#thinking about when will just let himself be put through unimaginable amounts of pain just to be cradled so softly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moremaybank · 1 year

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hello you could do a heartbreak where the reader is Hope’s mother and Klaus’s wife and Elijah is secretly in love with her and when Elijah gets his memories back he realizes he left her to die at Greta’s hands and he’s devastated by what He decides to confess to Klaus that he loved his wife, which causes a bigger fight and hope listens to him and gets angry because he blames Elijah for his mother’s death 😋

IT’S ALL MY FAULT — e.m

pairing elijah mikaelson x fem!reader, klaus mikaelson x wife!reader, hope mikaelson x mother!reader

summary elijah spent years secretly in love with his brother's wife. when he and his siblings are forced to separate to protect hope from the hollow, he compels away all memories of life as he knows it — including his feelings for you. however, this leads to complications when he allows greta to kill you, and by the time he's realized his mistake, it's much too late.

warnings angst, mentions of death, arguments, guilt, grief, hope using her magic in a violent manner

author's note i really hope this was okay, i don't really think i'm as good when it comes to writing angst but i tried like hell

elijah masterlist

twelve hours. it had been twelve hours since elijah's world came crashing down around him without notice. twelve hours since he regained a thousand years' worth of memories. of pain, of bloodshed, of tears. of love, of hope, of fleeting moments of happiness. twelve hours since he was faced with the memory of letting the woman he loved to be killed in front of his eyes.

the guilt was already too much to bear. not only did he lose the woman he fell in love with so quickly, but his brother also lost his wife, and his niece lost her mother. kol, rebekah and freya had lost someone they'd considered a sibling. one mistake had caused everyone he held dear to him to feel an unimaginable amount of grief and suffering.

and it was all because of him.

how could he come back from this? from the memory of her smile, the twinkle of her bright eyes, her harmonious laugh. her kindness, her ability to see redemption in klaus, just as he had. the fantastic mother she had been to her miraculous daughter. she was the word 'magic' personified. she had a light in her, and elijah had snuffed it out, permanently and forever.

elijah's nerves coursed through him, accompanied by his immense remorse as he entered the compound. he knew klaus wouldn't want to see him, let alone speak to him. neither would hope, and rightfully so. he'd broken apart their family, and there was no way of repairing it.

his eyes landed on klaus's back, who was pouring himself a drink to quiet some of the noise inside his head.

"you shouldn't be here, elijah. i don't want you anywhere near hope, or me for that matter."

"niklaus...please. i owe you this."

"do you have the slightest idea of all the agony you've caused? you've left my daughter without her mother. the woman who has fought for her and been by her side since birth. her best friend and confidant. her favourite person in the world is gone. my favourite person in the world is gone. because of you."

elijah's heart was far past broken, but it shattered even more as he stood across from his brother. he could see the torture behind his eyes, the suffering he could barely put into words. and it killed him to know that he was about to make it even worse.

"i loved her, niklaus. i loved her as you love her now, and there is nothing i could ever say or do to repair what i have broken, but i need you to hear me. i adored her. she was magnificent, and brave. beautiful, kind, and strong. in all my years, i'd never met anyone like her. and i know it is my fault that she's gone, but there is not one day in my future when i won't feel this loss as you have, as you do. i'm responsible for this, and i will never forgive myself."

klaus's heart stung with utter betrayal. as if it wasn't enough for his brother to take the love of his life away from him, he now had to learn that he'd been in love with her? it was all too much.

“you took away the one person who has loved me through everything!”

"niklaus, i have loved you through everything as well. i'm still here."

"not through this! when we all split apart, you wiped away everything we'd ever gone through together. everything our family has fought through. all of it, without so much as a second thought. you weren't thinking about me, or hope, or our siblings. or her. you were only thinking of yourself. and sure, i've been selfish for centuries now, most of the time for the wrong reasons. but i've always fought tirelessly for this family, and i thought you would too."

"klaus, please—"

"was it worth it? compelling away all the memories of our family? i sincerely hope it was, elijah. because you have officially lost me forever. i don't ever want to see you again."

tears pricked at elijah's eyes as he felt every moment he and klaus had shared together flash through his mind. every time they'd laughed together as children. every time they'd fled in the wake of mikael. every smile, every tear. every vow to stick together through hell and back. and he also felt it all slipping away as he looked at his brother.

"i know i could never make this right, but i'm begging you to at least let me try. i owe that to you, and i owe that to hope."

"the only thing you owe me is the peace i will feel once you're gone from my life forever. get out."

a moment of silence passed as elijah gathered his bearings and started to walk away. unfortunately for him, he was met with the face of his beautiful and prodigious niece.

"what the hell do you think you're doing? killing my mother wasn't enough, so you had to come back and try to finish the job with dad?"

elijah had no chance to respond when he began to feel immense pain in his head. he crouched down to his knees, holding his head in pain as hope's magic ran through his veins.

"hope!" klaus called, but hope ignored him. it didn't matter what anyone said or did; nothing would stop her from avenging her mother. elijah's cries could be heard through the compound while hope kept inflicting pain on him with her powers. but hope couldn't bring herself to care. any pain that elijah felt, her mother had felt tenfold. so why show him mercy?

"hope, it's alright. just come with me, sweetheart. it'll be alright," klaus tried, but it was no use.

"i hope you never find a single moment of happiness for the rest of your miserable life. you deserve nothing but pain and suffering for everything that you've done. for what you took from me. i'll never get to see her smile again. i'll never get to feel the warmth of her hugs or cry to her about my first love. she won't be there to watch me get married or help me raise my own children. you robbed me of the beautiful life i could've had with my mother by my side. and you deserve every last feeling of despair. if i ever see you again, i promise i'll shove the last white oak stake into your heart and won't think twice about it."

hope finally let elijah go and stormed off, shoving past her father. elijah desperately tried to catch his breath as he watched his niece walk away, probably for the last time. he picked himself up off the ground, his eyes drifting over to klaus.

"there's nothing here for you, elijah. not anymore," klaus spoke before walking off in search of his daughter.

elijah stood there for what felt like an eternity. he could feel her presence all around him, and he prayed to whatever god there was up above that she could hear him when he finally spoke.

"i love you, and i'm so sorry."

#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson angst #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson angst #hope mikaelson angst #the originals x reader #the originals angst #the originals imagine #tvdu x reader #tvdu angst

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navree · 8 months

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I don’t know if it’s been asked before but why do you like Batman? What’s so special about him?

It's been talked about a bit by me just rambling, but never really explained in depth, and even then, I never mind repeating myself <3

So, a not insignificant part of it is that one of the first TV shows I ever remember watching, other than Redwall and Dragon Tales was the DCAU Justice League show, and I immediately fell in love with their version of Batman, especially how he was performed by the late, great Kevin Conroy. So I just started seeking out that version of Batman through the DCAU shows when I was really young, like, seven years old, and it just kinda imprinted itself on me, the way media often can when you're a young child. And I do maintain that, despite some flaws (like the Jason Todd-ification of Tim Drake for no reason, and the obsession with making Bruce and Barbara a couple, which just.....hurl) the DCAU characterization of Batman as a person and as a hero is is the gold standard. But I did start reading comics once I ran my way through all the shows, and that core love still remains.

Part of it is, again, he's Amélie's very first blorbo ever since the mid-2000s, but Bruce as a character is genuinely compelling. Bruce goes through an unimaginable trauma at a very young age, and rather than how most people would react, he chose to do something with it. Seriously, if you think about something like the death of Batman's parents happening in the real world and you just read about it on the news, that's horrific, and it makes sense that it's not only fucked Bruce up, but could have potentially resulted in him turning into a mess. And he is a mess, don't get me wrong, but he also chose to be more than that. He chose to create Batman, to try and help a city that was drowning and make it better. There's an element of choice to Batman's character and his arcs that I've always liked. He doesn't need to do anything that he's done. There's no outside force compelling him to try and create a better version of his city where no one has to experience the hurt that he went through. There's no external pressure demanding that he protect the world even in the face of odds that he cannot win just to keep innocent people safe. There's no ulterior motivator making him take in children who have nothing, children who need a home and a family and loving care, other than the fact that he wants to do right by them and he has an infinite capacity for love in his heart. Bruce has no responsibility to Gotham, the people of Gotham, to other heroes, to the world, to random kids he meets on an off chance. No one asked him to do anything he does, and he's under no obligation to do it or continue. Bruce could stop being Batman tomorrow and dismantle the entire operation and turn his entire family into civilians, and nobody would be able to say he can't do that because he had no duty to start it in the first place. But he did. He chose to do good, to turn his pain into a drive to try and make life better for people in his city, to take a drive that could become a very selfish motivator (for instance, devoting resources solely to finding Joe Chill) and using it for something purely selfless (putting his own self on the line, in all possible ways, just to make sure people can lead better lives and that no one ever experiences the pain that he has).

There is a fundamental goodness to Bruce Wayne's character that is incredibly compelling. Because it would be so easy for there not to be. And he's had a fair amount of writers who've forgotten that it's there (people who write abusive Bruce Wayne are never seeing heaven), but if he's got someone who understands the character, then yeah, he's good. He's selfless and he's kind and he's got a capacity for love and care that is astounding. He opens his heart to children he has no connection to purely just to give them a good home, he refuses to harden himself against letting people in even with the amount of times he's been hurt, he never stops trying to help people who are hurt or sick get better (as clearly seen in his neverending quest to try and help Harvey Dent be rehabilitated). He's a good person who chooses to keep that goodness and not let it slip away from him, no matter what, even when he would be well within his rights to. He never lets himself. I mean, God, Bruce Wayne is someone who will personally resuscitate a man he hates more than anything, a man who murdered his child, just so that his other son won't become a killer and have to live with that guilt (that's real fyi, Dick Grayson once beat the Joker to death after the Joker had taunted him with details of his murder of Jason Todd's, and Batman, along with possibly Robin, managed to revive him so that Dick wouldn't be guilty of murder). Bruce Wayne is someone who could have been fundamentally broken by the things that happened to him, if not the murder of his parents then certainly the murder of his child (and we know it did alter a lot of his personality, which makes sense, cuz his kid died), and no one would have really blamed him. He could have become cold and cruel and a killer, and he knows he has that capacity within him, but he actively chooses not to.

And he doesn't always do the right thing; trust me, if you're a fan of Jason Todd, you're well aware of the fact that Bruce doesn't always do the right thing. He falls short. Batman is only human, and he makes mistakes. He makes wrong and bad choices, he fucks up and needs to try and fix it, he fails to meet his own standards (I don't know how many times I need to say it, but for all intents and purposes, Batman has absolutely broken his no kill rule, going into his confrontation with the Joker in Batman #429 with the express intent to kill, refusing to save him when he can, and never expressing a moment of doubt or remorse when he's believed to be dead, is basically Batman breaking his no kill rule, the only reason it doesn't technically count is because the Joker is revealed to have survived, but he had intent and he never had any remorse or second guessing, it counts as breaking the rule). Bruce has fucked up, with rogues and cases, and with friends and family too, and he's had to live with those mistakes and, if he's got a good writer at least, try to rebuild from there and earn whatever redemption he needs to depending on how big the screwup (and how much the writer either thinks Bruce is an untouchable god/hates whoever he hurt, no I'm not bitter about Certain Storylines, why would I be bitter?).

Bruce Wayne is incredibly human, painfully human. He lives in this world of gods and monsters and there he is, a man with a plan. And it is enjoyable, from a character perspective, that this man who is nothing but human, entirely ordinary, is able to fight and talk and think circles around people who'd routinely be considered superior, who has this place as one of the most god-tier people in his universe entirely because he's earned it, because he's lived up to his potential and his reputation. But there's also something beautiful in that. Like yeah, Bruce is stupid levels of rich, but beyond that, there's really nothing outwardly special about him. He's just a man. But he becomes larger than life through his actions, the choices he makes, the fact that he be brought low as he could be, low as he'd have the right to be, by his circumstances. His goodness remains intrinsic to him, and he refuses to give it up, because it's the core aspect of his humanity, a humanity that he refuses to relinquish in the face of greater and mightier odds and unspeakable evils, and it speaks to an immense fortitude as well as just how good he is.

