#the implications alone are frightening. what the FUCK else
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hey remember when vm beat all the chroma conclave and then vecna decided to show up? hey remember when mn diverted a war and then lucien crawled out of his grave and strangled a karen? uh. guys. there's more shit that's gonna go down after the moon thing is fixed, isn't there? oh god.
#🍃#critical role#critrole#someone pointed out it'd be weird for them to make a wholeass animated intro if the campaign is about to end and uh#the implications alone are frightening. what the FUCK else#IS DEVEXIAN GONNA TRY AND CAUSE A ROBOT UPRISING OR SOMETHING#also keyleth said it was going to be a 'scouting mission' not them bringing to fight to them immediately
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2, 8, 12, 27, & 48 for Snape, please! It’s a lot, feel free to pick and choose if you don’t want to answer them all :)
Someone else asked 2, 8, and 12 and I answered them here so I figured I wouldn't rewrite them again :).
27. Their guilty pleasure
I think he likes good food, especially sweets. He doesn't like indulging in things he enjoys in front of others, though, so he has a stash of treats in his office or private room and will eat second and third helpings of dessert alone in the kitchens in the middle of the night when he's done patrolling. This is compounded by how precious Dumbledore is with his own sweet tooth, always having treats in his office and his password always referring to some confection or other, and I think Snape hates the idea of making his sweet tooth a part of his personality so Dumbledore's whole thing makes Snape want to be even more private about it lest someone think he's also being precious.
I also think he likes good food in general and has quietly learned to become a great cook. Having grown up in poverty he always values the availability of quality and interesting ingredients and spices. (He definitely tastes things he's intrigued by while he's experimenting with potions, like the archaeologist who has to lick things they find.) I think he goes into the kitchens late at night sometimes just to do a bit of cooking for himself, but doesn't share this with anyone. It's a guilty pleasure because he doesn't feel entitled to it, he has some lingering guilt around it from his childhood (like with all things indulgent and pleasurable), and while he doesn't resist indulging in what's available to him, he also doesn't want anyone to see him doing it or even know about it. He likes it being something that's private and just his.
48. Scariest moment of their life
There's a lot of meta around about Snape being indoctrinated into the Death Eaters the way a radicalized youth is into a hate group or a vulnerable person into a cult. These kinds of groups bring people in by making them feel safe, valued, and seen. And then there's a moment where the recruit has cut ties with their friends and family and support networks and pledged themselves to the group, and all that attention that's been heaped on them starts to suddenly abate and become pressure and implied threats. Suddenly there are clear implications that they're in now, there's no way out and they have no one left to ask for help, they're reliant on the people they trusted and are now vulnerable because of. That moment when they turn around and realize the door was locked behind them and they didn't even notice.
I think the moment when Snape joined the Death Eaters and realized what they were capable of and willing to do not just to their targets but to those from their own ranks who were disloyal, and that he was even more alone and friendless and vulnerable than before he joined, I think that was the scariest moment of his life. Followed very closely by that feeling being exacerbated by the threat to Lily - but by that point he had gained some footing in that world and had become an asset to Voldemort so he would have had more of a sense of personal safety at least. There's something about him going to Dumbledore, who he didn't trust to ask for help for just himself (probably because of his lingering distrust of him after the werewolf prank) that makes me think Snape was beyond fucks at that point. He was willing to throw caution to the wind and something in him, a kind of bravery he hadn't been able to muster for himself, was with him. So I think the moment Lily was threatened was only the second most frightening for him.
When he was alone, committed to this group of people who he realized were violent, powerful people who brought him in to take advantage of him, not to appreciate him like he had thought, and he suddenly understood what they really were, and that Voldemort wasn't a visionary but an unhinged yet immensely powerful wizard, and he couldn't find his bravery or a way out, I think that would have been the most terrifying moment of his life.
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Hey I was wondering if you could write a sub!regulus X Dom!fem reader fic?
One where it’s angsty as Regulus had been acting different around the reader, and eventually after being questioned about it alone, Regulus breaks down and admitting his parents forced him to get the dark mark (there was nothing he could do about it), and the reader comforts him while they fuck. Regulus had been through a lot and the reader wants him to know that they love him.
Including: praise kink, subspace regulus, scar/mark kissing, aftercare for regulus, riding, and anything else you think would suit this situation <3
Resilience || Regulus Black
Word Count: 6154
A/N: Do I hate this? Yes, most definitely, without a doubt. Did I only proof read 5/15 pages. Yes, again, certainly. But I'm tired and I'm with my friend so it's not gonna get better than this. I love you all and hope you enjoy it
warnings: pretty much included in the ask, can't really think of anything else
Being light on your feet it doesn’t appear as though Regulus notices you tip toeing your way across the Slytherin common room. As you come up behind him you peer over his shoulder; he has his legs tucked beneath him with what appears to be his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook resting in his lap. Standing over his shoulder you let your eyes scan across the pages laid open and what you first believed to be a chapter on counter curses you realized was actually detailing how to cast the curse.
Realizing what you’d just read you let out a small, involuntary gasp that catches the attention of the boy sitting in front of you.
“(Y/N)!” Regulus quickly exclaims, glancing over his shoulder before slamming the book closed and sliding it into his book bag which sits next to him on the plush, green velvet sofa.
“What was that Reg?” You ask, brow furrowed as your eyes lock onto Regulus’ grey ones.
“Just a book love, that’s all.”
“Your Defense textbook?” You ask, hoping he would slide it back out of his satchel to show you the familiar scarlet cover you’d scratched your initials into on the bottom right hand corner.
“Something of the sort,” He answers vaguely, pushing himself off the couch to face you. Instead of making his way around the couch to meet you he stayed on the other side of the piece of furniture. Feet planted, hands fiddling with each other while instead of making eye contact with you his gaze seemed to be directed just past your right ear.
“Don’t lie to me Regulus,” Your voice is clipped, when you’d come to check in on Regulus after he’d come home from winter break at his dreaded family’s house this wasn’t what you had expected.
Regardless, it was what you’re met with, “What the hell is that book?”
Your voice jumps and you can hear the panic rising in it. Regulus had spent the weeks up to his departure date dreading the time he would have to spend at the Black Mansion. You’d stayed up countless nights, wishing you could somehow keep him from having to go to that hellish house but when it came down to it there was nothing either of you could do.
Finding him pouring over some dark arts book the first time you saw him after nearly two weeks apart wasn’t exactly the reunion you’d been picturing in your head. Nor was it comforting.
You can barely make it out but you believe you hear him whimper something about “it’s nothing” as his gaze drops from just over your shoulder to his toes.
You two stand there for a minute, then two, each waiting for the other to say something, anything to break the tension currently hanging heavy over the room. Regulus silently begging you to let it go, to leave the room and give him some time to stash the book before coming to find you to act as though nothing had happened and it was all fine.
Unwilling to yield, you hold your ground, maintaining your silence while your eyes bore into the top of his head, awaiting his explanation as to what you’d walked into.
You’re the one to finally break the silence.
“If it's nothing, then I’d like to see it Regulus.” It's the second time in the span of five minutes you opt for his full name instead of one of the nicknames coined by his brother, who he’d recently mended things with, and made popular by yourself. You knew it would strike a cord for him but you were scared, you were on the offensive.
With a deep sigh Regulus retrieves his bag from the spot it’d fallen to on the floor, pulling the book from the bag, bound in emerald green, Regulus hold it both far from his body and with a surprisingly tight hold, somehow both wanting it as far from him as possible and not wanting it to leave his grasp.
Though visibly ancient the book appears to be in remarkable condition, engraved on the front cover in gold leaf reads “Mendel's Most Malicious Curses”.
Studying the cover you don’t recognize the book’s title but based on what you’d glimpsed inside of its pages you hadn’t expected to. Even as a fifth year you doubt this would ever be included in O.W.L. curriculum.
Despite knowing better you can’t help but feel a strange, strong attraction to the book, an overwhelming urge consuming you to take that book. Your fingers itch at your sides as you imagine getting your hands on the book, wondering how hard Regulus would fight before relinquishing it from his grasp.
Somewhere in your subconscious you register that these thoughts are not organically your own, that somehow that book is influencing you and that in reality you want nothing to do with it. Frightened thoughts simmer at the back of your mind but they are lost in the shadows of your curiosity regarding the secrets that lie beneath the ornate designs swirling over the cover.
Expectantly you extend your arm, a nonverbal signal for Regulus to hand you the book but your movement throws him into action and has him clutching it close to his chest, both arms cradling the text.
“No no no no no,” He chants frantically, shaking his head as though to shake off the thought of relinquishing the book to you. “I can’t give you this (Y/N),” He swallowed deeply, shining silver eyes seaking out yours, ablaze with conviction.
“And why’s that?” You challenge with a raise of your brow.
Inhaling deeply he seems to be bracing himself to respond, “Because you’re a muggle born, it’s not meant for you to touch.”
You can feel rage bubbling up in your stomach, threatening to spill out your mouth in a flurry of angry words admonishing Reg for his remarks, “What? Is my simple muggle born mind not worthy enough to read words in that precious little pureblood book of yours? Do I need my pedigree intact to understand what it says? Not meant for mutts, is that it?”
You thought you were past this, you thought you’d left the aloof little third year you’d first met who’d called you a mudblood and asked you to move to a different table in the library because he didn’t want you looking at his charms homework behind.
Had the past year and a half of apologies and growth on Regulus’ part all been a lie? Was that hate not as small a part of your boyfriend as you’d thought? Did it really only take just shy of two weeks back with his biggoted relatives for him to start spewing this pureblood nonsense again?
Bouncing around in your head those questions overwhelm you as you try to ignore the most pressing one, pushing at the forefront of your mind.
Does he even love you?
“B-because you’re not a pureblood, this book (Y/N), it can’t be held by anyone not of pureblood,” Reg’s shaking voice broke through the flurry of questions wreaking chaos in your mind.
“God damn it Regulus! I thought we were past this! I thought-”
“It’ll kill you (Y/N)!” His voice is frantic and you pick up on the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, threatening to leak over.
Those words that seemed to carry a fatality in themselves cleared away the din clouding your mind, everything went silent. Too silent even as the implication of those words wash over you.
That book may as well be a gun, cocked and being held steady at your temple as you feel tears of your own begin to well in your eyes, distorting your vision.
The mess of questions doesn’t return to your mind, instead they begin thumping one by one at the base of your brain though they all carry through the same theme.
How could he have brought that near you?
“Kill me?” You curse yourself for how obvious your voice is shaking but the book that just moments earlier you were dying to get your hand on seems to have cast an oppressive air over the room and has you recoiling away from your boyfriend.
Regulus nods, holding eye contact with you as he slips the book back into his bag, sliding it under the sofa before cautiously striding towards you.
“That's why I can’t give it to you to look at, it's cursed and if you so much as bump it you’ll…” His voice trails off, the words too terrible to speak aloud.
Your arms wrap around yourself, clutching as hard as they can as you fight to wrangle your thoughts under control. His response revealed to you that he doesn’t intend to hurt you, not with the book anyways which has dozens of other worries popping up in your head. You’re desperate for answers as to what happened to Regulus at his house. He seems ready to give them to you as he offers to take you back to his dorm away from any prying eyes or ears that may lurk about in the Slytherin common room.
You’d both agreed to arrive back at school two days early hoping to get some alone time in but that didn’t mean that the castle was empty and that anyone couldn’t walk into his common room at any moment.
You stall as he lets you into his dorm, you’ve been there a thousand times, often under the mask of night but your usual spot, atop his always made perfectly bed, seems wrong now. Without answers to your countless questions the entire room feels foregin to you and leaves you standing by his desk, not quite leaning against it but also not quite supporting your own weight.
Regulus seems equally awkward but eventually settles on his bed, perched precariously on the edge of the mattress, he barely looks comfortable.
You stay there so long in silence that after a while your breathing syncs, the singular sound becoming the only noise in the drafty room.
Long after it becomes clear Regulus isn’t going to speak first and you finally tire of the silence you find your voice, somewhere deep inside of you summoning the words to your most pressing worry; “What happened at your house Regulus? What did they do to you?”
Your words have him crumbling, your usually stoic boy folding in on himself until he is but a ball hanging off the bed.
You hesitate for a single second before you’re racing towards him, dropping before him at his knees to cup his face in your palms. Directing his visage upwards to meet yours you feel your heart wrench in your chest as you take in his puffy, red eyes, red nose and flushed cheeks already marred with twin trails of salty tears cascading down his face.
“Regulus,” You choke out feeling tears from earlier resurface as you push yourself off the ground to take your place next to the scared boy beside you.
Pulling him into your lap as much as his size permits you too you take great care in cradling his head, clutching him to your chest as your rock gently back and forth humming into his hairline in hopes to calm his sobs. Raw and ragged they each tear at the fragile, brave exterior you’ve erected in hopes of comforting the boy, giving him something solid to hold onto.
Whispering sweet nothings into his ear you feel him melt into your touch, slowly the breathing becomes stronger and his sobs quiet to weak sniffles swallowed by the occasional gulp.
Feeling him shift under your touch you can tell he’s working himself up to something, he always gets fidgety when he’s trying to summon the courage to do something hard, his movement triggers a memory.
It floods through your mind as you’re reminded of a similarly terrified Regulus, knees bumping against the table at breakfast one lazy Sunday as he repeatedly bounced them, seemingly unable to sit still. He’d spent weeks working himself up to speaking to his brother for the first time in far too long.
The memory of him being so strong and brave even as the entirety of the Great Hall tracked his movement from the Slytherin table to the Gryffindor had you drawing a deep breath. The strength the memory provides you has you summoning the breath to prompt Regulus into some sort of explanation, anything.
“Reggie, your mother gave you that book didn’t she?”
He goes still at your words and even involuntary actions seem to still, his lungs draw no breath and his pulse seems to fade away under your touch.
“Bellatrix,” His voice is hoarse from crying, “Her idea of a Christmas gift.”
“That bitch,” You spit.
“Walburga’s was worse.”
You pause at the mention of her name, there is no doubt in your mind that he is the one who’s actions have sent Regulus into this downward spiral of despair and fear. You’re not even sure if you wanna hear what he has to stay but what you want stopped being important a long time ago.
“Do you wanna show me Reg?” You ask, breathless.
“No,” Comes his meak voice, “But I need to.”
You nod understandingly as you regrettably allow him to slip from your grasp so he can turn to face you, one leg tucked under his bum and the other hanging over the edge of the bed.
His eyes are downcast before he peaks them up through thick, dark lashes to meet your gaze, “Do you promise not to hate me (Y/N/N)? I don’t know if I can do this if you hate me.”
Your brows are drawn together as your response comes emphatically, “I could never hate you Regulus, I could never and I will never.”
“You can’t make that promise,” He says through a watery chuckle, leaving you wondering where the hilarity in the situation was. “I shouldn’t have asked you to.”
“Regulus,” You latched onto his hand before he could turn away from you, “I am incapable of hating you my love, please. Tell me what happened.”
Silver eyes locked with yours as though they would reveal the solidity of your promise. You’re not sure what answer he found in them but regardless he broke your gaze as he snuck his hand out of yours.
You watch as he slowly rolls up his sleeve and an idea as to what he’s going to show you begins to form and you find yourself regretting ever demanding to know what’s going on. You quickly shove those thoughts back down, there's no use in even entertaining them, ignoring your problems won’t make them go away.
Your worst fears are confirmed as Regulus rolls the sleeve of his black sweater to reveal swirling black ink sunk deep into his skin. Even just by looking at it you could feel the permanence of the ink, the meaning behind it causing a chill to shoot through your bones.
In the back of your head this had always been a possibility but not one you’d ever truly considered. You always thought that you would be able to get yourself and Reg away from everyone, from everything. Blood purity, the ministry, his family.
You were going to get out and you’d thought you’d have plenty of time, half way through his fifth year neither of you ever expected him to be forced to take the Dark Mark before his eighteenth birthday.
You were supposed to have until his eighteenth birthday.
Staring at the ink that seemed to pulse with life against the pale white of Regulus’ skin you suppose that it doesn’t really matter what you were supposed to have, what was supposed to happen. Regulus has taken the dark mark.
Godric, Regulus has taken the dark mark.
“Y-Your mother did this to you?” Your voice wobbles, anger, confusion, and terror evident in your voice, each betraying the strong front you’re trying to keep up for Regulus.
“She came for me in the middle of the night, (Y/N/N). First time I’ve ever been woken by her instead of Sirius or a house elf and she forced me up, made me get dressed before taking me downstairs and they were all there,” His voice cracks as a silent sob racks his body, you can only imagine how difficult it must be to relive the horrific events of that night. Hoping to provide him with any sort of comfort you inch closer to him, throwing your arm around his shoulder allowing him to rest his head on yours before continuing.
“They were all there (Y/N), not just her and Father. Bellatrix, Cissa and her husband, the Lestranges,” He pauses to swallow, “ And him. He was there.”
Regulus needn’t clarify who “he” was. The idea that he had even been near Regulus made you sick to your stomach and you could feel the distinct sensation of bile rising tickle at the back of your throat.
“Shhh, it's okay Reg,” You soothe, tightening your grip on him as sobs shake his body, “It’s going to be okay Red we’re going to figure this out.”
“He did this to me,” He sobs as he shakes in your lap, letting the enormity of his circumstances finally sink in after suppressing it for the past week, the fear of your response keeping him occupied.
To say you aren’t scared would be a lie, you’re fucking terrified but holding Regulus’ trembling form you know that this decision was not his. He would never swear allegiance to a group hell bent on destroying you and people like you, a few years ago maybe but not today. Not the Regulus you’d come to love, even if it began despite yourself.
Without hesitation you reach out, wrapping your hand around the skin now stained by dark magic.
Regulus let’s out a hiss at your touch and you feel him tense under your hand, afraid you’ve hurt him you start to pull away, “Does that hurt Reg?” You ask warily.
“Yes,” He spits out through gritted teeth, “But don’t let go please,” He pleads, raising his gaze to meet yours, “Please don’t let go.”
“Not gonna let go,” You promise, keeping your hold on his forearm tight.
Dipping your fingers under the strong bone of his mandible you turn his visage upwards to meet yours, heart breaking at the sadness and pain swimming in those beautiful grey eyes of his. Slowly you lean in before your eyelashes are brushing against the soft skin of his cheeks and your eyes flutter closed as you watch his do the same.
Your lips brush each other’s gently as your hand cups the side of his face, giving you complete control of the kiss as you keep the swipes of your lips light, you can just barely make out the taste of the pomegranate lip balm you’d given him as a part of your holiday gift to him.
“I didn’t wanna take it (Y/N/N),” He sniffles against your lips, “I don’t wanna be a Death Eater, I don’t wanna hurt you.” The sincerity in his voice has more tears welling in your eyes, you just can’t bear to see your beautiful boy in so much pain.
“Oh I know you don’t bubba I know,” You calm him, throwing a leg over to the other side of his lap so that you can perch yourself atop the hard smooth surface of his thighs. Gently pressing kisses along the canvas of his face you feel his arms wrap around your waist and the tips of fingers graze against your ass as his hands hover above it.
“Can I touch you please?” His words are barely audible but his desperation is loud and clear.
You grant permission as you lean forward to capture his lips in another kiss, this one more passionate than the last. Posing little, if any, challenge before letting your tongue delve into his mouth, quickly claiming dominance over his as you feel his palms clutch the globes of your ass, kneading the soft flesh as he holds onto you as tight as possible.
With care you slowly guide him onto his back as your lips trail from his down the column of his throat, in your journey down you leave sloppy hickeys along the delicate skin of his neck. Pulling away slightly you smile to see the various shades of purple and blue painted along his pretty ivory skin.
You know you’re going to have a real conversation about this later, what it means, what the two of you are ready to do about it but right now all you can think about is how you can make your pretty boy feel better, how you can show him that your love for him hasn’t changed. And there’s one way you know how to do that best.
“Do you want me to make you feel good Reggie?” You whisper against his skin as your lips ghost over his collar bone, drinking in his scent.
“Please,” He whimpers, “Need you.”
That’s all you need to hear before your hands are delving under the hem of Reg’s sweater, hands sliding against the smooth planes of his abs, your hands gliding over the occasional ridge of a long healed scar.
Sliding the hem up all the way to his collarbone you look down to see the beautiful lines of his chest and stomach. The scars you’ve become used to seeing a dark but faded pink now shine an almost brilliant purple as though the dark magic imprinted upon his arm had somehow interfered with scars caused by Walburga, most of them when he was much younger. You know for a fact that there are more ones on his back, deeper and darker from taking longer to heal.
“Come on pretty boy,” You coach, propping him up so that you can slip the soft sweater over his head before discarding it over your shoulder, “There we go, that’s a good boy.”
He lets out a low whine at your praising words as his hips thrust up towards yours which are perched directly atop them.
While removing your own sweater you smile, realizing it’s actually one of Regulus’ old Quidditch jumpers from the year prior. With no bra beneath your top your tits are left bare for Regulus’ viewing. His eyes gloss over as lust creeps into the stormy grey of his irises, they’re locked on your tits as though they’re the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.
“Do these hurt more than normal baby?” You ask as your fingertips graze over the raised scars on his chest, if the dark magic of the dark mark made his scars more sensitive you wanna be careful not to hurt him.
“A little.”
Frowning you lean down to press your lips against the puckered scars, your kisses light and fleeting as you trace the dark lines with your lips.
Dancing from one scar to another you hear him exhale deeply and the tension seems to be slowly leaving his body as he settles into the mattress and he becomes malleable under your touch.
“You’re so beautiful Reg,” You praise against his scarred skin, needing him to understand just how much you love him.
“I love you so much,” You look up through your lashes to see Regulus’ eyes already locked on your body.
“I love you too.”
With that your lips are ceasing his once more as you feel the overwhelming need to comfort your boy. Gently, you grind your hips up against his as you become lost in the kiss, savoring the feeling of his lips against yours before you feel a familiar bulge pressing on you.
Your hand ventures back down the hard muscle of his stomach before you bump against the bulge of his erection, straining against the soft material of his sweatpants. You palm gently over his cock as your face buries itself in the crook of his neck, giving him sweet, light kisses while teasing his throbbing member.
“Please,” Comes his choked pleas at being teased, “Please, need more.”
“Of course pretty boy,” You promise as you lift yourself off of him, giving him one last kiss at the waistband of his sweatpants before helping him ease off his bottoms and boxers.
Once he’s devoid of all clothing you too strip down so that you’re both bare naked, your eyes are fixed on the red, weeping head of his half hard cock, sitting against the inside of his muscled thigh.
He whimpers as your hand wraps around his member, pumping up and down his hardening length, brushing your thumb along the sensitive tip of his cock.
“Wanna be inside of you,” He whimpers, hands grappling for your wrist to stall your movements and pull you on top of him but all he succeeds in doing is making you stubble closer to him.
You release your right hand from his cock, instead taking his hand in yours while your unoccupied hands resumes stimulating his member.
“I know you wanna be inside of me, pretty boy, but I gotta get you hard first.”
“But I am hard,” He argues in a pretty little whine, and now that he mentions it you realize that he is harder than he was when you’d pulled him from the tight confines of his pants.
“Your cock’s so gorgeous,” You murmur watching the way he twitches in your hand, “Think you’re hard enough now, yeah?”
He nods his head, squirming as he fights the urge to buck up into your hand.
Making sure that he’s comfortable, propped up against the pillow at the head of the bed you brush away the hair that’s fallen into his face as you straddle his lap, the shaft of his cock pressing against the warmth of your cunt.
Lifting yourself a few inches off his thighs your help guide his prick to your entrance, slowly sinking onto him you allow yourself to take your time accepting each and every inch of him inside of you.
Reg’s eyes are glued to your pussy as he watches himself disappear inside of you, all the way down to his base. His eye brows furrow from the overwhelming pleasure that swims through his veins, sinking deep into his every nerve at the bliss of being completely surrounded by your warm pussy.
Pleasure shoots up your spine at the sensation of slowly becoming full, once you’ve finally taken every inch of him inside you you throw your head back, mouth dropped open as the breath is stolen from your lungs. It feels so good to be so full with him you have to remind yourself to breathe.
“Good boy,” You say breathlessly, rubbing your arms up and down his flexing arms, fists furled with the sheets between them as he too adapts to the sensation that comes with being inside of you.
“You ready for me to move?” You ask once you finally become used to the full feeling.
Desperate nods answered your question, it takes you a minute to find your rhythm but soon you’re grinding his hips against his, lifting yourself slightly off his cock before grinding back down onto him.
Your movements are slower than usual when you fuck Reg, but after the terror he’d gone through in the past weeks you’re deliberate in your gentle movements.
As your hands grip the muscles of his arms you hear him take a sharp breath, your eyes fly open, landing on his face, your movements stalling before you realize that you’re clutching the newly marked skin on his left forearm.
“Oh baby I’m so sorry,” You apologize, loosening your grip on him as your lips frace the dark lines of the ink against his skin.
Seeing that mark on anyone else would’ve made you recoil, have ice shooting through your veins as fear petrified you. While you would’ve preferred never to see that symbol of hate tattooed into Regulus’ skin it didn’t evoke its usual reaction from you. The only fear you have is fear of the future, fear of what lies in wait for the two of you beyond the walls of Hogwarts, but it doesn't matter right now. All that matters is comforting your boy, all you think about as you press your lips to his mark.
You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear sobs break through Regulus’ lips, quickly you abandon the stain of ink , moving to cradle his head so that your tits are right in his line of vision.
“I thought you were going to hate me,” He cries into your chest, tears wet the soft skin of your tits.
“No baby, I’ll never hate you, not ever.”
You feel the wet warmth of his mouth brush against your right nipple, gazing down you see his tongue lazily circling the pebbled flesh and you’re reminded just how cold the room actually is but pressed up against Regulus it feels like your entire body is on fire.
“You wanna suck on my titty Reggie?”
He responds with a weak nod and quickly you’re easing your nipple into his mouth, helping him find the correct angle all the while stuttering your hips against his.
“You fill me up so good Reg,” Your praise, fingers tangling in the dark mess of curls.
At your praise he begins lifting his hips in times with your thrusts, helping you as you fuck youself on top of him, wanting so desperately to make you feel as good as you make him.
“There we go, that’s a god boy.”
“M’getting close,” His words are muffled by the soft flesh of your tit stuffed into his mouth.
You too are nearing your orgasm as your clit brushes against the hard bone of his pelvis pulling a sharp whimper from you. To better grant Regulus access to your breast you’ve settled on rolling your hips in circles, ceasing the up and down movement from earlier so as to not disturb him.
A familiar tightness is brewing in your belly as Regulus’ hands run up and down your back before gripping the globes of your butt, maintaining as much physical contact as possible.
“Go ahead bubba, go ahead and cum. Fill me up pretty boy, want your cum. Need your cum. Godric I love you,” You ramble, seizing his lips again, needing them against yours as you feel him cum inside you.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” He mutters as your cunt grips around him with the tell tale signs of your quickly approaching orgasm.
“Y’gonna cum with me baby?” You ask as you press your lips to his forehead, his mouth having once more found the plush of your breast.
“Yes,” He nods, “Please.”
You throw your head back in ecstasy as your orgasm washes over you, wave after wave of pleasure racing through your veins as you ride out your orgasm, continuing to move your hips as you simultaneously help Reg through his. Stars flash behind your closed eyelids as the pleasure building up finally releases, sending you into euphoria so intense it seems to cloud your every sense.
The second he felt your cunt squeeze around his cock it tipped him over the edge and as he lost himself in pleasure, rope after rope of cum releasing inside of you, he tried his best to match the movement of his hips to yours.
You flutter your eyes open as the warmth of his cum floods your pussy as you come down from the height of your orgasm, letting yourself collapse so that your chest is pressed up against his.
With your chests pressed so close together you notice the exact moment that your breathing syncs, feeling as Regulus’ arms wrap around your bare torso keeping you close to his body.
“How are you feeling?” You murmur against the ivory skin of his chest, keeping your voice hushed.
“Better. A little happy.”
Glancing up you catch the smallest smirk slink across his lips as he stares up at the vaulted ceiling.
“Happy?”
“You make me happy,” His eyes flicker to yours as he pulls you closer to him causing his softening prick to slip out of your tight hole. You both hiss as the cool air hits his cock and the cum he’d emptied into you begins flowing out yout pussy.
Regrettably you push yourself off of him, pulling his sweater over your head before waddling into the connecting bathroom, being ever so conscious about the sticky white mess between your legs as you wet a washcloth using warm water from the sink before applying it to the insides of your thighs. Ginger touches hastily cleaning up the excess cum before rinsing the wash cloth to take it to Reg.
“Hey pretty boy,” You coo upon reentering the room to find him in the same position you’d left him in, “You ready for me to clean you up?”
“You look so beautiful in my clothes (Y/N/N),” He responds instead of answering your question, pushing himself onto his elbows so that he can watch you, his black sweater enveloping you all the way to your lower thighs.
“And you’re just beautiful,” You smile, sitting next to him on the mattress. You aren’t lying, he looks absolutely gorgeous leaning back, mop of dark hair in tangled tresses, grey eyes glossed over, abs sheening with sweat as are his equally toned thighs. Merlin bless the poor bastard who invented Quidditch.
Dragging up his muscled legs your eyes settle on his softening member, just as pretty as the rest of him.
With care you make quick work of cleaning the cum off his cock, resting your hand on his thigh when he tries to squirm away from your over stimulating touch.
“I know baby, I know but I gotta get you all nice and clean for me.”
“Hurts,” He mumbles in a pathetic pout.
“I know it does pretty baby but look,” You say, pulling the cloth from his skin, “All done already.” Pressing a kiss to his temple you go to stand but you’re quickly pulled back down to the mattress by cold hands wrapped around the warm folds of your waist.
“Don’t go,” He mumbles into your hair as he keeps you tucked into his side.
“Just gotta go put the washcloth back Reggie,” You explain trying to slip from his hold but he’s not having it and just tugs you back against the hard planes of his chest.
“No,” He says simply before reaching over to the bed side table where he’d set his wand, mumbling a quick banishing spell the rag flew from your hand before flying into the bathroom.
Resting your head against his strong shoulder you yank a blanket from the end of the bed up to throw it around your bodies, nestled close together.
“You said you were happy Reg.”
“Mhm,” He responds with a noncommittal hum.
“What else are you feeling, love?”
You hear him take a deep inhale, as his own answer seemed to overwhelm him, “I don’t know. I’m scared, I’m really scared but not so much now that I know that you don’t hate me.”
You nod against his chest, you can only imagine how petrifying that thought must’ve been for him and you can’t deny the tug you feel in your chest at the idea of Regulus ever thinking you would hate him.
“I’m still terrified but I think I’m gonna be okay.”
“I know you’re gonna be okay Regulus, you are capable and strong and smart and the bravest boy I have ever met,” You can feel the blush radiating off of him at your words.
“Thank you (Y/N/N),” He mumbles bashfully into your hair once more.
You were telling the truth, if there was one thing that you know for certain its that Regulus is just as resilient as he has proven to be and if Walburga, or anyone else for that matter thought he was going to take this lying down. If they thought you were going to take this lying down, they have another thing coming. There is no doubt in your mind that Regulus will fight for what he knows to be true and if there was ever a point that he would have obeyed his mother’s every command without question that time was long past.
Reg isn’t to be underestimated. He’s just as every bit courageous as he’s proved to be over and over again. To underestimate him is to dig your own grave; and unlike Walburga you aren’t ready to count him out quite yet. On the contrary actually, your boy wasn’t about to take this lying down and even if it meant total self destruction, the two of you are about to raise hell.
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#Harry Potter fanfiction#Harry Potter fanfic#Harry Potter imagine#Harry Potter imagines#marauders fanfiction#marauders fanfic#marauders imagines#marauders imagine#regulus black fanfiction#regulus black fanfic#regulus black imagines#regulus black imagine#regulus black x reader#regulus black x you#regulus black x y/n#regulus black smut
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Debt Collection. Yan Childe x Reader [SMUT]
Tags: Mild dubcon ?, hate fucking, power bottoming, creampie, dirty talk, AFAB reader and degradation.
Word count: 1.6k.
Note: this could be considered apart of contractual obligations universe or something on the side. i’m not sure where it’d officially line up in the stories tl, i just wanted to write some sin .
This is the only plausible option left.
That’s what you told yourself when you walked into his office, what you told you told yourself when removing your clothes and when you climbed into his lap. He called it special treatment. Whispering huskily into your ear that you should be grateful he likes you so much, that anyone else would be dead in your position. The Fatui are not known for their leniency with debts. People go missing, their neighbors too frightened to question what might’ve happened to them.
Childe seems happy enough to remind you of this like it might make you feel better somehow. It doesn’t. All you want is for the stress on your business to be alleviated, for things to go back to how they used to be before him, even if it is wishful thinking.
Whatever his feelings are for you, you don’t care in the slightest. You’re doing this to get it over with.
“Mm, just like that,” Childe hisses out through clenched teeth, fingernails digging harshly into either side of your waist. “Take all of me in.”
Everything is so warm. His fevered touches, your face, every inch of your bare body. You do as he tells you, biting your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Sinking down onto his dick, you despise the lascivious noises it makes from how terribly wet he’s made you. Childe’s gaze never falters from your own, watching unblinkingly as you take in every inch of his throbbing length. His grip on you tightens, steadying your trembling body, harsh pants leaving both of you.
You’re grateful for his lack of comments, already humiliated enough as is. The silence doesn’t last when he fills you completely, your walls slowly adjusting to his length. Even with the proper preparation, his considerable size causes mild pain. Each deep breath you take does little to steady your nerves. The weight of Childe’s stare is impossible to ignore.
Why is he looking at you like this? Why can’t he just silently get off and let it be over with? The passion burning in his ocean blue eyes is unmistakable, the waves of it threatening to drown you.
“Good girl,” he exhales, affectionately running a hand through your tousled hair. You let him do as he pleases. The odd intimacy behind what’s meant to be a tumble in the dark isn’t lost on you. “Now, you remember what I wanted, don’t you?”
“Y-yes, I do.” You confirm breathlessly, more blood rushing to your face upon remembering his vulgar instructions. Childe cups your face in his hands and presses a chaste kiss to your lips, pulling on your bottom lip with his teeth when he moves away. This is the first time he’s kissed you, you realize, lips tingling. He does it with such ease, as if the two of you were lovers. The thought alone is enough to make bile rise in your throat.
“I’m afraid my memory is failing me. Be a dear and remind me of what you’re going to do.”
Of course, he’d make this as difficult as he can for you, you shouldn’t have expected anything different. The lascivious words discussed during your agreement reverberate in your head, and you push past your hesitations to repeat them. “I’m going… going to fuck myself on you.”
You feel his cock twitch excitedly inside you and shiver. He urges you on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And?”
“And… I’ll make you cum inside of me.”
“Get to it then.” Childe leans back into his chair, pleased so far with your submission. You take a deep breath, raising your hips up, wincing at how he stretches out your walls. When nothing but the tip of his dick remains inside you, you slowly sink onto him again, earning a low noise of approval. He really isn’t going to help you, is he? While full of him, you gyrate your hips, getting yourself more accustomed to his size. Childe’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, looking down at you through thick eyelashes.
“I didn’t expect for you to take your time like this,” he chuckles breathlessly, voice guttural and husky. “Not that I’m, ngh, complaining, I could watch this all day.”
You furrow your eyebrows, indignant at his comments. That’s the last thing you wanted...! You wanted to get this over with, to push past the embarrassment he’s inflicted on you. Spurred on by his comments, you raise and lower your hips onto his cock faster, the sensation of being stretched less painful than before. Childe lets out a breathy moan at your increased pace. No longer willing to hold himself back, he thrusts his hips up, throwing his head back at how good you feel around him. You can already tell the area he’s gripping will leave bruises. Hopefully, they can be covered up so questions don’t arise.
“Do you… do you know how much I think about you?” Childe breathes out, each word more strained than the last. The sound of skin on skin fills his office, a far cry from the normal business that goes on in here. Not that he cares in the slightest. You don’t want to know the answer, honestly, but he gives it to you regardless.
“Mm, I’ve thought about it even when we talk,” Childe confesses, head throwing back as he bucks himself up to meet your hips. “What you’d feel like… all the cute little noises you’d make when I made you pleasure yourself on my dick.”
Childe’s words strike a chord deep within you, your face getting even redder than before. You feel yourself getting closer to a release and feel frustrated by your lack of self-restraint. Childe’s chest rumbles with a low moan at how your walls tighten around him. He’s half wanting to fuck you against his desk, losing any shreds of patience that he’s somehow managed to hold on to. But knowing that you’re working oh so hard to make him cum is too tantalizing to pass up. He sees your reluctance fade into desire, no longer able to deny carnal pleasure. You’re enjoying this as much as he is but just don’t want to admit it.
He leans forward, wrapping his soft lips around your nipple and biting it gently, laughing breathlessly at the noise you let out. Childe’s hand that was on your hip goes to your chest, greedily playing with the soft mounds of flesh. He adores how you taste, how lovely and exposed you are before him now. All of the efforts that went into procuring you earned him such a ravishing sight.
