part. You carefully and sneakily pulled out your phone to take a small video. You weren't going to show anyone, you just wanted to keep it as a little secret for yourself. He was fully aware of what you were doing, but he let it slide, only because he loves you.

The truth finally came out one day at the beginning of spring. You had been pulling away from him and he couldn’t figure out why. You had cut cuddle time shorter and shorter, only stayed in the house to eat and grab spare clothes, you had even started staying over at a friend’s house instead of with him. He was starting to go cuckoo not having you there. He needed to confront you about your recent behavior, so he made a plan.

When he called you to meet on the roof of the penthouse, you were a bit skeptical of his intentions, but thought to humor him as the guilt of leaving him alone was eating you alive. What you weren’t expecting was to see him standing there, smartly dressed and roses in hand. The nerve ridden man in front of you was a stark contrast from his usual laid back and carefree persona, but a strangely welcome sight all the same.

Before you could speak, he handed you the flowers and basically begged to know what he could have possibly done wrong. You try to calm him as he frantically apologizes for things he hasn’t even done. Finally, you grab him by the shoulders and yell that he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” He asks in such a sad and broken tone that you feel your heart ache.

“Babe,” You sigh, embarrassed that you didn’t think of talking this out with him earlier and had to do it here and now of all places. “I’ve been avoiding you because it’s spring.”

“What does the weather have to do with anything! You can’t just randomly pull away because winter’s over!” He was still visibly confused by your actions. You couldn’t believe you had to be the one to say it like this.

“It’s SPRING, Keigo! I know it was mean of me to do that without telling you first, and I’m sorry. I’m just not sure if I can handle…” You trail off, not wanting to finish, cringing.

Hawks was a smart man. The Commission had made sure of that. The moment you hesitated, he finally understood what this was all about. He processed it for a bit, then the chuckling started, which evolved into full-blown hysterics. You were taken aback by the sudden change in demeanor. First, completely frantic, now this? Was this a side effect of-

“I’m not-I-I don’t really act like a bird y’know.” He said, finally calming down and wiping small tears from his eyes. “I’m just a guy with wings, nothing more, nothing less.” He looked at your wide-eyed and open-mouthed expression.

“Wh-bu-I thought you-”

“Acted like a bird because I have a bird quirk? Sorry dove, but no, I don’t.”

“Then why have you-”

“If I’m being honest, the only reason I did was because I thought you would like me more. The fans think that’s who I am and I thought you did too. I know, I know, I shouldn’t have lied about it, but what else was I supposed to do? The thought of ‘“What if they leave you because you aren’t what they thought you were?’” kept creeping in and I just couldn’t tell you the truth. If I had known you would avoid me because of it, I would have said something sooner. I’m sorry” His eyes were downcast as he finished. He really didn’t mean for it to get this out of hand. If he had just told you, then maybe things would be better. Now you probably hated him. You gently grasped his face and brought it up to meet yours.

“Oh featherbrain-” You touched his forehead with your own, caressing his cheeks as you do ”I love you, quirks-yes pun fully intended-or not. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re the same Keigo Takami I fell in love with. It was cute, but I think I can live with just-normal-man-with-wings Hawks.” you say squishing his cheeks and giving him a little peck on his nose.

“I don’t know about that. Some of those things have turned into habits that I’m not sure will break so easily.” he smirks as he snakes his arms around your waist.

“I guess we’ll just have to live with that then. But to be perfectly clear, your not-”

“No, I’m not.”

“Thank god. I wasn’t sure how long I could stand being at (y/f/n)’s house. I think they’re just about ready to kick me out.”

“Then It’s your lucky day. There’s a penthouse lease with your name on it and some very empty bed space just your size. Think you can fix that for me, love?” He arches his brow, teasingly.

“I think I can fix that.”

#hawks x reader #bnha hawks #wing hero hawks #hawks fluff #hawks x y/n #keigo takami #hawks headcanons #the funniest part of this is that my computer died in the middle of writing it #bnha headcanons #headcanons #my soul left my body when this thing ran out of battery #i was so happy it auto saved right before it turned off #writing #fluff #comedy #bird things #x reader #x y/n

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dinamitae · 3 years

Text

i'm yours | ksj

part of the life goes on series

pairing: seokjin x f. reader genre: modern/quarantine!au, established relationship!au, fluff, slice of life word count: 2.5k+ girl what happened to drabbles??! rating: pg15 warnings: set during quarantine, talk of the pandemic, mentions of sex, suggestive comments, a gross amount of affection, literal tooth-rotting fluff summary: this is the second birthday you’re celebrating in quarantine and your boyfriend, seokjin, vows to make it even more memorable than the last.

a/n: uhh surprise!!! i planned to have jungkook's out next but i somewhat spontaneously got inspiration for this one and ended up cranking it out in about a week. but tbh this was so fun to write and i hope it shows :))

one more thing - this is the ring i used for reference ;) happy reading!