(and I know there are a lot of generally bad faith criticisms made about the concept of Batman, and what Bruce chooses to do but a) no he does not go around beating up pickpockets and the mentally ill, he either stops crime non-lethally and informs the cops or is specifically asked to intervene in something by the authorities, not to mention that the "mentally ill" people that are his rogues are also basically domestic terrorists who are often full murderers, sorry that my heart does not bleed for the fact that the Joker has some kind of disorder while Batman punches him in the nose, and b) the fact that the system Gotham has in place is made explicitly clear on numerous occasions to not be remotely adequate to deal with what they have to deal with, that a lot of the cops and politicians and people meant to protect citizens are either completely inept and terrible at their jobs or just straight up corrupt and actively making the situation worse, and I do find it amusing that a lot of the criticisms of Batman come from left wing Twitter activists who crow about the incoming revolution but then go catatonic at the idea that a fictional character has decided the system is too corrupt to work with and thus forcibly changes it from the outside, isn't that what y'all's fucking incoming commie revolution is meant to do? Just sayin. Also no, he's not a fascist, tf, words mean things.)

And from a character perspective, from my enjoyment of him as a part of a fiction and an overall puzzle piece in a greater story (cuz I always do try to separate liking a character as a person vs liking them as a character), I'm not immune to the fact that Bruce's complexities come from a good number of tragedies. He's not real, and it does add to interest in him as a narrative device that he deals with a lot and needs to react to it and overcome it (and he deals with a lot, I wrote a list and it's not even comprehensive I definitely left out a lot just out of pure forgetfulness). Watching Bruce as a character, already with all the traits I enjoy listed out above, deal with the things he has to deal with makes him not just a character to enjoy as person, but a character to enjoy as a character, as part of a larger story, as a significant part of what makes that story rich and compelling and routinely interesting even when it's been going on for close to a century. Plus, again, from a character perspective, he's got fascinating interpersonal relationships that are captivating as well and add to his own complexities, relationships not just in terms of romance, but with friends and allies and enemies and especially with family (I think it's kinda impossible to be a Batman fan and not have an insane number of thoughts about the relationship he has with at least ONE of his kids).

There's a lot that's been written about Batman that I don't like, I am not a fan of DC's insistence that Bruce is a shitty dad who routinely beats his children, and it does feel a lot of the time these days like Bruce is a character that I like more for his potential than the way he tends to be written. But I still love that potential, and the kind of character he can be in the hands of a competent writer (and given what a decentralized medium comics are when it comes to canons and characterizations, you have to allow for that kind of leeway in a way you can't with other forms of storytelling) is one that can be truly great. As a character, he's kind of everything you can want, flawed and imperfect and deeply human, but always trying, and with not just a rich interior but complex relationship dynamics that have helped shape who he is.

Ultimately, I think why I like Bruce is best summed up by something Amanda Waller said in the Justice League Unlimited episode Epilogue: I've never met anyone who cared as deeply about his fellow man as Bruce Wayne. And I love him for that.

#personal #answered #anonymous #batman #bruce wayne #so this got.........Long #he's just special to me ok #the way i literally paused my ghost files episode when i saw this pop up in my inbox #that should tell y'all why i like batman #tldr there's this element of choice in who bruce is and how he takes on the world that i just adore #and also a lot of childhood nostalgia is involved #seriously watch epilogue #(this is also probably not comprehensive just cuz i slept badly and my thoughts are all over the place)#(and again he's a character that's been around for so long i'm probably forgetting a lot of why i enjoy him)#(but have the behemoth of feelings)

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polishksiezniczka · 3 years

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Camerlengo Patrick McKenna Smut ABCs | Camerlengo x Female Reader

Some smut for our favorite priest ❤

As I was writing this, I couldn’t help but think that our favorite ~il camerlengo~ shares the trifecta of smut with Obi-Wan Kenobi: religious devotion, dramatic robes and pure, raw sexual energy. 🔥

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Patrick is oh so attentive and considerate. He strokes your body softly, listening as your heartbeats gradually slow and fall in sync together. He’ll softly whisper declarations of love to you in his luscious accent, making you flush even more.

Bonus: When you’re in each other’s arms bathing in the afterglow, he adores it when you carefully play with his crucifix necklace (you better believe he wears it during sex after you *accidentally* let slip how turned on you get when he wears it).

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Patrick loves to hold you using his upper body strength—his arms are deliciously strong and toned, but not in an overly-muscular way. He can’t help but groan and roll his head back when you cling to them for dear life during the throes of passion, your nails lightly digging into his skin.

It’s difficult for him to choose—you’re too perfect to pick just one element. If he had to, he’d choose your hair, your neck, or your breasts.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Because he was brought up in the Church, he doesn’t really do that sort of thing. Not to mention he views the practice as somewhat degrading to you.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs).

Obviously, you. He’s a priest and supposed to be “married” to the Church!

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Patrick is somewhat experienced. While serving in the army he had a few exploits, but he’s still relatively inexperienced. Not that you could ever tell though—he’s the best lover you’ve ever had.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying.)

Missionary! (HAHAHA…I’m going to hell for this.)

Patrick loves any sort of position where he’s able to see you fully. He treats sex as if it were a sacred rite: he wants to be able to watch the desire cloud your eyes, thoroughly kiss your soft lips, devour the creamy flesh of your torso, and do nothing less than worship you.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

It depends on the situation. Patrick will usually take things pretty seriously—intensely pleasuring you, maintaining fervent eye contact, going slow and sensual—but sometimes you find yourselves in a giddy mood, especially after something good has happened to one of you. Then his playful side will come out: little nips at your ears and neck, gentle tickling of your sides, low chuckles, and a lot more teasing than normal. You delight in rendezvous like these, batting your eyes and telling him how much you want him.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

OH GOD. You know how well Patrick takes care of himself. His hair is impeccable, always neatly combed and styled. You adore running your fingers through it and lightly scratching his scalp, though you’re careful not to muss it up too much.

The sight of his bare chest makes your heart flutter every time you see it. You love to card your fingers through the lovely patch of curly ginger hair which grows there, a huge turn-on for Patrick. The same hair starts again just below his navel, creeping down his stomach and past his waistband. It’s another part of him that never fails to make you swoon and unconsciously lick your lips.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Patrick is so romantic. He constantly whispers you how much he loves you, how much you mean to him, and how he can never be without you. Despite the unimaginable pleasure he provides you, his words sometimes make you teary-eyed during the moment—something you find extremely embarrassing but he adores.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Patrick suffers from SERIOUS Catholic guiltiness when it comes to masturbation. He’s done it before (when he was younger especially) but would never admit so to you. He only resorts to pleasuring himself when you’re apart for extended periods of time and always feels the need to confess to his sins of “taking his flesh” afterward.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Praise: Patrick’s need to praise you is insatiable and he does it constantly when you’re together. He loves to tell you how good you feel, how perfect you are, how sweet you smell, or how well you respond to him as he leans close to your ear, kissing and sucking. Although he can be reticent to accept compliments himself, you can tell how much it affects him when you whisper how only he can bring you this amount of love, pleasure, and satisfaction.

Priest: Patrick goes mad when you play into your priest kink and loves it when you call him “Father,” especially because you don’t often do so. As gentle as he is, this drives him wild, animalistic almost.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

On the bed or couch, especially with your hair splayed out across a pillow. You recently introduced him to shower sex, something he enjoys far more than he expected to. And of course, always somewhere private.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Your soft, innocent touches that lead to lingering thoughts and desires. When you run your hands across his chest and through his hair. Whispering how much you love and want him.

Oddly enough, your modesty also makes him hot under the collar (literally). The idea that you conceal your beautiful figure to others and only allow him to see and adore it awakens a deep and primal lust in Patrick.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn’t swear that often and never uses the Lord’s name in vain. He also would never do anything that could hurt you or in some way degrade you.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He strongly prefers to give. He loves to huskily tell you how much you taste like sin when he’s between your thighs and caressing you with his mouth.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual—it’s called lovemaking for a reason.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

You and Patrick don’t really engage in these because of the nature of your relationship—there are few moments when you can spend time together during the day. Patrick doesn’t like the idea either, as he can’t properly worship your body as much as he believes you deserve and derives so much pleasure from taking his time with you. He is never one to complain about stolen kisses, though.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Again, due to his position and all the publicity, Patrick prefers to keep risks to a minimum. He never would demand anything of you, but he requests that your liaisons be kept private out of concern for you and your relationship.

Once, however, you admitted a shameful desire of yours, and he gave in. So, late one night you made love in a confessional. Although he felt like he would be cursed with eternal damnation, he couldn’t help but admit how arousing it was.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Patrick’s stamina is intense; he never seems to tire, even after the care and attention he puts into each and every round. You teasingly attribute this voraciousness to all his pent-up lust while in seminary. But when you’re exhausted, he completely respects this and would never push you beyond your physical limits.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

No; why would he defile perfection by using anything other than his body?

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

This side of Patrick really comes out when he’s feeling frisky or playful. He relishes that he can turn you into a puddle of goo with just one look—your eyes glaze over, your breath hitches, and you suddenly have difficulty maintaining eye contact. He’ll then begin to touch and kiss you slowly, almost chastely, until you’re a whimpering, sobbing mess beneath him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Volume-wise Patrick tends to be on the softer side, though he can surprise you. What he sometimes lacks in volume he makes up for in quality. Patrick makes the most delicious and sinful sounds you can imagine: gasps at your expert ministrations, moans when you kiss him deeply. Your personal favorite? The sound of him purring into your ear as he showers you with praise and words of affection.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

The man’s scent alone makes you goddamn feral. It’s clean and masculine, with just a hint of spice. You love to bury your face in his neck and chest, inhaling him as you litter his skin with reminders of your devotion.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Patrick is incredibly well-endowed. In fact the first few times you were together, you were in slight pain (much to Patrick’s agony) and felt sore for days afterward. Oh but Patrick made it all better: drawing you warm baths, scooping you up, and tenderly massaging every inch of your body with his large hands. 😏

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

On the higher end, but it’s completely attached to you.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

When you’re in each other’s arms, he feels completely relaxed and can usually fall asleep within a few minutes, but he likes to wait for you drift off to sleep and then silently watch you in your most peaceful state. Your breathing steadies, your brow relaxes, and your hair softly falls about your face, still glowing from physical exertion. As sleep begins to take hold of him, he whispers that you look just like an angel.

Taglist: @seraferna @lemairepstuff

#ewan mcgregor #smut #patrick mckenna #camerlengo #angels and demons #patrick mckenna imagine #forgive me father for i have sinned #obi wan kenobi #ewanfuckinmcgregor #carlo ventresca #obi wan smut

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dracoladon · 3 years

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oh my god I absolutely ADORED lucid and born slippy, so the chance to prompt you with something is so so exciting!! as always, no pressure, but how about something about undressing each other? i've always LOVED the unlacing/undressing tropes in capri, and I bet it would be incredible applied to some lovely drarry. do with this what you wish!!!

sidjdjfnndkff thank you, and thank u again for this ungodly prompt. if there’s three things i love, they’re captive prince, drarry, and soft smutty tropes such as the one u hath so kindly bestowed upon me.

i accidentally made a fair few lucid references in here (prizes for all who can spot them, the prize is a poem about u as composed by me) so i suppose, if you’ve read that one and so wish, u can consider this part of the same universe. or smth ://

maybe i’m just hideously unimaginative when it comes to topics for my banter. anywho

rated e, 1732 words.

The thing about Draco’s work robes, is that they’re buttoned all the way up to the throat. Which, hm, doesn’t sound like an issue in and of itself. But becomes one, of sorts, when Harry is overcome by the need to unbutton them every time he lays eyes on pale, elegant throat, the column of it under stiff black fabric.