Spurred on by his touches, you can no longer hold yourself back. Your movements get sloppier as you chase your own release, chest bouncing as you hold onto him for balance. Childe lets out a content noise at this. His strength is commendable, your hazy mind notices, as now he’s the one lifting you up and bringing you back down onto his cock. Strength all but gone, you lean forward, hoping to muffle your moans against his glistening neck. Your walls clench around him, a high pitch noise leaving your lips when you cum.
Childe wants nothing more than for you to remember this. For you to remember him. “That’s... right, [First]. Don’t ever forget that I’m the one who made you feel this good.”
You can barely register his words, mind far too foggy to think of anything. Curses start to leave his lips, from a foreign tongue which you assume to be his native language. His cock thrusts upwards inside you as Childe desperately seeks out his own release. Your energy is all but gone, leading you to feel silently grateful that he’s capable of getting himself off inside you without much help. A surprised yelp leaves your lips as he tugs your hair back, forcing you to look him in the eye.
“I want you to see this,” Childe manages to get out through gritted teeth. A throaty groan leaves him, hips stuttering. “Watch me as I cum inside you.”
Childe releases himself inside you, thrusting up as far as he can before stilling himself. You feel his hot seed fill you up, Childe intent on dumping all of himself as far inside you as he can. He pulls you further down onto him, head thrown back and panting as your walls milk his throbbing cock. You wince at the foreign feeling, the implications of him cumming inside you nerve-wracking. Finally, he lifts his head, a slight flush on his own face.
The room is silent, save for your panting. He keeps one hand on your already bruised hip and moves the other to cup your face. Childe’s eyes soften as you try your best to regain yourself.
It feels hot, sticky, and humiliating. You look around, looking anywhere that isn’t at Childe. He lets out an airy laugh at your obvious embarrassment, much to your displeasure, and you shoot him a hopefully threatening look. It has the opposite effect as intended. Childe coos at the endearing sight, tracing his fingers over your body.
“That’s... all you wanted, right? Can I go now?”
Childe shakes his head and you frown. “Mm... not yet, no. I’d say this only covers a portion of the debt, sweetheart.”
You knit your eyebrows together, indignation flaring, and go to slap him against your better judgment. Childe snickers, catching your wrist with ease and places unexpectedly soft kisses against your knuckles.
“Relax, relax, I was kidding,” Childe winks and you roll your eyes. “Just know this won’t be the last time I fuck you.”
“You’re... utterly shameless.”
“Maybe I am, but what can I say? Now that I’ve gotten a taste of you, I might just be addicted.”
#idk if this is really considered dubcon but i tagged it just to be safe#childe#childe x reader#yandere childe x reader#tartaglia#tartaglia x reader#yandere tartaglia x reader#genshin impact#yandere genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#tw: dubcon#not sfw#my stuff
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ghosts just wanna have fun; m
⤷ When Jungkook discovered that he could communicate with dead people, the last thing he expected was that they would be there to give him romantic advice.
✓ Couple: Jungkook x Reader | Psychic!AU & MedSchool!AU
✓ Filed under: fluff, crack (so many ghost puns), light smut (and jungkook being a nervous virgin)
✓ Words: 20,062
Author’s Note: In which Jungkook is able to see spirits, but it’s just Taehyung and Yoongi giving him dating tips because he sucks at talking to girls. Hope you guys like it, because it has been on my WIPS for over a year and a half and I can’t believe it’s finally out there... emotional, really.
Also, huge thanks to @storytaeme, who proof-read this mess like a champ.
There aren’t many embarrassing situations that can overcome the fact that Jeon Jungkook found out about his psychic abilities as he was about to lose his virginity.
To say the least, that hadn’t been the most pleasant of scenarios to open the pathway to the afterlife. Really, there was no casual way that he could justify the scream that broke from his lips, or the dramatic spin he took as he turned around on the bed — which, ultimately, had him falling into the small space between the nightstand and the wall, with his legs up in the air, and his butthole fully exposed for both planes of existence to see.
Still, that hadn’t been the worst part. If those two pallid silhouettes had merely disappeared once he had seen them, it wouldn’t have been as traumatic — perhaps Jungkook could have found a semi-believable excuse about what he had witnessed — but no. Not only did the ghosts remain there, with their arms crossed before their achromatic clothes and eyebrows slightly raised in expectation, they continued their conversation as if nothing had happened.
“Oh, he was definitely going to put it in the wrong hole,” the shorter of the two murmured, clearly entertained at the idea.
The other scoffed. “What if he did?” he threw back. “Maybe he likes that, we can’t judge.”
Truth was that, one way or another, Jungkook couldn’t even figure out what he liked — he didn’t even get the chance. He was gone from his (ex) girlfriend’s place before his brain could even attempt to construct a plausible explanation, even less to digest what had preceded that unfortunate revelation. Now, the wrong hole would forever be a source of trauma for him.
And the problems didn’t exactly stop there. Ever since his cherry-popping session was interrupted, Jungkook hadn’t been able to move further than the first base, thinking that he would embarrass himself all over again or, worse, be frightened by a random demon passing by. Also, the constant mockery of his ghostly counterparts certainly didn’t help his concentration.
The worst part? Helping Jungkook was kind of their whole point. And they couldn’t even do that right.
Taehyung and Yoongi were their names — they told him right after the first night he saw them. Jungkook didn’t know what had happened in the afterlife that they had been punished with such a horrendous mission and, frankly, at that point, he was too afraid to ask.
“But I don’t need your help,” Jungkook had said after one particularly bad date, dramatically throwing himself onto his bed. The furniture creaked under his weight and he wondered if it would snap before his mind did. “I just want you to leave me alone or, I don’t know, help me with something else — something useful.”
The two ghosts were by his desk, looking at his class notes and, at that comment, Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “Useful? Like what?” He asked.
“I don’t know, solving crimes or something,” Jungkook mumbled, turning around so he would face the wall. God, he just needed two seconds alone.
Behind him, Taehyung laughed. “You don’t even know how to open a bra, and you're out there thinking of reopening cold cases? Give me a break.”
“Ouch,” Jungkook whispered. Maybe another time, it would’ve hurt his pride a bit more. That night, however, he was too tired to care. “For your information, I do know how to open a bra. You two just started whispering and it distracted me.”
“We were whispering to you the instructions on how to open a bra,” Yoongi responded. “Would you need those if you knew what you were doing? No.”
Jungkook sighed. “I just—”
“This conversation is done, we went over this already.” Yoongi interrupted. “You need us, whether you want it or not. You’re painfully bad at romance, Jungkook, even worse at initiating sex. I’ve never seen something like that before.”
At that, Jungkook rolled on the bed and faced them. There was only one light in his bedroom that was on — the table lamp — and its clear orange shade passed through them both in an odd mixture of contours and lines. “Maybe if I could do it myself, without you two buzzing around the place, it wouldn’t be so bad,” he responded, aggressive.
“Calm down. You were already bad enough when we arrived,” Taehyung told him, leaning over to see all the scattered pages on his desk. He frowned once he saw something he couldn’t quite understand, and quickly turned away from it. “Nothing changed much.”
“Right!” Jungkook sat up on the bed. “Isn’t that enough of a sign for you two to stop trying to help me, then?”
“No,” Yoongi said calmly. “That’s a sign that we have to try harder. And so do you.”
He sneered. “I absolutely don’t.”
“Yes, you absolutely do,” he said. “You know what? Grab your phone and get yourself a date with that girl you like from physiology class. Two weeks from now.”
There was a second of silence as Jungkook’s mind struggled to piece the idea together. He wasn’t even sure about who Yoongi was referring to, there were a lot of girls in his class. “What? Why?”
“Just trust us. She’s into you,” Yoongi spoke.
Taehyung nodded in agreement. “It’ll work out.”
Jungkook scoffed. “When does it, really?”
“This time, it will,” Taehyung said. “Really. Do it.”
“Fine.” He breathed out, reaching for his phone. “What girl?”
Yoongi looked him up and down. “You know what girl.”
With a deep breath, Jungkook scrolled over his contact list, struggling to find someone that he would have even the slightest chance with. Truth was, he has no fucking clue of which one of the hundred and fifty people in his class would even look in his direction, much less go on a date with him.
“You do know… right?” Taehyung asked, clearly worried. “We can’t really give you names, but you… know, right?”
“What? Oh, yeah, yeah! Sure I do!” Jungkook laughed nervously, clicking on a random name and opening a chat. “Here, I’m sending her a text right now. No reason to worry… no reason at all.”
“Good,” Yoongi said, distracted. “Now, if you need us, we’ll be watching Gone Girl with your neighbors. We already missed the start of the movie, and I’m pissed off as it is.”
Taehyung nodded. “Amazing movie,” he said. Jungkook pressed send and prayed for the best. “We should have more movie nights over here.”
Yoongi said something in agreement and, in a second, they were already gone. Jungkook was left alone in his bedroom, with the light of his lamp casting over his features the desperation that he was feeling inside.
“This better work,” he mumbled to himself. “You two better not be trying to embarass me.”
_____________
And then, two weeks later, Yoongi and Taehyung were laughing at him as his last failed attempt at romance got up from her chair and basically ran away from him.
Yoongi leaned back against the chair, his ankles crossed over the large table. If someone else could see him then, he surely would have received a few complaints about keeping the mall under semi-sanitary conditions. “Jungkook, I’ll tell you something,” he started, clearly amused. “You’re so bad at romance that I wish I was alive just so I could punch some reason into you.”
Taehyung, who had stayed mostly quiet during the painfully awkward interaction, walked beside Jungkook and chuckled at his distress. Still, he was focused on the other ghost, and the implication of his speech. “That amount of violence is the exact reason why you’re no longer alive, Yoongi,” he pointed out, then turned to Jungkook before he could smirk at the reprehension. “But really, that was awful. If I weren’t spiritually tied to you, I would’ve given up by now. You’re hopeless.”
“Completely out of it,” Yoongi added. “Do you even know how women work?”
Jungkook rolled his eyes, and reached for his phone: there was no way he would enter a discussion with those invisible pricks in a public situation without something to mask it. Not that it would have been the first time.
Yoongi materialized on the seat next to Jungkook, his head leaning against his hand. The boy was already used to those sudden changes of position, but that didn’t mean that he liked it. In fact, after Taehyung had appeared next to him during a particularly bad time — in which the incognito tab had already been opened, and a bottle of lotion already waited for him — he could never erase the intense panic of such experiences.
But of course, Yoongi knew that, and he used his discomfort for his own entertainment. “You can’t ignore us, kiddo,” he said slowly, clearly amused. “And you can’t ignore the fact that you’ll die alone, surrounded by cats, if you don’t start listening to what we have to say. We have been tied to you for a reason.”
“And the reason,” Taehyung added, “is to make you stop cockblocking yourself.”
With a subdued groan, Jungkook pressed his phone against his ear — an old trick that allowed for him to have a conversation without being seen as clinically insane by passersby. “You two are the reason why this date went downhill,” he told them. “You told me to say all the wrong things. You two set this up knowing I’d fail.”
“Oh, no.” Taehyung shook his head in disagreement. “The words were right. Your delivery was awful.”
“Western-movie-awful,” Yoongi added. “And if you want to change that, you have to trust us.”
“Trust you? Where has that taken me?” Jungkook questioned, irritated. “You’re the reason why I lost my first girlfriend and haven’t had another one ever since.”
Yoongi chuckled. “The girl from the first night? She never talked to you again after that, did she?” He asked, but, of course, he already knew the answer. “Damn, that was cringe-worthy. Butt in the air and everything.”
“No need to remind me, I was there.” Jungkook clenched his jaw, trying to control his demeanor. It wasn’t fair that there was not much that he could do to make the two men shut up — since they were, quite literally, already dead, he didn’t have many threats to utter. “And whose fault was that?”
“Technically, yours.” Taehyung shrugged. “We didn’t present ourselves to you, you just saw us all of a sudden. We were just as surprised.”
“Besides, you were the one that had the B.F.,” Yoongi added.
Jungkook raised one eyebrow. “B.F.?”
“Bitch fit,” Taehyung elucidated. “He watched White Chicks with your neighbors last night, don’t worry about it.”
Jungkook groaned, pressing his hand against his face. Of course — the cherry on top would be outdated pop references, as expected. Yoongi had always been quite fond of the classic ‘with great power comes great responsibility’, and Jungkook thought that the overuse of that quote would be the ultmost reason for his insanity. Nevertheless, he came to understand that it was nothing compared to movies like White Chicks or even Legally Blonde. He would rather hear Uncle Ben’s famous line a billion times over before Yoongi accused him of having a B.F. once more.
He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the environment around him. The murmurs and disembodied conversations around the mall had morphed into the sound of irritating insects, and he felt as if the earth could just open up and eat him alive. He probably committed a terrible crime in a past life to be stuck with Tweedledee and Tweedledum like that.
“Anyways,” Jungkook stressed, “it didn’t seem like the two of you were surprised that I could see you. You just kept… talking about me. And my ass.”
Taehyung chuckled. “You were the one with the ass up in the air.” He vanished, then materialized in the seat in front of Jungkook. “What were we supposed to do? Ignore it?”
“It was an easy target,” Yoongi spoke, then seemed to realize the words that had left his mouth. “Wait, I didn’t mean the double interpretation.”
“Why can’t the two of you just fucking help me for once?” Jungkook asked aggressively. In a nearby table, one old man raised his eyes from his vegan burger and stared the boy up and down in disapproval. Jungkook lowered his voice and switched his phone to the other ear. “This is unbearable. You two are only making it worse.”
With a gesture that Jungkook knew all too well, Taehyung used his thumb to point over his shoulder, towards the path that his failed date had followed. “That one wasn’t good enough for you,” he said nonchalantly. “We can tell. We know stuff.”
“Then why did you set this up in the first place?” He asked, exasperated.
“As DJ Khaled says, you played yourself,” Yoongi cited. One more reference and Jungkook would be the one joining the world of the dead. “It’s not our fault that you get nervous and can’t deliver the lines right. When have the two of us ever failed?”
“When you died,” he spoke back. “Or did you forget the stupid mistake you made?”
Yoongi hesitated. As much as he tried to play it cool, he wasn’t the smartest one around. In fact, his tragically premature death was all the evidence Jungkook needed to make his point clear.
During his living days, Yoongi was pretty invested in rock climbing. On a beautiful summer afternoon, just as the sun was setting over the green-bathed hills, one of his friends dared him to bungee jump from the same cliff they had just climbed, and were standing on. Of course, the man agreed promptly, saying that he wouldn’t back out from such a mundane task; stating repeatedly that the fall wouldn’t be so high up anyway. But that wasn’t the turning point: Min Yoongi, in all his adventurousness, quickly decided that his local shop was too expensive and that he would create his own bungee jump cord instead.
According to him, making the cord proved itself to be quite an easy task. He had gotten some help from his local adrenaline addicts and the final product was a very good copy of the factory-made ones. He measured the cliff twice just to be certain, compared it to the rope, and made sure to test the sustentation and elasticity as many times as he could.
Still, Yoongi had overlooked an imperative detail: he shouldn’t use a cord that was the same height as the cliff he was jumping from.
Needless to say, he only realized his mistake once he was already dead.
Yoongi scoffed at the memory, ignoring his hurt pride. He swore he could still feel his back hurting when he thought about that. “That isn’t the point,” he said. He often did that: changed the subject once he realized he couldn’t leave with the upper hand. “The point is that you keep delivering lines like you’re a bad boy in a South American novela, then expect us to perform a miracle on you.”
Jungkook frowned, lowering his head. “That’s actually so wrong.”
But the problem was: Yoongi was right, and Jungkook knew it. In fact, that had been the exact reason why his date had left him that night — the boy had misunderstood Taehyung’s advice to play off as a mysterious man, and instead projected his image somewhere between a psychopath and a person that had only K-dramas as a basis of how human interactions were supposed to work. Jungkook missed his attempts at romance the entire time, but the breaking point was when Yoongi told him to act as a bad influence because, according to him, girls dig a good bad boy.
Once again, Yoongi wasn’t the brightest mind when it came to risk-taking. That was why he was more dead than Jungkook’s bedroom.
Jungkook, however, did not realize his own errors until it was too late. He had chuckled at his date’s embarrassment, using his opening to delicately place her hair behind her ear. “I’m going to tell you something,” he started, voice swift and placid as a river. With his eyebrows raised and his lips vaguely forming a pout, he looked like an off-brand version of Handsome Squidward. “I’m not really a good influence, and surely not the kind of guy you’d like to get with. So why don’t you do me a favor and follow the simple orders I give you, uh?”
Her eyes had widened in a mixture of second-hand embarrassment and fear. From the corner of his eyes, Jungkook saw her reaching for her purse over the table. “No, thank you,” she was quick to say. “I don’t think this will work, sorry. I’ll see you around college.”
And that’s how they ended at that point. The point they always seemed to end up in.
“I think I need a break from all of this,” Jungkook said, closing his eyes for a moment of peace. “I have a huge test next week and I couldn’t even study for it because of all the preparation for this stupid date. Can you two just take a step back? Just for a little while. Romance can’t be all that I think about.”
As he opened his eyes, he saw Taehyung staring at him. He couldn’t really read his expression.
And, without an answer, the two of them vanished.
_________________
If someone asked Jungkook why the hell he thought going to medical school was a good idea, he’d simply say that, at the time, it made sense. After all, he had thought, he’d be some sort of super-doctor, since he had an exclusive VIP pass to the afterlife — just imagine how many people he would be able to help just by asking a friendly ghost what was wrong with a patient. It would be a game-changer. He could even find the cure of cancer if he tried hard enough.
But of course, he quickly realized that he should’ve thought further about his decision. Maybe being a detective would have made much more sense — it would have been a lot cheaper, that’s for sure, and he wouldn’t have to sit through almost twelve hours of classes every single day for a diploma that seemed to be too far away for him to care.
That particular class, however, wasn’t the worst one out there.
It was Tuesday, and Tuesday meant Pathology. Jungkook loved that class because the professor hated teaching it, so the students had to sit in silence for about three hours trying to read the textbook by themselves. The professor said he would be there to answer any questions, but he was mostly scrolling through his phone and interrupting students every time they tried to ask him something — “That’s in the textbook, just keep reading.”
Most of his classmates absolutely despised that subject, but Jungkook thought it was wonderful: he often learned better by himself anyways, and the lack of conversation during class brought him some sense of peace. Besides, Yoongi and Taehyung hated sitting in that quiet room for too long, so they mostly left after ten or twenty minutes of trying — and failing — to strike up a conversation with Jungkook. It was the perfect day.
Well, most days it was.
Just as he was about to move forward to the next topic — Adrenal Insufficiency and Addison’s Disease — , the boy felt something poking his bicep and he was quick to turn to his side. Instantly, he recognized your expectant gaze and something fluttered inside his stomach.
“Hey, Jungkook,” you whispered, leaning over your desk, “is tomorrow afternoon still up? I really need help in cardiac physiology. I kind of suck.”
He hummed in agreement, fighting against the nervousness that crept up on him. Jungkook’s palms started to sweat just by looking at you, he really was one step away from reverting back to his pre-teen days. “For sure. I’ll be at yours at five,” he managed to get out.
“Thank you so much,” you said, then moved back against your seat. “I owe you one.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled. If it had been anyone else, Jungkook would’ve had a stroke by then — after all, he wasn’t always invited to a girl’s place so easily. That’s someone that I have absolutely no chance with, he thought. So friendzoning himself made everything much easier. “Are you sure you don’t want to meet up at the library?”
“I can’t really concentrate there,” you answered. “But if you prefer, we could go.”
“No, no.” He shook his head. “Your place is fine.”
You smiled again, and Jungkook thought that maybe being shot wouldn’t hurt so much. “Thanks. See you at five.”
Jungkook nodded and turned around, facing his laptop. Just as he was about to restart typing his notes, he saw a known reflection at the corner of his computer. Oh, God, have mercy.
Yoongi’s reflection smirked from the back row. “Oh, man, she’s so into you.”
Jungkook shook his head in denial, eyes still glued to the PDF file in front of him. If anything, his classmates would have just guessed he was finding that subject more difficult than usual and, quite frankly, no one could judge him.
“No?” Yoongi raised one eyebrow, reappearing by his side with his hand supporting his cheek. Jungkook didn’t even need to look at him to know that he was just looooving the discomfort that grew inside his limbs. “I know those things, kiddo. It’s my job.”
From the front seat, Taehyung hummed in agreement. He had his arm placed over the chair, and seemed to find that entire situation a bit boring — maybe because he had seen it countless times before. “She definitely wants to get some of that,” he said. “We are proud of you, son.”
With a subdued sigh, Jungkook scribbled some aggressive words at the corner of his notebook, and showed it to the man by his side. “Look at this, Taehyung, he’s trying to convince us that they’re just friends,” Yoongi mocked, crossing his arms. “That’s cute. Just because you’re that oblivious, it doesn’t mean that we are.”
“Jungkook, we’ve been watching the two of you talk the entire semester,” Taehyung added. “Besides, Yoongi made me follow her around once. She’s definitely into you. In unholy ways.”
Yoongi nodded once again. “She wants to be your boo.”
“Was that a fucking ghost pun?” Taehyung’s nose cringed up in disgust, and Jungkook had to fight back the reflex of laughing at his reaction. “Awful.”
“At least I’m not the one who ghostwrote Jungkook’s ethics essay.” Yoongi threw back. “Yeah, and that was another pun. You’ve got no spirit.”
“You know what? Now I know why Jungkook can’t stand us anymore.” Taehyung smirked and, then and there, Jungkook knew exactly what was coming. “He can see right through us.”
The other ghost nodded. “Yeah, we’ve reached a dead end.”
Jungkook groaned in exasperation, hiding his face behind his hands. “This is torture.”
Next to him, you chuckled. “Come on, pathology isn’t even that bad. You’re good at this.”
“I know, I’m just tired.” He turned around to look at you, uttering the same excuse he had been using this entire semester. Not that it was an uncommon one, especially in the fifth circle of hell that was medical school. “I think I need to splash some cold water on my face. Wake myself up.”
You hesitated, staring at him as he stood up. Jungkook looked strangely pale, like he was about to throw up all over the classroom. “Is everything okay?”
Fantastic! My bachelor ghosts are just making me have a nervous breakdown.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” He said, almost stumbling over your chair. Some of your pens fell down, but Jungkook couldn’t even bring himself to get them. He’d probably just knock everything else over in the process, and he wasn’t even sure that he could stand back up after. “Shit— Sorry. I’ll be right back.”
Behind him, Yoongi chuckled. “Spook-tacular skills, as always.”
_____________
The sound of running water was all that entered Jungkook’s mind for a moment, his face feeling the coldness of the liquid as he splashed himself once, twice, trying to clear his thoughts. In the end, it was mostly in vain: his class was ruined, his notes were left unfinished, and he couldn’t get a second of tranquility anymore — not even in Pathology. If he weren’t canonized after his death, he would file a complaint for sure.
Abruptly, he closed off the faucet and the water stopped running. There was a heavenly instant of quietness, in which Jungkook followed the crystalline droplets falling from his hair to the sink, before Yoongi’s voice echoed behind him. “How you doin’, champ?”
Jungkook sighed and raised his head, looking at his ghost counterpart through the dirty mirror. “Is the bathroom empty?” he asked calmly.
“Hm? Yeah,” Yoongi said. “The ghost is clear.”
Just like that, his serenity was gone. “Yoongi, can you fucking stop? Your puns stopped being funny after the third attempt,” Jungkook asked, exasperated. He pulled some paper towels, and got even angrier at the way they fell apart in his hands. Good to know his college money was being used wisely. “Jesus. Where is Taehyung?”
“You know he hates toilet paper,” Yoongi told him. “Reminds him of his death.”
Jungkook considered the compelling idea of banging his head against the bathroom wall until he, himself, was part of the world of the dead. As he recalled very well, Taehyung had been a victim of Final-Destination-levels of misfortune: just because he had forgotten to take toilet paper to his camping trip, the boy had been forced to use nearby leaves. Those, as he would soon come to understand, caused an awful allergy on his lower lands, and the punctual bleeding was a sufficient opening for opportunistic diseases. The culprit? Some super strange bacteria that floated around the river. He was dead less than twenty hours after he came back home from septic shock.
Taehyung had endured, quite frankly, one shitty death. And, yes, Yoongi had made that joke a few too many times before.
“Doesn’t matter,” Jungkook realized. “What did I tell you two about chit-chatting with me in large public places? Especially my classes? I have to pay attention. And I have a test in two days, I need to be all here, and not thinking about other people.”
Yoongi giggled — almost childishly so — at the other’s anguished attitude. His teeth, a pallid shade of white, could barely be seen against the olive-green tiles that covered the bathroom walls. “You weren’t paying attention to the processes of intestinal inflammation, that’s for sure,” he teased, forcing himself to hold back his jokes a bit.
“I wasn’t even studying that chapter,” Jungkook mumbled.
Even Yoongi, who had a dense personality for such a diaphanous soul, could tell that the student was not in the mood for mockery. “Man, why are you so stuck-up? Taehyung and I are ghosts, but you’re the one with the dead sense of humor.”
Jungkook realized he needed a moment to think before he started yelling at nothing in a public bathroom. He really hoped the other stalls were empty, but he couldn’t be bothered to check.
“This isn’t about the puns. You two just don’t respect my privacy,” Jungkook said. This time, he was able to pull some good paper towels and proceeded to dry his face. “This has been going on for too long. Why don’t you two just vanish for some time?”
“Wish I could, kiddo, but I’ve got hours to clock,” Yoongi finally admitted. From the mirror, he could see the frown of confusion that was cast over Jungkook’s features. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m only following rules. Talk to the big guy upstairs if you want to complain.”
He threw the paper on the trash and shook his head in confusion. “I just don’t see the point of any of this.”
“You don’t have to.” Yoongi took a step closer. He often looked so unbothered — the two of them, actually — that Jungkook caught himself wondering which certainties they held, notions that would most likely be given after death. “Just do what we tell you to do.”
“That has only embarrassed me so far,” he said, turning around. “I don’t think I have it in me to trust in you two one more time. It has gotten me nowhere. Or, rather, nowhere good.”
Yoongi sighed. “Alright, let’s do it like this, then: You go and help Y/N with her cardio whatever stuff, and Taehyung and I just watch. We promise to shut up, unless you’re doing something seriously embarrassing. Other than that, absolute silence.”
Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “You promise you two won’t tell me what to say?”
“Promise.” Yoongi nodded. He looked very sincere. “We won’t talk to you.”
“I can live with that, yeah,” Jungkook agreed, leaning against the bathroom sink. “Sounds good.”
“Perfect.” He smiled. “Trust me, Jungkook. I only made one mistake in my life.”
Jungkook smirked. “And it killed you.”
“Not the point.” He raised one finger, clearly annoyed, then pointed it at Jungkook. “You’ll do great. It’s not like you’re gonna tell her about us or something.”
He laughed. “Yeah, that’d be awful.”
________________
But that was, ultimately, what he did.
To be fair, it was never Jungkook’s intention. He was completely sure that it would ruin not only his friendship with you, as it would also ruin his reputation, both as a student and as a future physician. Come on, how would he even explain that? How could he tell anyone that he not only saw two obnoxious ghosts, but that they were there to give him romantic (and sometimes sexual) advice? That’s insanity.
Spoiler: he didn’t explain it very well.
In the cosmic perspective, however, it was kind of Yoongi’s fault too. He had the problem of giving away too much sometimes, especially when he was alone and free from Taehyung’s scrutiny. And it was that extra bit of information that catalyzed the explosion that would become Jungkook’s confession.
For some reason or another, Taehyung hadn’t joined the two of them that day, as Jungkook crossed the campus towards your place. For the first time in a long time, their conversation — which was, again, masked by Jungkook pretending to be on the phone — was actually quite pleasant. Yoongi had told him a bit more about his life back in the day and explained that he was studying to become a lawyer when he died.
“I was thinking of dropping out anyways,” he said. “I just picked a random thing to study because I didn’t know what I wanted to do. And, well, I kind of did drop off. Just not from the course.”
Jungkook could not help but laugh at the absurdness of it all. Sad coincidences aside, it was unusual for Yoongi to make jokes about his death. Taehyung was much more open about it, but Yoongi seemed to be very bitter because of the way and the time he passed. But of course, who was Jungkook to judge?
“You know,” Yoongi started after a moment of quietude. “Taehyung and I were pretty surprised that day at the mall.”
Jungkook frowned. “Hm? Why is that?”
The other man chuckled. “Honestly? Because you’re dumber than we thought.”
Seems like pleasant times didn’t last much between the two of them. “We’ve established that I can’t talk to girls, Yoongi, I know.” Jungkook really wanted to change the subject.
“No, not that,” he denied. “Let’s go back a little. Remember what we told you in your bedroom that night? To get the physiology girl.”
Jungkook nodded. “Yeah, what about it?”
Yoongi laughed, amazed that Jungkook still didn’t get it. “You called the wrong one, idiot,” he explained.
“What?” Jungkook paused in his tracks and, in a mindless reflex, forgot he was supposed to be talking on the phone, and looked directly at Yoongi, lowering the device away from his ear. “There is a right one?”
“Hey, pay attention to your surroundings.” Yoongi pointed at a couple that also stopped, confused at the man’s actions. Jungkook cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure after that minor instant of public humiliation, and placed the phone back against his ear. “Let’s keep walking.”
With his heart beating insanely fast against his chest, Jungkook did as he was told. His mind was flooded with fragmented thoughts, working around words that seemed so simple, yet held so much.
“Yes, there is a right one — and you’re going towards her right now.” Yoongi responded, placing his ghostly hands inside his ghostly pockets. Jungkook never noticed that he still used the clothes that he had on when he died, but Yoongi wouldn’t be the first one to mention. “So don’t make a fool out of yourself. Not this time.”
Jungkook swallowed dry, feeling as panic started to climb up his lower limbs, weighing down on his muscles. His throat was dry as a desert and forming sentences proved to be a far more difficult task than he had anticipated. The air around campus had suddenly become hot for an autumn day, unable to enter his lungs with ease. He really was two steps away from a full-blown anxiety attack.
Yoongi frowned. “You good?”
Jungkook licked his lips, only half aware of his actions. “Y-Yeah,” he struggled to get out. “Just kind of a bomb that you just dropped on me, that’s all.”
Yoongi nodded, uninterested. “Yeah. Get over it. It’s not a huge deal.”
Only, it was. For Jungkook, at least. What if you two were… you know? Meant to be? Like the soulmates kind of thing; star-crossed lovers. Like in the “we got married after two months of dating and we are still together after sixty years” kind of insane love? That was a lot to process, a lot to think about, especially when he was having like three different crises at once. It was a recipe for a disaster.
Jungkook really was dumb when it came to anything besides his textbooks, but not for jumping into those conclusions. Frankly, most people would’ve been a bit overwhelmed by that.
No, his problem would reside on his next thought: If you two were meant to be, you would understand if, for some reason, he had to tell you about his ghosts, right?
Right?
_______________
To be fair with Yoongi, he did keep his promise. The two didn’t interrupt your conversation once, even if sometimes the moment begged for it, and Jungkook was two words away from ruining everything. Strangely enough, things seemed to work themselves out — the horrible jokes that Jungkook uttered seemed to suit your sense of humor; the shy and nervous demeanor that plagued his dates slowly melted away. It was good — in fact, it was the best talk he’s had with someone in a long, long time.
The issue was that, as much as the two of them didn’t talk directly to Jungkook, they still talked.
“What was that thing that she said, you know, to her friends?” Yoongi mumbled, his words coming out as a vague connection of syllables being formed at the corner of his mouth. He had his arms crossed, and his legs pushed up on the couch. “You told me that.”
“Yeah,” Taehyung took a moment to think. He had one of his hands buried deep inside the pockets of his white pants, and the other on the back of the couch. The two of them watched the conversation that unfolded above your living room table, the two of you trying to make sense of a subject that seemed to change every five minutes. “It was like ‘homeboy can like, get it’... or something.”
Yoongi nodded, satisfied. “Nice.”
Jungkook cleared his throat, trying to ignore that comment. It wasn’t news that you were interested in him — that had been the only thing Yoongi and Taehyung had told him for the past few hours, but it was very, very awkward to know those specific details. He was sure he wouldn’t like you to know the private conversations that he had with his friends, even less about the things he thought about when he was alone. There was something extremely violating about that, but, no matter how hard he tried to convince them, the two ghosts didn’t seem to care enough to stop.
The giggle that came from across the table ruptured his thoughts. “Why are you blushing?” You asked.
“I’m… uh…” he struggled, suddenly feeling the heat that emanated from his cheeks. Wonderful. Even when he was just thinking about something, he still managed to make a fool of himself. “Just… thinking about some embarrassing things I did in third grade. The usual.”
“Yeah, I’ve been there.” You smiled, reaching for the textbook across the table, and flipping through the pages. “I ruined this entire science project once. It was something about the pollination of flowers, but I missed that class. Ended up coming back to a lot of roses around the classroom, and decided to take a few of them home to my mom.”
“Oh no.”
“Yep,” you nodded, looking back at him. Jungkook thought that he had lost himself in your eyes for a moment, a depth so engulfing that he couldn’t find the right words once he stared at it. He had never noticed how beautiful you were — or, rather, he had, but he had never stopped to think about it — and, now, it seemed as if that was the only thing that he could focus on. “Everyone in class was super pissed, the teacher even tried to suspend me.”
He shook his head, trying to imagine a mini-you justifying your flower thievery in front of the principal. “That’s insane, actually.”
“Kind of.” You shrugged, looking back at the book. You weren’t sure what you were searching for anymore, so you decided to close it. You two had been studying for almost four hours straight, you didn’t think that your brain could handle any more of that. “They didn’t really believe me when I told them it was a mistake. Guess no one even noticed my absence the day before, which is… somehow… even worse, now that I think about it.”
A giggle reverberated in your throat as you dove into those forgotten memories, and Jungkook followed you.
“Don’t laugh at child me, that’s so cruel.” You smiled.
“I’m not.” He shook his head. “I just thought you were cute. Still are, you never really stopped being cute, I mean. You’re actually really pretty now, like a woman—”
“I got it.” You placed your hands over his, and the shock of your skin against his seemed to spread throughout his entire body. He didn’t know if that was a soulmate thing of if he was just really horny. Probably a bit of both. “Don’t worry about it. You’re pretty cute too. Like a man.”
“Thanks.” Jungkook itched the back of his neck, trying to find the right words to build his sentence. Panic began bubbling at the bottom of his stomach, sinking its teeth into his flesh as his words left his throat. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”
It was the right time now: the studying was over, the conversation was flowing, you had told him that you thought he was cute — like a man. Now, he just needed to ask you out. Just that. That’s it. Three words. He had practiced: Wanna go out? That’s it. So casual. So playboy-esque. He could do it. No pressure. If you were the one, he didn’t have much to get wrong.
But, oh my god, what if he got everything wrong? I mean, how many stories are out there of couples who were destined for each other, but something happened and it pulled them apart forever? The wrong time, the wrong place — the wrong words. Jungkook wasn’t psychologically prepared to ruin something so huge with a moment so small. He needed to calm down and focus. Just get the words out. Everything would sort itself out after that. He had faith.
“What is it?” You asked.
Jungkook cleared his throat, his eyes still glued to the touch of your hand against his. Outside, birds were chirping, unaware of the absolute shitstorm that was about to ensue. “So…” he started, “I was thinking that maybe I could— I mean, you — I mean we could...”
You tilted your head to the side, confused. “Sorry, what was that?”
He blinked once, twice, fighting against the wave of sheer terror that had taken over his brain, whitening out his thoughts. He had the sentence ready, but he had forgotten how to form it. “I’m just trying… I’m just trying here to just…” He swallowed dryly. “I was just wondering if you would like to… I mean, if it’s not a problem—”
From the other side of the room, Yoongi groaned. “Just do it! You’re making eternity so much longer.”
And that’s when it happened.
Jungkook turned around and yelled: “You told me you wouldn’t talk, you asshole!”
The entire room froze. A horrible moment of bewildered reticence followed as the realization crashed upon him like a gigantic wave. He couldn’t have just yelled at nothing in front of you, like an absolute madman, could he?
Your eyes widened and you pulled your hand away from his. The lack of warmth was like a dagger being thrown directly into his heart. “Excuse me?”
Yep. He totally did that.
“Not you!” He was quick to turn around — maybe a bit too quick, too intensely. Even with nervousness clouding his vision, Jungkook could still see the shadow of fear and confusion mingling amongst your features. He had ruined everything, and that was all that he could think about. “I’m just... personalizing my anxiety...”
“Are you... alright?” You spoke slowly, measuring his actions. Jungkook had changed from cute-nervous to absolutely-unhinged-nervous; eyes widened and jaw clenched; hands gripping the wooden chair like his life depended on it. Maybe that study session was a mistake. Maybe you should’ve just googled an online class, like your best friend told you to. “It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Taehyung chuckled. “That’s pretty funny.”