The lingering warmth of your boyfriend beside you slowly dissipating is what wakes you up this morning.

Previously beside you, actually, and you’re only about half awake at the moment. You’re vaguely aware of the comforter being pulled back, the chilly morning air tickling a sliver of your now-exposed back. You roll fully onto your stomach and fold your arms above your head as you listen to the soft rustling of fabric, your boyfriend quietly getting dressed. “What time is it?”

Seokjin chuckles, voice deep and still a little rough with sleep, and ignores your inquiry. Instead, he puts one knee on the bed so he can lay his head right by yours, nose centimeters from brushing your own. “Good morning, birthday girl.”

“Morning,” you rasp, eyes still closed. “What time is it?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbles softly, tilting his head up to kiss your nose (you scrunch it almost reflexively, and he chuckles again). “Go back to sleep, angel.”

You pout at that. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, I need to...run an errand.” You manage to pry one eyelid open to glare at him suspiciously. “Since when do you run errands?”

“Okay, your first birthday gift from me is that I’m not going to retaliate to that. I’ll be back in a bit.” The one eye you have open rolls ever-so-slightly at his wit before fluttering shut.

“Whatever,” you playfully sigh, reveling in the way his soft lips feel on your forehead. Completely oblivious to the adoring expression that your boyfriend wears, the last thing you hear is his receding footsteps before sleep overtakes you once more.

You wake up again about an hour later to the aroma of coffee wafting into your bedroom.

After slipping one of Seokjin’s big t-shirts and a fresh pair of panties on, you pad into your bathroom to brush your teeth, blankly staring at yourself in the mirror and watching the minty foam collect around the corners of your mouth. You’re turning 25 today. This is the second birthday you’re celebrating in quarantine, which at this point just feels...normal. You remember how sad you felt during your 24th birthday, how uncertain you felt about the state of the world around you. It almost felt wrong to celebrate anything, even your birthday, while there were people out there dying. Luckily, Seokjin was there to very level-headedly remind you that the same can be said for just about any point in time, and that you deserved to celebrate your birthday regardless of the circumstances. And so, albeit a little reluctantly, you did.

Honestly, being with Seokjin has been your saving grace during quarantine. The two of you had only recently started living together when everything shut down, and you’re both fairly busy (you recently started your last semester of law school, Seokjin is the co-editor in chief at a local newspaper), independent people— needless to say, there was definitely some trial and error when you first had to work from home. But you eventually fell into a nice rhythm that suited both of your work and solitude needs, and for that you are so, so thankful.

You finish the rest of your morning routine before heading downstairs, where you’re greeted by a box of pastries, two cups of coffee, and your boyfriend leaning his hip against the counter. He looks up from his phone with a smile when he hears you approach. “Good morning...again.”

“An errand, huh?” You eye the baby pink and white stripes lining the box on the counter, indicating that they’re from your favorite local bakery. You raise an accusatory eyebrow at Seokjin and mirror his stance.

“Yup,” he gives you a tender kiss on the lips. “Only for you. Happy birthday, babe.”

You smile and thank him softly, standing on your tippy toes to peck him on the lips again before grabbing an apple turnover. Seokjin takes that as an opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist from behind and rest his chin on your shoulder. You sink your teeth into the pastry that’s still warm on your tongue, then you blindly try to offer your boyfriend a bite. Giggles escape both of your lips when you miss entirely and some jelly ends up on his cheek— you dutifully turn your head to kiss it off of his face before actually putting the treat in his mouth.

“As much as I love my apple turnovers,” you loll your head to the side so your face is half buried in the crook of his neck, “I’m a little disappointed that morning head wasn’t my first present.”

You feel just as much as you hear his rumbling laugh behind you. “Don’t worry,” he plants a kiss on the side of your head with a smirk, “I’m saving that for later.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

So far, the day has consisted mostly of responding to a gracious amount of birthday text messages, phone calls, and even a few brief but heart-warming facetimes. At around noon, you and Seokjin pick up some fried chicken takeout for lunch, talking and laughing and eating in the safety of his car, before making a brief trip to the grocery store to get some ingredients for dinner along with a small birthday cake.