The thing is, that Draco looks so austere, so tightly laced, and the thing. Is. That Harry just wants to unlace him.

Draco is, of course, not austere. He’s in fact very, erm, flexible. Pliant. He told Harry once, when they first starting fucking, that his body reformed around Harry’s, and he liked the way he went malleable in Harry’s hands.

“I can’t do that with anyone else,” Draco said. Then frowned. “That didn’t make much sense.”

But the buttons. The buttons. The high-necked buttons. They give Draco a look of frigidity, that he’s not to be spoken to, touched (all in a very sexy, aristocratic kind of way, of course), and it’s so bloody hot that Harry’s taken to banishing his glasses and burying his head under a pillow when Draco dresses in the mornings, just to stop himself getting so hard he goes properly blind with it.

Draco asked him, the third time he burrowed under the bedclothes like a “demented ferret” (glass houses, Harry said), what he was doing.

“The buttons,” Harry murmured. “Want to undo them.”

“The buttons?”

“The buttons.”

“You sick, kinky twist, Harry Potter.”

Harry unearthed himself, at that. “Shut up? It’s not about the buttons, you horror. It’s about what’s underneath the buttons.”

“How touching.”

And then more teasing, and Harry had it up to here and said, “I’ll burrow again.”

So Draco sat next to him on the bed, robes all secured, and said, softly, but still smiling like a git, “Tell me, love. Why the buttons?”

“You’re just—they’re, you know. So—God,” and then Harry had reached out and rent the sides of Draco’s robes apart, the little cloth covered studs clattering over his polished walnut floors, and pulled Draco down on top of him, and fucked him right there until Draco was late for work, and later still because they’d had to spend half an hour charming the wretched things back into place.

Now, Draco says, “the buttons are still wonky from that little stunt you pulled.”

Harry can see only Draco’s legs (crossed over each other on the couch, back flat on the ground, because Draco feels it centres him to drape upended from the furniture at the end of a long day) from where he’s decanting the wine in the kitchen. “I’ve always been pants at tailoring charms.”

“Was that a pun?” says Draco, sounding pained. “I’m leaving you, if that was a pun.”

“But then who will do your bidding? Aerate your wine, iron your silk pants—”

“I’ll get a house elf.”

“—not finished, suck your brains out your cock, make you pasta with butter and cheese when it’s cold and you’re in a mood—”

“I’ll get a gigolo, too.”

“I still wasn’t finished,” Harry says, and Levitates the wine into the living room in front of him.

Draco says, “did you get the right glasses, this time?”

“You’re very funny,” Harry says, because after months of trying to educate Harry, Draco has finally accepted that his one true love is cheap beer, and sorted all the wine glasses he keeps at Harry’s flat into labelled little boxes. (‘This is a coupe, Potter. If you bring me red wine in it again, I’ll throw it at you.’ ‘These are for dessert wine — after dinner, before a good hard boffing.’)

“Why don’t you just go snag one of those fucking — sommiliars.”

“Sommelier.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, happy because Draco’s wearing his work robes and speaking French and looking all twisty, and it’s Friday night, and there’s wine and music from the record Draco put on, and Harry gets to untwist him.

“Did you know,” Draco says, arching his back into a luxurious stretch before rearranging himself right side up and plucking a glass from the air, “that Amantea is starting her own firm.”

“God. Really?”

“Quite. It’s a pro bono thing, evidently. You know she’s been on the exec’s for months about how they direct all their mandatory hours towards corporations, not, you know, people who actually can’t afford legal counsel.”

“‘Course.” Harry distinctly remembers being cornered by Amantea when Draco brought him along to last year's Christmas drinks — he was a decent few in, and Draco kept palming at him through his formal robes when no one was looking, and he thinks he may have agreed to some kind of public crusade in the name of her cause that he doesn’t remember the details of to this day.

“Merlin, that’s incredible. She’s just quit, then? Starting it from the ground up?”

Draco nods, sips his wine. “She asked me to come with her. Ford, too.” And then, into his glass, “Said yes.”

Harry chokes, and Draco smirks at him behind the rim while he expires into his Pinot. “Bastard,” Harry coughs.

“Mm,” Draco hums.

“That’s—fuck, hang on—that’s great, love. Draco, it’s brilliant.”

“Really?” Draco says, tangling his fingers in Harry’s. He can see now that he’s doing that Very Draco Thing where his eyes go a bit too wide and his tongue keeps darting out to wet his bottom lip. “Cause I haven’t quit yet.”

“Of course. I think it’s really, really incredible.”

Draco rolls his eyes, but his cheeks flush pink. “Any more of that, and I won’t go near your cock for a week.”

“I’m proud of you,” Harry says, smiling.

“Two weeks.”

He leans on his haunches, hooks a blond tendril behind Draco’s ear. “I’m so proud of you, Draco. Everything you are.”

“A month. A year! Harry,” Draco complains.

Harry snorts. Sits back. “Fine. So would you still be doing all the same work?”

Draco nods. “I’d still be a defence counsel. I’d just be, you know. Not getting paid. At least, not for a while.”

“Good,” Harry says. “We’ve got a horrific amount of money, between the two of us.”

“I’m glad you think so, because we’ll be living off your salary alone. What’s the going rate for darling of the Wizarding world?”

Harry walks his fingers over Draco’s knee, daubed in the heavy black wool of his robes. “Several million a year darling. Are you excited, then?”

Draco shuffles around so he can rest his back against the couch, keeping Harry’s palm pressed to his knee with his own hand as he moves. “Yes. Very. I love my job, but the fees they charge our time at are outrageous. I was always thinking, Mother and I wouldn’t have been able to afford that right after the war. Had we even been allowed a solicitor, but don’t get me bloody started.”

Harry thinks that’s Draco down to his bones. He gives cold little glares to people he doesn’t want to talk to, and shrinks in on himself like a turtle whenever Molly tries to hug him at Sunday lunch, and he’s selfish about stupid things, like letting Ron have the last of his chips at pub night.

And then he does things like drop lunch by Hermione’s office when he has afternoon meetings with the Wizengamot, or quit the job he loves so much, where he’s finally respected and secure, to work for free with Scary Amantea because he actually cares about the abysmal state of the Wizarding justice system, or rent out an entire Muggle theme park for Harry’s birthday, because he’d said, off handed, one night in Draco’s arms, that he’d always been left behind when the Dursley’s took Dudley as a child.

“You’re so nice,” Harry says.

Draco frowns. “Take it back.”

Harry says, “Won’t,” and gives him a good, slow kiss that tastes like wine. Wine from a proper glass.

“I have bad news, too,” Draco says into Harry’s lips.

Harry can’t think of how anything could be bad, wrong, when Draco’s mouth is so soft and so close, but he murmurs, “What,” anyway.

“No dress code, at the new firm.”

Harry pulls back, stricken. “No more buttons?”

“Less regular buttons,” Draco amends, and Harry places a protective hand over Draco’s clavicles.

“This is completely tragic,” Harry says.

“Dare I say, Potter, you’ll just have to make the most of them. While you can.”

Harry nods, leans down again, a hand either side of Draco’s hips, and kisses him again.

When he pulls back, it’s so he can get his hands on the reeling column of buttons that runs from Draco’s navel to his Adam’s apple.

There was a certain carnal appeal in tearing them off him that first time, but now Harry likes this. His hands on Draco, his mouth following. Pushing the silken studs through the loops, undressing Draco inch by milk white inch.

“Yes,” Draco says, as Harry licks and nips his way down every bit of skin he exposes. When Draco swallows, Harry feels the movement of it roll beneath his palm. When Draco’s legs fall open, Harry mouths at his hip bone as it shifts under his tongue.

Harry disrobes himself with slightly less worshipping finesse. Pushes the tailored cloth off Draco’s shoulders, helps him arrange himself underneath Harry, ankles clasped lazily at his back. Fucks him slow, and sweet, and two more times.

Really, Harry doesn’t know why the robes do it for him so utterly and completely. They look kind of like the type of thing a vicar would wear, which is also what Harry remembers thinking when he saw Draco in his dress robes at the Yule Ball (although now it’s more a very rich, very sleek sort of vicar vibe, and less of the fusty, I-took-a-celibacy-oath-at-thirteen-and-am- now-seventy-two thing he had going back then. With all the velvet. Draco looks much better in silk. Anyway.)

On that, it’s probably because it’s a reminder that it’s Malfoy who he’s with. Malfoy, not Death Eater, tormentor, but pale limbs, plush, pink mouth and naked vulnerability before him. It’s how far they’ve both come, and how Draco presents himself to the world — so far away from what Harry gets to see. What’s Harry’s. What’s theirs.

“Also,” Draco says, when Harry tells him this in bed that night, “I look positively indecent in black.”

#my writing #answered #theestarryknight #prompts #drarry

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twiceasfrustrating · 3 years

Text

Absolutely Nothing

I said I wouldn't post my new fic until after SWBQ is done, but I want to begin posting it before S4 drops. It won't update consistently atm, but it's there... I will only be posting the first two chapters to Tumblr. Everything else is going on AO3 because Tumblr is not longfic friendly.

Rating: Teen and Up

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: Gen

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Characters: Main Character, Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, Luke, Solomon, Michael, Raphael, Uriel, Original Angel Character(s)

Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, War, Trauma, Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Canon is like a vampire, it can't enter this house unless I let it, Emotional Baggage, Lies, Manipulation, Ships not intended but I'm not stopping you

Summary: War is not unknown to the three realms, but that does not make them any less a tragedy of strategy. Though relations between the three have never been favorable, they have never truly gone to battle with each other. At least, not until now. The heavens have been planning for a long time and have finally decided to execute their machinations. Now it is time to see how every piece will play out this bloody battle.

A/N: These tags are for the overarching fic, not the first two chapters. Only Lucifer, Simeon, Micheal, and Gabriel show up in the first two chapters.

Chapter 1: I Will Not Go With You

“We’re heading for a war,” Lucifer warned, “and I want you to come with me.”

Simeon solemnly blinked a few times before closing his eyes. The weight of the choices laid before him pricked at the edges of his mind. He’d known this was coming. He’d known for a long time that this question would eventually be asked of him and for just as long he’d known what his answer would be, “I must decline.”

“Why?” Lucifer spat out, “Simeon, you have to know what’s about to happen. If we don’t fight then Lilith-”

“I am not stopping you from this rebellion.” He opened his eyes and looked to the pages stacked neatly in the corner of his desk, carefully flipping through the avalanche of writings he’d collected over the years. Somewhere, buried deep in the pile, he vaguely recalled his moment; where his brother would ask him to do the impossible. He’d hidden it away from prying eyes, afraid that others would find it and interpret it as he had. Though, even if they had read it and understood what the contents were, it was nigh impossible to change the events that were foretold.

He pulled the page from the pile, taking care so the others above it would not collapse onto the delicately inlaid wood of his desk, and perused the contents held within. The paper was so old that it had begun to grow fragile to the touch and discolor at the edges. Simeon desperately wished that time had chosen not to show its touch on this particular relic he would rather have forgotten about. It was frightening how long he’d known about this day and he would rather pretend he was shocked when Lucifer had come to him. Sometimes, having a glimpse into what would eventually be was a cruel reality.

That brother, who would come in need of his fellow, will find no quarter. So shall he return with hands left empty, but convictions emboldened by the forge of his stature. He shall take with him those who share his resolve and lead them to where metal sings and cries. Blood shall be shed but on one side, though the cost of the blood spilled shall

It was an old, short paragraph he wished he could forget. Though he could never truly put it out of his mind, because he knew it was left unfinished and his mind and pen longed to see the end of the story. However, his heart and will would prefer not to know every detail of this particular future. For so long, he’d clung to that final shall and hoped that not knowing the entirety of the story would somehow keep it from unfolding. However, his pen only put the stories to page. He was not responsible for the events that inspired him to write.