And, if the situation wasn’t already bad enough, Jungkook started to convince himself that perhaps it would be a good idea to come clean with you about his psychic abilities — maybe that was actually the only way that he could get out of that mess. If you were his soulmate, you’d understand. It’d all be okay. Yeah, maybe you’d be seriously creeped out for like the first twenty minutes, just like he had been, but eventually you’d understand what had happened. You two would laugh about it later, maybe when you were sixty, on your rocking chairs somewhere, staring lovingly at a cornfield.
Was he losing it? Probably. But he didn’t have the right amount of mental clarity to fully think about the consequences of his actions in that moment.
“I… did,” Jungkook spoke sluggishly, barely comprehending the trail of words that dripped from his tongue. His voice was much calmer, but he could still feel like his entire body was engulfed by flames. “I did... see a ghost. Two actually.”
You frowned. This afternoon couldn’t possibly get any worse. “What are you talking about?”
“Jungkook, don’t you dare,” Yoongi warned, but his voice seemed to come from miles away.
Slowly, as if he wasn’t really aware of his own body moving, Jungkook adjusted his position on the chair, looking down at the sea of handwritten notes in front of him. He wished that human interaction was as easy as the types of pulmonary volumes, or perhaps the changes of oxygen inside the hemoglobin. That he knew. That he could deal with.
“Ok so, have you ever watched The Emperor’s New Groove?”
You blinked twice, puzzled. “What?”
“The Disney movie,” he clarified, looking up at you.
You shook your head, measuring how long it would take for you to bolt out of the door and run away from your own apartment. Maybe you could get out and then call someone for help. You wished you had already taken Psychiatry. “I know what that is, Jungkook, but I just don’t understand where you’re getting at.”
“Maybe it’s in the TV series that came after the movie, I don’t know, but Kronk has these two little beings on his shoulders, a devil and an angel.” He cleared his throat, and looked back at the sheets of paper. It was so hard to stare at you now, when just seconds before, it had been so easy. “I kinda have the same thing, only, they’re dead people. You know, ghosts. And they’re not on my shoulders — that’d be pretty awful, actually.”
Taehyung mumbled from across the room, “I really don’t think this is a good idea, Jungkook.”
“You’re making no sense right now,” you said, worried about the effect that your words could have on him. “I think… I think it would be better if you left.”
“I can see dead people, okay?” Jungkook interrupted, exasperated. You had to understand. You were the right girl from physiology class, you had to understand.
“Okay, Sixth Sense.” You laughed nervously. Bad time for a joke, you thought, but the boy barely seemed to process it. “Listen, I can tell you’re not doing very well right now, so you should probably leave, maybe clear your head a bit. You already helped me a lot—”
“No, I don’t need that. My head is clear—”
“You know, there is a very good mental health clinic in campus, I’ve gone there already, and I think—”
“No! I don’t need mental health, it’s true!” Jungkook stood up, walking towards the couch, where the two dead men sat. There was an unspoken contest in the room to see who could be more flabbergasted at the boy’s actions, and you and Yoongi were in a close tie. “I can prove it.”
You almost choked on air. “You what?”
Jungkook pointed at nothing. “They’re here right now, I can prove it to you.”
Discombobulated, you shook your head one more time. Maybe if you did that enough, your chaotic thoughts would just fall out of your ears, and everything would be much clearer. Maybe that was a prank, maybe that was a full-blown psychotic breakdown. You just didn’t really know what to do from there. “Jungkook, I don’t think—”
“Come on, just show yourself to her!” He yelled into the air, more specifically at your white couch. You just wanted to study cardiology, how did it end up like this? “Give me a sign, I don’t know.”
Yoongi chuckled, completely amazed by the way Jungkook continuously broke the Dumb Records that he had previously set himself. No bonus in heaven would be worth dealing with Mr. Smooth Brain over there. He should’ve gone for the orphans instead. “I cannot believe you right now.” He stood up from the couch and sighed, utterly defeated. Maybe he could just get it over with, and then The Big Man Upstairs would show him a bit of mercy. “But I guess now there isn’t much to lose. I’m only doing this because at least it would make this situation a bit better.”
“How?” Taehyung asked.
“There’s a slight improvement between psychotic crisis and psychic abilities,” Yoongi responded. He walked towards the window, rolled his eyes at the pathetic presentation of supernatural phenomena, and pulled on the white curtains of your living room. “Here. Boo! Paranormal activity.”
“Did you see that?” Jungkook asked, excited.
However, instead of meeting a surprised gaze, he only saw panic and preoccupation swimming inside your eyes. “The curtain moving? Yeah. That was the wind, Jungkook.” You stood up from the chair, measuring your chances at escaping. He was getting more and more erratic, and you didn’t know where the situation could escalate to next. “You’re seriously freaking me out right now. You’re being really aggressive about this.”
“Yoongi, you’re worse than the spirits in Ghost Hunters,” Taehyung groaned, reappearing next to your living room table. “You have to be bold, that’s what I always say. Make a statement.”
Taehyung’s statement, of course, had been the biggest slap against a lamp that Jungkook had ever witnessed in his life. The ghosts had once told him that it took them a huge amount of concentrated energy to do something as little as move a napkin, so there was no way that Taehyung wouldn’t be exhausted after making that heavy piece of furniture fly against the wall, shattering into a million little pieces with a loud noise.
“What the fuck?” Jungkook asked. “That was so dangerous! She could’ve gotten hurt.”
He shrugged. “You asked.”
“What the fuck was that?” You yelled, taking your hands to your face. Was that shared hysteria? What did you just see? Maybe you were the one who needed fresh air and a shrink visit. “You’re pranking me, right? You have like a nylon string wrapped around your hands or something.”
Jungkook moved his head in denial, raising his hands up in a sigh of defeat. “I swear to God, it’s true.”
“I don’t… I don’t believe you,” you said, clearly terrified. Not at the idea of ghosts, Jungkook realized, but of him. That date surely couldn’t have gone any better.
Yoongi sighed and materialized behind Jungkook. Lost causes, Yoongi was surrounded by lost causes. “If you really want her to believe you, tell her we can say some stuff about her, but it’ll probably freak her out.”
“They are saying that they can convince you by saying some stuff about you.” Jungkook swallowed dry. Something inside him was screaming for him to just shut the fuck up and leave your building. If there was something he learned by being with the two undead pricks, is that they could always make a situation worse.
But desperate times require desperate measures.
You adjusted your posture. Trepidation was still very present in your face, but there was also a small spark of interest swimming somewhere inside your eyes. “I seriously doubt that.”
“I can show you,” he said. “Just… don’t freak out.”
“Fine.” You licked your lips in anticipation. “The name of my first pet.”
“Is this a password verification?” Yoongi groaned. He just wanted to watch Twitches later that day, but Jungkook just had to start a seance in someone else’s room. Again: the orphans would never. “Fine. It was Mr. Green, a tortoise she killed by leaving to dry in the asphalt.”
“It was a tortoise, Mr. Green. You left it on the asphalt and it died,” Jugkook repeated without hesitation.
You blinked twice, taking in the answer. “This is so fucking weird. How did you know that?”
“Yoongi told me.” Jungkook pointed over his shoulder, where Yoongi stared you down. Just by looking in that direction, you felt a shiver run down your spine. You were losing it. “He’s, you know, one of the ghosts.”
“I’ve never been so exhausted in my life.” You placed one hand against the chair, leaning against it. There was no use to keep that conversation going, and you both knew it — and yet, just like a politician lying, it just didn’t stop. “But you could’ve asked anyone that.”
It was Jungkook’s turn to become completely lost. “Why would I ask such a specific question? I don’t even know your friends.”
Behind him, he heard another loud groan. “I’m so done with this.” Yoongi placed his hand on his shoulder. “Let me talk, Jungkook.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” He asked.
Yoongi snorted. “We are all out of good ideas. But I think this is the best chance you’ve got.”
“Who are you talking to?” You almost yelled.
Jungkook looked back at you and, for some reason, the preoccupation in his eyes scared you even further. “Okay, this is going to be really weird, alright? But it’s not gonna be me talking.”
“What?”
“It’s like… a kind of possession,” he explained, gesticulating a bit more than socially acceptable. “It’s like… uh… One of them is going to use my mouth for a bit. Talk through me.”
You laughed, and there was a high-pitched sort of timbre to it. That might as well happen. “Sure, of course. What else? Exorcism live?” You asked.
“Just give me the permission,” Yoongi commanded.
Jungkook took in a deep breath, and clenched his hands into fists. He hated that part. “Fine,” he consented.
Gradually, the muscles around his mouth and throat grew numb, as if Jungkook had entered a dream, and his body was responding in autopilot. There was an awful pressure on his shoulders and a ringing in his ears as Yoongi accommodated himself around his body, reaching for control. That was the closest he would ever feel to being a ventriloquist’s puppet, and it was as bad as it could be.
Yoongi spoke through him with ease: “You told your friends last week that you didn’t care if Jungkook was a shy virgin who played minecraft because he was exactly your type. You also said that your average score in physiology is ninety-seven percent and you didn’t need any help. You just needed an excuse to stay with him. Happy?”
Jungkook inhaled sharply as the pressure on his body subsided, the numb sensation around his neck growing thinner by the second. “So violating,” he complained.
“How did you know that?” Your voice shook him back to reality. Both of you were reaching new levels of terror every minute. “Are you stalking me?”
That back and forth was starting to get exhausting. “That wasn’t me. That was Yoongi,” he tried once again. He was starting to think that the whole thing had been a bad idea.
“Well, fuck you, Yoongi,” you spat.
Yoongi scoffed. “Fuck you too, princess. Maybe you really don’t deserve this man.”
“I’m not saying that,” Jungkook whispered to him, then turned back to look at you. He wanted to hug you and magically erase your memories for that afternoon, but, in reality, he couldn’t even move his legs without feeling like he could fall face-down on the floor. He really, really, really hated possession. “I’m just… I’m sorry about that.”
“About what, Danny Phantom?” You asked, throwing your hands up in an exasperated gesture. And there it was: from panic to complete fury. That was all that you two needed at that moment. “About making me scared shitless, or about exposing me like this?”
He suspired. “Do you at least believe in me now?”
“Does it look like I believe in you, Jungkook?” You practically screamed. Truth was: neither of you knew that for sure. “I’m a woman of science, you can’t expect me to believe that—”
Taehyung groaned, walking closer to Jungkook. It must’ve been a world record how quickly everyone in that room got angry. “Let me talk,” he requested.
Jungkook sighed, defeated. How much worse could it possibly get? “Go ahead,” he said.
There it was again: the feeling of being under anesthesia, the weight of an entire other being pressed down against his shoulders. Good times. “Yesterday,” he started, “you masturbated to the thought of Jungkook, but you forgot to recharge your vibrator so you had to use your fingers and you complained the entire time. Explain that, science woman.”
Another deep gasp, and Jungkook was folding over, finding balance on his knees. He really felt like he couldn’t even think straight anymore, his mind covered by a thick fog.
You didn’t seem to be in a much different situation either. “I’m… gonna pass out.”
“That was so unnecessary, Taehyung,” Jungkook whispered. His mouth was terribly dry, and his hands were shaking. “You guys really don’t know your limits.”
“Taehyung? Who the fuck is that?” You screamed.
Taehyung crossed his arms. “Hey, at least she believes you now.”
“He’s the other ghost. The one with no sense of boundaries.” Jungkook stared at Taehyung, clearly pissed off. Maybe his voice would’ve come out a bit more forceful if he didn’t get thrown around by sadistic spirits. “I’m sorry about that.”
You shook your head, dumbfounded. “I need you to leave now. And take your ghosts with you.” You leaned over the table, and grabbed his notes, shoving them into a messy pile. Not that you were super worried about the integrity of the paper at a time like that. “This has really crossed like... every line.”
Jungkook licked his lips, trying to find the right words to say. Someway, he managed to get his legs firm enough so he could start walking in your direction. “Please, I didn’t mean to—”
You shoved the pile of notes into his backpack, and then the backpack into his hands. Before he could react, you grabbed him by the arm, guiding him towards the exit. “Thanks for helping me, Jungkook.” The door opened with a forceful pull, and you shoved him into the hall. “Never speak to me again. Bye.”
The bang of the door slamming shut was horribly loud, reverberating inside Jungkook’s chest for a moment longer. Now that the possession daze was starting to move away from his body, the boy could feel the traces of panic crawling inside him.
Jungkook dropped his backpack to the ground, and started knocking on your door. “Y/N, please!” He called. “I’m so sorry about everything. You have to believe me!”
Your yell came muffled from the other side of the door. “Go away!” you screamed. “Or I’m calling the cops!”
Defeated, he closed his eyes and placed his forehead against the wood. Now that the situation had already climaxed, the absurdity of it all was starting to become much more palpable.
How could Jungkook be so stupid? How could he think that you would act normally as you were exposed to the supernatural world? Especially in such distressing, violating ways. Even if you were his meant-to-be, his forever person, it would be ridiculous to believe that anyone would take all in that with ease. He really outdid himself that time.
“Let her be, you two can talk another time,” Yoongi spoke, leaning against the wall. It was possible to see all the places that the pain was starting to crack through his semi-translucent form. “Good attempt, though. I’d give you a star for trying.”
“This is not funny,” Jungkook mumbled, moving away from the door so you couldn’t hear him. The artificial lights above his head were sharp, buzzing mockingly. “You two keep saying that you’re here to help me, but you keep making stuff like this happen. If she really did like me, you just ruined everything.”
Yoongi raised one eyebrow. “Why do you care so much about that one?”
Jungkook glanced at him. “You told me she’s the one.”
He frowned, crossing his arms. “I told you she was the right girl from physiology class, not that you two were going to die holding hands or something,” Yoongi told him. “You filled the blanks yourself.”
“That’s why we don’t give away all those details,” Taehyung scolded Yoongi, looking at him up and down. Jungkook had never seen him so irritated before — at least not about serious things. “You know we could get in real big trouble if someone heard about that. Which, correct me if I’m wrong, it’s kind of the entire deal of heaven to know about stuff.”
“I know, I know,” Yoongi groaned, disregarding his preoccupations. Maybe Taehyung didn’t understand his galaxy-brain plan yet, but he was sure that the heavens would. Or at least he hoped so. “But I think there’s something else that we need to focus on. Jungkook wouldn’t care this much about the other girls he dated, even if it was meant to be.”
“Why are you two talking like I’m not here?” Jungkook asked, annoyed.
“Why are you talking to yourself like you’re not in a corridor of an apartment building?” Yoongi threw back. Without a second of hesitation, Jungkook picked up his backpack and turned on his heels, walking down the hall, completely done with them. “Hey, come back. Just tell me what’s the fuzz with this one.”
He didn’t look back. “Aren’t you two supposed to know? All-knowing and shit.”
“We want to hear it from you,” Yoongi pressed on.
Jungkook opened the heavy door to the stairwell, allowing for it to hit behind him. Taehyung and Yoongi passed right through it, of course, and kept following him as he quickly moved down the concrete steps. “Y/N is my friend.”
Yoongi hummed. “Go on.”
“Isn’t that enough for a justification? What else do you want from me?” He inquired, aggressive. The sound of his steps echoed like drums through the expansion of the staircase, and he hoped that no one else had been listening to his apparent monologue. “I don’t wanna ruin this friendship by talking about her masturbation techniques, I don’t know if that makes the situation super unique.”
Taehyung clicked his tongue. “You have other friends.”
“I care for her, alright?” Jungkook turned around abruptly, making the two ghosts stop in their tracks. Taehyung had almost lost his balance, but it wasn’t as if that could have any serious consequences for him.
Jungkook sighed, trying to control the anger that had built up so rapidly, and continued speaking. “I care for her more than other friends. Fuck, is that what you two wanted to hear? Besides, it’s not like I know anyone better than her. I didn’t even think I had a chance with someone like that until you told me. She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s like… super hot when she’s mad—”
“Oh, would you look at that.” Yoongi grinned, satisfied. “Jungkook’s whipped.”
“What?” His eyes widened. “I’m not.”
“Why are you so red?” Taehyung asked.
Jungkook covered his face, feeling the heat of his checks emanating against his palms. “I’m not!”
“Okay, okay, calm down, tiger,” Yoongi raised his hands in a silent request for forgiveness. They were still a few steps above Jungkook, and the whole scene looked like something straight out of the Book of Revelation. “This is a good thing, we actually thought it would never happen. It’s not like you’ve been this introspective in what… five years? More even.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Yoongi sighed, and looked at Taehyung for confirmation. The other ghost nodded in a silent agreement, and Yoongi started to speak. “Listen, we’re here to help you, but we didn’t say everything,” he admitted. “We couldn’t, really, otherwise it wouldn’t be so... organic.”
“What?”
“Jungkook, you were desperate to lose your virginity,” Yoongi explained. “You still are, in a way. And that’s not a good thing, because you’ll get the first thing that moves and you’ll try to stick your dick in it.”
Taehyung chuckled drily, looking at a fixed point. “Which is not a good idea, believe me,” he spoke in a mumble, and Jungkook could not help but think that his advice came from personal experience. That, of course, was a story for other, less sober times.
“Is that why the two of you always interrupt me?” He asked, a bit offended. “Because those girls weren’t right for me? Like this is a purity cult or something?”
“Eh.” Yoongi did a so-so gesture with his hand. “Kind of. Not really. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that you actually feel something for this girl, something beyond the thoughts that come from your lower head.”
“And she feels something for you too, even after that trainwreck that we just witnessed in there,” Taehyung added patiently. “Which will help us a lot in the long run.”
“This doesn’t make any sense.” Jungkook crossed his arms, stubborn. He really could look and sound like a child throwing a tantrum when he wanted to. “I still don’t get it. It wasn’t your place to tell me who I could or couldn’t be with, it’s not as if you guys are—”
“Jungkook, that’s enough,” Taehyung interrupted him. “You don’t think it makes sense? Stop and think for once in your life.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What did you say?”
Taehyung glanced at him. “Listen, we just saved you from months of wrong dates and wrong nights. We pushed away people who didn’t really care about you, who just wanted you to use you, or who would end up cheating on you anyways. Not everyone gets this privilege,” he said, completely done with that victim mentality. “So, for once in your life, be grateful. Be grateful for the bad dates, the embarrassment, the times that it didn’t work out. And, look, we are sorry for the way they had to go down, it wasn’t as funny as it seemed from our perspective. But if you didn’t have those bad dates, you’d have very, very bad months following them. So you’re welcome.”
“And all those bad dates lead you to the right person,” Yoongi completed, watching as Jungkook’s expression withered into shame. He was staring to get it — they could almost see the hamster in his brain start running. “Now, listen, we don’t know if this is the for-life situation, that’s not the kind of information we have, alright? Do I look like a seraphin to you? No. But does it matter? No. Most relationships aren’t the for-life thing anyways, but they are here to teach you something. And if the afterlife thought that there was something good for you here, who are we to judge?”
“Yeah,” Taehyung agreed. “Now, can you please forget about all those past people and just focus on her? Maybe shut the fuck up while you do that? I get that you wanted to get your dick wet, but there’s a time and a place for that.”
The boy sighed, and leaned against the red handrails. It took Jungkook a few seconds to speak out. “I feel like I’ve just been lectured by my parents,” he admitted.
Taehyung relaxed his shoulders. “Good,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to slap some sense into you for months now, but I didn’t really have the permission.”
“Feel better?” Jungkook asked.
He nodded. “Much better.”
“I’m happy for you,” he said. Jungkook ran one hand through his dark hair, pushing back the strands that had fallen over his eyes. “And about Y/N… There’s no way she’ll ever talk to me after this mess. I ruined everything.”
Taehyung nodded. “You pretty much did, yeah.”
“You took the worst case scenario and managed to make it even more horrible,” Yoongi said. “It’s pretty impressive, actually.”
“Thanks, that’s great.” Jungkook chuckled, humorless. He could always count on them for emotional support. “But, I mean… What do I do now? I mean, is there anything that we could do to save this?”
“Worry not, my child,” Yoongi smirked, crossing his arms. “Taehyung and I are masters of seduction, and we’re here to help you. Just trust us.”
“And before you say something,” Taehyung interrupted, raising one finger. “You never had the right girl before, so we weren’t really trying. I think we can find some real solid ground here.”
Jungkook breathed out, and looked down at the grey stairs. Yeah, it’s not like he wasn’t at the bottom of the well already. “Fine. One last chance,” he agreed, looking back at the ghosts. “Just tell me what I have to do.”
______________
Much to Jungkook’s delight, he didn’t need to muster up the courage to talk to you, because you did that first.
For the first time in their lives (and deaths), Yoongi and Taehyung actually did something right. Jungkook didn’t really know the details of their plan, all that he knew was that they would find a way to “make you see what you were missing” so that you would “come crawling back to him”. Which didn’t sound threatening at all.
Countless possibilities crossed Jungkook’s head — horror movie hauntings, Taehyung invading your dreams with claws for fingers, Yoongi with a wet wig crawling out of your TV — but, in the end, no matter how much he insisted, the two of them just wouldn’t say a word. Apparently, there was a lot going on backstage that Jungkook had no idea about, so he should just “take it easy” and wait for the sequence of events to unravel. Amazing. Now he knew how the characters in Final Destination felt.
“Just be patient, young one,” Taehyung had told him, thrown over his couch like a Victorian monarch. “All you need to know is that she will be back. Everything else it’s just… details.”
And, two weeks after the dormitory incident, you did.
There was a muffled thud as you placed your large books over the wooden table, and sat down across from him. The silence of the library didn’t allow for Jungkook to foresee your arrival, and to meet your gaze so suddenly was enough for his face to burn up in shame, his heart drumming against his ribcage. His sympathetic system really needed to quit with that bullshit before he collapsed.
“Hey,” you mumbled, seeming just as uncomfortable as he was. “Can we talk? You know what about.”
The boy swallowed dry, and leaned a bit forward. “Y-Yeah, sure,” he whispered back. “I’m really sorry, Y/N, I don’t know why I thought—”
“For how long?” you sliced his sentence short, making his lips fall shut.
Jungkook raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What?”
You cleared your throat, and shuffled on your seat. As much as the library was practically empty, neither of you felt courageous enough to use your usual voice tone — especially when dealing with that subject. “How long have you been able to, you know, see them?”
Jungkook took a second to respond, licking his dry lips and looking at the line of bookshelves as if seeking for the right thing to say. He felt awkward enough just interacting with someone from the opposite sex, but talking about the ghosts he saw? Hell, that bordered on a panic attack. Especially after the circus show that was that past study session. “Almost two years now, I think,” he finally answered. “But they told me they’ve been around for a bit longer. I just couldn’t see it.”
You shook your head in concordance, even if the information was everything but easy to understand. “That’s crazy,” you spoke. “I don’t know how you deal with it.”
Jungkook let out a dry chuckle. “Not very well, as you can probably tell.”
“I don’t think I can judge you. I didn’t precisely react well either.” You swallowed dry, wide eyes flickering on the world behind Jungkook. “Are we alone now?”
As much as he already knew the answer, he looked around just to check. “Surprisingly, yeah,” Jungkook responded, slightly suspicious. Yoongi and Taehyung were always looking over his shoulder and throwing him into messy situations, he couldn’t tell why they weren’t there when, quite frankly, it was their perfect shot at humiliation. Maybe they really were doing their jobs for once. “I don’t know why they’re not here. That’s weird.”
You shrugged as if to say that you wouldn’t know either. “What are their names again?”
“Yoongi and Taehyung,” he answered, then waited another second to see if he could feel their presence. Nothing again. That was really strange — they often responded upon being called. “Listen, Y/N, I hate what we went through. They had no right to say those things. I’m used to the privacy issues, since I have been with them for a while. But you aren’t, and I can only imagine how weird you felt hearing all that. I’m really, really sorry.”
You pressed your lips together which, Jungkook guessed, was a failed attempt to suppress the rubor that exploded across your cheeks. He couldn’t blame you, though, for there were limits that were crossed. “I’m over it if you are,” was what you forced yourself to say.
“I am,” he lied. None of you were particularly good at not telling the truth, and that was pretty obvious. But ignoring it was a start.
“Good, okay.” You cleared your throat, placing the palms of your hands against the pile of books. “Sorry for lying about needing help in physiology, and all that. I just needed an excuse to spend more time with you, as you know now. I guess it’s obvious that I kinda have a huge crush on you.”
“It’s fine.” Jungkook laughed, extremely relieved to notice that your last sentence was in present tense. “I kinda have a huge crush on you too.”
Honestly, even if it wasn’t for life, he’d have to give you props for still liking a guy that had had a borderline psychotic breakdown in your apartment, talked about your pet tortoise, and your masturbation technique, and still had the nerve to expose you to the supernatural world. It was a lot. Good on you for taking it like a champ.
“And,” he continued, “sorry for using my ghosts to expose your secrets. I just needed to find a way for you to believe me, and I had no idea about what they were going to say. I was pretty much in a frenzied state, I wasn’t thinking straight. It won’t happen again.”
“Apologies accepted.” You smiled, relieved. You were really beautiful, Jungkook thought in a breathless instant. He could look at you all day. “You know, it’s going to take me some time to get used to all that. I mean, I’m still not a hundred percent sure I believe in everything, but, I… My lamp flew across the room, and you told me things that you simply couldn’t know about. So, if it’s a prank, it’s a really good one.”
“I know how it is.” He nodded in agreement. “It was really difficult for me at first, too. I understand if you’d rather just stay away from me from now on.”
You sighed, looking down at your books — the two mammoth-sized volumes of Harrison’s Internal Medicine staring at you in mockery. “Weird thing is: I don’t really want to.” You crossed your arms and leaned back against the chair. Was that the sound of angels singing? Jungkook couldn’t tell. “I’d love to spend more time with you. Alone, if possible. And that counts both planes of existence.”
“Sounds fair, I’d love that.” Jungkook smiled. As he met your eyes, he was filled with a warm, rose-colored courage that he had never felt before. “Actually, I was wondering if, you know… you wanna do something? With me? Alone, of course. No ghosts. One of these days, I don’t know. If you’re not busy—”
You raised your eyebrows, interested. “You’re asking me out?”
He sighed, shoulders falling in defeat. “Trying, yeah. You can see I’m not the best at that either.”
Your smile grew a little. “That’s a big yes.”
“Really?” Jungkook stared at you like a lost puppy, his mind going completely blank for a second or two. The hamster in his brain was now somersaulting through his body, landing on his stomach and hitting him with a wave of nausea. “Wow, thanks. I don’t really have an idea of what we could do, though. Didn’t think I’d get that far.”
There was an instant of quietude as you thought for a moment, the space between the two of you permeated by the vague sounds of pages turning. “Movies?” You asked.
“Sounds great.” Jungkook smiled openly, his shoulders falling in alleviation. He didn’t know what Taehyung and Yoongi had done, but he was beyond thankful for it. Seemed like their sacrifices weren’t in vain, after all. “The film majors are doing this 2000’s marathon this week. I think this Saturday it’ll be either Mean Girls or 17 Again.”
“I’m in,” you spoke excitedly. “I’ll be there, just text me the details.”
Jungkook almost swallowed his own tongue as he watched you stand up, presenting him with a gorgeous view of thighs beneath the level of your skirt. “Great!” He exclaimed a bit too loud, his voice a bit too high-pitched, awakening his inner thirteen-year-old. He cleared his throat, lowering his voice another octave. “I mean, yeah, great. Thank you for… saying yes.”
“Thank you for asking.” You placed your hair behind your shoulder, and leaned in to pick up the heavy pile of books. All nine kilos of Internal Medicine.
“See you there,” he said.
You smiled. “See you, Kookie.”
Jungkook watched you walk away as if he was floating in a fever dream, completely unable to believe what had just unfolded. Did he seriously manage to get a date with you? Of all people? He must’ve been hallucinating. Maybe he ended up falling down the stairwell and died, perhaps that was his heaven, and he would—
Behind him, Taehyung sneered. “Kookie? You’re getting softer than your dick.”
Jungkook turned around so brusquely that the chair tilted back and, if it wasn’t for him holding down to the corner of the table, he would’ve fallen to the ground. “You two were there all along?” He whispered-screamed. Before he could land a sermon on them, though, he met the devilish smirk that was plastered all over Yoongi’s features. Oh no. No. The movies. “No, Yoongi, I know what you’re thinki—”
“Get in, loser, we’re going to the movies.”
_________________
Saturday rolled around and, with it, came your much anticipated movie date. Jungkook had spent the previous night tossing and turning on his bed, completely monopolized by anxiety, thinking about every possible apocalyptic scenario that could go down. What if he tried to take a slip of his drink, but ended up blinding himself with the straw? Maybe he would step on the wrong chord and set the entire college on fire. Or maybe he would trip, fall down on a poor girl, and kill her on the spot. That would be awful, you would never talk to him again after any of that — the imaginary disappointment in your face was like a punch in the gut.
Was he being ridiculous? Obviously. Did that stop his pre-date panic? Obviously not.
Still, with the might of a thousand warriors, Jungkook managed to drag himself to your date, his knees almost giving out beneath him when he saw you — he didn’t believe you would actually come, for some of him still thought it was all a sadistic heaven prank. Somehow, he blurted out a compliment about how good you looked while he was having a heart attack, and almost lost his consciousness when you smiled at him.
Yep, it would be a difficult night.
The movie marathon consisted of three 2000’s movies, and the two of you managed to arrive right before Mean Girls started, fumbling on your seats as the rest of the room grew quiet. The makeshift classroom didn’t look like a movie theater in the slightest, but it wasn’t as if you were expecting that in the first place — it was nothing more than an agglomeration of chairs and desks, combined with a few puff chairs and old couches scattered around. Much to your delight, you and Jungkook managed to grab one of those couches before another couple returned to their seats, and he could see that his ghost buddies had already found their own place on the empty chairs behind the two of you.
Surprise! None of the catastrophic scenarios in his mind actually came true. In fact, he had a great time with you, laughing at your jokes and sometimes flat-out stealing Yoongi’s commentary just to make you chuckle, which granted him a few mumbled complaints coming from the back row.
“Jungkook is so superior, don’t you think, Taehyung?” Yoongi mocked, and Jungkook was sure that he would be kicking his seat if he could. “So smart. So great. But can’t even figure out his own jokes. Has to steal them from a poor dead man. You’re a grave robber.”
Taehyung chuckled. “Hey, you’re helping him, at least. That’s our whole point here.”
“Grave robber!” he repeated, more aggressively this time. “I can’t believe you’d ruin Mean Girls for me like this. Not even hell would be so cruel.”
“How dare you say that about hell? If I get in trouble because you can’t keep your mouth shut, Yoongi, I swear to God—”
“Now you’re saying God’s name in vain, you heretic! That’s so much worse!”
Jungkook had to bite back a laugh as the two continued bickering behind him, only half aware of the scene in which Regina George glued her own picture on the burn book. He didn’t know when exactly he had done it — he had been so on edge the entire night that it was almost as if his own brain was instantly deleting his memories, but he had managed to curl one arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. He was sure that you could hear the frantic heartbeat of his heart against his chest, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t think he could even get that far.
But he did, and even reached beyond that.
Once the screen faded to black and the credits started appearing, there was a resounding wave of claps in the room, cheering for the absolute cultural reset that was that movie. One of the students moved to the front of the room, explaining that they would take a ten minutes break, then would return with She’s All That. Apparently, 1999 was close enough to the 2000’s for it to be picked as well.
“Do you wanna stay and watch it?” He asked, fighting every muscle in his body not to smell your hair. He knew that it would be super creepy, yeah, but your head was right there and it smelled so good.
You removed your body from his chest, looking up at him. “I would love to, but I have to wake up early tomorrow to study,” you said. “Big test on Monday.”
“Sure, yeah.” Jungkook nodded, slightly let down. To be honest, he had completely forgotten that information until that point. Seems like he would have a lot to catch up on during the next day. “I’ll walk you to your dorm.”
You thanked him with a smile, and you two got moving.
The walk back to your place wasn’t exactly awkward, but it could have also been a lot better. The two of you talked about the movie animatedly, the subject that you had to study — an awful amount of gastric pathology to memorize — and, eventually, landed on your weirdest experiences during hospital rounds. You were in the middle of telling him how two toddlers (twins) managed to puke on you at the same time, and how you thought that was a sign of a telepathic connection between the two, when he felt the back of his hand brush against yours, and everything around him turned into static. Suddenly, it was all that he could think about.
Jungkook had already spent the entire date with questions flying around his head. When was the right time to pull you close? Could he hold your hand, or would that be too bold? Could you smell how sweaty he was? Or maybe his deodorant was too strong? If he ran away, trained to be an astronaut, and joined the Mars colonization mission, would he be able to avoid embarrassing himself again?
And, more importantly: would it be weird to kiss you goodnight?
Considering the fact that he had no clue how to read your body language, and that almost all of his romantic experience came from bad sitcoms and Twilight marathons with Yoongi, Jungkook didn’t judge himself suited to answer that last question. He didn’t know if he should hold your hand, he didn’t know if you were just being polite or if you actually had a good time. Again and again, his anxiety got the best of him. He should really get back to seeing his campus counselor.
“So… we’re here,” you said, holding your hands in front of your body. You had stopped at the entrance of your block, and Jungkook took that as a sign that you didn’t want him to go all the way back to your apartment. Fair enough. “Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun. We should do this again sometimes.”
“For sure, yeah.” Jungkook nodded, somewhat relieved that you asked for that. At least that was a clear sign that you didn’t completely hate him. “That would be great.”
You agreed and looked down at your shoes. The darkness of the night enveloped the two of you, only half of your features illuminated by the dim yellow shine of the nearest light post. Jungkook almost fainted when you stared into his eyes, with a faint blush painting your cheeks, and questioned, “So, you’re not gonna kiss me?”
Windows’ blue screen. Please, hold.
“I… I, uh—” Jungkook’s mouth felt as if he had just swallowed an entire desert, his brain fighting to keep his voice steady. Your eyes, so focused and expectant, felt like daggers against his chest. “I didn’t know if you wanted to,” he finally admitted.
Your shoulders fell as a tender smile curled up on your roseate lips. Jungkook thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever had the pleasure of seeing. “I do,” you told him gently. His heart almost leaped out of his throat. “Do you want to?”
And that was the easiest question that he would ever answer. “Yeah,” Jungkook said.
You smiled. “Perfect.”
The boy barely had time to react before your hand was curling around the fabric of his shirt, and you pulled him towards you in a playful tug. Jungkook’s eyes stayed comically widened for a second after your lips met, but, soon enough, he allowed himself to melt into your embrace, his nervous hands landing on your waist, and his mind instantly calming down.
He kissed you slowly, carefully, almost afraid that, at the faintest of movements, reality would shatter and he would lose that moment forever. Of course, it didn’t, and he stayed on that instant a bit longer before, at last, he pulled away, slightly breathless.
“I should’ve done that sooner,” he confessed.
You tilted your head at him, fingers playing with his hair. “It happened at the right time,” you said. “Some things can’t be rushed. Especially the good ones.”
Just like that, he understood what Taehyung and Yoongi had been saying all those years. No matter how cliche it was, there was some truth to the saying that ‘what is supposed to happen, will’. And, the better that something is, the more work it will require.
But, as he kissed you again, Jungkook realized that it was all worth it in the end.
____________
The following months by your side were so amazing that Jungkook constantly brought back his theory that “maybe he was actually dead, and that was heaven.” And, if it was, he would make sure to shake God’s hand himself because, holy fuck, was he one lucky man.
Okay, maybe the first few weeks together were a bit painfully cringe-worthy, but he was really trying to pretend as if they didn’t happen. Jungkook didn’t really get the memo, and he had to slowly figure out how to behave romantically with you. He got it wrong the first few times — kissing you at the worst possible moment, or sending you a huge bouquet of roses during your microbiology exam — but, eventually, you guided him towards more neutral grounds. Then everything went smoothly.
Surprisingly, even the undead duo calmed down for a while. Yoongi and Taehyung were still around, since they had no other option, but were much quieter now, only making punctual remarks when Jungkook made a fool out of himself. Hell, they even left the room when things started getting more serious between the two of you, instead of giving Cosmopolitan-worthy advice, and that was a huge improvement.
But, of course, it wouldn’t be Jungkook’s life if there wasn’t a huge joke waiting just around the corner. Soon enough, another issue would present itself.
It came in the form of a warm mumble against his lips, and the vague — yet deliciously noticeable — rolling of your hips against his own. “Jungkook,” you called, breathless after a long make-out session. The two of you were on his couch, with you sitting on his lap, straddling him. “I want you.”
He froze. What else would he do? Jungkook was a panicked virgin. He knew that your intimate times would happen eventually — and he really wanted them to — but he didn’t expect that his mind would completely malfunction once he got so close, with his erection growing inside his pants and the softness of your breasts pressing against his torso. It was just a lot, alright?