Evening rolls around, and Seokjin’s stomach grumbles impatiently while you’re cuddling on the couch— with a laugh you take that as a sign to start making dinner. As you’re opening a can of tomatoes for the vodka sauce you both love, your boyfriend puts on some music— more specifically, the playlist he curated for your birthday last year. You cook in comfortable silence alongside each other, save for the occasional “‘scuse me” when you maneuver around one another and the sound of your voices softly singing along to the lyrics. You’re just about to turn the heat down under the sauce so it doesn’t burn while the penne finishes boiling when one of your favorite sappy songs, Sunday Morning by Maroon 5, comes on shuffle.

“Awe, ‘cmere,” Seokjin coos and gently tugs you into his arms with the hand closest to him, holding it right above his heart while his other arm wraps around your torso. You snake your free arm over his broad shoulders and rest your cheek on the other side of his chest. The two of you resume your comfortable silence, basking in each other’s presence as you sway to the jazzy tune.

Sometimes you can’t believe that this is your life. Slow dancing in the kitchen with the love of your life was something you honestly thought was an exaggheration— just one of the many ways people romanticize love and all that it entails. Finding someone that understands you like no one else and loves you for all your flaws was something you merely dreamt of, something that seemed so unattainable. But here you are, dancing in the kitchen with the love of your life, feeling understood and loved and cherished in every way imaginable. And it’s all because of Seokjin.

In light of your thoughts, you let out a blissful sigh. “I love you, you know that?”

Your boyfriend peers down at you fondly, taken aback by your seemingly random proclamation. “Gee, after dating for three years I would hope so.”

You smack his shoulder with a tsk despite the warmth creeping onto your cheeks. “Shut up, I’m just feeling...soft. And it’s your fault, by the way.”

“Is it, now?”

“Yeah,” you mumble into his chest, before looking up to meet his eyes. “You just...make me feel so loved— so special, even when it’s not my birthday. And I hope I make you feel the same, because I really do love you, Jinnie. So much.”

Seokjin rubs a soothing hand on your back as he sucks in a breath and gives your hand, still in his, a reassuring squeeze. “Well, I hope you know that you make me feel the same and more, y/n. You make me so happy and I— I fall more and more in love with you everyday.”

You struggle to find the words to describe just how greatly you reciprocate his sentiment, so instead you pull him impossibly closer, your lips meeting in a languid kiss. Seokjin moves to deepen it, his hand gently cupping the side of your face while one of yours slides into his hair, when the timer set for the pasta rings through the air.

You reluctantly pull away, a faint smile on your lips. Seokjin huffs in mock annoyance as you wipe some lip gloss off of his bottom lip. “Sorry, I love you but I love properly cooked pasta more.”

After finishing your delicious homemade meal, you find yourself sitting at your kitchen table once again, your store-bought cake with mismatched candles lit on top sitting in front of you.

(“There are only five in here!” Your boyfriend calls to you from the kitchen, as you’re currently in the bathroom.

You bark out a laugh, unable to contain your amusement. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, leave it to us to forget to buy candles while we’re literally at the store getting a cake.” A pause. “Don’t worry, each candle can count for 5 years!”

“...Fuck off!”)

Seokjin hurries back from the light switch to sit across from you so he can properly sing you a happy birthday before the wax melts onto the cake. You listen intently, mesmerized by your boyfriend’s singing voice that’s just as beautiful as everything else you love about him. When he finishes, your eyes flutter shut, both out of serenity and obligation.

This is the part where you usually pretend to make a wish, but this year you feel like there are some important matters to be wished for. World peace, maybe? The pandemic ending soon would be nice— for everyone but especially for you being able to kick some attorney ass in person and not just on a zoom call. Happiness...is that too basic? Oh, also—

“Yah, are you writing an essay to the birthday fairy in that head of yours?”

You open your eyes to shoot him a glare that’s met with an amused smile from Seokjin. “That hardly makes any sense,” you weakly rebut, though you concede that you did have your eyes closed for longer than probably necessary. You extinguish all five candles in one blow.

While you cut two generous slices of your cake (red velvet with cream cheese frosting, your favorite), Seokjin goes into your bedroom to fetch your gift, flicking the lights back on as he exits. He returns with a small purple gift bag that has white tissue paper peeking out of the top and hands it to you, sitting beside you this time instead of across the table.

You open the card first (like the polite person that you are), which reads “Happy Birthday to my main squeeze” with lemons wearing sunglasses on the front. You’re still giggling at the pun when you unfold it completely, a few slips of card stock falling out as you do so.

“Coupons…?” Your voice trails off as you read the hand-written tickets. “One free chore, one free tickle attack— ooh, a free kiss! I think I’ll cash that one in now,” you wiggle our eyebrows comically at your boyfriend. He lets out a hearty, window wiper-esque laugh before leaning in to give you a peck on the nose, positively endeared.