“You will have to make do with those who are already on your side. No one else will turn their back on Father for your cause.” It was the only warning he could give. In those words he hid the message that Lucifer should tell no one else. If war was approaching, then it was better he have the element of surprise.

Lucifer could only stare at him in disbelief, “Is that your answer?”

“It always was.” He placed the paper face down atop the pile, “I cannot aid you in this, Lucifer.”

“Then you would fight against me? You would condemn Lilith in the same way as our Father?” His voice shook, the rage building inside of him clearly beginning to boil over even as he tried to contain it.

“I will not betray my family.” Simeon’s face remained unchanged as he pushed his chair away from the desk and rose to his feet. Despite the malicious aura that began to circle around his fellow Seraphim, he approached with an unguarded stance until they were only an arm’s reach away from one another. No matter how upset Lucifer may become, Simeon would not fear him. Though, he did fear *for* him, “You and she are still of my kind and that means I will not meet you on the battlefield.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened at the declaration. This time, it was his turn to fear for the other, “You can’t stay out of this. You know they won’t allow you.” If he did try to remain on the sidelines, Simeon would still be seen as a traitor. Not in the same vein as him and his siblings, but a traitor nonetheless, “I won’t ask you to fight if you really refuse to lift your blade, but you can’t stay here.”

“As much as you and Lilith are my family, so are Micheal, Raphael, Uriel, and Gabriel. I cannot leave them.”

“Simeon…”

Simeon’s lips pulled back into a smile and he let out the shortest of laughs, “You worry far too much, Lucy. You are aware that I am still a Seraphim, are you not? Even if I do not step onto the battlefield, I do not believe I am in nearly as much danger as you are putting yourself in.” He wanted to reach out and touch his brother one last time as the fear of the unknown overtook him, but he kept his hand within his own space. He did not know what would happen at the end of all of this, but he knew it would not be the same and reaching out to hold onto what they had would only pain them both.

Lucifer looked over the other angel’s shoulder, toward the pile of papers where Simeon had placed one face down. Countless writings that revealed the future to their author and Lucifer did not envy that gift. Others often wished to know what would be, but he had seen far too many times the burden placed on Simeon for having such a skill; the amount of times he had been made to see both grace and tragedy was carved on his face, just behind that smile. That is why, despite knowing that whatever was on that page was related to this very discussion and his ultimate goal, he would not pry. It was not as if knowing the future allowed it to be changed anyway.

“We’ll still be on opposing sides, you know?” No matter how much Simeon proclaimed not to betray his family, that was an unavoidable truth.

He nodded, “I am aware.”

“And you refuse to go against your family?”

This time his confirmation was wordless.

Lucifer took in a deep breath, “Then once the battle begins, I believe we can hardly be considered family anymore.”

Large blue eyes shot up to look at his pale face. It seemed that Lucifer had said something Simeon hadn’t expected, “What?”

“You will not betray your family, but you know they will not allow you to remain neutral in this. As soon as the drums of war beat, it is fine to stop thinking of me as your brother.”

There was a long moment of silence before Simeon could reply, “You cannot ask me that.”

“I am not asking. I am stating a truth,” one that would hopefully allow Simeon a way to follow his morals and gain some leniency if he continued to insist on this path, “I refuse to be your brother from that moment on.”

“Please... you cannot ask that of me.”

“I am not asking anything of you. I am simply stating where we will stand.” And now he needed to leave before the hurt welling in Simeon’s eyes tugged at his heart anymore and shattered his resolve.

He dipped his head in a polite bow, “Thank you for your time, Simeon. I do hope we may speak like this again.” He turned on his heels, refusing to truly look at the other angel again. His only goal was the door, where he opened it wide and stepped through the threshold.

“Lucifer! Wait!”

It took far more will than Lucifer would ever care to admit as he shut the door behind him without saying another word, and even more to walk away.

-----------------------

Chapter 2: Traitor

“How long have you known?” Micheal nearly growled as he stared down Simeon where he kneeled. His pale blue eyes ran wild with rage and it was clear he was just barely holding himself together. That was to be expected after everything he had just been through. Lucifer was unapologetically his favorite brother so it was unimaginable the distress he was in right now as he came to terms with having lost a member of his family. They had been like two halves of a whole, and now they were fractured.

“How long have I known what?” Simeon asked, feigning ignorance.

“That Lucifer would lead a rebellion against Father!” Micheal’s voice raised so loud that the room literally shook around him.

“Calm yourself, Micheal,” a melodious voice shushed him and lithe hands rested on his shoulders to hold him steady, “We’ve lost enough of our siblings today. There is no reason to lose yourself and risk losing another.”

“You would call him our brother after that disgraceful scene, Gabriel?” The disgust in his voice was clear and overwhelming, “He knew this would happen and refused to warn us or lift a finger. Everything we lost today is because of him.” Simeon had to know about today. He was blessed with the gift of prophecy and spent his time writing what was to come. If he had simply shared whatever he knew about today, Micheal knows they could have prevented the rebellion. He knows that he could have convinced Lucifer to stay somehow. Instead, he was left to face his own brother on the battlefield. He could still recall the cold eyes Lucifer had looked at him with as if they barely knew one another. That sight would never leave the darkest parts of his mind.

“You are blinded by your pain, Micheal.” She removed her hand from his shoulders and moved to stand over Simeon, “He is clearly as much our brother as ever. If he were against us he would have joined Lucifer, but Father has deemed that he is still worthy of his halo. Is that not enough for you?”

Micheal chuckled darkly before answering, “Uriel nearly lost an arm and he’s one of the lucky ones.” Even with so few numbers on their side, the rebellion had a gifted Dominion that made the most of their small force.

“And everyone harmed will heal, but we gain nothing in dividing ourselves further, and our brother has already been punished for his transgressions.” She took a knee before Simeon, reaching out her hand and running her fingers through his silken hair, “Will you not put our brother’s worries at ease, Simeon?”

Simeon knew the threat in those words. As kind as Gabriel pretended to be, she was someone he feared far more than Micheal. Not because she was stronger, but because she knew exactly how to most hurt those who upset her. As such, he had no interest in declining her wish, even if what she was asking for was for him to show his shame.

He took a deep breath before unfurling his wings behind him. They shimmered golden in the neverending light of the Celestial Realm, a blessing bestowed upon him by their Father that reflected his very essence. Every angel had such a blessing; different colors, shapes, a range of sizes, and lays of their feathers all differed from angel to angel all dependent on their Father’s grace. That included how high in their Father’s favor they were, and it was obvious at a glance just how out of favor Simeon had fallen. His six beautiful wings, the blessing afforded to all Seraphim, had been reduced to a simple two.

Gabriel’s eyes filled with pity for him but Micheal’s face twisted in glee and disdain, “Is that all? You betray us and all Father does is reduce your rank.” The laugh that left his throat was so dry that it sounded like it hurt, “You must really be beloved to get off with such a light sentence.” If it was up to Micheal himself, Simeon would face the same punishment as Lilith.

“Still your anger, Micheal. As you can see, Father has spoken.” She raised to her feet once more, her nails pulling painfully at Simeon’s hair as she stepped away from him, “Simeon is still of our kind and as one of our subordinates it is our duty to shepherd him.”

A wicked smile crossed Micheal’s face as he continued to look down on Simeon and his now unsightly form that marked his betrayal, “You may be correct, Gabriel. It is only right that we guide lost sheep, especially those of our own flock.”

#obey me #Absolutely Nothing #mine #obey me simeon #obey me lucifer #hosted on AO3 #obey me michael #obey me raphael #original character

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fictionalmenmakemecry · 3 years

Text

We Have History Together

Requested

Characters: Stefan x Reader

Summary: Stefan and reader have a project that due but get distracted in the process ;)

Includes: Smut , swearing

I always been interested in history, it's always been one of my favorite classes. Since the beginning of the school year, I've been struggling to keep my mind in check when it comes to wandering thoughts. Saying that, these thoughts might have something to do with the new person in our class. Stefan Salvatore. He's been getting the normal amount of attention when it comes to any new victim of this school. He seem to keep to himself mostly. Over the last couple of weeks, it's been particularly harder to keep focused as we have been put into groups for class project and you guessed it, Stefan and I were put together.

At the start of the project, things were kinda awkward because I knew nothing about him. But we slowly start to get comfortable with each other as every history class was us working on our project. It being a big percentage of our final grade, I wanted to ace this. As the weeks went on, he would do little things that I never expected, like bring me my favorite snack when he knew I was going to be late for class and forgot to bring lunch. He would bring me his favorite history books that he thought I would enjoy. We really did start becoming close friends. But I knew I had other feelings that I wanted to ignore. The more time we spent together the more I started to notice how good he smelt, especially when he leant across to grab something on the other side of the desk. I would be listening to him and suddenly get lost in his green eyes and how his lips looked so sof-

"You okay?" He asked looking into my eyes.

"Uh-h yeah, sorry, in my own world there." I chuckled feeling my face get warmer wondering if he was on to me.

"I just didn't get enough sleep last night" I lied.

He glanced down at this book and smiled "Okay, well for the conclusion I think-"

"Sorry guys, just to let you know the library will be closing in 15 minutes, we close early on Sundays" The old grey haired librarian spoke softly as she walked past our desk.

"Oh shit, yeah I forgot" I said looking down at my phone

"Well, if you want, we can go back to my place and finish the last few things. I don't think it should take too long" He offered as he closed his laptop and packed his things away.

My heart sped up when he mentioned his place, what the hell is wrong with me. I needed to get ahold of myself if I'm going back to his place. I cleared my throat not wanting my excitement to show through.

"Totally, that sounds good" I nodded

We both got into our own cars and I followed him until we got to his place. I wasn't expecting much but his house was this gigantic Tudor mansion. I couldn't believe my eyes. I felt my hands getting sweatier as we got closer. I got out of my car, still looking around in amazement trying to figure out how rich he was.

We never really talked about life outside school. So I really didn't know much about his life.

"Holy shit" I said quietly to myself but he manage to hear making his way towards me as he chuckled to himself.

"It's not what you think. I'm not rich" He said still smiling at me

"Then wha-" I gestured at the grand building in front of me

"It's a long story" He interrupted me

As we walked towards the house, I could sense him getting fidgety beside me which is so different compared to his calm confident self.

"Before we go in, I'm just warning you that I have a brother, Damon. He can be forward and how can I put this... an ass." He said bluntly.

"Try and ignore him, he's been really pissing me off lately" Stefan walked ahead of me putting his hand on the handle of the door.

I didn't say anything because I didn't what to say or think. He can't be that bad. But I never seen Stefan like this so maybe he is. This was definitely not settling my nerves.

He opened the door and this hallways just lead to this huge room with an unimaginable sized fireplace. I couldn't stop myself from looking around.

"Make yourself comfortable, do you want anything to drink or eat?" Stefan said as he walked toward a door that I presumed lead to the kitchen.

"I wouldn't mind some water" I felt my mouth becoming dryer as the seconds went by.

Stefan disappeared into the next room and I walked around the room trying to get a grasp of the place.

"Well, hello there" a smooth voice came from the balcony which I didn't even realize was there a moment ago.

I whipped around to see, a man who was older than Stefan and must have been Damon.

"Uh- Hi" I raised my hand to wave and felt startled from his presence.

He walked down the stairs towards me with this confidence that was completely different to Stefan. As he got closer I felt he icy blue eyes look me over and I felt uneasy.

"I didn't know we were having guests" Damon smirked

"Yeah, just coming over to finish off history p-project" I stuttered.

I started getting more nervous wondering where the hell Stefan was. Where the hell was he getting this water from, Niagara falls?

Damon walked closer to me. Closer than stranger should be. He seemed completely at ease and mostly enjoying this.

"You have really beautiful eyes" Damon looked into them and I felt his stare getting deeper and deeper.

"I really hope Damon is not being a pain in the ass" Stefan appeared with sandwich and water

Damon rolled his eyes and took a step back making his way over to a side table with a assortment of liquors.