And, lost amidst the tempestuous sea of his sudden despair, all that he could utter back was, “Are… Are you sure you want to do this right now?”
“Yeah.” You placed a strand of hair behind your ear. Jungkook thought that he could faint on the spot. It was actually a pretty common sensation with him. “You don’t want it?”
“No — I mean yeah! Yeah, I want it.” He choked on his words, looking down in embarrassment, only to meet the contour of your thighs. His youth leader had been right all along: temptation was everywhere. “I’m just… I’ve never done anything before.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” you tried to calm him down, placing your hands on his shoulders. The heat of your palms seemed to have some effect on the chaotic emotions that boiled inside him, for his muscles relaxed considerably under your touch. “I won’t pressure you, okay? If you want to take more time, it’s completely fine.”
“No, it’s not like that. I don’t feel pressured.” He shook his head, then looked up at you. You could almost feel the conflict inside his gaze, the mixture of anticipation and fear that you knew all too well. “I want you, Y/N, I really do. I’m just nervous.”
“It’s fine,” you repeated. “We don’t have to do anything now, and we can start slo—”
But he couldn’t listen to the end of your phrase, because a familiar voice damn near hollered from the other side of the room. “Taehyung, come in here! Quick!” Yoongi yelled, signaling through the door like he was controlling the air traffic. “He’s getting some! Jungkook’s about to get his cherry popped the fuck off!”
You tilted your head to the side, staring him down with preoccupation. “Jungkook? Are you okay?”
“The fuck! There is no fucking way!” Taehyung’s voice got louder as he yelled, signaling his growing proximity. “Call NASA right now!”
Jungkook sighed, throwing his head against the couch. Goodbye erection, and goodbye any chance of having sex that day. “Yoongi and Taehyung just showed up,” he mumbled bitterly.
You lowered your gaze and took a deep breath, then removed yourself from his lap. Jungkook hated the lack of heat, and he swore he would have drop-kicked the two if they weren’t in a different dimension. The certainty of death was all that he needed to know that he would get his revenge some day. “Of course they did,” you complained, fixing your clothes. “I love being cockblocked by cockless ghosts. Again.”
“Hey!” Taehyung sounded actually offended.
Jungkook turned around harshly, his voice bitter. “Can the two of you just fuck off? This is not the time.”
“So you two can fuck?” Yoongi grinned, then looked at Taehyung. “We should, actually.”
“Jungkook… this is too weird now.” You raised your hands in a silent bargain for it all to stop. You could deal with a few psychic sessions every once in a while, but being a voyeurism victim for ghosts wouldn’t be the way you wanted to spend your afternoon. “Let’s do this another time, okay? I should get going anyways. Big day at the hospital tomorrow.”
He took one of his hands to his face, massaging his temple. You got up from the couch, reaching for your backpack. “Yeah, okay.” The boy pouted, and you leaned in to give him a quick peck on the lips. Disappointing end for a night, to say the least. “Good luck tomorrow. Text me if you get an interesting case!”
“Thanks! I will.” You threw your backpack strap over your shoulder and started walking towards the exit. Jungkook couldn’t blame you for just wanting to leave that place as soon as possible, he was sure that the discomfort was much worse for you. “Bye, Jungkook! I’ll let you know when I get to my place.”
He opened his mouth to thank you, but you were already out the door. The lock clicked shut, and the silence became thick, mocking him. Even if he already had an actual girlfriend, Jungkook still found himself being left behind by someone that would never want to see him again — dick semi-hard and morale shattered on the ground. Seems like he always found himself back in that position.
Taehyung materialized on the couch next to him, hugging his knees. He was staring at the closed door, somewhat expecting that you would come back, but knowing very well that you wouldn’t do so. “Okay, I accept that it was our fault,” he said, oscillating his gaze towards Jungkook. “Sorry, man. We are like, super invested in this. There’s almost nothing interesting going on in the afterlife and this is, like, better than any TV show airing right now.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes, utterly exhausted at the mess that had become his life. He was done giving them sermons: it had basically turned into the world’s worst pastime and gave little to no results. “You know what? Just promise me you’re not going to show up next time.” He stared both of them down. “I don’t wanna be watched, that’s just weird. And I know that Y/N isn’t happy about that either.”
Yoongi shrugged. “Some people like it.”
“Yeah, I’m not one of those people,” he told him. “Guys, please. I know you two are as excited as I am about this, and I appreciate your... support, but I think this is something I need to do alone. In peace. Not being watched by spirits. That’s isn’t too much to ask.”
“He’s right, you know?” Taehyung said, looking back at Yoongi. “We should stay in our lane for now.”
The other ghost looked down at his feet, which basically morphed into the carpet beneath them. For the first time in two long years, he actually seemed like he was rethinking his actions. “Yeah, sorry,” Yoongi responded. “We got carried away. We’ll leave next time. Maybe try something when your neighbors are having a movie night.”
Jungkook’s shoulders fell in alleviation. Maybe not everything was doomed. “Thank you,” he spoke, then nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’ll probably do that. When is the next one?”
Taehyung looked at Yoongi, then back at him. “What are the chances that you’re gonna get your virgin shit together by tomorrow night?”
___________
Slim to none, actually, but he had managed to (kind of) do it. Focus on the “kind of.”
Jungkook had spent the previous night doing in-depth research about sexual intercourse, and basing his actions in real-life situations. That meant that he stayed up until four in the morning watching porn. Not masturbating. Just watching it very closely and trying to learn what to do — like an actual serial killer.
“Do you think that this is… a good idea?” Taehyung spoke from the other side of his room, preoccupation plastered all over his face. The whole porn-science was funny for the first twenty minutes, and then it just ended up being terrifying. “You know that people don’t actually have sex like that, right? It’s all exaggerated.”
“Quiet!” Jungkook raised his finger after a particularly loud moan echoed, his eyes red and glued to the computer screen. The white light from his device was awfully sharp, bathing his figure and making his image border on demonic. It really wasn’t a good look. “I’m researching. I need to know what to do.”
“You look and sound like a maniac.” Taehyung walked closer to the bed, measuring his movements. After he died, he thought that he would never be afraid of any other living thing — but Jungkook had just proved him wrong. Against his best judgement, he took a peek at the screen. “No! Oh my— That’s not natural. That’s so wrong. You should know, you studied anatomy.”
“I’m not gonna do this tomorrow,” Jungkook mumbled, closing the video. Taehyung recoiled back to the darkness of the room like a vampire that had just been touched by the sun. “The plot was interesting.”
“You’re not even hard, man,” he said, pointing at Jungkook’s trousers. “This is like, really weird. You should stop before you have some problem getting it up tomorrow.”
“What are you trying to say?” He narrowed his eyes, paranoid. “That wouldn’t happen. I know what I can do.”
“You’re the medical student, take a look,” Taehyung insisted. “There’s research about that, pornography affects young men and women a lot and— Actually, what the fuck am I talking about? This is crazy. I should’ve left with Yoongi.”
“Wait, I just—” Jungkook closed his computer with a sigh. His hair was disheveled and his gaze was unfocused. It really was the oddest night in Taehyung’s life/death. “I just don’t know what to do tomorrow. I’m about to have an anxiety attack. It’s like the third one tonight.”
Taehyung pressed his lips together, the discomfort inside him being replaced by a warm sense of understanding. “Man, she knows you don’t have experience. She isn’t expecting a porn star performance, or whatever the fuck you were just watching.” He pointed to the computer, which was now neglected amongst the sea of blankets. “By the way, I’m a changed spirit. I hate you for making me see that.”
Jungkook would have laughed at his distress if he wasn’t too tired to do that. “Technically, you decided to look at it yourself,” he corrected. “But, yeah, I know she’s not expecting anything great. But I don’t wanna make a fool out of myself, you know? Not like it’s a rare occasion or anything.”
Taehyung shrugged. Being alive made everything seem so much more important than it actually was, he thought. “Lay back and let her take the lead, then.”
Jungkook furrowed his brow, his eyes widening at the idea. Of course! That was the big galaxy brain moment he needed all along. “Are you serious? It’s that simple?” He asked, hopeful.
Taehyung chuckled. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
Yeah. It was that simple. Who would’ve thought that those see-through idiots actually would have something intelligent to say?
Really, it was a time of miracles in Jungkook’s life. The following day, the planets aligned and, for the first time ever since puberty, everything went right for him: the class ended a bit early, his neighbors decided to watch two movies instead of one, and his place was perfectly devoid of any paranormal activity by the time you wandered into it.
He didn’t tell you that he had planned that entire thing before it happened — he thought it would be super strange to schedule his virginity loss out loud — and he was glad to see that everything evolved naturally. One hour and forty minutes after you arrived, you two were already at the same point that you had left the day before — only, this time, you two actually managed to get to his bed.
“They’re not here, are they? You’re sure?” You asked in between kisses for what should’ve been the fifth time.
“No, I asked them to leave earlier.” Jungkook’s hands pressed down on your hips, the sensation of your center rolling against his erection eliciting a sigh from him. Ha! Fuck Taehyung and his soft dick curse. “I actually… Before we do anything, I actually wanted to know if you could, you know, help me a little.”
You hummed, taking your face away from his. Jungkook watched as you licked your lips, your eyes dazed, and leaned in to place another kiss against his mouth. “In what way?” You asked.
“Just... show me what to do,” he said. “What you like, if I’m doing something wrong… everything.”
With a soft smile, you agreed, arms curling around his shoulders. “Of course,” you told him. “It’ll be my pleasure.”
That being said, you dove back to his lips, feeling as he both simultaneously relaxed and tensed up under your touches. Jungkook had evolved a lot in those past few months, you realized, since the early-dating version of him wouldn’t find himself in that position without turning into a stuttering, blushing mess beneath you. It was kind of cute, but you’d never say that out loud.
You felt his hands trailing up your back, underneath your clothes, his palms dwelling in the softness of your skin for a moment before, in a courageous movement, he decided to pull your shirt up. There was a short separation of your mouths as the piece of clothing slid up your arms, and collapsed against the floor in a puddle of cotton.
Jungkook sighed once he felt the lace of your bra against his hands; the softness of your breasts was something that he continuously daydreamed about. Now, without the barrier of your clothes, all that he needed was to remove that last constriction and he would be—
“Oh well…” He chuckled nervously, fumbling with your bra. “Sorry, I don’t know how to open this.”
You smiled at the embarrassment that danced around his features. “Relax, okay?” You said, moving your hands to your back and taking care of that problem yourself. You’d teach him about the magic of unclasping bras another time. “It’s fine.”
But Jungkook didn’t have time to think about an answer, for soon your bra was meeting your shirt on the floor. His reaction would’ve been the same if you just moved over and came back with a baby dinosaur in your hands — his eyes widening in amazement as he took in the image of your nude breasts, a small whimper perishing in his throat as he slithered his hands upward, cupping them.
Your breath stopped for a moment when he leaned in, reluctant, and enveloped one of your nipples with his warm mouth, his tongue delicately coming out to trace circles on your sensitive flesh. Jungkook groaned at the sensation, his cock becoming unbearably hard against his pants, and tilted your body over so he could be on top of you.
You curled up against the sheets, sighing in delight as the boy continued to work on your breasts, kissing and sucking lightly, taking his time. Every time you looked down, you could see that Jungkook was having almost as much fun as you, the small moans that dripped from his tongue vibrating inside your chest.
“Does it feel good?” He raised his gaze towards you, expectant. “Am I doing a good job?”
“Yes, very good.” Your hands curled around the roots of his hair. The action was gentle, but Jungkook shuddered under the sensation — every small movement proved itself to be a lot for him to handle. “You’re doing amazing. Is there something that you want to do, Kookie?”
The boy licked his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. Part of him (probably the sleep deprived one) still didn’t believe that you two were actually doing that — that it wasn’t just a figment of his horny imagination. No, it was real. You were right there in front of him, beautiful and devastating, caressing his hair as you waited for an answer.
“I… I want to make you feel good,” he said, wide-eyed and hesitant. His dick felt painfully hard being so constructed by his pants and, suddenly, he became aware of how clothed he still was. No wonder it was so hot. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”
Your lips curled up at his adorableness, one of your hands meeting his wrist. Patiently, you guided it down, and placed it on the hem of your pants. “Can you touch me?” You questioned. “I can tell you what I like.”
“Oh, please,” he almost pleaded, his hand already fumbling to open your pants. Much to his delight, those were a lot easier than your bra, and they were soon sliding down your legs with ease.
He took a moment to take in your form, eyes traveling up from your legs, to your hips, then all the way back to your breasts. As Jungkook met your gaze, he allowed for a suspire of relief to depart from his mouth, shoulders relaxing. “I’m so lucky,” he spoke, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
The smile that you presented him looked brighter than all of the stars above. “Come here,” you called, leaning against your elbows. “Give me a kiss.”
Obedient, Jungkook did as you requested, a grunt escaping his chest once you pulled him into a sloppy kiss, nails brushing lightly against the skin of his neck. He had goosebumps at the sensation, his hand moving by its own will, navigating down your stomach and towards your heat.
His fingers hovered, insecure, over the hem of your panties for a moment. Still, at the sound of his name being spoken against the kiss, he was overtaken by an ephemeral spark of courage. Soon, your panties were on the floor too.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Jungkook whined at the contact, his fingers dwelling just above your entrance. Inside his pants, his cock twitched at the sensation, his lower body already tingling with excitement. He didn’t know how he would manage not to cum in his pants, but he would have to find a way. “What do I do now?”
“Now...” you said, leaning your head against the pillow. “Move up and find my clit. Make all those hours of anatomy worth it,” you joked.
Jungkook nodded, but anatomy was much more difficult when he wasn’t actually looking at a certain part of the body — he was much more interested in watching your expression. Embarrassed, he did as you requested, trailing his wet fingers up until you told him to stop. “Right there,” you said, sighing once you felt his hand pressing down on it, starting to trace small circular patterns. “That’s it, baby, great job.”
His heart leaped at the compliment, and his actions became firmer. Jungkook thought he would go insane when he heard you whimper and cry out at the sensation, your hips bucking up against his hand ever so slightly. “You’re so hot,” he breathlessly confessed, his words coming in a hot puff of air against your neck. His digits slowly trailed down, towards your entrance, and he paused. “Can I?”
“Yeah,” you agreed.
Jungkook swallowed hard, adventuring one finger inside you. At the sensation of your walls clenching around him, he moaned, biting his lip. “God, you’re so tight,” he told you, adding a second finger. You raised your hips at the contact, hands curling on his hair. “I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”
His mouth came back to your breasts, sucking and licking your flesh. Jungkook was a mess, you realized — pressing down his hard member against your thigh, whining against your skin as his fingers curled inside you, sinking into your wetness. God, you weren’t made of steel. “I want it,” you told him, and he didn’t understand your words for a moment. “I want to feel you, Jungkook.”
And he didn’t need anything else. The boy moved away from your body and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor alongside the rest of your clothes. It was no time for hesitation— he didn’t know how much of his precious alone time he had left. “Condoms.” He pointed at his nightstand. “Top drawer.”
You turned around on the bed, reaching for the furniture as the boy unbuckled his belt and clumsily removed his pants. The mattress bounced beneath you as Jungkook tossed himself around, finding a way to lose his balance as he threw his pants on the ground. Much to his relief, you weren’t paying much attention to it.
He was already panting — in a mixture of excitement and his pathetic effort to remove his pants — by the time that you gave him the condom. “Do you put it on, or do you want me to?” You asked.
Jungkook had trained on enough bananas to know that he could do it, but he wasn’t gonna let the chance to have you touching him down there pass. “You do it, please.”
You nodded, sitting next to his expectant figure. Jungkook’s chest rose and fell in anticipation, his muscles glistening with the small droplets of sweat that decorated his caramel skin. His cock was hard and heavy against the fabric of his grey underwear, practically calling for your care.
Attentively, you watched as his abdomen tensed up at the feeling of one of your hands pressing down against his clothed erection, delicately moving towards his crown. A gasp tumbled from his lips as you rolled your thumb against it, noticing the wetness that had already accumulated beneath your hand, and he rolled his hips against the pressure. Really, Jungkook was too precious.
“Please, don’t tease,” he begged, eyes following your every move. His cock throbbed in your hands, needy. “I don’t think I can hold it much longer.”
With a hum of agreement, you moved your hand away from his erection, and pulled his underwear down gently. Jungkook whimpered at the fiction, and the way his cock was freed from its constraints, bouncing back against his abdomen. The smallest of touches was more than enough for him to lose himself.
“Shhh, it’s fine,” you calmed him down, slowly (too slowly) rolling the condom on him. His hands clenched into fists next to him, grabbing handfuls of the white sheets. Okay, maybe you were being a bit mean. “Just tell me what you want.”
Jungkook closed his eyes for a moment, holding back a cry of frustration. “Ride me, please,” his words came out in a plea, his expression so permeated by need that you thought that he could cry if you teased him any further. God, everything was so perfect about him — the glistening in his onyx irises, the reddening of his lips as he bit down on them, trying to fight back a whimper as you placed yourself over him. “I— I need to feel you. I’m going crazy.”
There was no need for more convincing — again, you weren’t made of steel.
You sighed as you sank down on his member, one of your hands finding support against his pecs, as the other curled around his cock, guiding him inside you. Jungkook closed his eyes and threw his head against the alabaster pillow, his flower-like lips opening to cry out at the sensation. “Oh fuck,” he cursed. “Oh, baby, that’s so good.”
Seeing him like that, so submissive, so deliciously responsive to your faintest of touches, was, at the very least, extremely erotic. You loved to see the way he flinched and whined at the sensation of your walls clenching around him, his hands unsure of where they should be on your body. Awfully slow, you rose your hips from him, almost letting him slip out, before you shifted your weight back down, watching as Jungkook moaned out your name.
God, he was really about to fall apart.
Slowly, you began setting a pace, moving up and down on his cock. It was a lot slower than Jungkook expected, but it was just the right speed to make him appreciate every sensation of your body wrapping his own.
“Feels good?” you asked, a bit breathless. The sensation of him filling you up was even better than you had anticipated, and, combined with his shameless exclamations of pleasure, you didn’t think that you’d last much longer either.
Before he could answer, a tremulous sigh ruptured upon his mouth, reverberating just behind his teeth. Jungkook took another second to find his words, inhaling sharply. “So good,” he spoke, and you almost whined out at the lust that ornamented his voice. “Can you move faster? Please?”
Maybe in different times, you’d take your time to provoke him a bit more. At that point, though, you’d do anything he wanted you to. “Yeah,” you agreed, doing as requested. The sound of your wetness and the slapping of skin against skin was lewd, filling the room alongside Jungkook’s voice. “Like this?”
“Fuck, yeah, like this,” he cried out, closing his eyes in absolute euphoria. He could feel the movement of your asscheeks against his palms, the sensation enough to drive him insane. Jungkook was already amazed at the fact that he didn’t embarrass himself with premature ejaculation the second that you removed his underwear — but it didn’t mean that he didn’t get close to it. The second his hands squeezed your ass, he was positive he would end the game a bit earlier than the two of you would like. “It— it feels so good. Please, don’t stop.”
With a moan, you threw your body forward, placing kisses on the curvature of his neck, a sensation that quickly sent shivers down his skin. The new angle made his cock hit even deeper inside you, causing for you both to melt in pleasure. “You feel so good,” you told him, nails digging against his flesh. The knot in your stomach was all too familiar, and you knew that you wouldn’t take much longer. “I love having you inside me.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s good.” He mumbled, only half aware of the words leaving his lips. Jungkook’s eyes were dazed and unfocused, looking at nowhere in particular, his fingertips digging in your flesh. “You’re… you’re getting tighter.”
“Y-Yeah,” you agreed, voice coming out in a moan. “I’m close.”
He swallowed hard. “I can help,” he said.
Before you could ask what he was trying to do, Jungkook moved his hand back to your center, two of his fingers playing with your clit. You gasped at the sensation, eyes closing as you kept riding him, rolling your hips, feeling as he reached for every part of you. It was all becoming too much, the pleasure that decorated his features, the delicious friction of his body against yours, the frail moans that dropped from his tongue like honey. He was just too much.
With a faint call of his name — a melody that would be stuck in his head forever —, you finally crossed the threshold of your orgasm, and came around him; morphing into a trembling and moaning mess. Jungkook watched, in absolute awe, as your face was monopolized by bliss, your teeth sinking down on your bottom lip and your eyes rolling back.
He removed his hand from your heat, placing it on your waist. Using every final ounce of energy in your body, you continued riding him. Through parted lids, you noticed that his thighs were starting to shake, signaling that he, too, was close. “Baby,” the boy called out, his fingers digging to the sides of your hips. Jungkook was both trying to guide your movements, and hold himself back to reality. It was a beautiful view — the way his expression lingered somewhere between delight and distress; his hips mindlessly trusting up against yours. “I think I’m gonna cum.”
You breathed out through your nose, trying to ignore the pleasure that, now, was turning into sensitivity. It felt good, in a way, but you were more focused on his relief at that point. “It’s okay, Kookie,” you told him, “you can let go.”
He had been so polite the entire time, with his “please” and “thank you’s. So, of course, when you told him that it was okay for him to cum, he did just as you requested.
Jungkook came with gasping breaths and a trembling, high-pitched moan, holding on to you as he thrusted his last sloppy advances towards your core. His hands, weak, fell on the bed besides him, clenching the sheets; eyelashes fluttering down as he dwelled on the afterglow of his pleasure. You could stay there forever, looking at the pink shade that colored his cheeks; the beautiful mess that his black hair had turned into; or the tears of relief that accumulated at the corner of his eyes.
But everything has to end, even the most beautiful ones.
His tongue came out to wet his lips, and his eyes, still hooded, met yours. Not even the biggest minds in the renaissance could’ve thought of an image so perfect, so ethereal. “You’re so amazing,” he praised. “That was… amazing.”
You smiled and leaned in to place a soft kiss against his lips. His member slipped out of you at the action, and his arms curled around your waist, keeping you in place. “You did pretty well,” you mumbled as you lazily curled up against his chest. Jungkook’s body was a delicious source of heat, and you could really get used to that. “I see a bright future ahead of you.”
He hummed, caressing your hair. Jungkook could finally smell it without being creepy, so that was a big victory for him. “You did most of the work,” he said.
“That’s not an issue.” You nuzzled his neck, pleasantly feeling as goosebumps spread throughout his body. Always so responsive. “I’ll let you take the lead next time, if that sounds good to you.”
Jungkook chuckled. “That’d be great, yeah,” he agreed. Part of him thought about using a few tricks he learned during his late-night research, but he wasn’t super sure that it would be a good idea. Maybe he should keep that card up his sleeve for a bit longer in case he needed to surprise you later. “Do you want to spend the night? It’s kind of late to go back to your place now.”
The words fell from his tongue with ease, surprising the boy for an instant. He noticed that he was much more comfortable in your presence, like the pieces of the puzzle had finally fallen into place. Not because of the sex itself, he realized, but because of the vulnerability and intimacy that came with it. It happened just as it was supposed to.
“I’d love to.” You smiled, and placed a kiss against his neck. “But I’m going to kick you out if you start snoring.”
“Out of my own place?” He asked.
You sighed, voice filled by traces of your upcoming slumber. “Don’t you test me,” you spoke, wrapping your arms around him. “Medical school is killing me, I need some sleep. And I will get it no matter the price.”
Jungkook laughed at your tired words, one of his hands caressing your head in infinite delicacy. As he held to your body, curling so perfectly against his own, he knew that everything would be okay. And maybe he needed a good night of sleep too.
A few minutes later, as he started to feel the sensation of his consciousness slowly drifting away to the land of dreams, a bittersweet sentiment overtook his chest. There was an instant, even if ephemeral, in which Jungkook believed he would never see Yoongi and Taehyung again — after all, the two had already concluded their mission: Jungkook got the girl and there was nothing else left for them to do. In between two consecutive breaths, he felt both relief and solitude. Silence wasn’t as welcoming once he realized no voice could break it.
Though, his melodramatic moment was short-lived. Behind him, a known timbre cheered for him:
“I’m so proud, I feel like a soccer mom.”
#bts fic#bts smut#fluff#crack#smut#bts fluff#bts crack#jungkook#jungkook fic#jeon jungkook#x reader#x you#bts x reader#bts x you#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook smut#jungkook crack#bangtan boys#yoongi#taehyung#reader insert#psychic!au#bts au#fanfic
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BeeTober 2020 Day 27
Rice - Fright
Day 27 of BeeTober brings some arachnophobia for poor Jiang Cheng, but luckily he has the best neighbours because NMJ is simply the best da-ge to everyone and NHS knows exactly how JC feels.
When Jiang Cheng’s rice cooker goes out with a bang—or rather a very small twitch—Jiang Cheng takes a moment to simply stare at his ceiling.
Of course the rice cooker would decide to give out today, when Jiang Cheng is alone at home and no one is bound to come over either.
And that means, he has to go into the basement on his own.
Jiang Cheng knows that there’s a new rice cooker just waiting for him—Jiang Yanli has prophesised that his would die on him sooner or later and she wanted him to be prepared—but what’s also waiting for him down there are spiders.
Lots and lots of spiders.
The last time Jiang Cheng went into the basement he couldn’t finish repotting his plants because a rather huge spider came crawling out of the depth of hell, giving Jiang Cheng the fright of his life, and he had fled his own cellar without a second thought, abandoning his plants in the process as well.
In the end Wei Wuxian had repotted his plants, but he had made quite the mess of it, as he very willingly admitted, and Jiang Cheng still did not muster up the courage to clean up after him.
Now he has two reasons to go into the basement—three, he realizes as he eyes the empty cartons he’s been collecting, always putting it off to bring them down into the basement—so at least it would be worth it, and Jiang Cheng retrieves his hand-held vacuum cleaner. He just hopes that Jiang Yanli did not bury the rice cooker under boxes of other stuff, because Jiang Cheng is not going to overhaul his whole basement in search for it.
The chance to encounter a spider is way too high after all, and he wants to come out of this as unscathed as he can.
Jiang Cheng takes a few deep breaths to steel himself before he even leaves his own apartment, and of course he immediately runs into Nie Huaisang.
“What are you doing?” he wants to know and Jiang Cheng looks down at himself.
He’s wearing a hooded sweater, hood already pulled up, so that nothing can touch his hair, and he wears the thickest boots he owns, vacuum cleaner in one hand and balancing boxes on the other.
Jiang Cheng is aware that he’s going overboard, but there are spiders in the basement. He thinks he can be excused, even though he’s certain he makes quite the picture.
“I have to get a new rice cooker,” Jiang Cheng says and Nie Huaisang frowns.
“Like this? I’m not sure they will let you into a shop like this.”
“Oh no, I’m going into the basement,” Jiang Cheng clarifies, though he doubts that makes it better. “I have a second one, because Yanli is a worrywart,” he explains and Nie Huaisang nods, because clearly that makes a lot more sense.
“Well, I hope you survive then,” Nie Huaisang says and Jiang Cheng sees him shudder.
Nie Huaisang hates spiders just as much as Jiang Cheng does, and he always sends Nie Mingjue into the basement, because Nie Mingjue has never encountered anything that frightened him.
“Thank you,” Jiang Cheng grits out and then steels himself again.
He’s really damn hungry and he will get that stupid rice cooker.
Jiang Cheng hesitates in front of the stairs that lead down into the basement but he knows that he has to do it eventually. He will not simply turn back and admit defeat, especially not with how hungry he is.
So he makes his way down the stairs, deliberately keeping his gaze on the stairs instead of looking around, because he does not want to see any spiders before he even enters his own cellar.
When he reaches the door to his cellar, he puts the empty boxes down to get out his keys and then he’s in the cellar.
He freezes in the door, because when Wei Wuxian said he made a bit of a mess, he did not mention that half the plant earth is on the ground instead of inside of the bag where it should be.
“Fuck me,” Jiang Cheng groans because it looks like this won’t be a quick in-and-out like he hoped. “I’m going to kill him,” Jiang Cheng decides, but then he steps into the cellar.
He still keeps his eyes on the ground, surveying the mess there, as he ponders the best course of action.
It’s probably smarter to vacuum first before he moves all the stuff on the shelves, because he’s bound to disturb a lot more spiders there.
Mind made up, Jiang Cheng puts the boxes down and gets ready with the vacuum cleaner.
Everything is fine, at least for like two minutes, before Jiang Cheng realizes that not all black spots on the ground is dirt. And he realizes that because one of the black spots starts to move towards him.
And it’s fast.
“Aaaaaahhhhhh,” Jiang Cheng yells, stumbling backwards and pointing the vacuum cleaner at the spider.
He manages to suck it up with the vacuum, but Jiang Cheng curses the design of his vacuum because the container is see-through and Jiang Cheng can tell very well that the spider did not die.
Jiang Cheng drops the vacuum in his shock and stumbles back, right into the shelve behind him. A few boxes tumble out and hit Jiang Cheng, but he barely notices it, his eyes glued to the vacuum, his heart racing in his chest, and he feels a bit faint.
The spider crawls around in the container and Jiang Cheng knows he can never pick it up again, because who knows when the spider will find a way out of there.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jiang Cheng mutters again and again, unsure what he should do now.
He’s trembling slightly, the tremors spreading out over his whole body, and he’s frozen to the spot.
Jiang Cheng is just as afraid of spiders as Wei Wuxian is of dogs—even though he did not go through any traumatic incident with them—and just like Wei Wuxian he never learned to overcome his fear.
It’s usually not a problem, since he avoids the basement as best as he can, but of course the one time he ventures down here it all goes to hell.
The spider is still crawling in the container, clearly looking for a way out and Jiang Cheng feels close to tears.
If he has to touch the vacuum cleaner to get rid of the spider, then he will—eventually—but he will scream inside his head the whole time and he’ll probably cry too, just for good measure.
Jiang Cheng is getting ready to take a step towards the vacuum cleaner when he hears a noise outside. He’s not thinking clearly, but the first thought that comes into his mind is that it’s another spider, before he realizes how stupid that is and he recognizes the sounds as someone coming down the stairs.
“Huaisang?” he calls out, because Nie Huaisang is at least home, Jiang Cheng knows that much.
He also knows that Nie Huaisang will be of absolutely no help to him, because they are both equally scared, but Jiang Cheng finds himself thinking that this whole horrible situation would be easier to deal with if someone else was there.
“Wanyin?” a voice calls back and that is most definitely not Nie Huaisang.
Jiang Cheng has half a mind diving behind the shelves just to hide from Nie Mingjue, but when he twitches his eyes fall on the spider in the vacuum cleaner again and he freezes in fear.
Diving behind the shelves would be a bad move as well, after all, because it’s bound to be infested with spiders.
“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng mutters yet again because he does not want Nie Mingjue to see him like this, but he also very much needs help.
“Mingjue, help,” Jiang Cheng gets out and it’s not long before Nie Mingjue steps into the cellar, surveying everything with a critical eye.
“What’s wrong?” he asks and Jiang Cheng has to bite back a sob, because Nie Mingjue’s voice is very steady and very calm and Jiang Cheng feels anything but.
“There’s—,” Jiang Cheng starts and it’s enough to make the tears flow. “There’s a spider in the vacuum,” he finally gets out, beyond mortified, but Nie Mingjue keeps calm.
“I see,” Nie Mingjue says, and steps even closer. “What did you need from down here?”
“Rice cooker,” Jiang Cheng presses out and jumps when the spider in the container suddenly moves quickly.
“Alright,” Nie Mingjue nods and pats Jiang Cheng’s head, before he makes a strange movement with the same hand. “I’ll get it for you.”
Nie Mingjue is not usually someone to pet someone’s head and just as that thought crosses his mind Jiang Cheng goes ice cold as the implication of what Nie Mingjue just did hit him, and he’s almost too scared to ask, but he needs to know.
“There was a spider on my head, right?” he asks, his voice very small and very shaky and Nie Mingjue nods reluctantly.
Disgust and fear roll in waves over Jiang Cheng and he has to get out of the basement right this second.
“I have to—I can’t—,” he stumbles over his words, but he can’t manage to form a complete sentence and in the end he simply runs away.
He almost falls a few times on his way up the stairs, and instead of running back into his own spider-free apartment he runs outside.
And the first thing he does there is to take off his sweater, because clearly after his stumble into the shelves it’s no longer free of spiders.
As soon as he gets it off he throws it onto the ground, not daring to look to closely if anything comes crawling out of it, because that’s a nightmare he doesn’t need on top of everything else that happened today.
Jiang Cheng takes a few steps back from the sweater and then simply stands in the cold, with nothing more than his shirt, and he almost prefers the shivers caused from the cold to those out of fear.
He slings his arms around his middle, trying to hide just how badly his hands shake, and then he takes a few deep breaths, though they hardly do anything to calm him down.
Jiang Cheng knows that he’ll think about this for days to come, and he already knows that he won’t get much sleep this night.
By the time there’s a sound behind him, he mostly stopped crying, but he still startles badly when Nie Mingjue comes out of the house, the vacuum cleaner in his hand.
“Turn around,” he gently instructs Jiang Cheng, who obeys him before he can catch a sight of the spider still trapped inside.
Normally Jiang Cheng would freak out even more now, because he can’t see the spider anymore, but he trusts Nie Mingjue to have this handled in a way that does the least harm to Jiang Cheng’s very frail mental health right now.
Jiang Cheng hears him working on the vacuum cleaner, presumably throwing the contents and the spider into the garbage bin, and then Nie Mingjue steps up next to him.
“It’s all dealt with,” Nie Mingjue reassures him. “I cleaned up, stacked the boxes again and got your rice cooker.”
Jiang Cheng is entirely beyond feeling embarrassed when a sob breaks free at that.
“Thank you,” he gets out and his heart races for entirely different reasons when Nie Mingjue smiles at him.
Jiang Cheng is in no way equipped to deal with this onslaught of emotions and he sways slightly on his feet.
“Anything else you need?” Nie Mingjue asks him, his voice still low and clearly concerned and it’s enough to make Jiang Cheng blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“A hug would be nice,” he says and Nie Mingjue is very quick to open his arms for him.
It’s not difficult at all to step forward and Jiang Cheng doubts there’s a better feeling than being embraced by Nie Mingjue. His smell is very comforting and his arms are secure and strong around him and for just a moment Jiang Cheng can forget this horrible, no good afternoon.
“Thank you,” Jiang Cheng says again and Nie Mingjue starts to stroke his hands up and down Jiang Cheng’s back, making him almost melt into the embrace.
“No problem,” Nie Mingjue says and his voice makes a very nice rumbling sound. “I’m quite used to dealing with something like this,” he goes on and Jiang Cheng feels a little less mortified by the whole ordeal when he remembers that he heard Nie Huaisang scream for Nie Mingjue more than once already.
“In fact, why don’t you join us for dinner tonight?” Nie Mingjue suddenly asks and cups the back of Jiang Cheng’s head when he wants to pull away.
It seems like the hug is not yet over.
“Huaisang doesn’t like being alone after there was an incident and I’m sure he’d be thrilled to have you over. You can even sleep at our place, since Wei Wuxian is not coming home today, right?”
Jiang Cheng goes hot all over when those kind words bring tears to his eyes again and he doesn’t trust his voice to hold out, so he simply nods.
“Alright,” Nie Mingjue says. “We’ll grab your things and then get started on dinner. You must be hungry.”
“Starved,” Jiang Cheng admits and this time when he tries to pull away, Nie Mingjue lets him. “My rice cooker died on me, that started this whole mess.”
“Then we’ll have to whip up something quickly,” Nie Mingjue tells him and then seems to hesitate. “Will you be alright if I hand you the vacuum?”
“You promise there’s no spider in there anymore?” Jiang Cheng asks, the first tendrils of fear already setting in again, but Nie Mingjue nods.
“I checked it over and cleaned it out personally, there’s nothing in there at all.”
He sounds completely sure, and Jiang Cheng has no reason not to trust him, so he takes one last deep breath and then holds out his hand.
“Okay.”
He still startles slightly when Nie Mingjue puts the vacuum in his hand, but it’s not as bad as it would have been if Jiang Cheng had to deal with it on his own.
Nie Mingjue picks the rice cooker and Jiang Cheng’s discarded sweater up and then he follows Jiang Cheng to his own apartment.
Jiang Cheng would feel coddled, but he’s actually really grateful that he doesn’t have to do this alone, because after a scare like this he sees spiders everywhere, even though he logically knows that it’s unlikely that there are spiders all over his apartment.
Still, he’s quick to gather his things and before he can so much as blink, they are inside Nie Mingjue’s apartment.
“Da-ge?” Nie Huaisang calls out. “What took you so long?”
“We have a guest tonight,” Nie Mingjue calls back and winks at Jiang Cheng. “There was an incident in the basement.”
“An inci—oh,” Nie Huaisang says when he comes out into the living room and his gaze falls on Jiang Cheng. “Fuck, one of those incidents, huh?”
Jiang Cheng is aware that he must still look like a wreck; he couldn’t bring himself to pick up his sweater, even though Nie Mingjue promised him he shook it out as well, and his eyes must still be red-rimmed from the tears earlier.