You bite your lip in excited concentration as you flip through the remaining ones, before releasing it into a fond pout. “Thank you, bubs, these are so cute.” You’re still admiring your boyfriend’s doodles while he takes a deep breath in lieu of a response. “There’s one more thing in there.”

Your eyebrows pinch a bit in confusion at his sudden nervousness, but you don’t question it just yet. You put your hand back into the bag and fish around in the sea tissue paper until your fingers land on a small, velvet box. You freeze, wide eyes immediately flitting to meet your boyfriend’s. “Jin…”

“This is not a proposal I promise,” his words jumble together in his rush to calm your nerves. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in, before pulling the box out of the bag. Opening it up, a small gasp escapes your lips at what lay inside. The ring is delicate in every sense of the word; a thin, gold band holds a total of seven gems, three small diamonds on either side of a stunning, oval-shaped emerald. “O— oh my god, this is beautiful, I’m— Jin, I’m at a loss of words…”

“I’m glad you like it,” he hums, taking another deep breath. “I know we agreed that we don’t want to get married just yet, but I...I also know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Like I said earlier, y/n, you make me so happy— happier than I’ve ever been— and living with you during this stupid pandemic only solidified that.” He looks up to see you already admiring him through teary eyes, the enamored smile painting your features giving him the confidence to say his next sentence. “So this can be your reminder that I promise to marry you one day, and that I’ll do anything in my power to make you just as happy, if not more.”

You sit up a little straighter, caressing his cheek lovingly. “God, you already make me so incredibly happy...and you remind me every day that we’re in this for the long run— all the little things you do for me, every time you’re patient with me, constantly talking about getting a dog,” he lets out a watery chuckle at that. “I love this...so much, don’t get me wrong— but I don’t need a ring to remind me, you know?”

“I know, baby,” he turns to kiss the palm of your hand, “but I’m also tired of fending off guys at the bar. Now you’ll have a pretty little ring on your finger to let ‘em know you’re mine.”

The combination of his words and the playful, yet sincere grin on his lips strikes a chord within you, and not just in your heart; he is yours, and you are his. This isn’t exactly news to you— you’ve had this conversation with him a handful of times before, where you both agreed that you weren’t ready for marriage just yet. And while you were truthful in saying that you don’t need a ring to remind you that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, it’s still one of the most thoughtful gifts you’ve ever received (it also makes you want to jump his bones...and soon).

Despite your racing heart and your thoughts that are far from innocent, you opt for rolling your eyes and inching closer until your faces are mere inches apart. You feel your eyelashes brush his cheeks as you briefly look down at his lips, then back up into his warm, inviting eyes. The same warm, inviting eyes that you’ll happily gaze into for the rest of your life.

“Yeah, I’m yours.”

a/n: if anyone happens to recall, this one was originally titled "a promise" on the series masterlist, but i decided to change it after writing that last bit :,) i hope you enjoyed reading, & feedback/comments are always appreciated!!!! <3

#sappiest shit i've ever written but i loved every second of it #seokjin fluff #seokjin x reader #seokjin fanfiction #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts fanfction #seokjin x female reader #kpop fanfiction #btshoneyhive #bangtaninn #my writing

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supremeinlilac · 3 years

Text

What a Year

MERRY CHRISTMAS <33

So this is my secret santa gift for @honeysorwell and I really hope I did soft!Mina justice for you Val :)) I hope you like it and that everyone has a fabulously happy and safe Christmas Day!!

also massive thank you to the wonderfully fabulous @grilledcheeseandguavajelly for organising this secret Santa so well!! you are appreciated, have an amazing day <33

Pairing: Pre Apocalypse!Wilhemina x Reader

Word count: 4186

Valentines Day

You’d finally made Wilhemina a valentine’s card, after several failed attempts at finding violet paper online, and signed it ‘From your secret admirer’. It made you laugh to yourself as you did it, not believing for a second that she’d fall for it. Sneaking out of her grasp in the bed the next morning, you’d buried the card within all the post at the foot of the door, before returning to your girlfriends’ warmth.

You’d both silently agreed that the day would be relatively normal, which meant no lie-ins despite the occasion. You also both had work to be getting to; long office hours which dragged in the absence of each other. The day was inherently normal, and boring so you found yourself anxious to return and relax with your girlfriend in the evening.

Upon arrival back home, you were met with Wilhemina sat at the table, your card held up in her fingers, a playful smirk set on her face. She’d obviously returned and began to sort through the mail that had been disregarded that morning, finding your card within the mess. You quickly fumbled to hand up your coat and kick the shoes into the footwell before making your way over to her in the kitchen.

“Secret admirer hmm?” she mused, eyes flicking back to the writing in the card. “Looks like you may have some secret competition eh Y/n. What do you think?”