"I was just introducing myself" He said giving me a little smile before pouring himself a glass of brown color rink.

I could see Stefan sighing and shaking his head as he made his way up the stairs.

"Come on Y/N, let's go and finish off the project"

I made my way across the room and followed Stefan, feeling Damon's eyes on me the whole time until we were out of sight. I closed the door behind me as we got to Stefan's room. His room matched the rest of the aesthetic of the house. He made space for the sandwich and water on his desk which was covered in books.

"I noticed you didn't eat much today, so I made you peanut butter and jelly sandwich." he said trying to make room for chairs so we both could sit at his desk.

"Um, thank you. that's really kind" I smiled sitting beside him.

I wasn't hungry at all. My stomach was all over the place knowing that we were in a room together, alone. I kept rubbing my hands along my jeans trying to stop them from being clammy. He was different, he was irritated by something. I didn't want to pry but I was worried that he was regretting inviting me over.

"Is everything okay?" I asked quietly afraid to hear what I didn't want to hear.

He looked down and looked back up at me again.

"My brother pissed me off. He always like that around women and I'm sick of it. He just treats women like objects and- I'm sorry. You don't need to hear this." He sighs.

"It's okay, so he's kind of a ladies man?" I asked

"I wouldn't saying using women whenever he wants something a ladies m- that's not the point. The point is that you're a genuine good person Y/N" He looks at me and keeps eye contact lingering to the point I have to look away because I feel myself blushing.

"If he got his chance, he would..." Stefan looked around like he was trying to think of a word "taint you". landing his eyes back on me when saying that.

At this point, I'm pretty sure my heart beat was banging in my ears and I know my cheeks were permanently red. He must know how I felt about him, My body was letting me down right now and letting him know exactly how I felt about him, I couldn't hide it anymore.

He got up from the chair and walked around with his hands behind is head like he was trying to calm himself down. I was starting to worry because I never seen him so annoyed before. I got up from the chair and took a step toward him.

"Is there anything I can do to try and get your mind off of this?" I asked while picking at my fingers.

He turned around and looked directly at me across the room.

"Do you like me Y/N?" Stefan asked his face completely serious.

I think in that moment my heart skipped a beat. My mouth opened and in my mind I screamed yes but no noise came out. I looked down and back up, he was still looking at me. I could tell he was trying to read me.

"Yes I do" I nodded knowing that my voice might not be heard from speaking so quietly.

I could hear him release his breath, I looked down, all of a sudden too shy to look him in the eyes. I could hear him slowly walking towards me. I felt him get close to me, closer than friends should get. I felt his hand at the bottom of my chin and bring my face up to his. His lips were just about to touch mine. All my senses were overwhelmed. I could smell his cologne, feel his body heat, feel his hot breath against my lips. I looked up into his eyes not realizing how green they actually were.

"Can I kiss you?" He whispered

I couldn't make any sound, I nodded ever so slightly. I felt him lean in and his lips pressed against mine. I felt his thumb brush against my jaw. I felt my knees wanting to buckle under me. So I wrapped my arms around his neck feeling his other hand on my side. He was so gentle, like he was scared of actually breaking me. I leaned more into him wanting him to know I wanted more. I felt his tongue brushing along my lips and I wanted to taste him. I wanted to feel his tongue against mine. I starting getting lost in the kissing and without realizing I was up against the wall. I felt his body push up against mine. His body felt so strong but gentle at the same time. I ran my hand up the back of his head and down his neck on his shoulders, feeling the muscles underneath the shirt. He pulled away, making me realize that we were both out of breath.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that" He said while glancing down at my lips.

"I know the feeling" I smiled.

"When I'm with you, it's hard for me to keep control. The way Damon looked at you today, made me lose any control I had left" Stefan leaned in putting his hand up against the wall beside me.

I looked into his eyes knowing what I wanted from him. I felt this hungry inside me that I hadn't felt in months.

"Stefan, I don't think I want you to have control around me" I put my hands on his chest and bit my lip

I could see him looking deep into my eyes making sure what I said was actually what I wanted.

"What do you want from me ?" Stefan looked down on my lips knowing what I wanted but wanting to hear it,

"I want you to fuck me" I looked down at his lips and whispered.

Stefan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened them again and leaned in, kissing me. It was different this time. He had the same hunger I had now. I leaned into him and I felt him reach down to my thighs and lifted me up with ease, I automatically wrapped my legs around his waist. He walked over the bed and laid me down gently. I felt his hands on my waist and brushing them over my body and got my arms and put them over my head. He climbed on the bed and starting kissing my neck and I felt something sharp on my neck for a split second but then it disappeared. I reached down and pulled off his shirt and admired his toned body underneath.

"Fuck, you're hot" I whispered to myself feeling myself getting wetter by the second.

He looked up at me "Nothing compared to you baby" He smirked

As he unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down, I pulled off my top and tossed it aside somewhere. I felt our chests press up against each other and the warmth they shared. I felt him getting harder as he kissed my body more. I couldn't resist anymore, I unbuttoned his jeans and pulled everything down, releasing his hardening cock for me.

"You don't know how much I need you right now " He moaned as I gripped his cock and pumped him

"I want to feel you inside me " I said as I kissed his neck

He slid down my body spreading my legs as he went.

"I want you to taste me, but right now I can't wait any longer. Please fuck me" I begged

He looked at me and kiss my folds before getting up and leaning over to nightstand taking out a foil packaged.

He rolled on the condom and climbed on top of me. His hand disappeared between us as his fingers slowly went in me and start to pull out and push in.

"You're so wet for me" He whispered taking his hand away and sucking on his fingers "Mmmm.. taste so good too baby"

I moaned knowing it was going to feel so good when it enters me.

He positioned himself until he was at my entrance and slowly thrusted forward feeling myself open up to him. He kissed me and nuzzled himself in my neck moaning as he felt my walls grip onto him.

"You feel so good, fuck." He moans as he stays in place as we both take the feeling.

He started thrusting in and out as we both started getting used to each other. He started kissing my sensitive nipples which made me melt into the bed.

"I need you to fuck me harder" I said while feeling his body over me

"You want me to fuck you harder?" He teased while slowing down

"Please" I pleaded knowing that would make my cum hard

"My pleasure" He moved with faster and rougher force.

We fucked feeling both of our climaxes climbing. I wasn't able to hold back and he could tell.

"I'm not going to be able to hold off much longer, are you close?" He moaned feeling him starting to lose rhythm.

"Nearly baby" I said out of breath

He changed position as he put my legs on his shoulders and starting thrusting hard and fast.

"Baby,I can't- fuck, I going to cum"

"Me too" I moaned feeling my walls milk him

We both came, as he got his release he fell forward hovering over me catching his breath and kissing me gently.

"You're incredible" He whispered in my ear and looking at me brushing my hair out of my face

"Ditto" I smiled kissing him gently.

We both cuddled for the next couple of hours and talked, taking in the intimate moment we had.

We spent an all nighter finishing the history project and trying not to distract each other.

#vampire diaries #smut #stefan salvatore #stefan #fluff #stefan x reader #reader #vampire x reader

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chimtaesty · 3 years

Text

Moonlit Destiny Part One

pairing: princess!reader x king!jin / 2.8k words

warnings: angst, violence, anxiety, strong language, trauma

plot: marrying a king of a far away country seemed to be your biggest problem, but gradually falling in love with a man who is deeply hurt and isn't able to control his rage turns out to be more troublesome.

A/N: hi! I'm really sorry that the first part of this series wasn't uploaded at the planned date. I had to replan and arrange thigs because my exams were delayed and moved and everything was a mess. I hope you enjoy this opener and you'll stay tuned for more of this series.

comment down below if you want to be added to the taglist!

masterlist / story masterlist / PROLOGUE

“His first wife, Eunbi, was a traitor....”

“W-What do you mean?” The information he’s giving you doesn’t seem to get processed. His wife betrayed him, causing him pain. “She tried to poison him, almost killing his youngest brother in the process. She aimed for his crown, she wanted to be the sole ruler. The emperor had her hung publicly” Your brain doesn’t work.

Your mouth opens to question Yonghee further, but in that very moment Seokjin walks towards you two, aiming for you. “I’m sorry for breaking up the conversation between you two, but i would like to talk to my fiance” He states with a small smile, making you question what Yonghee said a minute ago. How on earth was the man that stands in front of you able to hang his wife. To execute the woman he loved, or maybe he didn’t. It may have been easier to kill her for treason because he didn’t actually love her. Would he be able to execute you when you made a mistake? Would he ever be able to kill you?

“Y/N, I wanted to elaborate the cause of my anger towards you. I realised that it was unfair to be angry at you for mentioning my first wife without actually knowing what happened.” You don’t say anything while he sways on the heels of his feet. You know what happened, yet you let him explain to see things through his perspective.

“My first wife, Eunbi, was a wonderful woman. We loved each other truly and I would've given her everything. I made her queen because she desired to be my wife. I allowed her to learn whatever she wanted, because I loved her. She made me the happiest man alive. But she betrayed me, she used me, tried to kill me for her biggest desire. She wanted to be in my position, be king. She tried to kill me, but she poisoned my youngest brother, Jungkook, instead. It was an accident since the poisoned cup of wine was meant for me. My brother survived, barely, he still has problems with speaking. When it was revealed that she had poisoned my brother's drink she showed her real face.

She admitted that what I had given her wasn’t enough. She wanted to be the sole ruler of my kingdom and she was ready to do whatever it took to accomplish that. Although I loved her, dearly, I had to execute her. I would’ve forgiven her, I would've let her go because I loved her. My brother, Yoongi, took care of her execution. I couldn’t be present. I couldn’t watch the woman I loved being hung like a criminal.” he finishes with tears in his eyes.

His eyes are red and his cheeks pink. You can’t even imagine what he felt, the pain that must torture him every single day. “How many brothers do you have?” you don’t realise what leaves your mouth until it’s too late. A small chuckle leaves his plump lips. “That’s what busies your mind? How many brothers I have?” you chuckle as well. “I’m curious, I now know what happened to Eunbi and I understand that it must be unimaginably painful to execute someone you love but since you don’t want to talk about it too much, I won’t bring it up again. Thank you for telling me” you nudge his arm slightly “Now tell me how many brothers you have”

xxxxx

He has six brothers, Namjoon, the army commander of the south. He takes care of the safety in the kingdoms south. He’s very tall and likes to read, in his free time he likes to take care of the animals which live at the royal court. Yoongi, who takes care of the local prisons. He is excellent at getting people to talk, through torture, to your displeasure. He’s smaller than his brothers and likes to listen to concerts on his free evenings.

Hoseok is the army commander of the north. He shares his work with his brother, Namjoon, and takes care of the safety in the kingdom's north. He is a ray of sunshine. Seokjin said he was surprised when Hoseok asked to be a commander since he imagined him to become an artist like Taehyung, but he assured his brother of his professionalism. He likes to help Jimin with the local orphanages in his free time, remarkable.

Jimin is the third youngest of the bunch. He is a famous warrior, known as the white shadow. He fought in several great wars and always came back as the winner. Even though he’s a scary and very skilled warrior, he has a very sensible personality. He likes to help out at the local orphanages, showing the children how to defend themselves. A secret ,Seokjin pleaded with me to never ever talk about, is that Jimin likes to be read to. He often asks his older Brother, Namjoon, to read to him.

Taehyung is the second youngest, making him the second family's baby. He’s the only one who strayed from the genre of professions among the brothers. He decided to become an artist, painting the most beautiful paintings and writing the loveliest poems, having quite the clan of female admirers. He does know how to fight, though. Growing up with six brothers who like to train for future purposes made him learn how to fight as well. He might not be as skilled as Jimin or Jungkook, but he would survive in war.

Jungkook is the youngest of them all. He’s a warrior like Jimin, known as black shadow. He is the best fighter out of the seven, no one has ever succeeded in having him land on his back. He seems really scary, almost terrifying, said Seokjin. But he’s a nice boy, kind and cautious. He told Seokjin that he would like an older sister in law because Eunbi was younger than him, calling him Oppa, which he strongly disliked.