“One of those incidents,” Nie Mingjue agrees and shoos Nie Huaisang into the kitchen. “He’s going to take a shower, and he’ll room with you tonight.”
“Pushy,” Nie Huaisang says with a wrinkled nose at his brother, but before Jiang Cheng can offer to simply go back to his own apartment, Nie Huaisang already bounded over to him.
“Of course you’re rooming with me, tonight,” he tells Jiang Cheng. “Incidents are the worst and it’s not good to be alone afterwards.”
Jiang Cheng feels choked up all over again at his words and his eyes burn.
“Come on, a good shower will help and da-ge makes the best comfort food,” Nie Huaisang says as he drags Jiang Cheng over to the bathroom.
“Want me to check it with you?” Nie Huaisang asks, because clearly he understands that Jiang Cheng will see spiders everywhere right now, and Jiang Cheng can only nod.
They do a check of the bathroom—completely spider-free, much to Jiang Cheng’s relief—and then Nie Huaisang leaves him to shower.
Jiang Cheng still feels unsettled, and he still jumps at every dark spot he sees, but with the delicious smell wafting into the bathroom, and Nie Huaisang’s and Nie Mingjue’s voices filling the silence, he finds that it’s not as bad as it usually is.
Maybe this day won’t be a complete disaster after all.
Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!
#bt writes#beetober 2020#untamed fall fest#the untamed#mdzs#jiang cheng#nie mingjue#nie huaisang#arachnophobia#hurt/comfort#modern au#hugs#something very close to a panic attack#but nmj is the best da-ge#for everyone
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This Is Our Way-Ch.2
Summary: What happens when you make the mistake of thinking you can steel from a Mandalorian? You land yourself and job and a plethora of adventures and emotion you could never even dream of. The question is; where will those emotions lead.
Warnings: Typical canon violence, NSFW implications and scenes later on
Ch.1
Read on Ao3
Normal Blog Request: Open
“What do you want.” The stranger's voice comes out muffled through the modulator of his helmet. It's deep and raspy, cutting through the air cleanly even though he speaks in little more than a mumble. The voice of a man who’s been hardened by the galaxy, ready to face anything in his way, and it sent shivers down your spine.
“You certainly don’t waste time now, do ya? Well, I can respect that , as I to, am a very busy man.” He smiles, lifting his hand to point directly at him.
“Your armor. Take it off.”
The air itself changes, shifting without anyone even moving. Even from your perch so far above you can feel it, becoming charged to the point it was almost suffocating, sending every nerve on edge.
You always knew Leon was a few brain cells shorter than average, but this? This was beyond stupid! Trying to take away a Mandalorian’s armor was as sure of a death sentence as stealing from the emperor himself.
“I’m going back to my ship. Move, or I’ll make you.”
You perked at his words. He wasn’t looking for you? It was really just by chance that he had wandered through here? If that were the case, then the universe really was against you. Not that you had any doubt about that in the first place.
Leon laughed. “Good one. But seriously. Hand it over.” The other three had been moving while he talked, slowly stalking towards the armor clad man until he was surrounded. If he noticed them he didn’t show any outwards signs of it, remaining still as he stared at the man in front of him.
A moment of silence. Then two.
“Alright then. Your funeral.” He nodded to the others.
All at once they were on him. It was a mess or limbs, arms and legs flying as each man fought for the advantage. It seemed that, by all means, the Mandalorian had it. Within seconds they were all relieved of their weapons, blades and blasters skittering across the alley as the fight continued.
It almost frightened you, the speed and efficiency with which he worked. Anything that happened to get past his defenses simply bounced off his armor.
‘I need to leave.’ You realized with a chill as he landed a particularly hard hit on Corin, a crack coming from his face as he fell to the ground, yet he still got back up, blood now streaming down his chin.
Slowly, you began to edge back. If you were lucky they would all kill each other and you’d have nothing to worry about. With Leon gone there would be no gangs after you, and apparently the Mandalorian had no interest in you. It was a win-win situation. For you at least.
Then, just as you were at the edge to freedom, a cry stopped you in your tracks. It wasn’t the sound of grunts and squeals of pain from fighting. No. This was higher, more surprised than anything. The voice of a child.
Despite your better judgment, you turned back, unable to walk away if there was a chance there was some kid hiding in the shadows who got mixed up in this. That would have been more normal then what you actually saw.
The pod the Mandalorian had been traveling with earlier was now open. Inside of which rested not supplies like you had thought, but a small creature of some sort. Unlike anything you had ever seen, green skin and drooping ears poking out from a small head. Leon stood above it, the fighting taking a momentary pause with his discovery.
Producing his blade, he brought it closer to the small bundle as your heart jumped to your throat.
“No! Don’t hurt him!” The Mandalorian grunted, fighting forward against the grip his current opponents had on him.
Leon only pressed the blade closer, making it cry out more. “Not so fast there. Unless you want to find out what color its blood is, I suggest you cooperate.” The armored man froze, body tense as he raised his hands in surrender. Leon nodded to the others, who produced a pair of magnet cuffs. Kicking him down, they forced arms hands behind his back and restrained him into submission. All the while Leon watched with a sick sense of glee.
It surprised you. Mandalorians were supposed to be ruthless killers who fought simply for the joy of fighting. Yet here he was giving himself over for a child. One that didn’t appear to have any relations to him unless he was hiding quite the set of ears under that helmet.
Once he was sure the Mandalorian was restrained, Leon turned his attention back to the pod.
“I didn’t know you guys liked to keep pets. Thought you liked to do the whole ‘lone wolf’ thing.” He leaned in, examining the creature before picking it up to look closer. The Mandalorian jerked, earning a warning glance.
“Though I have to say, I’ve never seen a creature quite like this one before.” Smirking, he turned back, knife raised. “He’ll make a fine addition to my collection.”
You were never one to get involved, put yourself in danger for someone else's sake, but if there was one thing that threw your carefully honed self preservation skills out the window it was kids. They were innocent. Something to be protected and nurtured. They didn’t deserve any kind of pain, no matter who they were traveling with. Besides, you owed the man one. He had bought you dinner after all.
Hopefully this wasn’t going to hurt as much as you thought it would.
One step forward and gravity took effect, hurtling you towards the ground with more speed than anyone was comfortable with. It did the job though. Everett’s body crumpled beneath you, taking the brunt of the impact as your weight crashed down on top of him. It was still a rough landing, and the air was almost completely knocked from your lungs, making it that much harder to struggle to your feet. The cushion of a man however, did not make a single movement, let alone sound. While he wouldn’t remember what happened, the others sure would, their heads whipping around to face you, a mix of surprise and anger.
Leon was the first to speak up.
“What the fuck was that! You think you can just attack my guys!”
Pushing yourself up, you tried to ignore the throbbing pain as you mustered the best smile you could, sauntering your way over to where he stood. As you passed, you could feel the gaze of the others following you, keenly aware of one specifically as you wondered if he recognized you.
“I was just out, seeing if there were any tipsy troopers I might be able to snag.”
“Never a day of rest for you.” He tilted his chin. “So what warranted this ‘drop in’.”
“Oh, you know. Just saw you from above and thought I might say hello. Though I am surprised.” Finally approaching him, you added a little extra sway to your hips, feeling utterly ridiculous as you did so. Balancing on a crate, you rest your chin on your palm and leaned in just a bit too much. “I never thought you would nab yourself a Mandalorian. I must say, I’m impressed. Maybe I misjudged you.”
It made you almost sick, speaking in such a lustfully sweet tone, but it worked wonders on Leon. His chest expanded like a puffer pig, cocky as he proceeded to brag. The entire time you had to resist rolling your eyes.
He went on talking about nothing but how strong and influential he was, all the things that came with leadership and so on, until you cut him off. Eyes moving towards the creature in his hands. Your true target.
“It would be a real shame to kill that thing. Girls love moving in with guys who have pets.” Batting your eyes, you added a bit of extra charm and stuck your lower lip out in a pout. You had seen some of the escorts in the cantina doing it, and hopefully you were doing it right or you would look like a real idiot.
“Mind if I look at it. It’s pretty cute.”
His eyes widened a fraction at your words, before narrowing back down into little more than slits as a hungry look took over his face. Wordlessly he tossed it over to you, eliciting yet another cry from the bundle while you fumbled to catch it. Seeing it closer now, it was even funnier to look at. Wide eyes stared back, big and watering. It was cute, in an almost ugly way.
‘Asshole.’ You seethed, watching Leon move around you, now fully focused on the man being beaten to the ground by the others. Trying not to winch with each hit, you hoped his armor was as strong as rumored.
“I knew you’d come to your senses soon enough. Just playing a bit hard to get. I can respect the chase though.” He spoke, unaware as you slowly lowered the child back into the pod it had previously resided in. The small creature made a sound of confusion, cocking its head to the side as you fiddled with the buttons on the side, finally finding the right one to close it. One less thing you would have to worry about.
Making sure it was closed, you began moving once again, balancing on the balls of your feet as you approached.
“But now you’ve finally picked the right team.” Leon leveled his blade at the now laying Mandalorians neck, pushing just enough to force his head back.
“Yeah. Unfortunately, I’m not much of a team player.”
Your leg comes up in a swift kick, nailing him between the legs and dropping him to the ground as his mouth opened in a soundless scream. Your other leg rose in quick succession, catching him in the side of the head and knocking him to the ground.
Panting, you turned back towards the remaining two just in time to dodge a jab from Sho. Jumping back you were forced onto the offensive as he followed, swinging his blade in wide arcs. Further and further you were driven, and you could feel yourself quickly losing stamina as your breathing came in short gasp. You were a pickpocket after all. Not being seen was the basis of your skills, and while you knew how to fight it was never your strong suit. Brute force was out of your range.
Regardless, you fought on. Step after step, swing after swing, you evaded. If Sho hadn’t been so young and unseasoned he would have had you already. Unfortunately, he had help. A familiar cry reached your ears, piercing through the adrenaline and drawing your attention.
The child.
Looking past Sho, you could see Corin trying to break into the pod. Its doors were already open slightly, and the metal rod he had wedged between the plates only continued to widen the space.
‘Shit.’
Taking a deep breath, on the next arc of his swipe you pushed forward. Managing to grab a stray pipe as you passed, you grabbed Sho’s arm by the wrist, twisting the knife from it and shoving away. Pivoting around as soon as you were past, you brought the improvised weapon in a wide arc to make contact with a painfully sounding thud.
Not pausing in your momentum you turn to Corin, still occupied with the pod, leaving his back wide open. Two small leaps and you’re there, giving him the same treatment you had Sho, his body falling in a heap.
Panting, you peeked inside to find the creature unharmed, if not a bit scared. Though to be honest you yourself were shaken, the pipe falling from your hands with a clatter. As soon as you got the Mandalorian from his binds you could consider yourself even and leave. You would never have to worry about this again, apart from being extra careful around Leon from now on. He wasn't the type to take too kindly when his pride was hurt.
“Don’t worry bud. Stay there. I’ll go check on-”
A hit from the left, catching you in the temple and blindsiding you. Clenching at the injury, a boot found itself onto your back, forcing you to the ground before toeing you over.
“You. Little. Bitch!” Leon seethed from above. Spinning his blade around, he buried it into your leg, ignoring your cry of pain as you struggled. He repeated the process, striking the flesh again and again until it was little more than a bloody mess. All the while you prayed to the Maker he didn't an artery.
If Leon didn’t kill you now, surely you would die soon. A wound like this on the streets was a death sentence, especially without any medical equipment. If infection didn’t get you then lack of work would.
“Thought you could get the drop on me? Now, instead of sleeping with me, you can sleep in the ground.” His bloodied boot met your torso, earning a small crack and wheeze for his efforts. Trying to crawl away was no use, his other foot pining your wrist to the ground as he leaned over your body. Hand moving lower, your confusion turns to anguish as fingers jab into your body, entering from a wound you must have received in your skirmish with Sho. The adrenaline had kept you from feeling it before, but now? Now you wished you had remained unaware.
“You know,” Leon grunted, his fingers twisting inside and making you gasp as you felt something pull. “I knew I’d be in your guts one day, but I figured it would be a little more enjoyable for both of us.”
You hardly hear him, pain consuming every crevice of your body and invading your mind. It's like everything was burning with an invisible flame and nothing could put it out. Now matter how hard you struggled, how much you cried out for the maker to just end it, to let you die, it continued. It felt as if it was coming from everywhere, replacing the blood in your veins if only to spread more.
Only once in your life had you experienced anything even close to this, and you had barely walked away with your life then. But now…
You were drained. The last of your fight leaving with the blood as you grew colder, movements stilling. It's like you were surrounded in a cloud of cotton, everything muffled and blurry as your senses faded in and out.
Leon must think you dead, as his weight is removed, allowing your struggling lungs to greedily gulp in air. It did nothing to help, only making the burning in your chest worse.
Through hazed vision, you observe the world as it moved in slow motion. Shadows shift and flicker along the edges of your vision, before detaching to loom over you. There’s words being spoken, sounding all the same as they’re repeated again and again. It’s only when a hand ghost your wounds do you react.
A small whimper leaves your lips, begging whoever it is to leave you alone and let you die in peace. To die alone in the middle of an alley, stabbed and left to rot. As is the fate of so many who live here.
Then, in the middle of your suffering, comes warmth.
It starts small, a pebble of comfort really, growing more every second. You briefly wonder if this is what death feels like. If so, then maybe it's not so bad. It reminds you of the warm drinks your mother would bring home after work, warming you from the inside out like liquid sunshine.
It dulled your senses bringing a blissful wave of numbness as hands continued to move across your body.
Then, nothing.
________________
It seemed as if you were bathed in darkness for eternity, endlessly floundering in its inky depth. Like someone's holding your head underwater, keeping you under the surface with ease as you claw back to the surface of consciousness, inch by inch until you can slowly start to feel your body once again.
You're confused and bleary as you wake, body feeling like lead as your greeted with the humming of engines and creaking of metal. As far as you could remember, you hadn’t fallen asleep near the landing base, and ships never landed this close to your crate.
Thinking hurt too much now to worry though, head pounding in protest. It’ll be a problem for you in the future you decide. Right now, you just wanted to sleep off the massive headache. Turning over, a jolt of pain rewards your efforts and your eyes shoot open.
The sight of metal greeted you, though not the type you were used to. This was less rusted, better welded than anything in the area you lived. The blanket currently clutched in your hands was softer than anything you owned as well, and you never had an actual pillow before.
Another shock of pain coursed through you, prompting you to lift your coverings. The sight of stark white bandages greeted you, peeking up from the holes in your shirt and around your bare leg. There was no fabric left on the injured appendage, looking to have been ripped off if the jagged edges were anything to go by. The sight was heartbreaking, being the only pair of pants you owned, now left in less than good condition.
The sight of the bandages does stir something in the back of your mind, fighting the fog in your mind and settling right on the tip of your tongue. Its hazy, a patchwork of events and words. If you could just-
Another jolt shoots through you, bringing back memories alongside the pain. The walk home, seeing the Mandalorian with Leon, trying to help and getting fucked in return. It all comes back in sharp flashes.
That’s right. You were injured. You should have died. Yet here you are, alive.
The question is; where is ‘here’?
You’re resting in a small enclosed space, the only exit being at your feet, which protrude almost comically from the edge. There’s a large number of blankets and a few stuffed animals lying around, working to soften the metal crypt.
There’s no sounds apart from what you heard earlier, though if you listen closely enough you can hear the occasional beeping of machinery and internal components. The silence is of little comfort only making you on edge. If there’s no sound, then someone is purposely trying not to be heard.
Getting out of the small space is more of a challenge than you would think. The wounds make it nearly impossible to move and you have to bite your tongue to keep from crying out as you shift, slowly pulling yourself to the edge and allowing your legs to hang over the side. You nearly collapse when you jump down the remaining three inches to the floor, forcing you to lean on the cold steel of the wall. Air comes in short gasps with your hand clenched over your mouth to muffle any sound. When the pain fades enough to move again you make your way further through the ship, inspecting everything with wide eyes as you go.
You’re definitely on a ship. If the rumbling of the engine earlier hadn’t been enough, the floor under your feet sways and dips every so often, forcing you to use the wall to keep from falling. There’s tools and other miscellaneous items scattered about. Crates with varying degrees of fullness and contents are pushed into corners away from an incredible large amount of storage spaces, and the air reeks of blaster residue, rust, and fuel. There’s something that looks suspiciously like a carbonite chamber on the far wall, making your nerves increase ten fold.
It all had an organized chaos to it, making it near impossible for anyone but the ship's owner to navigate the clusters of items.
As you inspect a panel on the wall more closely, hoping you might gather some information, a small clatter makes you jump. Spinning around, you come face to face with the little monster that got you into this situation.
The green creature coos, speaking a jumble of sounds like he expects you to understand. It steps forward, waddling over in small steps to your frozen form until he’s at your feet. He doesn’t even come up to your knee, though that doesn't make him any less hesitant to latch onto your leg, tugging at the fabric with a surprisingly strong grip.
For once you’re unsure what to do. While you liked children, your experience was limited to those on the streets, giving the occasional tip to avoid them from causing any trouble and attracting attention from the enforcers. They seemed to like you though, and sometimes you swore it was like you had a retractor beam calibrated specifically for them. You tried your best to get them in with one of the better groups around, but that was all you could do for them. You were far from the best example, and there was no way you could look after them yourself.
But wait, he had been traveling with the Mandalorian. So if he was on this ship with you now then that meant…
A thud, louder than all the others. It comes from above. Your eyes drift to the ladder, leading up to the only place on the ship you haven't searched yet.
The cockpit.
You push the kid aside gently before moving closer, ears straining for any more noises. At the bottom you struggle to lift your arm to the bottom rung. Any movement sends a fresh wave of pain from your side, and when you lift your leg to push yourself up it only worsens. You're forced to use the uninjured leg, going up with only one of each limb. It’s slow and painful, only made that much more difficult by the fact you had to remain silent.
It was a slow go, but eventually you made it to the top, head poking above the lip of the entrance to reveal a spacious cockpit. There were three seats arranged in an arrow, but only one was currently occupied with the man you were looking for. His shoulders jutting out from the sides, too wide for the seat to act as a proper back. Light from the passing stars bounced off his helmet almost blindingly in flashes. The rifle strapped to his back was gone, but that didn’t mean he was unarmed. There could be any number of blades and blasters hidden on his person. Though even without weapons he was dangerous.
Imminent death wasn’t what concerned you. After all, you assumed he was the ones who had patched you up and brought you aboard.
As you made your way closer to his turned back, your eyes roamed the area. Being around ships as much as you had, even if they were mainly imperial, there were a couple things you noticed.
Judging from the setup, it must be pre-empire, though it clearly had some modifications added to keep it on par with other ships. Reinforced walls in the upper parts, clearly welded by someone other than a professional, with a narrowed viewing port to give blaster less of a chance to blow out the glass. A sliding door with airlock components lies at the entrance. Not something you would find on a normal transport ship like this, which the large hull told you it was. Squares weren't the most dynamic shape for space travel after all.
Through the narrowed view you can see you’re in hyperspace and it takes you aback for a moment. You had never been beyond the atmosphere of Corellia, even when in the hold of transports. Countless nights you had spent gazing at the sky, trying to see past the clouds to the stars beyond, wishing you could be up there with them, exploring the galaxy and away from this hell hole. Now, it was like your dreams had come true in their own twisted way.
So distracted by the sight, you missed the stray plasma cutter lying on the ground. Your heel caught the edge, making you stumble as it skidded across the floor, the noise early defining after the previous silence. You paused, only a few feet from the Mandalorian now. There was a beat of silence, and you wondered if you had caught him sleeping. Somehow that was almost as terrifying as finding him awake. The fact that he found you so little of a threat that he could sleep without fear of you trying something.
Then, without turning, he spoke, voice sending every fiber of your being on high alert.
“I thought you would have slept longer.”
#the mandalorian#din di#din dijarin#din dijarin x reader#x reader#star wars#star wars x reader#mandalorian x reader#the mandolorian#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#baby yoda#grogu#mando#star wars fanfiction#fanfiction#mandalorian#din x reader
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if i had my way i would be yours (taywhora) - chapter one
Everyone always said how stupid it was to crush on straight people. A'whora had rolled her eyes, wondering how that could even happen to someone. Then she met Tayce.
Unless Tayce isn't quite as aware of her own feelings as she seems, and there's something going on. But she was straight, she always had been, why would it change?
ao3 link
“Men are so shit, why do I even try?”
Tayce grumbled, door flying open as she stormed in, landing on the sofa with a huff. A’whora frowned at the look on her face; she knew it well, the guy Tayce had been seeing gave her a bad feeling from the start. She kept her mouth shut at first, knowing how excited she was to go out on more dates with someone. She also didn’t want to deal with the “you hate all of my dates” rant.
She did hate all of Tayce’s dates, the girl had bad taste in men.
Or maybe it was down to the fact it wasn’t her.
She hesitantly walked over, poking Tayce’s shoulder to gauge her reaction and the best response for it. Or at least she planned to, before Tayce grabbed her, pulling her next to her and burrowing her head into her shoulder with a groan.
“I hate men. What the fuck did I do to only date these fuck boys, Is no guy I'm ever interested in decent?”
“Do you want an actual response or some comfort?”
Tayce hummed, mulling it over. She was pissed, the frustration was palpable. Though something about how her roommate's words drew her in. She knew deep down whatever A’whora would say was right, the girl was observant, possibly too so. It made her anxiety worsen on her bad days, but it made her the best option for an unbiased opinion.
“Both?” Tayce replied tentatively, uncomfortable with the insinuation of vulnerability.
“Because your taste in men is the worst of anyone I’ve ever known.”
“And the comfort part?” She stifled a laugh, blunt as ever. She’d expected something like that, but the deadpan way A’whora said it never failed to make her crack a smile.
“You’re too good for average men, too pretty, too smart, too funny. You’re a catch but the people you go after are too stupid to see that.” A’whora wished she could hide her emotions better, knowing her expression had morphed to a hopelessly soft smile, staring at Tayce like she was everything that would ever matter to her.
Tayce futilely tried to hide the blush forming at the parise. Her confidence lifted, knowing how much her friend meant the words. She saw the hesitation as A’whora realised what she’d said and how she said it. It was adorable how she would blurt out something soft then process it after.
The blonde felt her insides melt as Tayce pulled her into a tight hug, she could feel the warmth that always radiated from her body. It was odd how affectionate Tayce could be; she’d scare anyone else who tried to touch her, glaring with a ferocity that made even A’whora take a step back to give her space.
But it was different between the two of them.
Tayce had no problems pulling her into her arms when she wanted attention, or flopping right into her when she felt like it. A’whora would huff, weakly attempt to push her off before leaning into it. Was it normal for two close friends to be affectionate with each other? Absolutely.
Did it make her heart sting any less when Tayce would go on, dating men and being clearly straight? Fuck no.
They were besties, that’s what she always said. They’d been attached at the hip since 18, meeting at uni and being inseparable. A few drunk makeouts had lead A’whora to wonder if Tayce wasn’t as straight as she insisted, but her lack of interest when there was clearly something between them told her everything she needed to know.
Why the fuck did she have to crush on a straight girl?
Tayce continued to hold her, anger visibly dissipating from her face as A’whora let her get out all of her pent up affection.
“You’re such a softie.” Though she meant it as a light taunt, Tayce’s tone came out sweetly fond; as if A’whora was the only person in the world who deserved her affections.
“If only I could meet a guy half as good as you, then it’d be a bit easier.” Tayce spoke quieter, as if she was trying to not let anyone hear it despite them being the only people in the room. A’whora was better than anyone she’d ever met. It wasn’t a very fair comparison. No one had the same disgusting sense of humour, wouldn’t put up with Tayce’s constant baked beans every morning or deal well with her energy. Getting along with her was effortless, they could talk and laugh about nothing for hours without even realising it.
“So I’m better than any guy?” A’whora teased, a grin quickly taking over her face
The smug look on A’whora’s face was infuriating. She’d never breathe word of this to anyone, but it was something Tayce loved to see.
“That’s not what I said, you cocky slag, let me be soft.” Tayce shoved the blonde into the sofa lightly, snickering as she fell back.
“You’re gonna make someone really lucky one day, Tayce.” A’whora gave a sincere smile, melting away any of the cockiness.
“And you are going to make one lady very lucky Aurora, just don’t let her get in the way of our bestie hugs.”
“No one ever could.”
A’whora leant more into Tayce after she spoke, too distracted by the warmth of her friend to ponder her actually getting a girlfriend. Deep down she knew no girl would ever compare to the impossibly high standard that was Tayce. She couldn’t help but put her dates up against her as a standard. Tayce was so bright, had such good energy, could always make her laugh after a bad day, A’whora couldn’t settle for anyone less.
“So, what happened today?”
“I mentioned my roommate was a lesbian and he started saying how that should make me uncomfortable, that you could start trying to make me sleep with you, and how you weren’t to be trusted, so I told him to fuck off and stormed out.”
The anger was radiating off of Tayce as she recounted the story, remembering the sheer audacity of a man thinking he was right in his bigotry, that she would agree with him. The longer she thought about it the more her blood boiled. How could people like that freely walk around spouting hate, and act like she was the bad one for being appalled by it?
“Be careful, I might spread my gay to you.” A’whora joked, putting her hand in Tayce’s face only for her to swat it away with an exaggerated gasp.
“Wouldn’t you have done that already by now?” Tayce pondered, the amount of time they spent together would allow it. If she really had magical lesbian turning skills.
“I’m not yet at full power, be scared.”
“Oh, I’m frightened of your lesbian powers.”
“Next thing you know, you’ll be in only leather jackets and flannels and cut your nails super short.” A’whora tugged at Tayce’s shirt for emphasis, erupting into giggles as she gasped and gave an over exaggerated tut at the action.
“Why would you need—” Tayce trailed off, contemplating the question before realising the suggestion. “You filthy hound, get your mind out of the gutter.”
“You’re just as bad as me!” A’whora whined, pouting at the accusation no matter how true she knew it to be.
“Maybe so, who’s to know.”
“Me! Disgusting hound! I know what you’ve gotten up to you can’t call me out for shit.” She gestured to Tayce’s room, grimacing at the implications of what she’d been getting up to with guys.
Tayce froze. She knew that there was a good chance A’whora had heard something through the walls, but her carelessly admitting it like it was a casual thing sent her through a loop. Her ease of talking about sexual things never failed to startle Tayce, no matter how used to it she should be.
“Touché, these walls are thin, aren’t they?”
Tayce played it off with a laugh, not wanting A’whora to realise her mental stumbling. She didn’t have to know her true feelings, they were better left hidden.
“They are, and it was mortifying.”
---
Tayce was trying not to think about things. It didn’t work out to be the best coping strategy, but the thoughts were too much for her to deal with.
So she didn’t.
Until she couldn’t stop.
She wasn’t affected by another shitty date, men were bad. It didn’t bother her, though it sure managed to eat at the small self worth she’d spent too much time trying to slowly cultivate back after her last relationship.
It fell apart with another failed attempt. It felt pointless. Was she even worth it? She tried to ignore the growing sadness until it took her over.
She didn’t notice she was crying until she saw tears land on her jeans. It didn’t take long for her to get overwhelmed by it all. Collapsing into a heap, trying desperately to keep quiet and not attract attention.
“Tayce?”
The only response she got from the brunette was a groan, burrowing her head into her arms. A’whora cautiously walked closer, laying a hand on her shoulder, only to feel Tayce tense up under her and throw her hand off. She took the cue; she wasn’t in the mood to talk, wanting to be alone instead.
A’whora started to walk away before Tayce moved again, grabbing her by the wrist to pull her down next to her.
The blonde tried again, slowly putting her hand onto Tayce’s shoulder. She didn't flinch away this time, staying dead still—it was about then when A’whora noticed her shaking breaths. It was subtle, clearly attempting to hide her emotions. They stayed in that state for a while, Tayce not calmed enough to attempt talking but not wanting A’whora to leave either.
Eventually someone moved, A’whora shuffled down, laying herself next to Tayce to wrap an arm around her back. Tayce let out a small sigh, shuffling ever so slightly closer to her friend.
She felt A’whora’s thumb starting to stroke her shoulder blade. Soundlessly showing her support.
“You want me to talk?” Tayce grumbled, lifting her head to speak before promptly shoving it back into her duvet.
“It’s up to you, do what you feel comfortable doing.”
“It’s stupid.”
“If it’s upsetting you it’s not stupid.”
“It shouldn’t upset me, I'm better than this.”
A’whora could hear the eye roll in her voice, Tayce was a master at sending mixed signals. She clearly wanted her around and was upset but didn’t want to admit it.
“I just…” Tayce trailed off, finally rolling over to face A’whora. “I feel like I’m never going to find love, you know? Like none of this is worth it. It just makes me feel a bit worthless, am I not pretty enough? Why can’t I meet the right person?” Tayce sighed, her arm moving to mirror the wrap A’whora had around her back.
“Tayce, you’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever met please don’t doubt yourself. It feels like you’re not good enough but I think it’s the opposite. You’re too good and it’s going to take someone special to actually deserve you.”
She saw Tayce’s face shift, from neutral to disbelief to something softer. As if she believed what A’whora was saying with her whole heart.
“You really think so?” The vulnerability that slipped out of Tayce then took A’whora aback. This wasn’t the usual tayce, the one who would always ask “Who, me? Like this?” when A’whora complimented her. This reaction was so much rawer.
“Yeah, you know I’d never lie to you. I can’t tell someone they look good when they don’t, but you always do.”
Tayce nodded slowly, not trusting herself to let out a verbal response just then. She was too soft, her guard all the way down for the one person who she trusted with it. She closed the distance between her and A’whora, pulling her into a tight hug.
“You’re such a softie.” She laughed, feeling A’whora shove her before letting out a snicker.
Tayce couldn’t say it, but that was her favourite thing about A’whora. How easy it was for her to be vulnerable and show a more emotional compassionate side at the drop of the hat. If it were anyone else, she’d envy them in secrecy—but with her roommate? She longed to ask her how to do it. How to let go and be open with someone she trusted. It just couldn’t come out, no matter how hard she tried.
“You just had to ruin the moment didn’t you. You’re such an ass.”
A’whora didn’t attempt to hide the fondness in her words, knowing it was what Tayce needed and wanted to hear. She wasn’t ready to be fully vulnerable but she’d tried to let her in as best she could. Patience was one thing she had in excess, no matter what she’d wait for Tayce to be ready.
She’d always be waiting, forever ready to do anything for Tayce, no matter how much it hurt.
#taywhora#tayce#a'whora#awhora#rpdr fanfiction#if i had my way i would be yours#thanks to zyan for betaing this we got there in the end
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The Trouble (Loki x Reader)
Loki comforts reader through an intense episode
A/N: I’m always just a sucker for couples who comfort each other through this type of struggle. As always, Gender Neutral Reader!
Warnings: ANGST, implications of a depressive episode (this does not explicitly mention depression, but does have a lot of symptoms associated)
“They’re not in today, what are you needing Rock of Ages?”
Loki raised an eyebrow as Stark appeared from behind. Normally he’d be irritated with his insistent snooping. Loki was very aware of his lack of welcoming in New York, which he didn’t argue with at all, and aware of how his brother’s new entourage would go out of their way to make sure he wasn’t up to anything.
His focus wasn’t on them today however. He sought out for your companionship, hence his prying into your empty office.
Tony popped in, almost too conveniently, picking up some documents left by you the day prior. “Called in sick today. I know how much you both like to ‘hang out’ and talk shit about everyone.”
“Do you often keep watch over (y/n) as well?” Loki asked mockingly.
“No, they keep an eye on you for me.” Tony responded. “But I gotta admit, I’m also a little worried about them. It’s really out of character for (Y/N) to call me up like that.”
Again, Loki’s first instinct would be irritation at your relationship with Tony. He abhorred how connected you both seemed and the deepened trust you had in him. This time, his first instinct grew in worry over you.
“Care to elaborate, Stark?” He asked hesitantly.
“Uh, no.” Tony said as a matter of fact, scanning through your work. “Firstly, HIPPA, and secondly, if it had anything to do with you, then you’d know.”
Loki gritted his teeth, but urged himself to step back and avoid an altercation with Tony, despite how much of a fool he was. “Why do I even waste my time here with you?”
“Because you love me.”
Loki promptly stormed out of your office, not even allowing Tony to retort back with another snarky snide. However he knew there was some truth to his words. Indeed, if something were wrong, experience showed Loki would be the bearer of news immediately. Whether it’d be through a series of relayed messaged from people to people, or his brother attempting to decipher a ‘text’ from you, Loki would be priority.
This time he wasn’t. And a wave of resentment hit him in the worst way possible. The only logical reasoning behind your choice, or lack of, involved him. Were you upset with him? Did you grow bored? Disinterested? Or indeed, was your relationship with your boss much more intimate than he imagined it to be?
As a man of action, Loki soon found himself at your door. The nagging thought would only continue to pester him until he would crumble under the doubt and self-deprecation. His resentment only grew, but not towards you. His resentment would be directed at himself for being so stupid to have allowed himself to be vulnerable with a mere Midgardian.
He pounded aggressively at your door, thinking how easily it would be for him to tear it down in one swift kick. But that would probably upset you, and he genuinely wanted to have a conversation with you about why he was left out of the loop. And not Tony Stark.
No answer. But he sensed you on the other side, that familiar energy he would grow fond of. Lord, were you avoiding him? He pounded again, this time calling out your name as sternly as he could. He waited for a second, but still no answer.
Resentment now turned into panic. He couldn’t fathom you purposefully avoiding him. And if you were, what did he do? He again, resisted against the temptation of breaking your door handle and entering without your permission.
He called out for you again. “Stop avoiding me. I know you’re there. I simply wish to speak.”
Loki jumped a bit when he heard the locks from the inside slowly beginning to open up. Your door opened slightly ajar, allowing Loki to peer in through a small crevice. He caught you through the small space, wearing an oversized hoodie, big enough to almost fall over and cover your eyes. You looked different, nothing he had ever encountered before.
“Loki.” You spoke out to him, but your voice sounded so distant. It was frail and weak. Your usual enthusiasm or amusement was gone, replaced with a heavy, monotonous touch.
Panic now turned into heartfelt concern. Loki’s eyes slightly widened at your presentation. There was something completely off, something missing, an all too familiar state.
“Tell me what’s wrong.” He commanded.
“Nothing.” You responded flatly. “Please leave. I don’t want to see anyone today.”
The door began to slowly close, but Loki strategically placed his boot in between, to prevent you from wanting to fully close it. “You are not in any position to be telling me that, human. Especially after you failed to tell me of your absence at Stark’s.”
“Loki, please. I don’t want to talk right now.” You said, your voice beginning to break.
He snarled, now using his hand to push to door fully ajar, knowing full well you would not match his strength at all. “You will not push me aside (Y/N). I will not be cast away like some rusted piece of history.”
Loki observed you stepping away from the door, possibly in fear of his demanding tone. Your eyes remained hidden, but he could tell your distress from your quivering lips. He cared not, if this was what it took for him to assure himself of your well-being. He fully stepped inside, kicking the door close behind him.
“Now,” He began, stepping closer towards you. “Speak.”
But you didn’t. As if you were stuck in place, you remained in the same spot, your gaze clearly avoiding his. Now more than ever, you appeared much smaller. He observed your rocking back and forth, as if you were disconnected from the world. This wouldn’t do, especially without him getting a good look at your face.
He stood directly in front of you now. “Let me see you. I need to see your eyes.” You remained silent, but still allowing him to reach over the hood to pull it down. He cupped the side of your jaw with both of his hands, pulling you upwards to directly connect your eye contact with his.
Part of Loki’s skill set including being able to observe and read people through non-verbal language. It was a useful asset that always allowed him to peer into anyone’s hidden intentions. He could easily asses whether someone would be lying, when someone would be scared, or when someone was hiding any valuable information. A simple dilation of the eyes, or flared nostrils could detail a lot about a person, and would of course allow him to take advantage of. But perhaps his best deciphering skills would not prepare for him for the sight.
Tears. Cheeks stained with trails upon trails of salty tears. Eyes so bloodshot and weary, he could see how it even pained you to look up at him in the faint light of your home. Your eyes, once full of light and joy, now appeared hollow and empty. His mouth fell agape, encountering that same familiar feeling from long ago. This was turmoil. This was anger towards your own self. And this was the loss of purpose. Never did he think he would find you in the worst of positions, one he was much too intimate with long ago.
But he knew he didn’t need to ask why.
Loki wiped away the remaining moisture from your cheeks, his gaze now falling soft onto yours. “Oh, my love. You’ve been through a treacherous battle, haven’t you?”
“I don’t know whats wrong with me. It just keeps coming, and coming, and it doesn’t stop. Why am I getting like this?” Your breath became shallow as you spoke and your voice still remained weak and frail.