Ignoring the humorous shake of your head, she pushed a card across the table with the letter opener, which was addressed to you in Wilhemina’s staple neat handwriting. “Ooooh” you teased, slowly prising it from beneath her finger and shaking it at her, smiling. The card was small and delicate, with Mina’s loopy writing across the page in her favourite deep purple ink. Pressed flowers adorned the front of the cards, arranged in a bouquet and you gasped at it.

Little one, I am so grateful I can share such occasions as this with you, and I hope to make our own festivity traditions in our future. Happy Valentines Day. From your love, Wilhemina Venable <3

Seen as you were busy smiling at the fact she always signed her full name, and blushing down at your feet at how she wanted to make traditions with you; you failed to notice the small paper package Wilhemina had drawn from a bag beside where she sat.

You were shocked when she pressed the parcel into your hands, eyes darting from the gift up to meet hers and returning slowly to what was in your palms. “What’s this?” you quizzed, hand coming to playfully nudge the woman sat in front of you to hide the surprise you felt at receiving a present.

A faint blush painted her cheeks, and an uncharacteristic nervousness overcame her, hands joining on her cane in front of her as you held the small, wrapped box up. Mina was nervous in case you thought she was going soft, or that the gift was unnecessary and unpractical, so you’d hate it. Her worries were uncalled for though, you’d loved any gift she had bought you previously and would continue to do so in the future.

As the paper was removed to reveal a CD in a blank case you couldn’t help but let confusion cross your face momentarily. Looking up to your girlfriend, she tentatively removed the disk from the casing and ushered you to sit before her.

“It’s a mixtape. I always hear you singing to music in the kitchen when you think I’m not listening, so I found the songs and made you this. I know you could very easily get a playlist nowadays but I’m not incredibly informed in all this new technology you see.” She paused, allowing you to lace your fingers between hers on top of her cane. “I wanted you to know that I don’t want you to have to hide something you love to do because you think I’d disapprove. Your voice is quite beautiful, my dear.”

You were speechless, simply just staring at your girlfriend in disbelief at the effort she had gone to, to give you a gift you’d cherish. You tried to say something but your voice caught in your throat, mouth opening and closing again. At your lack of a response, Mina’s face fell slightly and her fingers twitched on the cane she held.

“You hate it.” She stated, clearing her throat and face tightened, trying to avoid looking disappointed at your reaction. That broke your trance, head shaking rapidly and turning to cup her face in your hands, shocking her as you did.

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Thank you.”

“You’ve just made my card look bad now, that’s all.” You admitted, laughing softly and shrugging. She chuckled lightly, placing the CD back in its casing on the table and standing, hand finding yours and pulling you into her.

“I can think of another gift you can give to me little one.”

April Fools

You glanced over your shoulder at your girlfriend reading the book she’d recently found on the shelf, occasionally stopping to spoon muesli into her mouth before returning to the words. Happy that she wasn’t observing your actions, distracted by her book, you subtly spooned a teaspoon of salt into the mug on the left, and sugar into the other.

The clink of the metal spoon against the ceramic filled the kitchen, the noise oddly soothing and domestic in the otherwise heightened buzz of life. You picked up both mugs, bending slightly at the knee as you walked to the table. Wilhemina nodded as you placed the left mug beside her bowl; eyes not leaving the pages they were fixed on.

“Would you be dear and get the milk for me?” She asked just before you sat at the chair opposite and you obliged, crouching at the fridge before returning with the milk. She thanked you when you placed the milk down and settled in your chair, breathing heavily and scribbling on the crossword beside you.

Placing the book down, she gripped her mug between her hands, warming fingers against the ceramic, nails tapping slightly.

You met her eyes over the rim of both of your mugs, hers glinting with what looked suspiciously like mischief. You watched her take a big drink from her mug, tipping your own head back and doing the same as to not arouse your own suspicion, breaking your eye contact as you did so.

“Urghg what the?-” you spluttered, coughing at the harsh taste that invaded your mouth. You’d taken a very large gulp, not expecting the jarring taste prompting you to swallow and choke on the still hot tea. Calming down, you looked up at Mina, who was contently sipping at her drink, eyes bright and playful. Lowering the mug, you could see her lips pulled into a smug grin as she settled comfortably back into her chair, bemused at watching you trying to figure out how she’d managed to pull the wool over your eyes.

You groaned in defeat, head falling into your hands dramatically. You’d fallen for her trick, getting that milk that she never even touched. You didn’t notice. Why did you think she didn’t know what day it is. Wilhemina pushed herself up from her chair, hovering over your still hunched form. “Nice try little one” she cooed, patting your hair before leaving the room to get herself ready for work.