When he was poisoned, he lost almost all possibility to speak, he has trouble eating and dislikes having to talk to people. He’s embarrassed people would feel disgusted by his raspy and rough sounding voice.

His family sounds fun, complicated but fun.

xxxxx

The maids helped you put the traditional clothes on called “Hanbok”. “Ow!” you shout, startling the maids in the process. “We are deeply sorry, your majesty. We have to tighten this part a slight bit.” Moving in this big thing seems impossible as there’s so much fabric. “You’re almost done, your majesty.” you can’t believe that Seokjin wants you to wear such a hideous amount of clothing.

“You’re done, your majesty! The only thing you will have to put on is the head piece” the smaller girl in front of you instructs. She holds a big golden something in her hands. You’ve never seen something as astonishing and beautiful as this golden thing.

She places the headpiece on your head, securing it in your hair. It’s heavy, feels like they’ve placed a child on top of your head, yet you like it. “You look beautiful, your majesty” you smile at her “Thank you very-“Is she done yet?” An impatient voice wanders through the walls. “Yes, your majesty. Your fiancé is done being dressed” a maid informs him.

“Good, come outside, my dear. Let me have a look at you” he pushes. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to get up. There’s jewelry as heavy as a newborn on your head and ridiculous big clothing on your body. “I’ll try my best.” he chuckles.

The maid helps you up, you’re sure she’s trying to not laugh herself. If the women in his country wear this stuff without a problem?

“Wow, Y/N. You look stunning. Come here, my love” he opens his arms wide. You let go of the maid, focused on making your way over to him. The headpiece weighs down on your already exhausted neck. “Thank you, the headpiece is quite heavy though” your nose crunches up at your small complaint.

He stifles a laugh “That’s alright, you won’t have to wear it all the time. Such big jewelry should only be worn at special occasions” you nod your head, or at least you try to. “Y/N, could you do me a favor?” you hum “Of course” “Please take care of Jungkook, he needs someone to talk to. His brothers don’t seem fit for that job” you nod. “I’ll try”

xxxxx

So here you are, in front of his parents and his six brothers, well not all six. Two are missing. All of them are way taller than you imagined them to be. His mother is the smallest, smaller than you. And his father is a tad bit smaller than the boys behind him, yet he looks like a king. The posture and the way he introduces himself to you makes it obvious that he was king a while ago.

“My name is Y/N, it’s nice to meet you, your majesty” you bow lowly, as low as Yonghee had shown you. “Oh dear, you don’t have to bow to us. I’m not king anymore” you shake your head in disagreement. “I have to, you are Seokjin's family.” You try in their language.

Yonghee taught you the best he could during your months-long trip back to Seokjin’s land. “That’s very kind of you, Y/N. This is my wife Juhyun, and my name is Hyunsuk. I’m pleased to take you in as my daughter-in-law” you bow once again, making sure to bow to his mother once again. You catch her look, the hatred in her eyes.

His brothers introduce themselves as well before Seokjin snatches you away, taking you to his bedchambers. “She hates me” you sigh. “What are you talking about?” You sit yourself on the bed, trying to wiggle the big head piece out of your hair. “Your mother, she despises me and I can’t get this thing out of my hair” you cry out in frustration.

“Don’t think about her too much. She’s just cautious, after what happened with Eunbi. Let me help you” he tries to calm you. “But you didn’t see her eyes. She would’ve stabbed me right then and there if she had the chance to” you sigh.

His big hand finds its way onto your cheek. “Y/N, stop. She won’t ever hurt you. As long as you’ll stay loyal to me, you won’t be in danger.” His words calm you, to some extent.The fact that he’s willing to protect you even though he’s not in love with you is nice, it feels very nice.

xxxxx

“Why do I have to meet her?” You sigh as a maid helps you into a lighter piece of clothing. “Because she wants to get to know her daughter-in-law. Just drink some tea, answer her questions and you’re good to go.” Your nose crunches up in displeasure. Meeting his mother for tea or rather for interrogation is the cherry on top. She might just kill you and call it an accident.

“You won’t have to stay too long, I want you to meet my youngest brothers. Jimin and Jungkook are coming home from war and Taehyung will present his newest paintings tonight. I want you to be on good terms with them.” You nod and squeeze his hand.

He rubs your palm “You’ll be fine”

Two very friendly guards escort you to the small pavilion on the other side of the palace.

“There you are, take a seat” his mother, Juhyun smiles at you. It’s a fake smile, you’re sure. “I prepared some green tea, it helps your metabolism. You should slim down a little, right” you blink in irritation.

It’s not even been two minutes and this woman is testing your patience. “You won’t want Seokjin to fall back on his concubines, right?” She smiles, once again making you puke deep inside. “Ah, yes.” You huff.

Why is she so keen on making you upset, god. “How old are you, child?” She asks after she pours you some tea. “I’m twenty one” she nods her head, her eyebrows twitching slightly “You’re quite young, dear. You’ll have to give birth to a lot of sons.” You nod your head. “I’ll try my best to reward Seokjin with sons”

She gives you a small smile “Of course you will” she mumbles, clear for your ears to hear. “So, how much do you know about our disappointment of a former queen?” your head shoots up. “Seokjin told me about her, tragic.” her eyebrows furrow and she places the cup of tea down. “He told you himself?” you nod, trying not to chuckle because of her obvious irritation. “He did, he wanted me to know what happened to her.” she hums, making you more uncomfortable than before.

“I’m really sorry about what happened. Having to lose someone a part of the family is horrible.” you place your cup down as well. “Oh don’t act like you care, Eunbi has always been and would have always been the wrong pick for my son. I’m quite glad she got herself killed. I would have hung her myself if my youngest son wouldn’t have survived.” she chuckles and you divert your gaze from the woman in front of you. The water lilies swim peacefully in the crystal clear water, wanting you to be a part of them. Having all the time in the world to relax and be left alone. You would like this woman to leave you alone.

“Child, did you hear me?” your eyes wander to her again. Of course you didn’t hear her. “Excuse me, I didn’t, I’m sorry” you sigh. This tea party is taking way too long, where are you, Seokjin? In your mind you plead for Seokjin to show up and snatch you away. “Great, you aren’t a good listener either. You know, when you want to be the queen of this land, you have to be good at listening to peopl-”Mother, excuse me”

Your eyes widen at the voice you waited so patiently to fill this pavilion. “I’m sorry that i have to break your conversation apart, but i would like to take my fiance with me” he smiles at his mother and you’re quick to get up. A quick bow and you almost drag Seokjin with you.

“Slow down, my love. You look as if you’re trying to escape something” he chuckles. He’s playing with you. Of course he knows that you wanted to escape from his mother as soon as possible. “Oh you don’t know, she’s horrible.” he frowns slightly as he takes your hand in his.

“I know, she didn’t treat Eunbi nice either. I’m sorry that she criticised you. Meeting her has to happen out of decency.” you nod and lower your head. “What did she say?” he asks.

His face looks concerned, your cheeks heat up. “Well, nothing serious” you mumble. He stops walking, pulling you towards him. You look up at him as his features grow angry “As my wife you have to be honest with me, weather i like what you have to tell me or not”

A small sigh leaves your lips as you flutter your eyelashes. “She told me to lose weight or you’ll leave me for one of your concubines.” “What else?” You can’t meet his eyes, you’re too embarrassed. “She doubted my ability to give birth to sons. She acted dismissive as i assured her that i’ll try my best to give birth to your sons.” now it is his turn to sigh.

His big hand finds its way to the back of your neck. “Listen to me, you aren’t too heavy in any way. You’re the right size, you match me perfectly. And you don’t have to worry about not being able to give birth to sons. I’m very much able to put perfect children in there” his hand rests on your stomach. “Don’t doubt me, Y/N” he breathes.

You feel hot, so damn hot you might melt. “I would never” you mumble. His lips are so close. Your eyes move from his lips to his eyes as he moves closer. And in a matter of seconds your lips meet his, igniting a firework in the pits of your stomach. They are so soft as your lips move against his, something you never felt.

“Emper-excuse me” a guard stumbles back around the corner as he sees what is happening. Seokjin pulls away, making you close your eyes and replaying the moment he kissed you. “What, I can't have a moment of peace in this palace.” he grasps your waist as the guard comes back around. “Prince Jimin and Prince Jungkook have arrived-”Good, tell them to come to the crown hall.” he bows his head once more. “That’s the issue, Emperor. Prince Jungkook is greatly injured. Prince Jimin brought him to the nobel healer.” Seokjin tenses up and you are quick to grasp his hand.

“He fights in my war and comes home half dead, this boy.” Seokjin squeezes your hand and sighs once more as he pulls you along.

“Let’s meet my brothers”

taglist: @teamtardis-notdead @little7bitchh

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cuddlepilefics · 3 years

Text

Persistent Cough

Fandom: GOT7

Sickie: Jaebeom

Caregivers: GOT6

Prompt: @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

Being busy and having to travel a lot, it was only a matter of time till their schedules would take a toll on their health. Just having come back to Korea recently, the changes in climate along with the air conditioning messed with some of the members immune systems. Some of them were only a bit sniffly for a few days, Jinyoung had a sore throat for a few days and had to be on vocal rest for a day but none of them were hit as badly as their leader. Jaebeom caught himself a rather bad cold upon returning home. He had been a bit feverish for the first few days, so it wasn’t too difficult for his friends to convince him to stay at the dorm and rest, but as soon as his temperature went down, there was no keeping Jaebeom from going back to work. He was a bit sniffly and hoarse but that was nothing he couldn’t work through. What bothered him mostly though, was an intense, chesty cough that would keep him up at night. It also stressed the leader during meetings with their managers, as he kept interrupting them. He wanted to be professional but after a few minutes of trying to suppress his cough, he couldn’t help but choke on it. Jaebeom tried to take care of himself, making sure to stay hydrated and eat healthy, just like he had told his members to, when they started to sound a bit stuffed up after returning to Korea. The only difference was, for them his advice helped. Jaebeom himself did everything he could to take care of himself, except for one thing: rest. Considering it was only a cold, the leader didn’t think of it as bad enough to miss work. It had been different while he had had a fever but now, taking time off just didn’t feel justified.

Maybe him refusing to rest properly was the reason he just didn’t seem to recover. Most of the members were back to normal in no time but Jaebeom just stayed as congested and tired. He had made it a new morning tradition to ditch his coffee in favor of having a cup of tea, especially because he hoped it would keep the coughing at bay. There were a bunch of cough drops in each of his bags to ensure he’d always have some on hand and he often took hot showers, hoping the steam would soothe his lungs and clear him up a bit. It barely helped though and while Jaebeom got over most of his cold, the cough remained. The members, of course, noticed but they knew their friend was more than capable of taking care of himself and aside from the coughing, he didn’t seem to be doing too bad anymore, so they held themselves back from commenting on it. What they weren’t aware of, was that the leader barely got a good night’s rest, often waking himself up coughing, if he even managed to go to sleep in the first place. Jaebeom’s cough seemed to be worst at night, whether that was due to him being tired or the fact that he was laying down, he couldn’t tell and honestly, he didn’t care because it sucked either way.

Today their day started with dance practice, which went surprisingly well and Jaebeom managed to power through with less struggle than expected. They took a few more breaks than they usually would but that way, he could take a few sips of water more frequently and got the chance to properly catch his breath in between. It was all planned that way, a silent agreement between the members to look out for their leader because Jinyoung had heard him cough during the night when he needed to use the bathroom. They were just finishing up, discussing where they’d go for lunch. They didn’t have too much time to eat because Jaebeom would have another meeting soon after lunch. Agreeing on a small diner close by the company building, they threw on some thin sweat-jackets before heading out as they didn’t want to catch another cold so quick after recovering. Jaebeom had taken a thicker hoodie with him, feeling rather chilled from time to time. He was cursing that decision now as he was still running warm after dancing and even considered going out in his practice shirt but both Mark and Jinyoung shot him a stern look. Not wanting to argue, he just put the hoodie on without complaining and followed them out of the practice room.