“My love, you don’t need to understa-”
“Loki, I’m so scared. I’m scared I’m just going to get stuck like this. Am I just fucking broken?” You became agitated, your eyes beginning to pool again.
“No, you need to stop saying that. You are not broken.” He said, holding you firmly at your shoulders. “You will be able to get through this, and you won’t be alone. I will be here with you.”
“No, I can’t.” You began to break down, now pulling and tugging at your hair. “Just leave me, I’m so fucking useless and stupid-”
“(Y/N). Stop. You will not hurt yourself like this.” His voice boomed, now pulling your wrists away from your hair. “What you are going to do is listen to me.”
Your breath hitched, staring at Loki with fully leaking eyes. Loki felt his stomach twist as he continued to grip at your trembling wrists. You were so frightened at yourself. He knew the feeling all too well. He connected with your current sense of hopelessness, wanting to completely disappear from reality just to avoid disappointing those close to you. In his previous years, he would have taken this as a blatant sign of weakness. Loki used to be harsh in that way, and especially towards himself. The notion was absolutely disgusting, and he imagined himself hating it even more coming from a human.
But not with you. All he could think of was wrapping his strong arms around you, keeping you close to him to ensure your safety and your happiness. He followed with his instinct, and the pulled you close towards him, one hand caressing the back of your head and the other promptly over the small of your back.
He allowed you to melt with him, feeling your smaller arms wrap around his torso. You began to spasm, releasing the full force of your sadness onto his chest. He was not bothered by the wet feeling, but content with your transparency with him.
“Listen to me.” He said tenderly, placing his chin at the top of your head. “I know it’s hard. It’s horrendous, but you cannot allow it to control you. Everything it’s telling you is a lie. You are not any of those things.”
“L-loki-”
“You’re wonderful. You’re so kind, and gentle. You are the only person I look forward to seeing every single day I am in this city. No one else matters, it’s only you (Y/N).”
Loki also didn’t care if he was being transparent with you. He knew his feelings for you were reciprocated as well.
“I am sorry if I came off too strongly earlier, but I couldn’t fathom not seeing you today.”
He felt your body becoming slightly relaxed, still allowing you to push your full weight onto his chest. You rubbed your eyes on him, hiccuping in the process.
“I’m sorry Loki.” You said muffled.
“Don’t apologize.”
“I didn’t mean to push you away. I just, didn’t want you to see me like this.”
“Do not hide yourself from me, please.” He said. “It would pain me to not be here by your side.”
He kissed the top of your head, still holding his tight embrace over you. Your smaller frame seemed to fit just as well along his larger frame. He relished in the moment, taking into account your arms also still tightly clinging onto him.He would continue to protect you in any way he could, even if it was against yourself.
#loki#loki x reader#loki x you#loki x y/n#loki fanfic#loki fanfiction#loki oneshot#loki laufeyson#loki odinson#loki (mcu)#loki pov
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Apart (Part 2 to Fallen)
Part 1
word count: 3158 (how tf!?!?)
Baekhyun feels uneasy the second he’s back inside the house; the air seems to be ten times colder without the warmth of your smile and the soft laughter of your daughter filling the air.
His fingers mindlessly trace over the patches of fabric you lovingly stitched into his coat after all the times he carelessly snagged holes in it from yanking it off of the hanger. He knows it’s selfish. Not properly sending you on your way to mask his own hurt at seeing you and your daughter venturing off on your adventures without him. Your world-stopping smile, pregnancy glow, and the two sets of heart softening doe eyes looking up at him too much for his tired form to bear. Too much for him to deal with his guilt without falling apart in front of you.
He hates it — hates how hard it is to be around you lately. Always feeling as if he is stepping on eggshells in fear of stressing you out. Your soft smiles and sweeter words whispered to the precious symbol of your love growing inside of you brings tears to his eyes that he has to hide every time you gaze up at him from across the living room when he steps through the door. You mean the world to him and he’d do anything for you. No matter how many long hours he spends cooped up alone at the office, or sleepless nights from attending to your daughter when she cries for him in the middle of the night. He wouldn’t change a single part of your lives — except for last night.
His heart aches at the thought; fists clenched and bile rising in his throat. Remembering the deceitful men urging him to take more drinks, and the woman he practically had to shove off his lap.
♡♡
Baekhyun’s heart beat is pounding furiously in his ears, the only thing stopping him from going into a blind rage is the thought of you waiting up for him at home. With your pretty doe eyes and worry-melting smiles. Just your presence alone can calm him down.
He steps over the threshold without a word, hanging up his cream colored coat as he’s struck with the reminder that he is two hours late again. The underlying implications of that puts him in an even sour mood. He’s so stressed out lately that just the thought of anything more than a cup of coffee makes him feel sick to his stomach, and even more ill at the fact that you’re probably thinking he doesn’t enjoy your meals anymore. Meals that you usually store away for later, yet tonight you are—
“How was work?” Your voice is soft, always understanding in wake of his more often than not pleasant moods. His heart flutters as he quietly moves over to the coffee maker, mindful to carefully brush off his shoes before stepping onto the newly mopped floor. You turn away from him and he frowns, guilt budding in his chest as you distract yourself with the dishes. He knows how hard it is for you to have to take care of things around the house while having a bun in the oven.
“The merger bailed.” He mumbles, taking a few minutes to remember what you asked him.
“No.” You gasp, spinning to him, eyes wide and lips parted in shock. “Why? You’ve been working on this collab for months-”
“They wanted us to travel with them.” Anger once again fills his veins while recalling how disrespectfully those bastards spoke of you; a bitter smile forming on his lips. “Apparently a 7 months preganant wife doesn’t make the cut.” Fuckers. The lot of them.
“Y-You can go, I mean.” Your stuttering breaks him from his revengeful thoughts. Looking so small in his eyes with your hand over your adorable stomach and a plate of food balanced in your other hand. “I-I could let the baby spend the week at-”
What? “Where will they go?” Baekhyun panics. Why would you want your daughter to be away? Did he do something wrong? Are you—
The crashing of the plate to the floor startles him; hours of your hard work scattered like his barely contained emotions. “Where will they go?” He repeats softer, roughly carding his fingers through his ruffled hair. Did he startle you? He didn’t mean to. He’s just so—
Baekhyun raises a brow, swearing that he heard you say something in that cute way you like to utter things under your breath. His eyes widening at your state, hands outstretched to help you back up only to stop, a memory occurring to him. You screamed at him every time he attempted to help you pick up fallen food during the earlier months of your pregnancy. Proclaiming that you were ‘capable of doing it’ yourself while sternly pointing him towards the cupboard that you keep the cleaning supplies.
“I-I got work in the morning,” Baekhyun mumbles. The last thing he wants is to fight you. He doesn’t want to risk what regretful words he’d spew if he stays any longer; quickly going over to open the supply cupboard for you and setting the first-aid kit on the countertop just in case you accidentally prick yourself. He tentatively retrieves his coat from the rack, meekly uttering, “I’ll be at Chanyeol’s. Don’t wait up, okay?” While pulling the door closed behind him.
♡
Yeah, he’s still upset. Very upset. He’s been working on that stupid merger for 4 months. Hours upon hours spent worried over how he’s going to pay off student loans, provide for your growing family, and help your little stars through college. The weight of all the responsibilities weighing so heavily on his shoulders that he has resorted to shutting down and shoving his own feelings aside. He’s got a beautiful daughter, a beloved wife and another little one on the way. All of them are depending on him and he cannot under any circumstances afford to disappoint them. For what is the sun without it’s pretty planets circling around, leaning on it for stability and warmth? Nothing. But a big ball of pent up energy marching on its own journey to collapsing upon itself.
Suddenly, the sky is covered with dark clouds; the bottom dropping out from under the fluffy accumulations of rain. It’s pouring out; the heavy droplets pelting down on the roof remind him of all the times he went out his way to go pick you up in the middle of storms such as this one. Because it’s not safe for you to be driving out in the rain — driving out in the rain.
Baekhyun’s eyes widen, ripping a new hole in his coat as he rushes to put it back on, throwing the front door open with half the mind to lock it behind him because you always chastise him over leaving the house vulnerable — but right now you’re fucking vulnerable!
“Fuck fuck fuck,” He mutters, yanking the door to his black Audi open just as the squealing of car tires in the distance reaches his ears.
Baekhyun freezes, grip tight on the doorframe and hair matted to his forehead. Because just up the road is a car accident with what he swears is your car and it doesn’t look pretty.
“Oh my god.” A neighbor gasps, her leashed puppy cradled in her frozen grasp.
Baekhyun doesn’t stop to think; he fucking runs.
An ambulance is already weaving through the crowd as idiomatic bystanders block their way to the flipped over white Honda surrounded by broken glass on the sidewalk. The shrill screams of a frightened child — his child! — has him pushing his way through the crowd. Scrambling to the driver’s side of the car.
He wrenches the dented back car door open, tentatively brushing glass away from her tear streaked cheeks. Thanking every higher being that she only has small scratches on her little face. He scoops her out of the ruined carseat and cradles her to his chest, trying to soothe her as paramedics rush over to pull you from the car. Fuck. You —
Baekhyun’s head snaps up, wordlessly hurrying over to them on quick feet while they pull your unconscious form from under layers of broken metal and glass. A glance alone shows that you weren’t so lucky to leave the accident with only a few scratches on your face. No, there’s large pieces of glass distorting your delicate skin and a waterfall of red washing away in the rain.
Baekhyun barely hears a word that the person next to him is saying, only catching the phrases “child” and “hospital” before snapping out of his trace. “W-Wait!” He walks as fast as he can with your shaking daughter in his arms, “I’m the husband, I—” He chokes, eyes stinging with the realization of what is unfolding in front of him. Your limp body being lifted into the back of the ambulance. “I’m her husband.”
The paramedics usher him inside, offering a seat and asking to check up on the trembling toddler in his arms.
“How far along is she?” One of them asks, pulling a stethoscope from around her neck.
“7 m-months.” His voice comes out hoarse, a lump forming in his throat as he watches her slide it over your stomach. The lack of reaction from the little life inside of you makes more tears pool in the corners of his eyes. “I-Is the baby okay?”
She only gives him a solemn look, uttering some type of medical code to one of the other paramedics jotting down notes on a clipboard. “We’re almost at the hospital. Can I take a look at her?”
Baekhyun blinks through his blurry vision, reluctantly handing the small girl in his arms over to her. He shivers, just now feeling the coldness of his soaked clothes; swiping his drenched hair out of his eyes while graciously taking the thick blanket offered to him.
You couldn’t arrive at the hospital fast enough for him. He doesn’t know how much longer his heart can take seeing you like this — like a shattered irreplaceable vase missing the pieces to put it back together. Lifeless. Never to be the same again.
He barely registers the commotion as the paramedics roll you out of the ambulance and through the lobby, only stopping when a nurse holds him back from following you down the hall. “I’m sorry, Sir. You can’t go back there.”
“I—”
She swiftly shakes her head, standing her ground as he feels as if his whole world — his whole life is being flipped upside down. Less than an hour ago, your glowing figure was smiling up at him. Less than an hour ago, he thought that nothing else could get worse than the stress he faces every day. Yet here he is now, helplessly watching you and your daughter get taken further into the hospital — farther away from him. The man who vowed to be with you; in sickness and in health. In times of hardships and your greatest accomplishments. The same man who swore that no matter what came your way, you would face everything together—
Together…
Baekhyun plops himself down in an uncomfortable plastic chair; his head hanging low. How could he have forgotten such a thing? All the promises of sticking by your side through everything and anything. Of trust, leaning on each other — communication! When’s the last time he told you about his tiring days at work just to end up smiling by the end of the night while held in your loving arms? Or heard you complain about your feet hurting only for you to giggle soon afterward when he accidentally tickles you with his diligent massage? Or dared to reach across the body-shaped pillow that has taken up space in your bed to pull you to his chest. Did he really let himself get carried away by his own self doubts and fears?
Baekhyun’s breath hitches, his heart stopping in its tracks. Did he seriously hide himself away thinking the pain of being unable to reach him wouldn’t hurt you? Wouldn’t make you… You want to leave him?
He doesn’t know how long he sits there. Surrounded by the endless amounts of people being rolled in the never-ending stream of patients in the hosiptal. It seems as if everyone has gotten into bad accidents today, but no amount of blood and body disfigurement can erase the horrific image of your helpless child — of your lifeless form being carried out of that battered car.
“Mr. Byun?”
Baekhyun’s head shoots up to the light blue and white dressed man in front of him. “T-That’s me,” He croaks, throat hurting from holding back tears while hurrying to stand up.
“I’m Dr. Kim,” The man holds out his hand, introducing himself — uselessly, Baekhyun thinks.
“H-How are they?” He manages between shaky breaths, five seconds away from crumbling into a heap on the porcelain white floor.
“Your daughter and son are okay.” The doctor states calmly, flipping through papers on his clipboard.
Baekhyun breathes a small sigh of relief, heart calming down a little. “And my wife?” His tone hopeful; eyes pleading. The uncertain expression on the doctor’s face enough to knock the wind out of him, “Follow me.”
He trails after the man; right on his heels, gulping down the panic steadily rising in his chest as they turn the corner at the end of the long hallway. The doctor opens the door, wordlessly stepping aside to let him enter the crowded room. At least three nurses are stationed in the room. One fussing over a small bundle in their arms and another with his daughter outstretching her arms towards the bed on the right side of the room. The sight of you nearly sends him falling to his knees.
“Your son is 5 pounds,” The brunette softly says over the loud cries of your daughter. “He has to spend a few days in the NICU until we—”
“Give her here.” He demands, arms held out to take his daughter away from the blonde nurse struggling to hold her squirming form. She’s quick to hand the child over, watching enviously as the little girl settles in her father’s arms, loud wails simmering down into quiet whimpers.
Baekhyun slowly makes his way over to the bed, carefully lowering her down between the spaces free from all the tubes attached to your pale form. She wraps her arms around your bandaged arm, doe eyes still brimming with tears. He hates the panicked confusion swirling in her shiny orbs. Hates how lifeless you look against the standardized hospital sheets and the gauze wrapped around your head.
“She lost a lot of blood.” The doctor tentatively notes, dismissing the nurses from the room. The brunette sets the baby down in the bassinet next to the bed before departing as well. “And hit her head pretty hard on the dashboard… The baby had to be taken by C-section,” He adds, noticing Baekhyun’s eyes drifting over to the little one squirming in the bassinet. “We want to keep an eye on his vitals for a few days.”
“And my daughter?” Baekhyun mumbles, he can’t bear to raise his voice. Can’t bear the slow beeps of your heart rate echoing around the quiet room.
“Nothing but a few scratches.” He sees the doctor raise his hand from his peripheral as if to place it on his shoulder before reconsidering it, lowering it back down with a clear of his throat. “I’ll give you some time alone.”
Baekhyun barely acknowledges his words, shaky hands reaching out to cradle your ice cold one in his own. Unmerciful tears swarming his eyes. He doesn’t hold them back this time.
“I’m sorry.” He barely registers the pain of his knees hitting the tiled floor, head bowed as he folds in on himself, weeping so hard his shoulders quake from the built up emotions rolling through him by waves. Much more choppy than the ones that lapped at your bare feet dipped into the ocean all those years ago. At the edge of the world. Where nothing else mattered but your bright smile and your heart racing against his own.
“I-I’m sorr—” He chokes, hot tears flowing down his cold cheeks. Why did he pull away from you? Why did he have to go and hurt the sole person he would lay his own life down for? What if you never wake up? How will he explain to his daughter that her mother won’t be around anymore? That your son won’t know you at all anymore? You who were strong enough to stick by his side, filled to the brim with endless bounds of unconditional love despite how he treated you instead of the actions promised within your shared vows until you couldn’t — he made it so hard that you couldn’t anymore.
“I don’t deserve you.” He sniffles, voice cracking through his trembling lips. Hands clutching tightly onto your own. “I don’t deserve you at all, but please.” He can barely talk around the waterfall of tears pelting down his face, the sting of them worse than any downpour imaginable. “Please don’t leave me alone like this, baby. D-don’t.” He reaches up to cradle your cheek in his palm; the sound of his heart breaking nearly audible in wake of the healthy glow now gone from your face. “Open your eyes,” He breathes, fingers caressing your cheek. “Open your pretty eyes, baby. Tell me your love again,” He pleads, tears wetting the sheets and the fabric of your hospital gown. “Come back to me again.”
He drops his head again when you give no signs of hearing him; his hand slipping down helplessly back to your own grasping aimlessly at his — your hand!
Baekhyun nearly gets whiplash, eyes shooting up to meet your tired ones. The relief of seeing you looking back at him has him jumping to his feet, almost tangling himself up in the tubes attached to your body if not for your quiet warning reminding him. He settles for continuing to hold onto your hand, squeezing it softly as it slowly warms up the longer it is held within his, “You came back.” He whispers, astonishment clear in his hoarse voice.
“You came after me.” You utter right back, lifting your arm to let your daughter snuggle closer into your unbandaged side.
“Of course I did,” Baekhyun’s eyes flutter all over your person, heart leaping in so much joy he wonders if you can feel it racing between your intertwined hands. “I’d die for you.” He declares, words resonating through both your chests like the meaningful ones exchanged five long years ago.
“And I’d live for you.” You proclaim right back; smile bright and eyes lighting up at the small cries of your symbol of undying love.
#Baekhyun angst#I mispelled hospital THREE TIMES glad I read over it#bbh-net#let me go take a longggg break woo#Fallen
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Dying Tomorrow
Originally posted on AO3
Fandom: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom | Kaz + Inej
Word count: 4,927
***Rated NSFW (aged-up characters)*** -- It’s real smutty, guys.
Synopsis: It's been over ten years since the raid on the Ice Court, and Inej rarely thought of it anymore. And she tried to not think of the boy who'd pulled it off. But Fjerda did not forget. And now Kaz and Inej are reunited after years apart: awaiting their fate on the gallows in Djerholm. What final words of truth do they have to share with each other?
Rough hands threw Inej into the dark, and she caught herself on her knees, hands against cold, rough stone. The heavy iron door shut behind her with a resounding clang, the hefty lock lurching into place. And, for the first time in weeks, she was alone with her mind. Her heavy breathing echoed off the dungeon’s stone walls.
It had been over ten years since the raid on the Ice Court. An entire decade. In the grand scheme of all of her capers, the Ice Court still ranked in the top five, but had certainly been bumped out of the top slot years ago. She rarely thought about it anymore. And rarely thought about the boy who’d somehow pulled it all off.
But Fjerda had not forgotten. And now Fjerda had come to collect.
Inej pushed herself up to her feet, trying to take stock of herself in the dim light. She felt naked without her knives. Her black hair, which she’d chopped to her shoulders years ago, hung in dirty strings, mangled and knotted from the weeks she’d spent in a holding cell in Djerholm. She was sure her grey prison clothes were starting to smell.
She hadn’t thought of the boy who’d broken into the Ice Court in years, but now, more than ever, she wished she could get her hands on him.
“Inej.” Like something from a dream, that old, familiar grating voice, like stone against stone, called from the dungeon’s dark shadows, and Inej thought for a moment she might have lost her mind. She squinted into the darkness.
Son of a bitch. Kaz Brekker himself.
He limped into the thin line of flickering torch light that seeped in from the hall. How many years had it been? His hair was longer, his angles sharper, the taper of his shoulders to his waist clearly that of a man’s and no longer a boy’s. He was in prison clothes, too, old and new bruises blooming across his face and the scruff on his jaw. He had a new scar across his lip she’d never seen before.
“You.” Of all the faces she thought she might see inside a Fjerdan prison, this was the last she expected. She couldn’t believe the Fjerdans would put them together.
But then, she supposed it mattered very little to them where prisoners awaited their death sentence.
“Hello, Wraith,” Kaz rasped.
Her heart slammed against the inside of her ribcage. Her cheeks felt hot and buzzing. Kaz Brekker. Kaz Brekker.
Kaz fucking Brekker.
“You.” When she found her voice again, the rage came out in a growl. She could barely see straight. She would kill him. She would kill him right here. She crossed the cold stone floor in three quick steps and threw all of her weight into slamming an arm across his chest, throwing him up against the dungeon’s cold wall.
“You son of a bitch.” She bared her teeth and seized fistfuls of his scratchy prison shirt. “You implicated me. You sold me out.”
“You know I did no such thing.” Kaz kept his hands, his bare hands, out to the side, his dark eyes as imperceptible, as cold and unfeeling as ever. He wasn’t fighting her, and how she hated him for it.
“They blew up The Wraith,” she snarled in his face. She was out of tears to cry. All that was left was blinding, white hot rage. “You’ve cost me everything. You better start begging me for your life, or you’re not going to live to hang tomorrow.”
“I didn’t give them anything.” In the dark, Kaz’s eyes grew wider. He believed her. He knew she could strangle him with her bare hands.
“Then how come you’re the only one here?” Inej wasn’t loosening her grip, not for a moment. She should have never trusted Dirtyhands to run a clean job. “Who else could have tipped them off?”
“If I was going to sell you out, don’t you think I’d do a better job bargaining than this?” Kaz was beginning to raise his rasping voice. “Do you think I’d still be waiting to die tomorrow? Don’t you think I know enough to have prevented this?” And he held up his left hand to the light. There, at the end, were two bloody, bandaged stumps where his pinky and ring finger had been.
Inej faltered. She started to loosen her grip.
“If it wasn’t you, then who was it?” She was still seething.
“I don’t know,” Kaz said. “And believe me, I’d love to know. I’ll plaster Ketterdam with his innards when I find out.”
Fine. The truth mattered little anymore anyway. She released him with one last angry shove and stormed to the other side of the dungeon.
For a long time, she thought the silence was preferable. She didn’t want to even look at him. She was furious with him, but, even more frightening, memories long buried had bubbled to the surface while she’d had him in her hands. She’d spent many years letting go of what she’d wanted from him, what he could not give. She’d built a life for herself, with other lovers who had come and gone. All of it now at the bottom of the sea. And now the cruelest irony of it all: now she would spend her final hours with the only thing she’d wanted and never could quite claim for herself.
The Saints must really hate her.
But eventually the great, yawning silence of the dungeon became too much. The bleak unknown of what was to come struck her deep down in her gut. She needed distraction. Kaz had been good for that, at least.
“How’d they get you anyway?” she said, finally. This would at least be a good story.
“There’s not much to tell,” Kaz said, to her dismay. “The Fjerdans struck an extradition treaty with Kerch. And the Kerch have wanted to get rid of me for a long time.” She could see the glint of his wicked smile even in the dark. He would be proud of being hated by an entire country, the bastard.
“So, what – they just extradited you?” She raised an eyebrow. Seemed like an anticlimactic end for the Bastard of the Barrel.
“Hauled me out of my office, put me on the next boat to Fjerda,” Kaz summarized, with a cavalier shrug. Somehow, she doubted he really felt so unruffled about it. But she’d stopped trying to know the truth of Kaz Brekker long ago. Some vaults were best left locked.
“The Fjerdans blew up The Wraith?” Kaz asked. Inej stiffened.
“We’re not talking about that,” she said, flatly.
“I’m glad the old girl was still in sailing shape to the last,” Kaz commented, and then, a little more pointed: “I’d often wondered what happened to her since you stopped writing.”
Inej narrowed her eyes at him.
“Really? We’re doing this? Right here?” Her lip curled back in a sneer.
“Is the venue not good enough for you?” Kaz rasped back. “Would you like me to call the waiter over -- see if he can find us better seating?”
“You are such an ass.”
“You appreciated that about me once.”
“I have never.” Inej leaned forward, hoping he’d catch the barbs in her voice. “Once I thought there might have been something underneath all of your assholery.”
“And?”
“I got tired of digging for treasure and only returning with pennies.”
And she leaned back against the dungeon wall again. She glared at the door, willing it to open again and take her away from this ghost of her past. But of course it wouldn’t. Not until the gallows were ready.
“Interesting.” She couldn’t help rolling her eyes when Kaz’s voice echoed again.
“What?” she barked, irritated.
“I lived in fear so long of being hated by you,” he said. “I would have moved heaven and earth to avoid it. And yet I find I like it better than being ignored.”
“Good to know.” She would keep quiet then. She wouldn’t even look at him. She didn’t want to look at him anyway, how the prison clothes clung to the muscles of chest or how his coffee-black gaze could still seem to pierce right through her. Looking was doing her no good at all.
“Was your crew on The Wraith when she met her end?” But Kaz wasn’t going to be ignored, apparently. “Or family? Friends?” He paused. “Or a lover?”
Subtle.
“I think most made it to the row boats,” she said, and then corrected herself for the sake of her heart. “I think all of them made it to the row boats.” She’d seen them dotting the waves just before the Fjerdan ship took aim.
“Do you think your lover survived?” Kaz asked. She glanced his direction, against her better judgment, to see he was aimlessly picking at dirt under his nails, like he barely cared at all.
“Yes,” she lied. Let him think there was a lover. “I think he did.”
“Should I let him do the honors of rescuing you?” Kaz lifted his eyebrows, still preoccupied with the dirt on his fingers. “Or are you not willing to risk his failure?”
Inej’s heart skipped.
“Are you saying you have a plan to get out of here?” She was feeling the tiniest shred of hope for the first time in weeks. If anyone could do it, it was Kaz Brekker. He’d done it once before.
“Maybe.” He sounded noncommittal. “We’ll see.”
Inej grit her teeth. She couldn’t help shooting to her feet, pacing in her furious energy.
“This,” she seethed. “This right here. This is why I stopped writing.”
“Go on,” Kaz frowned. In the torchlight, she could see the muscle in his jaw tick. Good. Maybe there was still emotion in there after all.
“You love to withhold, don’t you?” she growled at him. “Withholding information, withholding money, withholding friendship, withholding love. Sometimes I think you love withholding more than you love kruge.”
“So, you are still thinking about me sometimes,” and a smile began to quirk at the edge of his mouth.
“Stop it,” Inej spat. “I will smack that stupid look right off your face.”
“You do that.” And Inej startled when Kaz pushed off from his side of the dungeon and took three steps towards her. Her breath caught. “Go on,” he was saying, growing closer. “Hit me. You hate me; I know you want to. Stop being so withholding, and hit me.”
It was like he was sucking the wind out of her sails. Every nerve in her body felt as if it was standing on end when he drew near, so near she could feel the warmth of him radiating towards her. She could feel his breath, see his pulse in the sinew of his neck, the way the torchlight cast shadows across the muscle beneath his collarbone. She hated him. She hated him so much. She hated that after all these years and all these other lovers she could still feel this way, still be drawn into his orbit as if no time had passed at all.
He bent his head, and she held her breath. Why wasn’t she moving? Why couldn’t she respond? His head was tilting, and she was staring into the deep wells of his eyes, rimmed in thick lashes. How could someone so cruel have such beautiful eyes?
Then he stopped, his nose inches from her cheek.
“I got tired of your self-righteousness,” he whispered there, and her face burned like never before. He straightened himself once again with that shit-eating smirk, like he’d gotten all the information he needed. Well, so had she.
So she did it.
She smacked him across his bruised jaw, hard enough that his face turned with the blow.
What did it matter? They were dying tomorrow anyway.
But he looked back at her with eyes that burned with something she couldn’t decipher, and she couldn’t think straight. She bit back the apology that was already threatening her lips.
“Better,” he rasped, looking satisfied. He really did prefer not to be ignored.
He turned to limp back to the other side of the dungeon. Inej closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind of the image of him so close to her.
“They took your gloves,” she heard herself say. She wouldn’t apologize, but maybe she wouldn’t ignore him.
“I don’t wear gloves anymore,” Kaz replied, leaning against the stone wall again with a heavy sigh.
This was perhaps the most surprising news all day.
“You don’t?” she said. “How long?”
“Three years, give or take,” Kaz replied. Inej was trying to mentally calculate how long since her last letter when he went on. “Turns out being a twenty four year old virgin is not conducive to maintaining Barrel boss status. Barrel thugs are not particularly open-minded about leadership qualities. I got help. It was that or lose the Dregs.”
“Oh.” Inej had no idea what to say to that. She didn’t particularly like thinking about the boy who’d trembled when he softly kissed her neck having a string of conquests. But then, that wasn’t fair, was it? She hadn’t remained chaste, either.
“Good for you,” she found herself replying. Did she mean it? She supposed she did. This was awkward.
To her surprise, Kaz let out a strange, rasping chuckle.
“What?” She frowned.
“I’d once imagined this conversation with you happening a thousand different ways, but never this one,” he said, dryly. “This particular outcome evaded me.”
“Quite a feat,” Inej remarked. “One point to Fjerda.”
“We’ll see,” Kaz shrugged again, and the only reason she didn’t slap him was because she already had.
“You never would tell me your mind,” she said. “As if, after all we went through, you still couldn’t trust me. And I had tried so hard for so long for your trust, Kaz. That was a brutal realization, the day I understood that about you.”
“It was never a matter of trust.” Kaz glared at her from across the room. “At any given moment, I am thinking of no less than twelve things. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to pick through all of that and determine and communicate the pertinent information to the situation and avoid revealing alarming, possibly irrelevant information that will only upset everyone if I did explain everything happening in my mind? If everyone would just trust me--”
“Oh, so it’s just that you think I’m too stupid to be privy to your mind.” Inej rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s much better.”
“That is not what I said,” Kaz groaned. He rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling, exasperated.
“I don’t want to argue about this.” Inej waved her arms, wildly. “I do not want to spend my last night in the world arguing about this meaningless shit. Saints, you always did this. You could always drag me into the most absurd, infuriating situations--”
“Oh, please,” Kaz rolled his eyes. “You loved it.”
“I absolutely did not--”
“You love it even now.” Kaz gave a careless gesture. “You love it, and you hate that. I see the way you keep looking at me.”
Inej nearly reached for her knives before remembering they’d been taken by Fjerdans.
“I do not like who you’ve become,” she spat at him.
“You have no idea who I’ve become.” Kaz folded his arms over his chest, the crow and cup tattoo rippling over the muscles of his forearm. He smiled, crookedly. “You have no idea what I can do, what I’ve learned, who even I am anymore, and it’s driving you mad. You could be planning your escape right now, and instead you can’t stop arguing with me.”
“Maybe I am planning my escape,” she hissed. She would not – would not – think about what he could do, what he had learned. “Maybe you’re not the only one capable of thinking of more than one thing.”
Kaz narrowed his eyes at her, working his jaw. It took her but a moment to recognize it; it had been so long. He was scheming.
Oh, Saints, save her. She’d missed that look.
“All right, then,” he said at last. “In honor of our last night in the world: I will tell you one full and honest truth. Whatever you want to know.” She opened her mouth. “On one condition.” Of course there was a catch. “I require one truth from you first. What do you say?”
“It’s always a deal with you, isn’t it, Brekker?” She shook her head. “What you are describing is what most people call friendship.”
“But we’re not really friends anymore, are we?” Kaz cocked his head. “I don’t claim to know much about friendship, but I think friends see each other more than once every five years. At best, we’re distant relatives.”
“We are definitely not that.” Inej really hoped he didn’t see her that way.
“We’re whatever you need to tell your lover to make him feel comfortable.” Kaz brushed it away. She’d already forgotten she’d lied to him about a lover. That wasn’t good.
“Well?” Kaz was raising his dark eyebrows at her.
“The deal is the deal,” she said, with a relinquishing shrug.
“Wonderful.” Kaz stepped away from the dungeon wall, his arms still crossed, and leaned towards her. “Did you ever love me?”
“Oh, for Saint’s sake!” Inej threw up her hands. Of all the things he could have asked.
“I suppose you don’t care much to know about the escape plans, then,” Kaz shrugged.
“You withholding son of a bitch. What makes you think I’m going to answer that question?”
“Your avoidance is saying a lot as it is.”
Inej squared back her shoulders, breathing hard in her fury. At least, she thought it was fury. She glared at him, seeing all the traces of that cocksure street rat she couldn’t get enough of once. The one she’d wanted so badly to touch and hold and love. His sharp jawline, his wide shoulders, his soft dark hair. Damn him, damn him. Why couldn’t he have just let her love him then?
She drew in a shaky breath. They were dying tomorrow anyway.
“You were my first love,” she confessed. It hurt her more than she thought it would to say it. Her shoulders slumped a little. “And no matter who else has warmed my bed, you have always held that title in my heart. Letting you go was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”
Kaz’s lips parted slightly, surprised. He stared at her, the rise and fall of his chest deepening.
“Then why did you?” he asked after a moment. But Inej swallowed hard and slowly shook her head.
“The deal was only one truth,” she said, softly. Her throat felt tight, and her chest hurt. She was not going to risk letting his cool indifference hurt her again.
Kaz looked away, biting the inside of his cheek. He tightened his arms over himself, his biceps swelling. The very picture of what she’d felt from him all those years ago. Guarded. Closed off. Withholding. Beautiful and yet so far out of reach.
“Your question, then,” he said, stiffly.
She should have asked of the escape. She’d been preparing to ask of the escape. Why did he have this kind of power over her still?
“Why didn’t you let me help you?” Her voice was low, and he looked up in surprise. He’d expected her to ask of the escape, too. “The way you sought help three years ago--”
“Give or take,” Kaz interrupted, looking dazed.
“I wanted to help you with all of it,” Inej went on. “You never let me get anywhere near close enough. And I couldn’t – I couldn’t--” She swallowed the lump building in her throat. “I couldn’t waste my life trying to heal someone who didn’t want to be healed. Why didn’t you want to heal?”
“You had been through enough.” Kaz was blinking hard. “You’d spent far too many years overburdened with men’s needs. I wanted to be near you, and I hated myself for wanting to be near you, because you deserved to be free of me. Of everything like me.”
“You let me go, too.” Inej lifted her chin, slightly. She felt relieved to be rid of the burden of guilt, a guilt she hadn’t realized she’d been harboring.
“I thought you might come back.” Kaz’s gaze drifted to the floor. “I hoped you would. You never said you wouldn’t. But months turned into years. You were happier wherever you were, with whomever you’d found. And I tried everything I could think of to get you out of my system. I’ve deprived myself of nothing, of no one I’ve wanted since you. Make no mistake: I wanted to heal.”
“And did you?” Inej’s voice felt like a croak. “Get me out of your system?” She wished she could slow her racing heart.
“The deal was only one truth,” Kaz replied, grating and dark.
And for a long while, the only sound in the dungeon was the monotonous dripping of leaking water, collecting in a pool in the stone. They were each rooted to where they stood, hardly daring to breathe or move. It was as if the air itself around them might shatter if they did.
“Inej.” Kaz spoke first.
“Yes?” Surely, he could hear the way her heart was beating.
“I have lived longer than I thought I would,” Kaz began. She heard him swallow once. “I’ve seen many men die. I am not afraid of death. I have done many things that have warranted it. The only thing I have ever feared is not having enough – of anything, you name it. Please indulge me one last truth.”
“All right.”
“Do you really have a lover?”
Inej was starting to tremble. If she moved now, she could not be sure what she would do next. She wasn’t sure what telling him the truth would do, but she was sure it could not be good. Some vaults are best left locked, she reminded herself again and again. Some vaults are best left locked.
But the pull of his eyes. The desire in his breath. Every longing she’d locked away was pounding at the vault door, demanding release.
They were dying tomorrow anyway.
“No,” she said in a whisper. Oh, what have you done?
And the dam broke. The air shattered. Kaz crossed to her in two swift steps, and she knew she was a goner before he even pulled her into his arms. She was reaching for his jaw, for his hair, pulling his mouth to hers. He made a gasping, growling sound deep in his chest when his lips slid over hers, and her whole body felt alight at the sound. Lips over teeth over tongues, she demanded what she’d too long been denied.
He was shoving her against the stone wall, cold at her back. He held himself up with his bandaged, damaged hand against the wall at the side of her head, and then began slipping his good hand under the hem of her scratchy prison top. She shivered when his bare hand skimmed her waist. She’d wanted this, oh how she’d wanted his hands, for years, and now she could feel every callus, every scar, every nail scraping, raking up her back.
“I hate you for taking so long,” she gasped when she pulled back. She buried her fingers into his hair as his teeth grazed up her neck. One of his hands was trailing down her back, scooping below her ass cheek.
“I hate you for not writing,” he rasped back, and bit her ear. She gasped and took his mouth again, letting him run his tongue along hers. She raked her hands over his shoulders, down the etched muscles of his torso, before dipping her hands underneath. He let go of her only long enough to pull the shirt off over his head, his hair mussed and slipping in his dark eyes. She wrapped her fingers in the hem of her own shirt and ripped it off over her head.
“This is a terrible idea,” she panted. Kaz pressed against her fully, his chest against hers, his hips aligned with hers.
“This is the best idea,” he disagreed, with a shake of his head, and slid one hand up her rib cage, cupping her breast. The bandage of his left hand brushed her jaw; he held her face in one hand and kissed her hard, again and again. She tried to hold back a moan against his lips when he began to draw circles around her nipple with his thumb. And then he was pulling back and working unrelenting kisses down her throat, pulling at the small of her back to lift her body towards him as he bent his head toward her breasts.