You huffed, arms crossing at your chest, smirk pulling at your lips at the fact she’d actually joined in on the pranks. Despite now having a disgusting taste in the back of your mouth, you felt happy at the fact you’d been challenged.

‘Oh it is on’ you thought to yourself, brain already wandering to things that could get Wilhemina back.

Easter

“I hate chocolate” she stated bluntly, making no attempt to take the egg from where you were eagerly holding it out to her.

“No one hates chocolate Wilhemina” you sulked, arms pushing the chocolate furter towards her, a pout set firmly onto your face. She gingerly took it from you, weighing it between her hands and looking at you through amused eyes.

“I made a rabbit pie for the festivities”

“You made a what- No. No!” you beckoned her with a finger to come closer as if you were to divulge a deep secret. You whispered urgently, “You baked the Easter bunny!” you feigned offence, as she scoffed at your theatrics.

You stopped. “Wait. Where did you even get a rabbit?” you stared, eyes wide in shock as she let a soft chuckle escape her lips, hand tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as she did. “It’s chicken darling. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

Holding the egg up and giving it a wave at you she spoke. “Share this with me then? It is a very copious amount of chocolate for one person to enjoy” she smiled, enjoying the way your face lit up at her request. Beaming, you quickly pecked her jaw before giddily skipping into the other room. Mina stayed for a second, bringing her fingers up to brush where your lips had lingered.

Birthday

Wilhemina carefully lifted the tin out of the oven with one hand, the other clutched desperately at her cane, steadying herself from accident. Stretching up and sliding the cake onto the tabletop, she let a deep breath out, thankful to have been able to complete this baking malarkey without hitch. Needless to say, Wilhemina was not one for such domestic acts, as baking a cake for a loved one or planning a surprise that wasn’t a casual act of viciousness.

The cake looked too simple for Wilhemina’s high standards when she’d prised it out of the tin and onto a plate. It was a very humble cake, which she would have been quite happy with had it just been her birthday; but she needed it to have a little more character since she new how eccentric you could be.

A candle and a small sprig of lavender later, and she nodded proudly to herself. The cake looked exactly as it had done before; only now it had a candle and some lavender perched on top ridiculously. The sight would have made anyone else laugh, but Wilhemina didn’t see the need for excessive decoration when the cake was meant to be the centrepiece. It was, after all, the thing she’d just spent over two hours preparing, and having unnecessary distractions from it was not something she required.

You skipped through from the living room at the sound of her calling for you, stopping still when she shouted “CLOSE YOUR EYES!!” Raising your arms in exasperation and dropping them dramatically at your sides again you stood by the doorframe. “How am I supposed to come in when I can’t see where I’m going” you sassed, arms coming to cross at your chest. Wilhemina scoffed, ignored your lip, instead guiding you forward to sit at the table and settling herself, leaning on the back of the chair opposite.

“Open them.”

As you took in the sight of her with the cake candidly placed in front of you, a warm grin formed on your lips, stretching wider when her lips curled up to match yours in glee. You pictured her swaying in the kitchen to classical music, wrapped in your favourite yellow apron with a dusting of flour on her nose.

“You made this?” you giggled, plucking the lavender out of the cake and smelling it. “Yes. Don’t act so surprised little miss. Want a piece?”

She turned to retrieve a knife and plates and you struggled to bite back a surprised laugh, a small giggle escaping as you did. She stopped and turned at the noise, eyebrow quipped in question as your hands lingered in front of your mouth, grin still firmly in place. “Mina. Turn around.” She slowly did as you asked, the flour print on her butt coming back into your view, a stark contrast from the deep purple skirt.

You couldn’t help the laughter that erupted from you, bending over to clutch at your aching stomach. Wilhemina at first went rigid, hand trying to inconspicuously wipe the flour from her dress when she realised the source of your laughter. Then she took in how your shoulders shook, and you let out a little snort, and she found herself laughing as well, hand on the table for support as you both gasped at each other.

When the laughter had bubbled to nothing, you both sat eating the cake and discussing weekend plans. The cake was vanilla; plain, but so incredibly Wilhemina it made your heart ache with pride at her first edible cake being made for your birthday. “It is not as bad as I had bargained it to be.” She hummed, fork between her teeth as you used yours to pick up crumbs from the plate.

“It was delicious. Thank you for making it for me, I know how you hate to bake.”

Nodding at your compliment, she gathered the plates towards her and pointed towards the front door. “Fetch my bag sweetheart?” she asked, sighing into the back of the chair, watching you rise to do as she asked. While you searched for her bag she clattered the dishes into the sink and retired into the living room, sinking down into the armchair.