Jaebeom didn’t have too much of an appetite but since he didn’t know when he’d next get the chance to eat something as their meetings sometimes stretched longer than expected, he knew he should eat something. His throat was already irritated from the amount of coughing he had been doing over the course of the morning, so he couldn’t eat as spicy as he’d usually like and afraid he’d have to do a lot of talking later, he just ordered himself some soup. The others were fooling around while they waited for their food to arrive but Jaebeom was rather quiet, not wanting to strain his voice already before going to his meeting. Usually being the quiet one, Mark shot him a smile from where he sat opposite of the leader. The oldest was always very observant and could tell Jaebeom wasn’t feeling too great but they already knew that, it had been a while since he had been healthy. It wasn’t until the leader turned to the side, muffling a chesty cough into the crook of his arm, till he got worried how the younger would get through the rest of the day. The cough had sounded painful and scraped at his throat too, so Mark couldn’t help but wonder how Jaebeom was going to get through his meeting without losing his voice. Their food arrived and Mark took the opportunity of the others being distracted to ask: “You feel well enough or is your meeting going to suck today?” He didn’t ask if he felt well enough for the meeting because he knew Jaebeom would be going even if he felt like dying. “It won’t be that much fun but I guess it should be alright. My voice is just starting to get strained”, the leader shrugged quietly, clearing his throat afterwards. Giving him a sympathetic smile, Mark nodded, he could tell the other’s voice was slowly giving out.

Jackson had listened in on their exchange but didn’t comment on it. He knew his hyung didn’t like to be fussed about, so he just did his best to keep the conversation between the rest of the group going in hopes of giving the older a chance to rest his voice. Jaebeom ate his soup in silence, chuckling at his dongsaengs roasting each other. Every once in a while, he had to take a break to cough or clear his throat. Jinyoung shot him a few concerned glances that the older deliberately ignored. He was fine after all just coughing a bit. Checking the time, Jaebeom noticed that he was almost running late but since the others were almost done eating as well, he decided to wait for them. They payed and made their way back to the company building, walking faster when they realized their leader would have to meet their managers soon. Jinyoung walked next to him, keeping Jaebeom from running into a lamp post while he was too occupied with coughing to look where he was going. “Hyung, you just can’t shake that cough, hm?”, the younger frowned, noticing how the leader winced when he caught his breath. Jaebeom just cleared his throat, shrugging: “Not really, I have some cough drops with me though, so it should be fine.”

What he hadn’t realized though, was that he had run out of cough drops earlier. He was so used to having an endless amount stuffed into his bag and the pockets of his pants, that the thought of running out seemed unimaginable but on the other side, he was consuming a lot of them, so he probably should have expected it at some point. Jaebeom only realized he had run out, when he wanted to have one before entering the meeting room. Not finding any in his pocket, he rummaged through his bag, only to come up empty again. An uneasy feeling settled in his chest. He needed something to suppress his cough during the meeting because not being in control of his body in front of their managers and higher-ups was stressing him out. On top of that, he didn’t know how he was supposed to keep his voice if he kept coughing. Jaebeom didn’t have any other choice than to somehow suffer through the meeting though, as he was already running late and couldn’t get any medication right now.

Halfway through the meeting, Jaebeom realized that this wasn’t going his way at all. It hadn’t even gotten to the point where it’d be his turn talking but he barely managed to suppress his urge to cough for a few minutes. His voice was thoroughly strained and the leader had to debate his options. He could try to suffer through the rest of the meeting like before but he’d have to present some of the music he currently worked on, which would include a lot of talking on his part and seemed barely possible at the moment. The other option was to text one of his members as soon as he’d get a short break and ask him to pick him up some more cough drops. Although Jaebeom didn’t want to admit it and didn’t want to involve any of his friends, he knew he wouldn’t be able to power through the way it was right now. Making up his mind and swallowing his pride, he desperately waited for a break. He didn’t know whom he should text, so he decided he’d just text their group chat and whoever wasn’t to busy would hopefully help him out.

Though it seemed to never come, they took a break at some point, barely long enough for them to use the bathroom. Instead of using the bathroom, Jaebeom pulled out his phone and texted the GOT7 group chat before sitting back and taking small sips of his water to soothe his irritated throat. He didn’t expect Youngjae to rush in mere seconds before they were going to resume, pressing a few cough drops into his hand and whispering: “Still had a few on me, so I thought you’d rather want them quick.” Jaebeom didn’t get the chance to reply but shot him a grateful smile before the younger slipped out of the room to let them continue. He discreetly slipped one between him lips and had a little more hope to get through this. His voice actually lasted all through the meeting and he made a mental note to thank Youngjae as soon as he got home. First, he’d have to go to the studio though. There were a few songs their managers weren’t too satisfied with and he wanted to see what he could do about it. Before he could really get to work though, he found his phone blowing up with messages from his members. They were confused because they knew their leader wouldn’t ask for help like that if he didn’t really need it.

He shot a quick text back, stating that he was fine but probably needed to stay a bit longer before putting his phone to the side and getting to work. It didn’t go as well as he had hoped though. After finishing all of the cough drops Youngjae had given him, his cough had come back with full vengeance. All the coughs he had fought to hold in were now getting back at him. Reaching for his water bottle with shaking hands, Jaebeom almost spilled it before choking some of it down, which eventually helped the fit to die down. He was so occupied that he didn’t even hear the studio door open until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Tiredly looking up, he found Jackson standing next to his chair. “Hyung, that only sounds worse now”, the rapper frowned, placing a new bag of cough drops onto the desk. Jaebeom shook his head. It was always worse in the evenings, even more so now because he was tired. Clearing his throat, he rasped: “Thanks for those.” – “Hyung, did it ever occur to you that you might not get over this cough because you don’t give your body enough time to rest?”, Jackson commented. Sure, he had come to bring his hyung what he had asked for but mainly he had come to take the older home. Rubbing his face, Jaebeom sighed: “What’s the use of resting if I can’t sleep anyway? Might as well be useful and get something done.” – “What do you mean, you can’t sleep? Aren’t you tired after a full day of schedule?”, the rapper frowned. Rolling his eyes, the leader looked at him as if he was stupid. Of course, he was tired and yes, he’d love to sleep but he knew that he couldn’t. “It doesn’t matter how tired I am, I’ll stay up all night coughing anyway”, he muttered, already turning away to cough again. Cringing at the sound, Jackson shut of the computer before opening the bag of cough drops to hand the older one. He knew for a fact that Jinyoung had gotten some new night-time cough syrup, which would hopefully knock the other out for a few hours. Jaebeom looked confused when he found the computer off but Jackson was quick to explain that they were going home now. Maybe it was the exhaustion of the day which made the leader readily go along with it.

They made their way back to the dorm in silence, as Jaebeom’s voice was so worn out by now that every sound hurt. He hadn’t noticed Jackson texting the rest of the group before they left but when they got home, Jinyoung had already prepared a pot of tea, while the maknae’s had piled a few blankets on the leader’s bed. They knew their hyung wasn’t one for cuddles so instead of setting up the couch, they tried to make his room as comfortable as possible. He hadn’t noticed until now, just how badly the lack of sleep was getting to him, so when he finally kicked off his shoes, he just wanted to go to sleep. The members however had other plans, knowing their friend hadn’t eaten yet. They made Jaebeom eat a small dinner and take a shower before Jinyoung guided the older to his room and placed the tea on the nightstand, explaining: “I got you this cough syrup, it’s specifically for the night, so it’ll probably make you really drowsy but hopefully you’ll be able to get some more sleep tonight.” – “Thanks, Jinyoung-ah”, the leader rasped, sipping his tea. He’d probably read a book while he finished his tea and then indeed give that cough syrup a try because anything was better than spending another night awake only to cough his lungs up. And what could he say, his dongsaengs taking care of him already did make him feel a little soft.

#got7 #fanfic #fanfiction #sick #sickfic #fluff #comfort #im jaebeom #sicktember2021

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maplecornia · 3 years

Text

chapter 21

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 3.72K

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: in regards to the banner above...yes tae if i also looked like you i would want to kiss myself too

Some people are connected.

Aren't they?

When you meet them, it’s as though something clicks. Something inside that tells you some unimaginable being has brought you together. A hidden string tying you to the other, drawing you slowly across the universe just to meet each other.

And once you’re connected…

Do you ever really let go of them?

Groaning, Taeyhung turns over in his bed for the thousandth time.

Why is this so hard?

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he lies on his back, sheets and comforter scattered, as he stares up at the ceiling. Glaring up at it with his eyebrows furrowed tightly together, he purses his lip into a pout, his jaw set defiantly.

“This is your fault.” He mutters underneath his breath, before running his hand absentmindedly through the tangled locks of his hair. “I don’t know how...but all of this is your fault.”

When the ceiling doesn’t answer him, he gives it a look before rolling out of bed, not really caring if he brings the covers along with him. As they fall from the tangles around his body, and rest safely on the floor, he catches the reflection of his eyes in the full-length mirror he keeps expertly held on the sliding door which hides his clothes closet. Biting his lip, he hesitates a bit before heading over to the mirror and taking his reflection in.

He’s grown a bit taller...perhaps half an inch. Don’t worry Namjoon hyung, one day I’ll be as tall as you. Though he smirks a bit at the thought, it quickly vanishes as his gaze travels to more points in his reflection. His dark glazed eyes, his mess of curls resting on his head, his slightly pale lips. Almost despondent, he pulls aside the already halfway buttoned down shirt and presses his fingers against his stomach. He smiles back to when all that was there was a soft belly. When he didn’t care as much.

When did he start caring?

Was it when he saw everything that ARMYs felt about him? When he realized just how double sided they could be? Was it when he realized that they really did care what he showed them? That if he showed them who he really was…

They would just walk away?

He knows he probably shouldn’t have read those comments, that he shouldn't have seen what some people have said...but did they forget that he could see everything they said?

Did they forget how much he gave...how much he sacrificed for them?

And when he shows them all of him…

The good and the bad…

"Kim Taehyung seems a bit rude…

He doesn’t care at all about BTS.

You think he needs them? If he were given a chance he would just leave.

Kim Taehyung is too moody. He’s happy one moment but sad the next.

Don’t you think fame has changed him? He seems so cocky.

What’s wrong with Kim Taehyung lately? Doesn’t he seem depressed?

Honestly, if I had to put my money on it, he’d be the first one to leave.

He’s so untalented.

BTS is filled with a group of 6 very talented, beautiful, and handsome young men. And then there’s the roach called Kim Taehyung.

Why doesn’t Kim Taehyung just leave? If you’re really bored with everything by now, why don’t you just leave?

Do us a favor and stop pretending.

Just leave."

Taehyung winces at the overwhelming amount of bad memories slamming into his inner consciousness. He tries to forget them, but every time he looks in the mirror, he can see them reflected back at him. As though they were burned deep into his skin. As though the sign of hard muscle beneath his fingertips is a scar he can’t escape.

The only thing he can remember, the only thing he can think about when he sees himself, is what they have molded him into.

The beautiful, the perfect sculpture which they call V.

Defiantly, flames burning in his eyes, he meets his gaze in the mirror. Anger and hurt mixing together into one painful chaos inside his chest, his gaze darkens before he swings back his fist and rams it deep into the mirror. As the glass shatters and sharp, iridescent pieces dig maliciously into his skin, he breathes heavily and glares up at his broken reflection. Into the dull dim hue of his hazelnut haze.

Eyes which have changed from bright beautiful saucers that could only see the sky...

To a gap of emptiness which cannot be filled.

Reflecting the cold abyss he feels in his own heart.

As thick blood begins to numbingly ooze from the cuts in his skin, he hardly flinches. The iron taste playing sinisterly on his lips, he can’t help but relish in the pain. Is this what he deserves? Is this what they want now that he’s not who he was before? Now that he’s grown, changed even the slightest bit? He almost wants to push his fist deeper into the glass, deepen the pain, all to distract him from the roar in his ears.