Every thought of escape, of gallows, of nooses, of death left her entirely when he began kissing her body, as if every inch of her was exulting in this inevitability. She couldn’t imagine now any other outcome than this. From the moment she’d been thrown into his dungeon, this was always where they were headed.
His hands were slipping below her loose trousers when his mouth returned to hers. Her arms were over his shoulders, her fingers gripping the back of his head, digging into his hair. And then she was sliding them over the slopes of his back muscles, hooking her thumbs into the backs of his trousers. He gave a rueful chuckle against her mouth before he let her help him out of his pants. He tore hers off before pressing against her again – naked and warm in the cold, terrible dark.
And still it wasn’t enough to slake the years of pent up desire he’d now unleashed in her. She wasn’t sure anything could ever be enough. Both hands were trailing her ass now, even with the bandage, and, as she panted through kisses, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He lifted her off the floor into his strong arms, his muscles enveloping her, burying one hand in her hair.
“Don’t stop now,” she huffed. “Then I might actually hate you.”
He gave a wicked laugh as he pushed them both against the wall, balancing her on his good leg. His hand left her hair and dipped between them. She was ready. Saints, she’d been ready for years.
She gasped when he guided his length into her, pressing her harder against stone. He gave a faltering moan, his head dropping to her shoulder, and she arched herself onto him. And he began to move within her, holding her ass with her ankles hooked behind his knees.
“I never got you out of my system,” he rasped, breathing hard against her ear. “It’s not possible. Gods, I’ll never stop wanting you.”
“I never wanted to let you go.” She dug her nails into his back, her head falling back against the wall. “It seemed like it was best for both of us.”
“You were probably right.” His gaze was hazy, his breathing labored with every thrust. “But I still hate it. Inej. Oh, Inej.” He breathed her name like a prayer, kissing her again, biting her lip. She dug her fingers into his hair, pulling, desperate, moaning and arching. He was thrusting frantically, mercilessly, so that she clenched her thighs around him, taking him deeper still. When she did, he broke away from her lips with a gasp, his eyes closing, his lips parting, every muscle tensing. It was the face, Inej realized, she’d imagined with every other lover, a face that drove her to the brink of her own pleasure.
And when his release came, Kaz cried out, shuddering against her, and his grip slipped, their naked, slick bodies staggering against the stone wall. For a moment, they held each other close as they caught their breath, shaking in the dark – Inej with her hands on the back of his neck, Kaz with his hands fitted to the curve of her waist.
“Isn’t there a guard outside?” Inej was suddenly realizing, blinking slowly.
“Probably.” Kaz just shook his head, not caring. “He’s probably having the wank of his life right now.”
“Ugh, Saints,” Inej grimaced, desperately wanting to scrub the image from her mind.
“Not a guard,” came a familiar voice from the other side of the door. Inej dove for her clothes. “But do make yourselves decent. I’m tired of plugging my ears out here, and we’ve got places to go.”
“Ah, Sturmhond.” Kaz was sliding his trousers back on. “You’re really cutting it close on the last-minute-rescue this time.”
“I don’t know, old friend,” Sturmhond replied. “Seems like you had just enough time.”
Inej smacked Kaz in the arm.
“You really couldn’t have just said, ‘Sturmhond’s coming to rescue us’?” she glared.
“I didn’t know for sure,” Kaz said, throwing his shirt back on. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up. Best to look death square in the face than go to the gallows expecting a rescue.”
“Wow,” Sturmhond sighed. “I’m really just brimming with delight at all this flattery and gratitude. You’re very welcome. It was no trouble at all.”
A key creaked and thudded in the ancient, heavy lock. The door swung open. Sturmhond waited with a sly, insinuating smirk before motioning for them to come along.
Kaz and Inej shared a coy smile and dashed down the hall. A world of possibility awaited.
#six of crows#crooked kingdom#fanfic#fanfiction#smut#kanej smut#kaz brekker#inej ghafa#kaz + inej#kanej#soc#grishaverse
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Into Dust (WIP)
Haven’t worked on this in quite a while (because AU and other distractions) but was feeling some kind of way and rereading and thought to share a bit. Setting is Dantooine before the battle at Khoonda. Meetra & Atton of course (almost gotten hard to write anyone else).
The plan was set, just a matter of waiting now. The night before a battle was always the worst, the false calm before the carnage. This was nothing compared to the war, to Dxun or Malachor, but it was enough to remind her of things she’d wanted to forget.
Everyone else must have seen she wanted to be alone when she went out to sit on the roof to look out across the dark of the plains.
Atton wasn’t everyone. He didn’t ask; just came with her, sat beside her, smoking, letting the silence be between them. They weren’t touching, yet she could feel the warmth of him against the chill air of the night.
After a bit she took the smoke from his lips, inhaled deeply, welcoming the burning in her lungs as she looked back to the stars.
He broke the silence. “You don’t smoke.”
“I do right now. Have before.” She hated the sound in her voice. “It’s like killing. You don’t forget how.”
“I said I’d fight to keep you safe and I meant it. No matter what.”
The weight of that promise frightened her - both the implication that he cared only about fighting for her instead of what was right and the realization that she wanted it, wanted the deep loyalty he was offering.
“Atton, I…”
“Mee,” he was looking at her intently now, hand on her cheek, “I’ll fight for you if that’s what you want, but….” She should tell him to stop, should kiss him so he would, knew what he would offer before he did, hated that she wanted him to. “But, I’ll take you away if you want to go. You don’t have to do any of this.”
Was she grateful for the choice? For what it meant for him to offer? She should be terrified.
His eyes must be on her, the look on his face the one that offered to run with her if she wanted, that promised to stay with her if she didn’t - but she couldn’t bring herself to turn to see. “This doesn’t have to be your fight.”
That would be nice to believe but….it wasn’t true. It would be nice, too, to let herself just take what Atton was offering, to meet his gaze here on this roof and let herself forget. But she didn’t deserve to. The smoke disappeared into the dark as she exhaled. What would it be to disappear like that, to fade into the nothing? She almost had once; could again.
“It is though. If it hadn’t been for the war, Dantooine wouldn’t be in this state, these people wouldn’t have this fight to fight. I owe them.”
“Everything’s not your fault, Surik.” He lit another cigarette for himself. “Maybe it feels better to feel like it is. Maybe you want the echoes to be true so you feel like there’s a clear thing to set right. But sometimes the galaxy is just fucked up, and not because of a bad choice you made once upon a time.”
“It was a pretty big bad choice.”
“Yeah, it was. Big bad choice. You killed a lot of people. Did that have consequences? Sure did.” He sighed deeply and stared at the stars. “Does it feel better to hate yourself for it? I mean does that work for you? ‘Cause I’ve been hating myself and it just doesn’t seem to change things.”
Her eyes stung at the thing in his voice, the hurt and self-loathing. She sucked hard on her smoke, wanting to choke on it as though that would somehow fix things. “Atton, you aren’t me. What I did….” Stupid words. All wrong. Not what would fix his hurt. She ground out the smoke and slid close enough behind him to wrap her arms around and nuzzle the base of neck. “You’re right, you know. Please don’t hate yourself.”
Her words were too quiet, but she thought he heard given the way he took her hand in his own and relaxed into her arms. There were other words she ought to say, too, if only she could make sense of those thoughts, if only she wasn’t afraid of him running when she did. Instead, she closed her eyes and sank closer, letting the humming of the night around them and the heartbeat of the man in her arms lull her into a moment of peace.
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Raining in Reverse || Alfie & Raina
Timing: Current.
Location: Downtown.
Parties: @rainaim & @yikesimonfire
Summary: A friendship blossoms during a rainstorm.
Content: None.
A rainy day in White Crest spelled death for the Ramirez family, not that the majority of the townsfolk had any idea why. On days like today — with the fatal droplets of water plummeting from the sky — Alfie stayed tucked away inside, longing for the sun.
That wasn’t the case today.
The fridge in Alfie’s apartment was a barren wasteland and without a crumb of food hiding in the cabinets, he had no choice but to embark on a perilous journey. He donned his best raincoat and boots, grabbed his trusty umbrella, and begrudgingly left the safety of his apartment. It would be too risky to try and wrangle the umbrella in and out of his car without getting wet. He had no choice but to head to the grocery store on foot.
For the most part, his trip was going better than expected. Alfie made the quick trip to the store without issue. It wasn’t until he stepped out (grocery bag of fresh fruits and sunflower seeds in tow) that disaster struck.
Without warning, the wind picked up as he trudged past Flagg’s and plucked the umbrella straight from Alfie’s grasp.
“Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck!” Alfie squawked. Without hesitation, he ducked his head under his raincoat, consequently dropping his food supply in the process. He hastily made an about face before he half-ran, half-shuffled after his umbrella which was now somersaulting down the sidewalk. “No, nononono!” he croaked.
Rain hit his single layer of protection and rolled down his back before soaking the exposed part of his shirt. The wet fabric clung to his skin and Alfie let out a pained screech. He spun around, frantically searching for shelter. To hell with the umbrella! He was going to die!
Raina wasn’t sure why White Crest had erected such a sweet tooth in her. Normally, she’d eat a few cookies and call it a day. Lately, she found herself with tins of caramel chews, cookies, and fudge. Maybe it was Maine that had awoken something in her, playing into the idea of excitement and being in a grand, new place. Regardless of whatever it was, she knew that she was giving the shop’s of White Crest her hard earned money-- as she should. The town had welcomed her graciously into its (unforgiving) arms. It wasn’t like she had any qualms, at least, not in the usual sense. Even if she did, she would write them off with ease.
Flagg’s was a constant stop for her at this point. After work. Before work on closing shifts. Even days where she didn’t have work. There were too many flavors to pass up. Some good, some not so great, but Raina wanted to try them all. Plus, it wasn’t like she had much else to do to pass the time. Her roommate worked long hours at the hospital, and usually Raina was left to her own devices. There wasn’t even anyone to call from back home. Her aunt’s number rang and rang, until one day it finally told her that it was disconnected. Raina was alone, but she didn’t have to be.
She walked out of the shop, spoon hanging out of her mouth while Rainbow Freeze coated her taste buds. Raina barely noticed that it had begun to storm, not until an extreme gust of wind forced somebody’s umbrella down the sidewalk, right out of their hands. She could feel the little dots of water begin to tickle her face and she hummed. She was close enough to her car that if she really wanted to, she could get there before it started to really pour, but she found herself grounded as she watched the boy who’d lost his umbrella scramble towards it. It continued to give chase, and she gasped as she watched him drop the contents of his bag onto the ground.
He looked frantic and severely frightened. Was he afraid of storms? Without thinking, Raina ran towards him, her own froyo forgotten on the window sill of a neighboring shop as she ran towards him. “Are you okay?” She shouted after him. Why was he so scared? Raina let out a soft whine of protest in spite of herself and let the magic spark, electric and buzzing through her. The rain just over the boy frozen in time, a larger-platform like puddle above his head. It was small, but covered the frame of his shoulders at least. “Ya alright?” She said, making sure to focus on the magic so that it wouldn’t break. At least this was something she’d done plenty of times to know the extent of how far it’d go. It was simply collecting the water above him.
Alfie’s heart pounded in his chest and he was nearly frozen in fear. He could easily make it into one of the nearby shops — he had to — but the pain from his dampened shirt was so excruciating that it rendered him helpless. For a moment, he didn’t even register that someone had spoken to him. When his eyes fell on the girl, allowing the rain to freely fall down on her, Alfie’s first thought was that she would make fun of him. Clearly, she wasn’t affected by the storm at all.
“I-I’m fine,” he lied.
Wait… had she just asked if he was alright? Alfie already knew the answer to that since he’d found it in him to respond to her concern. He swallowed hard, oblivious to the sudden lack of rain pattering against his raincoat, before he shook his head.
“Actually, no, I… I’m not,” stammered Alfie. “I’m afrai— I hate rain.” Being afraid of storms was not unusual, but very few people shared his aversion to water altogether. Explaining it would be messy and potentially expose him to even more danger. “I can’t get my hair wet,” he lied again. It wasn’t entirely untrue; he couldn’t get any part of him wet.
As Alfie looked at her, something in his mind finally clicked. The sound of rain still surrounded them, but his view of the girl was completely unobstructed. Hesitantly, Alfie straightened up as he glanced around. While the rain continued to fall around him, not a single drop landed on him. Was he dead?! He outstretched his hand, palm up, before he looked in bewilderment.
“Uh… do you—?” Was she seeing this? Alfie’s eyes shot back to her as he pointed to the barrier above him. He recognized her from somewhere. Coffee. She’d served him coffee the other day. “You’re…” Alfie began before realizing he didn’t know her name. “Did you do that?” he asked instead.
Raina hadn’t quite discovered if doing magic in the middle of the street was a good thing, but for the most part, the streets seemed to be barren due to the sudden onslaught of rain. If people were looking at them from the inside, she was unaware. The closer she was now, Raina could practically spell out the fear that was written across his features. She felt bad. Guilty, even. She doubted it to be true, but it seemed wherever she went these days, it rained, and ferociously at that. It was probably a coincidence. But what she did know was that her magic did feel stronger when it poured.
“Rain ain’t for everyone, I understand.” She had almost thought he said I hate Raina, but that wouldn’t make any sense. He didn’t know who she was. Did he? She snapped out of her thoughts and blinked at him. The rain had stopped just overtop him, but it continued to pour down on top of herself.
She quickly looked up at his hair and nodded, “Well, I won’t let you get soaked or nothin’.” She looked around, eager to find any kind of canopy that they could wait out the storm under. It was a little farther along, but there was a giant overhang off of a shop she hadn’t yet been inside. Not that she would try to go inside. She was soaking wet. He seemed to put two and two together, his hand outstretched, only he pulled away with a dry palm. She wanted to smile at him, to show him that yes, she had done that, but she tried to focus on the magic above his head to prevent it from spilling onto him. That wouldn’t do him much good if he were afraid of the rain. “I did, and I know it’s weird, but I promise I ain’t gonna hurt you with it.”
Raina nodded towards the canopy a yard or so away. “We can go over there? That’ll be better, yeah?” She gave him a reassuring smile before taking a tentative step forward. She didn’t hate the rain, not by a long shot, but Raina was beginning to grow uncomfortable with the way it slid down the back of her shirt. She was ready to get out from under it, too. Too afraid to extend her barrier over top herself, she slowly began to walk in front of him. “Just follow me, alright? I ain’t gonna let it fall.”
Despite being surrounded by spellcasters nearly his entire life, the use of magic still managed to surprise Alfie. For the longest time, the Vurals were the only magic-users that he was aware of. Sure, he figured there must have been more, but he was recently coming into contact with more people that at the very least had an interest in the craft. It seemed so glaring to him now that it could only be some sort of sign from the universe. Or maybe not. He was probably overthinking it.
Alfie shot another cursory glance to the shroud above him. One wrong move and he would be royally fucked. Maybe this girl wouldn’t hurt him with it, but the implication that she could didn’t ease his mind. Whatever charm she was using to keep him out of the rain was a good enough indication that her magic could be fatal against him. It might not have been a true indication of how her magic manifested, but Alfie didn’t want to piss her off and find out.
“I appreciate it,” he shakily exhaled. Alfie’s eyes followed the direction of her nod and he offered a timid smile in response. He needed to trust her — he didn’t have any other choice at this point. “Yeah, it’s perfect,” he agreed. It didn’t take long for Alfie to fall in line behind her, wearily checking to make sure the makeshift umbrella was still covering him as he walked.
Soon enough, the shop canopy took its place and Alfie heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Seriously, I— I can’t even begin to express my gratitude.” This complete stranger just saved his life and he couldn’t even tell her. At that moment, it didn’t even matter that the water soaking his shirt was causing him searing pain. Well… except that it absolutely mattered. He might still be alive, but that didn’t change the fact that water didn’t roll off of him like a duck’s back like it seemed to do for her.
Alfie reached behind his back and rolled the wet fabric up so it was no longer touching his skin. He was afraid to know the extent of his damage. As he looked back to his savior, he let out an airy breath. The water may not have affected her the same way it did him, but the same could not be said for her clothes. “You’re drenched — you realize that, right?” Stupid question; how could she not? “Does that not… bother you at all?”
Raina was careful to not let her magic falter. She’d done this tons of times. Only, those times had been done for herself. It wouldn’t be any different, right? Using it to help someone else? If anything, it only made her concentrate harder. She led the way to the canopy and once he was underneath it, she focused on shifting the water so that it didn’t go underneath him. The small barrier dissipated, falling like rain to accompany the rest of the drops that continued to splatter around them.
She stepped underneath the canopy and began to wring out her clothes. She looked over at him when he began to speak and she shook her head. “Nah, it looked like you were mighty uncomfortable and the last thing I’d wanna do is leave you in that state.” Of course, Raina was ignorant to the fact that she had practically saved his life.
She watched as he knotted the back of his shirt away from his skin. She blinked and looked back into his eyes and shrugged before she looked down at herself. She shifted her feet and her shoes let out a squeak in resistance. “‘S alright. It’s not the first time.” She’d been caught in the rain dozens of times. Sometimes she’d use her magic, sometimes she wouldn’t. Usually, she had an umbrella. Raina was careful not to stand too close to him as she began to shake out like a dog.
Suddenly, she recalled the days where she’d come rushing in from her mother’s garden. The rain would fall and her mother would force Raina to dance in it. They would, but after awhile they’d fall into the mudroom full of giggles and rouge cheeks. “I don’t mind it most of the time, nah.” She took a small step forward and looked up at the sky. “Doesn’t look like it’s gonna stop anytime soon.” Raina turned around to look where they’d taken refuge. “Looks like this place is closed, too.” She frowned. “No matter!” She reached inside of her messenger bag and pulled out a packet of tissues. “Ain’t much, but maybe it’ll get some of the water off?” She offered. “Or just leave ‘lil pieces of tissue on your face, but.” She shrugged. “Better than nothin!”
Uncomfortable was a serious understatement. Sitting in a chair without good lumbar support was uncomfortable. A Doritos shard wedged between teeth was uncomfortable. This? Rain? It was unbearable — even worse than that. At least it was in Alfie’s case.
In all of his years up until this point, Alfie had managed to avoid situations like this. He stayed home from school. He cancelled plans; cancelled dates when he still went on them. Yet somehow, despite his caution, he was still thoroughly unprepared. If he learned anything from this venture out, it was that he should be utilizing food delivery services much more often. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to only be mildly inconvenienced by the rain, and he’d certainly never know the joys of splashing in puddles or frolicking during a light shower.
“Not the first time?” echoed Alfie, his brow raised, as if this were a foreign concept. “Can’t say the same, myself.” It probably wasn’t wise to overshare about his inexperience with the rain, but she already saw him at one of his lowest points and probably deduced as much.
Alfie grimaced at the stranger’s observation. That was just his luck, wasn’t it? First he was stuck at home without any food and now he was stranded on a downtown sidewalk, waiting for the storm to cease. His eyes followed her hands as she retrieved the tissues and offered them out to him. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he politely accepted with a soft “Thanks.” Fortunately enough, the hood of Alfie’s raincoat (as well as his quick thinking) spared him from taking any droplets of water to the face.
Taking the tissue was a formality. What he didn’t expect was to find that his face was damp with sweat. She must have mistaken his perspiration for precipitation. Gross. Embarrassed, Alfie balled up the used tissue and immediately stuffed it into his pocket. She’d been so kind to him — more than he probably deserved — and she didn’t even know his name.
“I’m Alfie, by the way,” he suddenly blurted. “Figured it’s only fair I introduced myself after you saved my life and all.” His lips pursed together into an almost apologetic smile. “I, uh… I wish there was some way I could repay you,” Alfie added. Here he was, receiving nothing but kindness with nothing to give her in return but his gratitude. No matter how much she wrung her clothes out, it didn’t change the fact that she’d jumped out into the storm to save his neck. He’d give her the shirt off his back if he could.
Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. “Actually— hang on,” Alfie said, shaking his raincoat off and letting it fall to the mostly-dry pavement. In one swift motion, he peeled his t-shirt off before reaching down for his jacket, slipping it back on to retain some form of decency. “Here,” he nodded, thrusting the shirt towards her. “It’s… mostly dry. Should help you towel down better than those tissues.”
Raina lifted her messenger bag off of her shoulder. She rubbed the spot it had been digging into and dropped it at her feet. Inside was a small sketchbook, a few pens and a charcoal pencil. Luckily the bag was an inexpensive one, as were the contents inside. She wanted to open and find out if her most recent works had been destroyed, but even if they had, she could always draw them over. It was a new sketchbook, barely used-- barely thought out structures on weighted paper.
“Alfie?” She sounded out the name on her tongue. “Nice to meet ya, m’name Raina.” She beamed at him, momentarily forgetting that her name could create an unintended joke. “Honest.” The witch nearly bent down to swipe her wallet from her bag, but she’d wait and see if he pestered her about whether or not she was being honest. “Wouldn’t be true savin’ if I expected somethin’ from you, would it?” She set her hands on her hips.
It’d only be a matter of time before the storm let up. She watched forlornly as her froyo tipped over, blown over by a sudden gust of wind. It rolled onto the sidewalk and continued to roll until it was so far that Raina could no longer see it. She had just inadvertently littered. Darn it, she thought.
Alfie’s sudden movements piqued Raina’s interest as she turned to look at him, but it wasn’t what she had expected. He was taking off his shirt-- Oh. Raina blinked at him and looked down at his outstretched hand. She took the shirt gratefully and averted her eyes as he pulled his jacket back on. She’d seen chests. It wasn’t anything not normal.
“Thank ya,” She reasoned with herself. She looked down at the shirt. It was dry for the most part, only dotted with a few raindrops. Raina held it up with a smile before she tried to figure out how to change it. Oh! Raina pulled the shirt over her already soaked one. She stuck her arms inside, the bigger shirt more forgiving than her own. She awkwardly stuck her arms through the holes and bunched it up towards her neck before she popped her arms back through and took off the shirt.
“When you go to the river ‘an fish, you learn creative ways for peelin off the smelly clothin.” She smiled at him and held up her own shirt as if a battle trophy. She rolled it into a ball and looked down at her messenger bag. Instead of putting it inside, she decided to tie it to the strap. “I appreciate it,” She said again with a genuine smile. “I’ll make sure to wash it ‘an get it back to you in no time.” Raina paused, “but I might need your number for that! Or if that ain’t comfortable for you, you can come by Coffee Plus weekdays except Thursday, and I can hold it for ya!” She smiled at him before realizing, “you’re not allergic to certain detergents, are you? I can’t use nothin’ by Gain for some reason.”
“Raina,” Alfie nodded, the irony of the situation not hitting him until she reiterated that she was telling the truth. A small laugh escaped him as his fingers fumbled over the buttons of his raincoat — he had to maintain some bit of decency after all. “That, uh… seems pretty fitting, all things considered.” Did it? Sure, he’d seen her magic firsthand, but that didn’t mean she was controlling the rain itself. Right? If that were the case, she should be able to stop it altogether.
Before Alfie could press the subject further for some peace of mind, Raina pulled his shirt over her own. He averted his gaze as she wriggled underneath the fabric and managed to remove her soiled top without much struggle. His brow raised at the mention of fishing. It was yet another activity on the ever growing list that Alfie would never be able to relate to. Part of him wondered what other seemingly normal things Raina did that further alienated him. Would she think he was weird if she knew?
"Don’t mention it,” Alfie sheepishly replied with a dismissive wave. “Really, it’s the least I could do after—” He cut himself off and pursed his lips. He’d already mentioned the fact that Raina saved his life. Driving it home any more than that would only rouse suspicion about how much truth his words held. Spellcaster or not, she obviously had some kind of power which probably meant she knew a thing or two about supernatural creatures; particularly ones that her powers affected. “After all that,” he stated simply.
Despite his reservations surrounding her abilities, Alfie couldn’t help the fact that he was rapidly growing endeared to this strange girl. A wide grin took the place of his previously meek smile. “I’m not that fussed about getting it back,” he admitted. The truth of the matter was that he had about a dozen just like it back at home. “But if it makes you feel any better, no; any detergent’s fine by me.” As he said this, Alfie reached into his back pocket and brandished his cellphone. A few taps later, he pulled up the new contact screen before handing the device to Raina. “Tell you what, you can text me and we’ll, uh… we’ll figure out something from there.”
The rain continued to fall and Raina began to wonder just how long the storm would last. If all else failed, she could escore him to where he needed to go, but there was no telling how long she could keep her magic up, and with him being so terrified of water, Raina didn’t want to chance letting it fall due to a distraction or inability to hold the water above his head. She patted down the shirt he’d lent her and looked at him with another smile, this one bigger than the last.
“Well, it don’t go unnoticed or unappreciated.” Raina nodded as if to reaffirm her statement. Her wet hair dribbled down the front of her new shirt and she awkwardly pulled it into her hands, leaning to the side to wring that out, too. Afterwards, she threw it up in a haphazard bun with the hair tie around her wrist. When Alfie confirmed that any detergent worked, she gave him a thumbs up. “Great, that’s great!” She could wash it and get it back to him that way he wouldn’t go missing something that belonged to him.
When Alfie offered her his phone, she lit up. She took the phone from him after wiping her damp hands off on the shirt he’d given her. She punched her name into his phone and added an umbrella under rain drops next to her name. “It seemed a lil fitting,” She laughed with ease. Raina leaned against the wall and hummed. “Sorry ‘bout your umbrella, too. I saw it fly away like it had its own legs!” She paused, “Or I guess wings, but yanno.” Raina laughed again. “I have a few extra, so when I give you your shirt back, maybe it’ll come with an umbrella care package.” She extended her arms out in front of her and stretched her fingers into the air. The buzzing against her skin from the onslaught of rain was hard to ignore. It reminded her of what she’d done for Alfie.
“Not that I mind savin’ you ‘an all, but…” She chewed the inside of her cheek. She figured if he were some kind of spellcaster, he would’ve revealed it by now. Maybe he was just human, or maybe he didn’t want to show her his cards. Maybe he was secretive for a reason. Raina shook the maybe’s literally from her head as she leaned to the side, hitting the water out of her ear. “If you could keep that b’tween us, I’d be mighty grateful.” She straightened up and smiled. “‘S just that I don’t want people knowin, you know? I mean, it’s fine that you know-- that’s totally fine, ‘cause you seem cool with it, but I don’t wanna have to go escortin’ people all over.” Her eyebrows furrowed, “not that I meant I minded escortin’ you, but do you know what I mean?” She touched her fingers to her chin. “Please don’t tell me I’m comin’ across as an ass?”
Alfie couldn’t help but laugh at the emoji that now accompanied Raina’s name in his phone. Instinctively, his hand darted up to cover his mouth as he sniggered. “It’s perfect,” he agreed, although the words were slightly muffled by his palm. With his phone back in his possession, Alfie quickly shot a text to the number she’d entered: a storm cloud emoji followed by a rainbow. He briefly wondered which emoji (if any) she would save next to his name and elected not to mention that she was the only person in his contacts saved this way. The thought made him feel guilty. Surely, some of his other friends would appreciate the gesture. It was just never anything that he’d considered before.
“Eh, it’s fine. It wouldn’t be the first time and I doubt it’ll be the last.” Alfie softly sighed as his gaze shifted back to the storm, blindly stuffing his phone back into the rear pocket of his jeans. It wasn’t the first time the wind swept up his unsuspecting umbrella by a long shot, but it was the first time such a gust was synchronous with a downpour. “You really don’t need to do that, though,” he assured. “Seriously, Raina. You’ve done more than enough to help me out as it is.”
The fact that Raina wanted to keep the little rescue mission a secret didn’t come as a surprise. Most witches didn’t go around showcasing their powers all willy-nilly — and for good reason. What did surprise Alfie was his response. “No, of course! You don’t sound like an ass at all. Trust me, I understand better than you’d think. Doing stuff like that is… well, it can be dangerous. Especially in a town like White Crest.” Alfie knew all about keeping a crucial part of his identity on the down-low. For years, he’d managed to evade giving that part of himself away. Sometimes it was almost impossible, but others… Well, his family had their techniques. Sharing even this much with Raina was dangerous enough. He’d need to tip-toe around it more carefully so as to not put himself at risk.
A subject change seemed to be in order. “You, uh… been doing that long?” Alright, well, that wasn’t exactly the shift Alfie hoped for. His mouth sputtered out the words before he actually had a chance to think them through. “Sorry, that’s way too personal, isn’t it? You don’t have to answer that.”
Raina could hear the buzz of her phone in her bag. Was it rude to grab it and save Alfie’s number? Or would it be rude if she didn’t with him standing right there? He knew where she worked, and she had said it proudly, so it wasn’t like she was going to ghost him. She hoped he knew that. Raina was happy to make friends all over White Crest. Some had come at unsuspecting moments, but she was grateful for them nonetheless. So Raina leaned down and grabbed her phone out of her bag. She saved Alfie’s number and attached a raindrop emoji next to it, before erasing that and adding an umbrella, like the one she’d put in his phone. She dropped her phone back into her bag. “Only doin’ what a person’d do if they saw someone in need, is all.”
When Alfie began to speak about how he understood, she felt her eyes widen. So maybe he knew a little about magic, or had been around it before, or maybe-- Raina reeled her thoughts in and simply put on a smile, this one a little less enthusiastic than the last, but still in the same wheelhouse. “Really appreciate that.” It took everything in Raina’s power to not ask him what he meant. It was clear that maybe he wanted to keep it as a secret, but she still wanted to know. What if he was like her, but too scared to admit it? Too scared that she might freak out? That didn’t make any sense, she thought. Not after what she’d done for him. She grappled with the idea of asking him the specifics about what he meant, but decided to push it out of the way. Maybe next time.
“Huh?” Raina blanked. “The water thing?” She thought for a moment. She could give Alfie her entire life story, but decided to shrug. “It’s been happenin’ for a while, yeah.” Maybe she’d tell him later to make him feel more comfortable-- No, was that manipulative? She cleared her throat. “I figured it out when I was about… six? I think.” She wondered if there were earlier inclinations that she had powers, like when she was a baby. Had she come out of the womb freezing things, or did the ability manifest over time? “But yeah, water ‘an I, we’re like--” She crossed her index and middle finger as if making a promise, “We’re like this.” She let out a laugh. “Sorta sounds dumb when I put it that way.” She could write essays on what her magic meant to her, as well as water, rain, the ocean-- any of it, but she felt it overbearing.
“It doesn’t sound dumb at all,” Alfie assured her with a thoughtful nod. For as long as he could remember, the phoenix had been surrounded by his own flames. There weren’t many stories about him setting the house on fire as an infant by sneezing, but he distinctly remembered combusting in his youth. Even if his siblings didn’t give him constant reminders (which they seemed to enjoy on a relatively frequent basis), that wasn’t something he could easily forget. He considered sharing this particular story with Raina. What would it hurt? It’s not like he would need to dive into the reality of why. Still, he owed it to himself — and his family — to keep the information private. He’d already broken the family oath by letting Eddie in on it. If anyone else knew, it was because they were deemed trustworthy by the rest of his family. Alfie simply wasn’t allowed to make those sort of decisions.
Alfie allowed the conversation to lull for a bit before elaborating. “I get the feeling. Not with water, obviously, but…” His lips pressed together before he let out a breathy chuckle. “Y’know. Something being so closely tied to who you are that it’s impossible to separate it from your identity.” For instance, the fact that his skin was sloughing off underneath his raincoat because he got it wet. Or that sometimes his hairline sprouted the beginning of vibrant, flame-colored plumage. It wasn’t all there was to him, but it was intrinsic to the existence of Alfonzo Ramirez.
“Sorry,” added Alfie. “I don’t mean to pry. Besides, it’s probably not the safest thing to talk about out in the open like this.” Even if they were the only ones around to hear. The sound of rain pitter-pattered around them, bouncing off the awning and onto the pavement, as Alfie looked on. “You’re pretty new around here, aren’t you? I mean, compared to most White Crest residents.” He didn’t actually know how long Raina had been living in the small town. “Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong. There’s actually a lot of people here that I don’t know and I’ve been here for… forever.”
The rain continued to fall, big blotted drops of water now careening towards where they stood, funneling into a drain. Raina discreetly used her magic to keep the line forward, running towards the drain so that it wouldn’t pool at their feet.
I get the feeling. Raina wondered what he meant. She wanted to ask, but she decided she wouldn’t pressure him into revealing something that might be a better kept secret. Maybe it was better that way, she thought. It seemed like Alfie truly understood, and Raina felt a small twinge in her chest. She was glad that somebody could get it, and even though she didn’t know how he understood, she was grateful that she wasn’t being looked at as if she were crazy. Whoever, or whatever Alfie was, Raina knew she had found herself a friend in him.
“I’m new. Newer than the shine on my headlights at least.” She had just gotten them waxed. She looked out towards the shops that kept their doors closed. She looked towards Alfie, too. Maybe it was a good thing she’d gone to get froyo. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have been able to help him. “But I’m thinkin’ it’ll do me good to be here.” She smiled at Alfie and palmed the sides of her head in an attempt to flatten down the distinct curl that came with the rain.
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Henry & Sylvain x M Reader Not SFW HCs. [COMM]
Warnings: NOT SFW, mind control, stalking mention, unhealthy power dynamics, and blood mention.
Word count: 3k.
Henry:
Before meeting you, Henry had never thought about sex that often. He was aware of it but never saw the appeal. Why waste time with strenuous physical activity when he could be perfecting different hexes instead? It’s when he met you that his libido started to pick up. It started in the small, seemingly ordinary things. Paying extra attention to your exposed collarbones, the outline of your jaw, how you’d look when wiping sweat from your brow. It’d stir feelings up within Henry that he’d never experienced before.
He wasn’t sure what to do with all this new excitement that came from being around you. To sate this newfound urge, he’d touch himself at night to the thought of you, low groans and whispers of your name leaving his lips incessantly. Henry would imagine you in a variety of positions, even wondering if he could use his magical prowess to form some sort of double of you to enact these fantasies with. It’d be easier that way, he’d reason, without the prominent fear of rejection should he approach you about these feelings. Henry isn’t sure what he’d do with himself should you turn down him in a confession, so he tries to placate himself in other ways.
This solution works for some time. He’d start fixating over your discarded clothes, maneuvering in secret to steal your briefs while you wash up after a long day’s work. The aid his natural magic inclination brings makes the process smoother. He’ll jerk himself off with your briefs on his face, imagining it was your hands instead of his own wrapped around his cock. Henry will be creeping around your tent whenever he gets the opportunity to steal more personal belongings.
Henry has other, more practical uses for these items. They aid nefarious ideas of his own concocting, the darker side to the mystic arts. He delights himself in experimenting with different spells and hexes that’ll aid him at... a later time. It’s a fallback in case you do reject him. While Henry is typically inclined to follow orders, carnal pleasures of the flesh are too great a temptation to deny, his budding obsession with you not going anywhere.
He’ll of course hide all this unsightly behavior from you, wanting to leave a stellar impression of himself. Should you try and pursue a relationship with Henry, he’ll be more than delighted, accepting your advances without hesitation. Henry isn’t experienced when it comes to physical intimacy and would prefer to learn what you’re interested in before anything else. You’ll learn that he’s eager to please.
There’ll be hours of conversation between the two of you, with mostly him speaking, asking questions about your kinks and various preferences. Oddly enough, he doesn’t go much into his own until later into your relationship. You didn’t take him for the type to be more reserved on his own kinks. The reason being is that they tend to linger on the darker side -- like mind control -- so he won’t mention it to you until he feels more comfortable. For now, that’ll stay in his private fantasies.
It goes without saying that Henry is into biting or any form of making, to the point it draws blood. He’ll laugh lightheartedly about it should you ever point out all the marks he leaves on your neck. When he’s pressing kisses and nibbling against your skin, it’ll be one of the few times he’ll open his eyes, wanting to drink in your every movement. Henry doesn’t want to miss out on anything you can offer him.
The spots he’s most sensitive are underneath his ears and his wrists. Henry will go from joking and teasing to dead silent when you place kisses against these areas, shivers wracking down his spine and blood rushing in between his legs. Should you blow on his ear it’ll be enough to get him riled up, Henry pushing you onto your back and hovering above your vulnerable form. Be prepared to have aching legs and hips the next morning.
He’s both a sadist and a masochist, though he leans more towards the latter. He’ll be just as pleased to receive pain as he is to inflict it on you, depending on his and your mood. Blood has always interested him, but seeing it in this light is new and thrilling, especially if it’s yours. Henry gets the most pleasure from licking the blood from the newly formed cuts and bruises on your pretty skin.
Henry prefers giving rather than receiving. While he enjoys it when you pleasure him instead, there’s something more appealing to him about being the one getting you riled up. Unfortunately, he has a penchant for teasing, kissing around your waist and thighs while leaving your dick untouched. He could continue amusing himself like this for ages if it weren’t for your convincing whines for him to just get you off already.