“Thank you.” She breathed, taking the bag from your hands and motioning for you to sit at her feet on the carpet. This was a usual position the two of you found yourselves in, your head resting in her lap. Watching her, she pulled out two parcels from her bag, setting them in from of you on her lap.

She’d bought you a pale lilac lacey lingerie set and a desk organiser- always the one for practicality over vanity. Having overheard you complaining about your work desk always being littered with stationary and hazardly strewn papers no matter how many times you’d clear it, she’d taken it upon herself to right the issue.

You weren’t surprised at her observance, as she had the sharpest eye of anyone you knew; but you were touched that she’d taken the time to find items she new you needed and wanted out of her otherwise very busy days.

Wilhemina never liked outward shows of emotion or physical affection in the early stages of your relationship, even in the confides of your private home; so she was thoroughly taken aback when you launched yourself into her. “Thank you Mina, I love them.” You squeezed her tighter, careful to avoid the curve of her spine in your giddy excitement. Overcoming the initial shock, she slowly encased you in her arms, inhaling into your hair that sat just to the side of her face.

“Happy Birthday little one.”

Bonfire night (apologises if this is just a British thing)

“There you go, little one. We can’t have you getting cold now can we?” She tightened the scarf around your neck, fastening it and patting it down, pausing to flash her eyes down your body. You were buried in enough layers to warm the dead, arms poking out at an angle because they couldn’t lie flat. Your flushed face peeked out between hat and scarf, smile fixed on your lips as you watched her fix her own scarf into place, her own outfit lacking the excessive amount of layers she claimed you needed.

You bit back a comment about never being cold again in all this wool as she nuzzled her face into yours. “Lets go!” you squealed, grasping her cane from where it stood, propped against the wall and pushing it into her waiting hands. Wrapping your arm around her waist you opened the door, cold wind pushing into the house, and ushered you both out into the night.

Your town was holding a bonfire night firework display which you’d convinced Mina would be a beautiful thing to watch together. She’d let you know her disdain for the occasion; how it had come about because of an old man wanting to blow up the Houses of Parliament who was consequently put to death. Gruesomely, she added; sparing you none of the details of his demise. She also pointed out the mistakes in the plot that she insisted she would not have made if she’d wanted to do such a thing.

Once you’d guided Mina over the softened grass of the field, careful to prevent her from slipping on the mud of a slight slope, you both settled together near the fence so she could use it for support should she need it. The fireworks started, intrusive bangs and bright light flooding your senses which somehow managed to hold their beauty, despite their obtrusiveness.

You stood in front of her; your back to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around your waist pulling you against her in the darkness that encased you. Although there was quite a crowd in the field with you for the display, you only felt the presence of your lover behind you. Her warmth seeped through into you, her warm breath on your cheek leaving smoky vapours to curl around your face in the night.

It was cold. But Wilhemina made you warm.

“You see that lilac one there?” pointing skywards at the firework and burying her chin into your shoulder. “They use potassium to get that colour, see?” Another purple firework exploded in front of you, reinforcing her point.

Turning your face towards her, nosing bumping when she didn’t pull away, you gazed at her. Despite her previous opposition for attending the fireworks, you didn’t miss how her eyes glistened when they would pop in the sky, eyelids fluttering as they’d descend in shimmering light through the atmosphere. “I love you.” You confessed, in awe at her knowledge and how she never let you feel unsafe in her presence.

“I love you too my darling. Now, you see that red one up there?”

Christmas

“It’s Christmas” you hummed, craning your neck to pepper Wilhemina with kisses over her closed eyes until they fluttered open and fixed you with a fake annoyed look. “What do you want me to do about that?” she huffed in fake annoyance, batting you away to pull herself out of bed, smoothing the covers down behind you.

In the weeks leading up to Christmas, You and Mina had had many conversations about how Christmas day would go, seen as you were an avid celebrater of the day and she would merely go about her day normally if you’d allow it. Meeting in the middle, you’d agreed upon a cosy and relaxed day at your home; cooking dinner together and wearing matching jumpers.

Okay, so Wilhemina hadn’t exactly agreed to wearing any sort of Christmas attire, never mind matching with you. In fact, she’s been explicitly vocal in her opposition of the idea. Naturally, you’d gone ahead and bought two matching jumpers anyway, knowing she’d cave in with a little persuasion on your part.

“But Mina.” You whines, childishly tugging on her sleeve as she prepped the carrots and potatoes for dinner. “I even toned down my choice, just for you.” She stopped, quirking an eyebrow in question and handing you the peeler to continue while she checked on the turkey. “Well, I was going to buy ones with bells on. But I didn’t! I chose a borringg one just for you.” You pestered, dragging out the sentence and flicking a piece of carrot at her, grinning stupidly.