He loves to swallow your cum, enjoying the taste of it and makes sure that he always swallows every last drop. He’ll tease you about it afterward, always loving how he can make your cheeks flush with his lascivious comments. You’ll get the opportunity for payback when you finally go down on him, Henry being too preoccupied with how good you’re making him feel to think of any more lame jokes or quips. That doesn’t mean he won’t throw in a few after though.
His dick is around five and a half inches fully erect, more on the long and thin side. He has a prominent vein that stretches from the base to his tip that’s very sensitive. You’ll earn the most unholy sounds from him when you touch or lick it.
Henry is extremely possessive of you but doesn’t channel in a way that most would. As he’s still new to relationships and intimacy in general, it doesn’t feel like there’s a productive way to channel these negative feelings, other than being unusually rough and demanding with you during sex. He’ll be far less talkative, focusing on making you writhe beneath him. It’s an unusual, albeit mildly frightening sight. Bitemarks will be left in overt places that can’t easily be covered with clothes. Whenever the bruises do start to heal, he’ll pull you aside to make new ones, muttering about how that’s better before scampering off.
He also loves to cum deep inside of you. Henry insists on doing so when he’s the one fucking you, the way you tighten around him driving him crazy. You can tell he’s close when he stops talking, thrusting into you while gritting his teeth, his hands gripping your hips tight enough to leave bruises. For a mage, he has an abundance of physical strength, you’ve learned.
Traditional dirty talk isn’t really his forte. Henry just says what comes to his mind, which tends to be odd or even questionable, but you’ve grown used to it. He’ll say the nastiest things without an ounce of shame. You’re not sure if it’s because he doesn’t know the sexual implications of what he’s saying, if he doesn’t care, or both. This has landed you in some embarrassing situations. If any of the Shepherds mention you look more tired lately, Henry will joyfully pipe up and say it’s because of him. It’s a nightmare. He seems to enjoy riling you up, so it’s best to not give him the reaction he’s looking for.
He’s been waiting a long time to bring up the prospect of mind control magic to you. When he finally does, he’ll be rambling excitedly about all the possibilities, how he’s been preparing, etc. It’s better not to ask why he has a lock of your hair already prepared in a jar. Since he’s more proficient in magic, he insists on being the one to use it on you, though offers to teach you how to use it on him one day.
Henry loves how subservient you are when you’re under his spell, literally, your eyes blank as you wordlessly obey his every order. His favorite orders are things you’d normally be too embarrassed to do. Things like slowly stripping for him, giving a lap dance, telling you to moan as loud as humanly possible. He loves telling you to get on your hands and knees for him, praising you for your obedience as you do exactly that without question.
A dark voice in the recesses of his mind entertains the thought of keeping you in this state permanently. You’re just being so good for him, it’s tempting to keep it up, despite his promise to release you after your time together. Henry might keep you in this listless state just a bit longer than he said he would, for the sole purpose of pampering him in kisses and burning touches. When he finally does release you from his spell, he’ll joke about not knowing which version of you he likes more. He likes both equally, don’t worry.
Sylvain:
Sylvain’s reputation proceeds him, it’s no surprise that his advances towards you consist of flirtatious remarks and “accidental” touches. Especially when you’re training at the monastery together, instructing him on how to properly wield a weapon, he takes advantage of the time to fluster you. Sylvain will ask for help on adjusting his form, not so subtly leaning into your chest with his back while you make the proper adjustments. He has no sense of shame. You can get back at him by giving a genuine compliment, that’ll be enough to ignite a blush on his face.
He’s always jumping at the opportunity for private tutoring, even if he doesn’t need any additional help, believing that the alone time with you will advance his goals. Sylvain will pull his chair extra close to yours, his voice notably deeper than normal as he asks questions that’ll get you talking. Eventually, he’ll give up the pretense of wanting to learn altogether, focusing the conversation more on you as a person than the lesson material. Sylvain will look at you through lidded eyes as you answer his inquiries in depth, wondering how your lips would look somewhere else.
His language consists heavily of sexual innuendos. It feels like everything he does is for the sake of riling you up, a knowing chuckle leaving his lips when you cross your legs to hide how hard you’re growing from his flirtatious comments. That’s when he decides to grow bolder. He’ll teasingly rub his hand over your crotch, maintaining eye contact while he does so, asking with a smug voice if something is wrong.
Sylvain’s preference is to be the one in total control. He finds it thrilling to have you pinned down underneath him, fucking you relentlessly when just minutes prior you were the one lecturing him. It gives him a rush of adrenaline found nowhere else, not even on the battlefield. It’s immensely satisfying to know that you’re like putty in his hands, canting into his every touch as you try your best to chase down your release. He can’t get enough of it.
He has a huge exhibitionism kink. The risk of being caught with your dick in his mouth never fails to get him going, his own member hardening as you harshly bite down on your lip to keep quiet. He’ll expect you to return the favor once you come in his mouth, whispering for you to get on your hands and knees for him. Sylvain cares slightly less about being quiet, far more carefree on the matter than you. He finds your anxiety in the situation to be endearing.
The physical training that he’s undergone for years has molded his body well, particularly his biceps. He adores it when you kiss and nip up and down his arm, moaning louder than normal as you do so. His favorite part of your body would be your inner thighs. From the years you spent as a mercenary, your muscles are well defined as well, and earn extra attention from Sylvain. He makes sure to linger in the areas he likes the most.
Sylvain is downright cruel with his orgasm denial. He’ll spend all day teasing you, winking and brushing against you in the hallway, getting you worked up for later. When you finally do get alone time together, he spends the most time on foreplay, but noticeably ignores your throbbing member. Sylvain won’t relieve you until you’re a begging, incomprehensible mess, and even then he still keeps you waiting.
One surefire way to end Sylvain’s teasing is offering to let him face fuck you. He’s fantasized about it before, and would likely do it with or without your suggestion, but there’s something about you offering it so willingly that sends heat to his crotch. Sylvain greedily accepts your offer, thrusting his dick deep into your mouth, his balls hitting your chin as he does so. He’ll pull on your hair, forcing your face as close to his pelvis as humanly possible. You won’t hear the end of it unless you swallow every last drop of his cum.
Even when you’re the one fucking him, he’s giving orders, telling you exactly what he wants. You’re both pretty equal in terms of strength, but his personality makes him more domineering. He loves watching how you try your best to please him, slyly telling you exactly what he wants at every chance. It’s only when he’s close to coming that he finally shuts up, focusing on how good you’re making him feel. He’s a guy who knows what he wants and how to get it.
Sylvain’s moans are low and breathy, sometimes guttural as he gets closer to his release. He tends to curse underneath his breath, especially when he’s fucking you, practically chanting your name with every sharp thrust. For someone that loves denying you release, he doesn’t appreciate the same treatment and prefers to come as fast as he can. He has a lot of pent up frustrations, after all, and has found this is the best way to deal with all the stress.
He loves pulling your hair, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him when you finally come. Sylvain would insist that you look him in the eye as he fucks you, wanting to see your face when you get your release, slowing down if you try to look away out of embarrassment. He could practically get off on the sight of you coming undone alone, and has a few times, but only when you’re unavailable for whatever reason.
Sylvain loves watching you jerk yourself off and will ask to see you do so. It can feel a bit embarrassing at first, but he’ll encourage you, saying how badly he wants to see it. You’ve found it’s difficult to deny Sylvain what he wants and that it’s more productive to do as he asks. You’ll be rewarded appropriately, feeling his lips on your dick when you get closer, Sylvain murmuring that he’ll take things from here.
His dick is about six inches fully erect. He’s both long and girthy, making it a bit painful the first few times he fucks you, especially since he doesn’t seem to mind being rough. His dick gets incredibly red when he’s aroused, you’ve learned.
You’re not entirely sure how he managed to get ahold of one, but Sylvain shows up to your personal quarters one night with a cock ring. He explains with a wink that it’s meant for you. You almost miss the teasing he made you endure before, as it was nothing compared to this, Sylvain entertaining himself with your body for hours without letting you come once. He’ll make you say the most humiliating things for even a chance to come. Of course, he rewards your obedience later, but the wait until then can feel borderline painful.
His favorite way to take you is against the wall. There’s something primal and thrilling about it, watching how your body contorts while he fucks you against it. It’s a perfect position to get deep inside of you, as you have no choice but to lock your legs around his waist to avoid falling, so this position is his go to. He also gets a kick out of all the noise that it makes, not even attempting to be quiet to avoid rumors. If there’s anything Sylvain has grown to disdain, it’s the opinions of others, especially nobles. This causes him to care less about anyone who might hear the two of you.
Sylvain is likely to introduce toys into the occasion at some point in your relationship. He wouldn’t care much for using them on himself, no, he wants to use them on you. To see all the cute faces and noises you make as he pleasures you in a variety of ways, it makes him hard just thinking about it. He’s especially fond of having you wear a butt plug throughout the day. He’ll make your life extra difficult, innocently asking you to get things for him in public. It’s all in good fun, he just enjoys seeing you struggle to maneuver around all day, having to act like nothing is the matter. Sylvain will promise to make it up to you later.
Expect to be called a wide variety of pet names. Sylvain does moan your name the most by default, but when he starts getting more comfortable with you, a few affectionate nicknames will get mixed in there. He’s partial to calling you professor, or prof, depending on his mood. Sadly for you, he’ll still call you that outside of the bedroom, with a knowing wink at how your cheeks flush. He can be a bit of a cheeky bastard at times.
As your relationship progresses, Sylvain will sometimes get softer when you’re intimate together. He didn’t care much for love, thinking most suitors only wanted to be with him for his crest, so he is truly greatly for you. He’ll prove this by slowing down, murmuring praises and peppering loving kisses against your skin. He wants to make sure you know how much he cares for you, even if he struggles to show it in a genuine way at times.
#not sfw#henry x reader#henry fire emblem#henry fire emblem x reader#henry imagine#henry fire emblem awakening#fire emblem#sylvain#fire emblem three house imagines#sylvain x reader#my stuff#sylvain gautier#commissions
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first impressions ( are they pointless if fate has already decided? )
Characters / Pairing: Fukawa Touko/Naegi Komaru, ( implied ) Syo / Komaru
crossposted on ao3
Notes: day 7 of @tokomaruweek!! soulmate prompt.
sorry if i manage to absolutely fuck up posting this one i'm half awake rn.
i appreciate how unrealistic and improbably soulmate aus are. anyways i knew i wanted to play with this idea as soon as i saw the prompt. i think that bodyswap au has interesting potential. the bodyswap soulmate au in the specific sense that you’d theoretically get to see the kind of hardships your fated might be going through but that’s not really the angle i took on it here but i mean do any of us want komaru to face abuse and bullying? no. i cannot comit to that. someone else can do that i am going to live here angst free
anyways in case it isn't obvious the basis premises around this is that once you come of age, you swap bodies with your soulmate.
HONESTLY not sure how a body swap au would work w/ a did person but considering that every alter / identity is considered their own person, i figured that it would simply just swap w/ the host, meaning any alters would be left behind. i do think it'd be an interesting concept to play with, maybe?
tw for trauma / abuse ( /ive parents )
Summary: most circumstances to figure out the identity of your soulmate are pretty unfortunate, but she thinks this one might take the proverbial cake in some regard.
For most people, this would be the kind of momentous occasion that people would count down to. For Touko, it catches her completely off guard because she hardly registers the fact that her birthday is coming up until the day it happens.
‘It’ being the day she comes of age and is supposed to find out who her soulmate is.
She’d be lying if she said she didn’t think about this kind of stuff on occasion. It was kind of a given, with her entire shtick of being a romance author. But quite frankly, she tries to forget it, because really? Soulmates? For someone like her? Not likely.
Who would want to be stuck with someone like her? Best not to get her hopes up too much, and stick to unrequited crushes on people she knows she’s probably not destined for.
The sound of an unfamiliar alarm is what wakes her up— Touko doesn’t really process anything more than trying to turn it off and laying down for a few minutes. And then realizes her body doesn’t quite feel right. Empty. Something’s missing and it’s too quiet and it all feels horribly wrong. And then opening her eyes and realizing she can see perfectly fine without her glasses.
Oh. Oh no. No no no no no.
She hops out of bed and spots a phone ( thank christ ) and confirms her fears. Right. It’s her birthday. Thank god she doesn’t need to know a passcode to figure out that information. Well, nothing she can do about that. Time to sleep off today, so she can go back to living her life normally, soulmate-free.
Or well, that is what she plans to do, until a picture frame catches her attention from the corner of her eye, and— oh. Oh no? Oh no. She absolutely recognizes one of the two people in the picture. She presumes the girl is the one whose body she’s currently inhabits ( nothing particularly special to note there, plain as plain can be ). The boy— she loathes that nonchalant, easygoing expression— the boy she recognizes as her classmate. One Makoto Naegi.
God, it’d be just her luck, huh. Speaking of which—
“Komaru!” Ah, so that’s her name. She hears a shout from downstairs, followed by footsteps. “You’re going to be late!”
Shit. Shit shit shit shit.
In a panic, she sprints to dive back under the covers and pretends to be asleep still. Maybe she’ll get off without much of a punishment that way? Definitely less than the realization that she’d been awake and not getting ready for...school, presumably. She has no clue what this girl is usually like, but hopes that it isn’t painfully obvious what is going on here.
“Komaru?” The voice is closer this time, the sound of the door opening follows close behind. While she panics over the thought of what to do asides from pretending like she’s asleep, Touko misses the sound of footsteps approaching and flinches when the covers are tugged away from her head. She doesn’t mean to let out a whimper of fear when a hand comes down on her forehead, teeth clenched, not that the sound is interpreted as fear. “Are you feeling all right, dear? You’re not feverish, but you are a little sweaty...”
It takes her a moment to recognize the tone of this woman’s voice is one of concern, an incredibly foreign concept for her to expect from any parent ( she’s presuming this is the mother ). It certainly was never one she’d expected to hear from her own mothers, squeezing her eyes shut as if to ignore the truth. “N-No...” It’s not a lie, at least— all of this makes her feel sick to her stomach.
( It leaves an awful taste in her mouth, knowing the love that she is being shown here is just an illusion; not meant for her at all. And yet Touko wants something that she has never had. What an awful child she is )
“Why don’t you take it easy for today, then? If you feel no better later, you can start taking medicine.” She manages to utter a thank you, whatever will get her with no repercussions and left alone again, and there is a hand gently stroking back her hair before she is alone again.
Once ‘her’ mother leaves, she locks the door and buries herself under the blankets, so she can sleep and forget about today ever happening.
In comparison, Komaru Naegi finds herself having a much less than pleasant awakening. In that she doesn’t know what wakes her up, just that she is suddenly, forcibly awakened and in a room she doesn’t recognize.
Weird. Is she dreaming? It kind of feels that way, because she has no control over the body she currently resides in, marching over to the desk and reaches into the draw for...a pair of scissors? Really, really sharp scissors, but a pair of scissors nonetheless.
It’s not a dream. Get out. They hiss at her, scissors pointed at her— themselves? Oh boy. Uh.
“I don’t think I can do that.” She says aloud; wincing. “I don’t— I don’t know what’s going on...?”
Ugh. You think I know any better? ( Yes! Yes she does!! ) It’s totally bullshit that this is my wake-up call after ages, and she’s not even awake and instead I’m stuck with you? Ah. Shit, hold on a second how long has it been. They reach for the calendar, and she feels her face frown. Aw, it hasn’t been that long? She really forgot her own birthday coming up? Some heads up would’ve been nice instead of just waking up to this fucking mess. The voice continues to complain.
“Um...” She hates to interrupt, but she’s still pretty confused. “What do you mean? Who are you?”
You’re expecting me to just give that up without knowing your own name? Or do you not care?
“Sorry!” And she is, given that she’d kind of gotten ahead of herself. “Komaru. Komaru Naegi. But just Komaru is fine!”
Ah— Naegi? What are the odds— Dekomaru it is!
“What? That’s not my name at all!” Komaru completely manages to miss the faint recognition, huffing a pout. “And I told you, so answer my questions!”
Syo. And what I mean is that now I’m stuck explaining this shit— did you seriously not pay attention to any of that or are you that dumb? Geeze, listen to me this time. Okay, so we can have a lesson on proper terms and all that shit another time, long and short of it is that we share this body— miss gloomy and I. It’s technically her coming of age birthday today, which is why you’re here instead of her.
“Oh, okay.” Komaru nods along in agreeably, before her mind catches up and process the implications of what she’s been told. “Wait, you mean I— she— this is my soulmate?!” Her voice cracks as it pitches, hands quick to clasp out of her mouth, a little worriedly.
Yeah, obviously. And don’t worry, the rooms are soundproof. Otherwise, I would’ve already told you to stop replying out loud. People would think that’s weird. They sound amused, reaching back towards the table and fumbles around for a moment before raising something up into the field of their view.
This is a student ID card, which provides her with several helpful bits of information— none of which Komaru chooses to fixate on. “...Hope’s Peak?” What were the chances of that?
Focus, idiot. Do you have any idea of what this means?
Komaru beams, an expression that might have been frightening for anyone else to see on this face. “It means I can be a Hope’s Peak student for today!”
No. Ouch, that’s probably the most cold they’ve sounded so far. Which is saying a lot, considering how they’d greeted her. Well, maybe. I know she really wouldn’t like it if you went around in our body. She doesn’t like it when I force control over our body either, but if it’s you then she probably won’t care. Personally, I don’t give two fucks— I can give you tips on acting more like her if you want.
Komaru makes a face. “I’m bad at acting. Am I really that different?”
Given that you don’t shut up, yes. That’s not a bad thing. They add on when they seem to sense the indignation rising in her. You really want to go around like normal today?
“Please?” She begs in what is sure to not be the last time that Syo enables her in doing something she probably shouldn’t do.
Okay! You’re more fun to have to share with than madam morose. This is way more chaotic. If things go wrong, I’ll help you cover up.
Komaru thinks that’s supposed to be a compliment. Or flattery? Either way, she enthusiastically takes to observing her appearance in the mirror for a good several minutes— more than several, but who’s keeping track? Syo. Syo is— before they point out they’ll be late for class and still haven’t had breakfast. But Komaru really only registers late and class and grabs her bag and rushes out into the hall, only to realize she didn’t really know where she was supposed to be going.
Syo sighs at her and directs her in the right direction of their locker and then their class while Komaru considers what’s the best way to seem cool if she can’t technically be herself. And also try not to nervously overthink things. That is also a thing she tries to avoid.
You know it’s weird that we’re going to class early, right?
“It’s fine...!” She grumbles. I can’t help but be excited, okay? It’s not everyday I get to pretend to be attended one of the most prestigious schools in the country.
Uh huh. Okay. I don’t think it’s really ‘cool’ to be this early to class, but.. Syo snickers at her, and she pouts before opting to ignore them, gathering her nerves before ( with more confidence than the actual Touko Fukawa would ever muster ) pushing the door open and stepping inside the classroom.
And then the whole act cool plan falls apart because while Komaru had registered the, we’re at Hope’s Peak Academy, she had failed to consider the whole, this is the school my brother goes to, I might run into my brother dilemma that she is immediately forced to acknowledge in a very graceful manner.
( And by gracefully she means she very embarrassingly screams at Makoto and Syo cackles at her, and she learns a very important lesson on why she should not trust Syo so easily )
Unfortunately for Touko, her body refuses to sleep much, which means she is wide awake when someone tries to come into the room just after four. Clearly not giving up, a knock soon follows, and, “Fukawa-san? Can you let us in?”
And then the sound of her own voice, way too cheery for her own liking. “No one else is home right now, so you don’t need to worry about it. Please? I really want to meet you! Uhm, properly.” Silence follows, since Touko makes no attempt to acknowledge that- if she pretends to sleep, then they’ve got to give up eventually. Even if she can only run away for so long, given that Makoto will probably just confront her tomorrow if she doesn’t. “Uh, Syo-san says they’ll take matters into their own hands if you don’t...? I’m not really sure what that means, but...” Makoto makes a panicked noise and god damn it Syo. She hadn’t counted on Syo working against her as well. Should she have expected that from them? Eh.
( It might speak more about the other girl, if she’d managed to get something like Syo’s...approval? That doesn’t seem quite right, and feels weird to think about either way )
“Give me a moment.” She calls, just to make sure Syo doesn’t go ahead and try and start picking the lock or break a window or something else that’s drastic and unnecessary. Takes a deep breath as she pulls herself out of bed, doesn’t bother double-checking if she seems too presentable and trudges over to unlock the door.
No sooner than she does so, the door swings open cautiously— Touko manages to sidestep out of the way before she needs to worry about being hit by it. She can feel the other’s gaze focus in on her almost immediately, but she very pointedly decides to not meet her gaze, mostly because it feels weird to be looking at herself, and looks at the same bookcase she has been staring at for the past four hours straight.
( Manga. She hates it. Of course, she would be stuck with someone that loves something that she practically loathes. She also hates the fact that she’d also been so bored that she’d almost considered reading it )
The only thing she chooses to acknowledge is the fact that her hair is down and not braided, really could she not have put forth even that much effort— and that while having her in front of her now is much different from what she might have thought it to be, she really has no idea of what to think of her.
And then the other seems to decide that enough is enough and holds her hands in hers very excitedly. She can only guess what Syo makes of all this. Schadenfreude, probably. She doesn’t actually say anything to her, just giggles to herself ( she’s not sure if she’s trying to be creepy, or if that laughter is directed at something Syo is saying ).
“Stop that...It’s w-w-weird to see my face doing that.” She gnaws on her lip— is this what everyone else saw all day? That’s awful.
As if reading her mind ( and certainly not the atmosphere of room ), Makoto helpfully chimes in, “Give her a break, she’s done a pretty good job trying to not attract any unwanted attention.”
“They made me skip class.” She pouts, crossing her arms. “Syo even said that they’d take the blame for it, but no, I had to skip out.”
“You screamed at me and scared Fujisaki-san? I was more relieved that Ishimaru-kun was willing to get you excused for the day.” Oh good, at least she can count on having reliable notes and not misplaced homework like with some people ( Syo ).
“It wasn’t that bad, Makoto, you’re making it seem worse than it was—”
“Because screaming like that could come off as good somehow?” He butts in.
“— and what’s done is done, so with that said, let’s eat!” She raises a bag that she’d failed t notice earlier. “I know it’s a little weird, but it’s still your birthday, so we can at least celebrate, right? I even asked Syo what you’d prefer the most while we were at the bakery.” That kind of disgustingly desperate face is all too fitting and completely foreign on her face, and Touko scowls at her.
It’s also a very foreign thought to actually be celebrating her birthday for once, and with a practical stranger nonetheless.
“Actually, I have a call I’m supposed to make. So I’ll be waiting downstairs, Komaru— we do have to get back at a reasonable time, so I’ll come back up if you’re staying too long, okay?” Makoto flees in the most inelegant way possible, fittingly.
Traitor, she wants to yell at him. She’s not quite being left alone here, because Syo is clearly present, but it’s not the same. She still feels a sense of betrayal here on all sides nonetheless.
“Touko-chan! Come sit with me!” Not that she gets any say in this, dragged along by her hand into following. She considers telling her off because when did she say that she was allowed to call her that? But bites her tongue for the moment because she’s still a little startled about the ease at which she has accepted all of...this, given the fact that she’s currently got Syo co-fronting. She suspects that they have arbitrarily elected to not acknowledge the elephant in the room which is very annoying to her, but she’s not really given a chance to acknowledge that either since a plate is shoved into her hands.
Fruit tart. So she’s not lying about the fact that Syo has taken a liking to her, apparently.
( No she’s not jealous over her own apparent soulmate. Why on earth would she envy that? )
“Fukawa-san?” Pale lavender eyes peer up at her, lips pursed in a small pout. “I know this isn’t the most ideal situation, and..I don’t expect you to warm up to me right away. But I’d like it if we could meet again sometime, as ourselves.”
Touko gives her a long look, scrutinizing, and then looks away. “I’ll think about it.”
“Okay!” She’s quick to agree like she’d said yes; humming happily with a fork in her mouth ( which would be cuter if she didn't have to look at her own ugly face ).
#tokomaru week 2021#tokomaru#toukomaru#komaru naegi#touko fukawa#toko fukawa#danganronpa#* zhi writes
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what kind of fool am i | Poe Dameron x Reader | Part Two
A/N: NOW YOU CAN ALL LEAVE ME ALONE. Nah I’m kidding I loved the response to this story but I am glad I kept you guys waiting to allow myself to write something I kind of like.
Rating: T
Warning: Naughty words. Mentions of sexual assault. Hints of PTSD. Lots of general dark emotions here, friends.
Word count: 2,888, apparently!!
Summary: You and Poe are safe now, but perhaps not okay. You won’t even talk to each other until Finn decides to step in.
Part One
GIF credit: I have no idea, but it isn’t mine.
Tags: @the-omni-princess @depresseddarth66 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @lcandothisallday
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Poe tore a muscle in his right shoulder and broke two of his ribs on that side, but he didn't notice it at all.
He watched you on the bed next to him in the med bay, watched you cling to Finn's side as a med droid tried its hardest to analyze your injuries.
You needed to be heavily sedated and he hated himself for it.
It wasn't only the initials on your hip or the injuries to your face that turned you into a terrified mess; it was what he almost let them do to you that broke you.
Everyone was curious to know what you two had witnessed, asking mostly Poe what happened to you, and Leia snapped at them to leave you both alone.
But there was going to be a debriefing.
Poe knew that he would need to tell everything that happened.
He woke the next morning with pain searing in his shoulder and he didn't think he had the right to be taking medicine when you were scarred — physically and also mentally — but Leia ordered for him to come for the debriefing.
It wasn't possible for him to think let alone talk with his muscle burning.
There was a container of pain-relieving capsules on the end table in his quarters and he spilled half of them in his desperate attempts to open it, muttering kriff and downing two of them.
The pain dulled some and he didn't even dare take off the sling on his arm to change clothes, walking to the command center in the shirt he'd fitfully slept in.
His eyes scanned the room for you, but you were nowhere to be seen.
Finn was there, though. And Rey.
He didn't want to say all this in front of Rey, considering her to still be innocent in some aspects that didn't involve the war.
He considered Finn innocent as well, but he knew enough.
The gentle conversations in the command center hushed the moment he stepped into the room, everyone staring at him in ways he hated.
Rey's gaze was soft, like she could cry at any moment.
Finn's knowing, which was why he was not the first of people Poe was hesitant to debrief in front of.
Leia looked to be rather calm, but her eyes held the pity of a mother in them.
And then Jess— fucking Jess who'd punch his injuries and tell him to walk it off was looking at him with pity.
He wanted to walk the hell out, but he was more courageous than this.
His eyes landed on a toggle switch on one of the consoles as Leia began the meeting, only paying attention when she gently asked him to tell her everything.
In what galaxy was he ever courageous? He was an idiot. That's why he was able to fly any ship, and fight, and sass his enemies, and show off. He was never brave.
"We were laying low on the planet and everything was fine," Did his voice sound as flat to them as it did to him? "Me and Y/N were eating dinner when we noticed some commotion in the village...this group of guys were rounding everyone up and threatening to kill them if they didn't tell them where we were. Their leader saw Y/N and I revealed myself to save her, but...but the guy knew..."
He needed to pause, staring hard at that little toggle switch instead of daring to see the expressions of his friends.
"These really huge guys took me into a house they'd set up camp in and tied me up, and then Ric...the lead guy...he brought Y/N in. He grabbed her face real tight, and, um...he asked her name...said we'd have fun..." His brow was furrowed in his attempts not to tear up.
"He punched me when I said it'd be fun to bash his face, and then he...he knew I was trying to protect her and he cut open her shirt with this dagger. He slapped her when she tried to talk and told her she couldn't speak unless she was spoken to, like she was some— a fucking thing for him to play with or something. Then he started hurting her every time I said something he didn't like and he said...he told her that I want more than friendship with her and that she owed me, and he'd give me something fun to 'tighten my pants'. That's when he used the dagger to carve my—" His voice cracked then, the switch blurring in his vision as he wasn't really staring at it and tears entered his eyes.
“—my initials on one of her hips. And I’m an idiot and I insulted him, and he hit her and she—she was knocked out for a second, but he woke her up to...he asked if I wanted to kiss her and he was going to choke her if I didn’t answer him, and I did want to kiss her and he...he woke her up and he kissed her, then he kissed me.”
He chanced a glance at his friends to discover that tears were steadily streaming down Rey’s cheek, Finn’s gaze was entranced by a non-existent speck on his shoes, Leia’s lips were pulled into a frown, and Jess wouldn’t look at him. “He threatened to make her, uh...pleasure me.” He, a man who’d never really been shy when it came to conversations of a sexual nature, stumbled over the mere idea that you might’ve been forced to do that for him. “Then he asked if I wanted to have sex with her and I said no.”
He paused. Smiled bitterly. “I’ve always been a shit liar, you know? Because I did want to fuck her and he knew, and he and his buddy took her into another room to do it for me. That’s when Finn came.”
A weight lifted off his shoulders at his part of the debriefing being over, switching over to Finn.
The smallest weight there’d ever been; he would’ve sank to his knees were the weight he still carried physically on his shoulders.
“I stayed hidden when they took them and tried my best to get to them, but the rest of the men were...killing all the villagers. By the time I found them, one of the guys was on top of her in a bed and....I shot them both.”
“Thank you, Finn. Y/N will probably be waking up from her sedation soon and I’m sure you might be needed.”
You were sedated then. Too terrified and sedated.
Finn looked at Poe with sympathy, then turned to walk out of the room.
And Poe moved to walk out when everyone else was dismissed, but turned when Leia softly called his name.
He thought she might slap him when he moved to stand in front of her and all she did was look at him with a gentle gaze.
“Don’t blame yourself for what they did, Poe.”
“It is my fault.”
“Did you want them to force her to pleasure you?”
“No.”
“Did you want them to hurt her?”
“Hell no.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“But you don’t understand.” His voice cracked again, the tears he kept at bay starting to fall from his eyes.
Leia tried to touch his good arm and he yanked away, finding himself unworthy of a caring touch.
“I didn’t stop them! They were doing it to her because of me! He kissed her because I wanted her and they were going to fuck her since I wanted to fuck her.” He emphasized the derogatory word as if it might convince the general that he was truly a depraved person.
“Poe—”
“My initials are going to be scarred on her skin for the rest of her life and you know what? I don’t even fucking blame her if she hates me. Let her hate me.”
“Poe.”
His breaths were quickening until Leia managed to put her hands on either side of his face, making him look down into her sympathetic eyes.
Part of him wanted to fall into her arms right there.
“I want you to calm down and get cleaned up, alright? You’re frightened and you’re very tired.”
“I— okay.” He mumbled in defeat, if only at the idea that getting cleaned up sounded nice.
He went to the refresher in his quarters and turned the sanisteam on, caring very little that the water was even colder than usual since a warm steam was a comfort that you needed and not him.
Washing his body and hair was completely mechanical this time around as his thoughts were centered on everything else.
Those initials.
Every time he closed his eyes, he could see them etched into your skin.
He could hear your screaming and weeping.
And he could only imagine your tears as you were reminded any time you changed your clothes or washed yourself; the implication that you belonged to Poe Dameron.
He despised himself when his mind floated to what would happen if you had sex, if your partner asked what the letters meant and if you’d tell them.
Your entire life was ruined thanks to his desire for you being discovered.
The two of you and Finn were blacklisted from missions for the time being, and Poe was half-grateful and half-itching to get in his ship and do something other than walk around wondering about you.
You started appearing outside of Finn’s quarters — though still close to his side — a few days later and he wanted to go fly somewhere even more than before.
Leaving the room to keep you from seeing him and remembering all he’d done to you didn’t seem to be enough, and he wanted to be on another planet to save you the trauma of his very existence.
But he was grounded until further notice and all he could do was make his way carefully through the base to be sure you didn’t see each other.
He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep one night without sneaking out to get food from the dining hall when he knew you wouldn’t be walking around until he jolted awake to a knock on his door.
Confused at first that he’d been sleeping, it took him a moment to realize that there really had been a knock on the door and he rolled onto his feet at the second one, blinking to clear his vision to press the button.
Finn was standing there, looking contemplative and then relieved when his eyes met Poe’s.
“What’s up?”
“Y/N asked for you.”
“Asked for me to do what? Crash into the worst planet nearby? Where the inhabitants will kill me if I don’t die from the impact?”
“Uh...she asked to talk to you?”
Poe shook his head at Finn’s dumbfounded look. “She doesn’t want to talk to me and she doesn’t want to see me. She’s probably talking in her sleep.”
And Finn shoved his hand between the doors to trigger the sensor when Poe tried to shut them in his face. “She asked for you!”
“I’m guessing Leia told you to do this?”
Poe let out a rather undignified yelp as Finn grabbed him by the collar and turned to push him against the wall.
“What the hell, Finn—”
“Look, Poe, I get it, okay? You witnessed some pretty intense shit and I understand that, and I have been doing my best to help Y/N through it, but you’re the only person here who actually understands what they did to her. Do you know what she said to me when she mentioned wanting to talk to you? Why I had to come over here to be the messenger for her?”
“Finn—”
“She said you wouldn’t talk to her because you hate her now.”
The fear in Poe’s eyes at his often gentle friend’s outburst slowly faded into something far more painful at the information that you thought he hated you.
He didn’t want you to have to look into his eyes when he’d let everything happen to you, but he couldn’t let you walk around thinking that he hated you.
Finn released him when he muttered a soft and reluctant okay, brushing off his shirt and sling almost as if he was apologizing for losing his temper. “I didn’t hurt your shoulder, right?”
Poe shook his head and watched as Finn left the room to find you.
He sat on the foot of his bed, planning in his head exactly what he could say to you.
I’m sorry I let them carve my— no. I don’t hate you, I hate myself for nearly letting them assaul— no. I shouldn’t have let them touch— no. It’s my fault for being attracted to you like this, I didn’t want them to make you pleasure— no.
There were a lot of words and moments he didn’t want to hurt you with by mentioning them and upon crossing out all of those words and moments, he was left with quite a short and possibly ineffective speech: I’m sorry.
When the door opened and he lifted his head from where it was laying sullenly in his hands, anything either of you might have said died on your lips.
An awkward tension pulled taut between you upon seeing each other for the first time since you’d been out of your mind being checked by a med droid.
You walked to the bed like you wanted to leave instead and sat next to him, and he gripped onto the edges of the mattress to keep from moving away and hurting your feelings.
It was probably only a minute that passed by in tense silence, but Poe would’ve believed you if you told him it was a year.
“Why would I ever hate you?” He finally asked softly, almost too quiet for you to hear.
“—everything that you saw. The initials...the kiss...what they were going to do to me.”
“You mean what I let them do. If anybody should be hating somebody, you should hate me. I didn’t stop them.”
“You were tied up.”
Poe scoffed, looking away.
You tilted your head and furrowed your brow in concern for him, reaching out to touch his hand only to draw back at the last second. “I don’t hate you. I don’t blame you.”
“You should.”
“Why?”
“I already told you.”
“And I disagreed already.”
“That’s because you’re a good person.”
“No, Poe, it’s because you were there with me! You screamed for me! You pleaded for me. You offered to let yourself be hurt for me. They hurt you too...and you sat there and were forced to watch as they tried to do unspeakable things to me. I thought you would hate to be around me with all you’d seen.” You didn’t realize you were crying until you saw a tear fall from Poe’s eye yet wetness on your own face.
“I should’ve protected you.”
“You did your best. I saw you try. And...and Finn has been really sweet to me, but I need you. I have these dreams where they...kill you and…”
Now your hand did slide over his and his grip loosened on the mattress. “All I wanted to do was make sure you were okay, but you left the room whenever you saw me and I was terrified that you couldn’t bear to look at me anymore.”
He looked at you with his eyes teary and sparkling at once. “I could look at you for hours.”
It wasn’t intended to come out as flirtatious and you didn’t take it like that anyway, moving a little closer.
You hesitantly slipped your hand under his to intertwine your fingers.
“I didn’t want to come here. I was too scared you wouldn’t want to talk to me. But Finn...he told me how much he loved me and that he didn’t mind helping me, but that you and I needed each other to heal. And I...I’m not too sure about you, but I haven’t healed one bit. And I would like to try with you. Maybe we could try? Even though I think you should hate me and you blame yourself, we could learn to heal from that.”
“I’d be lying if I said it wouldn’t help to have you around when my thoughts are too much, someone who can understand what I mean when I need to talk about what hurts.”
“And it might be nice to wake up and find you’re perfectly fine.”
“Not perfectly. We’ll try.”
Even though you couldn’t believe Poe was squeezing your hand instead of refusing to touch you.
Even though Poe couldn’t believe you didn’t view him as a monster who didn’t protect you.
You needed each other.
Sulking alone was never going to heal you from what you’d been through together.
As Poe looked down at your trusting gaze, he almost kissed you; but he did not earn such a privilege from someone he failed, and images of the kiss he could still taste flashed through his mind.
But he pressed a light, uncertain kiss on the top of your head, and that was definitely a start.
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