She finally gave in after you promised to stop mithering her and allow you to cook quietly, the steady thrum of the Christmas music outside washing calm over the both of you, now donned in matching Rudolph jumpers, working in synchronised unison without having to talk. Mina liked it like this, and you were content to sway lightly and hum a quiet carol to yourself.

The dinner you made was absolutely the most beautiful thing you’d experienced with Wilhemina. Both sat in jumpers, walls completely down for the other and simply existing alongside the person you loved most in the world, eating Christmas lunch and laughing. Really laughing. At the corny jokes in the crackers, to the way your paper hat drooped down over your eyes making Mina fawn.

After the dinner you moved seamlessly to the living room, wordlessly content to leave the dishes for later. Resuming the usual position of Wilhemina in the chair and you kneeling at her feet, head in her lap as her nails lightly scraped at your scalp. The gifts under the tree had been moved to allow you to reach them from where you sat, Mina guiding you with a nod about which gift you were to open first.

Wilhemina had provided you with gifts that held hidden meaning behind them, but were more material than she’d usually purchase; for example the earrings you’d fawned over when you shopped together one day that she just couldn’t help but nip back on a lunch break to retrieve. She’d also gotten you her favourite book that you’d yet to read, even after insisting months ago. “Now you’ve no excuse but to read it. It really is an exquisite book Y/n.”

All of her gifts were perfectly wrapped in her signature brown paper and secured with a curled purple ribbon. Setting them under the tree had proved a challenge for the redhead but she’d been insistent that she place them herself when you offered. “No. I purchased these gifts, so I will be the one to arrange them under the tree.”

You had taken a more practical approach to her presents, knowing she was not one for material goods, nor small sentimental items that would be lost or forgotten about in the rush of your lives within a week. You’d clumsily wrapped your gifts in glittery silver wrapping paper which left silver glitter over everything it touched. It made Wilhemina’s nose scrunch up in distaste as she unwrapped them, her hands sparkling in the glow of the light with glitter.

After some arguments with yourself over the best practical gifts for your girlfriend, you’d settled on a deep mauve weighted blanket which could ease her back pain on difficult days and simply be a comfort on others. Accompanying that, you’d bought her some more leather fingerless gloves and another expensive cane with silver piping and a hummingbird engraved deep into the wood of the handle.

She’d gasped when unwrapping the cane, as you did the earrings, at the intricacy of the detail running through them. Lingering kisses and warm touches followed the gift giving, basking in the glow of the fire in the living room where you knelt by her chair, neck craned to meet your lover in a kiss against her soft lips.

Wilhemina had started to ramble again about the ridiculous notions of Christmas, face flushed with the alcohol, face serious as you gazed up from your position of the floor, equally buzzed with inebriation as your counterpart. “The insinuation that St Nicholas can visit ever child’s home in one night is simply-“she faltered, hiccupping and waving an arm for effect, “-is simply just abhorrently, scientifically wrong. I could never entertain the idea.”

“And as for the idea tha-” you silenced her with another kiss, rising from the floor to straddle her lap and press your body against hers. “I love you.” You breathed, head resting in her neck and fingers numbly playing with her loose hair.

You stayed in that position, happy in each other’s embrace as the evening drew on. Fingers tangled lazily within hair and other fingers and shaped were traced on bare skin. Whispered stories of pasts were shared and comfort given when needed, tears wiped by the careful brush of a thumb. Eventually you fell asleep, mind blank and peaceful after the first of many shared Christmas days between you both.

New Years Eve

“You’ve never kissed anyone on New Years Eve before?” you quizzed, cocking your head at the older woman beside you, who crossed her arms across her chest and huffed dramatically.

“I have simply never been in the company of anyone I wished to share such an intimacy with” she chimed back, before softening and smiling down at you, “until you my dear.”

The clock chimed and you smiled up at her, fingers dancing behind her neck as you pulled her down to meet you in a kiss. She relaxed into you and you felt her smile against your lips, hands reaching for your waist to pull you flush against her.

As the chimes faded, you let yourself slip from her embrace, thumb coming up to brush over her swollen lower lip as you blushed. “Happy New Year Mina.” You whispered, head falling to her chest as you wrapped your arms around her in a hug.

Patting your back a few times; still quite unsure about such acts of physical attention, she finally allowed herself to relax. Melting into your body, her chin rested on the top of your head, dipping only to linger a kiss in the hair.

“Happy New Year Y/n.”

#secret santa #sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable #sarah paulson #ahs #american horror story #ahs apocalypse #sarah paulson imagine #wlw #spsecretsanta

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