The constant screaming inside his mind.

He did everything they wanted him to do. He smiled for them, hid the inner part of him screaming, brushed away any hateful comments, any people who hurt him, and laughed through all the pain. He became a bigger person and grew.

He did it all for them.

He did it all for the sake of BTS.

Because he loved ARMY. Because he loved his hyungs.

Because this was his dream.

He became the man they all wanted.

He became V.

So why?

Why is it the moment he starts to let go of the mask, the moment he starts to become himself in front of their eyes...

Why do they turn against him as though he had never existed in the first place?

As though they didn’t beg him to hide.

As though all his efforts…

Meant nothing after all.

The worst part of it all…

Was that he let go for them.

Because he wasn’t willing to say goodbye.

The soft ring of his alarm breaks him out of his thoughts and his hand falls to his side as he turns to the sound. Sighing, he runs his hand through his tangled mess of hair picking up a tissue on the way to his dresser, and wiping off the thin trails of blood the cuts brought forth. In the back of his mind, he scoffs at the fact that that’s the third mirror he’s broken this week. Perhaps he needs a break. Looking up at the ceiling, he takes a deep breath.

A break from myself.

Picking up the phone he quickly dismisses the alarm, and finds himself staring at the lock screen in dismay.

To this day, Taehyung still uses the Galaxy BTS phone made especially for them and ARMY. Jimin absolutely loved the thing, and Taehyung treasures it with a quiet wonder. When he finally moved everything from his old phone to this one, he used it daily, even if it wasn’t always in front of the cameras. Back then when they had to leave for a while, looking at it gave him strength to go on. To head back to them. To see ARMY again.

Looking at it now, he wonders if it’s actually real.

If the love ARMY gives them…

Isn’t all just a lie.

When the phone buzzes suddenly, Taehyung lets out a small yelp, fumbling as his phone flies halfway in the air. Luckily, he’s able to catch it before it falls. Letting out a small breath of relief, he checks the random message that has popped up on his lock screen, peering to see who it belongs to.

Eyes widening, he nearly drops his phone again.

Stumbling to catch it, he falls on top of his pile of sheets and blankets, but thankfully the phone falls in his outstretched hands securely.

It's you.

Why is it always you?

Shocked, he slowly unlocks the phone, opening your little message. As it pulls up on his screen, he softly smiles.

Good morning, Mr. Pan.

It's such a simple message. Such short, sweet words said out of consideration and kindness. You sent it as a second thought, somehow knowing that he might need a smile after the amount of trouble he must have gotten in yesterday. He doesn't know this. All he knows is that a mere mention from you has made everything all right again.

It clears his mind, allows him to focus, saves him from the darkness continuing to choke him in its hold.

He picks up his phone and presses a button, before holding it up to his ear. It rings into the dead silence for a couple of seconds, making Taehyung a bit nervous. For a moment, he doesn't know if you're going to pick up, but once he hears the familiar click and the steady sound of your breathing, he can feel a rush of relief spreading through his body and leaving nothing but happiness.

"Hello?" You nearly whisper, a bit in shock. He can hear it over the phone and, sitting up, he doesn't notice as the gorgeous smile grows.

It’s funny how he didn’t realize until he heard your voice, that his head and his mind was filled with thoughts of you.

On the other line, you smile softly, finding the same truth.

Was it only yesterday that your dream came true?

He finally did it. He spoke to you.

Things should be over right?

But you find yourselves wanting…

More.

"Good morning." He teases in response to your recent message and you have to refrain yourself from groaning in embarrassment. "Did you sleep well?"

Hearing his innocent voice and the deep lure to it so early in the morning makes you wonder if you're dreaming. Smiling on the other line, you cup your hands around your phone, pulling it close to your cheek and smile, unable to stop the happy pink hue from creeping onto your rosy cheeks.

"Yes." You reply, a bit of excitement creeping into your voice from the giddy fact that you’re talking to him. "I slept like a baby...what about you?"

You decide to keep from him the fact that you hardly slept last night. Your constant nightmares and terrors of panic scared you. They made you afraid, thinking that if you closed your eyes, you would once more be lost in a deep sleep. Trapped in the hidden corners of your mind.

He smiles on the other line a bit sadly, deciding to keep the fact that he didn't sleep half the night to himself, lost in the whirlpool of hateful comments and slurs towards him. Towards BTS. He decides to hide the truth that the only thing that was able to let him sleep that night was the sight of your phone number held tightly within his hands.

"Yeah...yeah I slept alright." He says, unable to mask the catch in his voice. Your eyes widening in concern, you open your mouth to ask if he's alright, but he quickly clears his throat and changes the topic.

“How’s your ankle?” Even though you know he asked the question to change the subject, you can't help but wince.

Your ankle hasn’t shown much improvement.

The swelling has gone down and you're able to stand on it, but every time you try to walk, numb pain still courses up your veins. It's still pretty bruised, but what is there that you can do? You've already slipped on an ice pack, wrapping it carefully around your ankle to prepare you for the day, but you know it's going to be quite the uncomfortable ride.

You hesitate, pondering whether or not to tell him this, but he continues on the other line.

“Yen?” The way he whispers your name makes you melt inside. So concerned and full of worry, you wonder if you truly deserve this small blessing. The blessing to know someone like him. “Are you okay? Does it still hurt?”

The blessing to be able to speak to him.

Smiling, you shake your head before responding, slightly struck speechless.

“Yes, I’m fine...your ice pack yesterday really helped so I’m all ready to head to work today. Don't worry, I’m fully prepared with an ice pack of my own in case the bruise starts to bother me…” You start rambling, trying to reassure him that everything will be fine, while on the other line, his eyes go wide with protective anger.

You’re doing it again.

Forcing yourself to continue, when you should be looking to take care of yourself.

Not the other way around.

“No.” He says interrupting your slight tangent, and you flinch, pausing and your grip clenching tightly around the phone. You knew this would happen. You knew that he would be upset. That’s why you shouldn’t have said anything. Somehow, this frustrates you. You know it shouldn’t, after all he’s just looking after you, but you can take care of yourself. You aren’t some damsel in distress that needs saving.

Trying hard to forget what you’d rather not remember, you sigh, massaging your temple.

“Taehyung, I’m fine. I really am--”

“I don't believe you. And even if you were telling the truth, you should at least rest it for a day at least! Do you want to worsen it because you decided to push yourself?” Shocked at his sincere and concerned tone, you really don't know what to say. You know he’s right, but you can’t help but feel that if you listen to him, if you rest easy for just today, you’ll be letting someone down.

Namjoon is waiting for you.

He doesn’t know that your ankle is bruised, nor that you could sprain or quite possibly break it if you try to come into work today. But you’ve already been late once before. Today was supposed to be your first official day on the job. He was counting on you to be there.

Hoping that he’d be able to rely on you.

You can’t help but feel that if you decide to stay...that you'd be letting him down.

You don’t want to let him down.

You can’t let him down.

Glancing down at your ankle, you grimace a bit as you bitterly smile.

This is just a minor bump in the road isn’t it? All you're doing is offering a small sacrifice so that you can be there for him. So that you can carry out your job, your obligation as his manager. He should know that you will always be there to help. Isn’t that what a manager should do? You have a duty, an obligation...a simple bruise shouldn’t get in the way of that. After all the ways you let him down yesterday, and the kind way he treated you in spite of that...isn’t that the least you can do? You can afford to give something in return...after all he’s given you already.

Yes...this is nothing…

Taehyung wouldn’t understand…

Right?

Taking a deep breath, you respond to him.

“Taehyung, I really appreciate your concern but…”

“If you say you’re fine I am going to come to your apartment and force you back into your bed.” He replies so steadily and sternly that it’s hard for you to conceal your burst of laughter. He hears, however and grows a tiny bit offended, not willing to admit that the sound of your laughter brought a little bit more light into his clouded mind.

“You think I’m joking?!” He shouts on the other line, and you can’t keep it back anymore, your laughter spilling over and melodiously carrying itself through the line and into Taehyung’s small, scattered room. He smiles at the fact that he was able to make you laugh, although it wasn’t his intention. That just like that...you were able to make everything seem alright again. It’s almost as though a mere smile from you, a simple laugh escaping from your lips…

Makes the world a little bit brighter to him.

“I-I’m sorry…!” You manage to gasp out between your small fits of giggles. “It’s just the thought of you walking over here all angry and trying to force me back in bed…” You break off at the end, your sweet melodic laugh ringing high in the air once more, and he can’t help but crack a smile, eventually laughing along with you. After a moment, once the laughter subsides, each of you glance toward the phone as though that would help you see the other's face, or at least imagine it as though you were standing right next to each other.

Taehyung smiles a bit before glancing away and closing his eyes in serenity.

“Yen?” he murmurs softly, his eyes opening a fraction of an inch as he stares into the distance, almost imagining your smiling face right in front of him. At the sound of him saying your name once more, your eyes flash towards the phone, a bit surprised. It takes you a moment, but you eventually answer, a small smile growing on your lips.

“Yes?” you respond, your hands once more finding themselves cupping around the phone almost as if you held onto it a little bit tighter he would magically stay with you just a little bit longer. Offer you this comfort for just a bit more.

Is that too much to ask?

You know it is and yet you can’t help yourself from wishing for it.

Wishing that you had...more.

“I want you to know that I’m saying this with the best interests for you in mind.” He answers, and your brow crinkles a bit, wondering what he’s going to do this time. Taking a deep breath, he ponders whether or not to say the words, but he decides to do it anyway. Your safety is the most important after all.

“Don’t come to work today. Please stay home, and take care of yourself. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Startled, you open your mouth to answer, to refuse the kind request, to let him know that you’re going to head to work anyway, but he’s already hung up the phone, leaving you dumbfounded. Your heart pacing a million miles per hour, his last few words lingering in your mind.

I don’t want to see you get hurt.

“Who gave you the right?” you murmur softly, your hands rising furiously to hide the growing hot blush against your cheeks against your will. The hot tears that begin to push against your eyes, threatening to escape out of the cage you have held them in for so long.

“Who told you to care so much about me?”

Taehyung, after hanging up the phone, has completely forgotten about everything else but you. He smiles a bit sheepishly at the cheesy things he’s said and stares at the empty screen where your profile pic rests, safe in his contacts. He can’t help but wonder how you do it.

How with a few simple words…

You make everything okay again.

Turning to his closet, he starts to pull out a couple of clothes to wear that day, as he dials a number on his phone. Once it starts to ring, he places it on his dresser, putting it on speaker phone so he can hear the clear annoyed voice that answers, no doubt being distracted from an important source of work.

“What is it, Taehyung?” he snaps, tired and worn-out, and Tae smiles at the familiar greeting, as he pulls off his shirt, avoiding the cracked mirror beside him.

“Nice to talk to you too, Namjoonie. How's the album coming?” He responds playfully, and Namjoon on the other line can't help but smile. He adores that nickname, and it definitely puts him in a better mood. Just like Taehyung knew it would. Turning back to the screen of the computer, Namjoon can't help but sigh. There’s a whole lot of work to be made with the album...and such little time to do it in.

“Well...it’d go a lot faster without interruptions like this. What is it Taehyung-ah? This better not be a prank call or something for a Vlive…” Namjoon begins, his tone warning and Tae can’t help but laugh. He shakes his head, pulling down his pajama pants, and deciding to replace them with plain blue jeans. They don’t really have dance practice planned today, just a bunch of meetings and preparations for the album...maybe even a photo shoot.

“You know I try to stay away from Vlive’s nowadays.” Tae replies, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but failing miserably. At the comment, Namjoon can’t help but feel a stab of pity and regret. He knows that it’s a sensitive topic for Tae now...especially with what happened the last time Taehyung held a Vlive….he shouldn’t have mentioned it so soon.

“No it's not...Namjoon it’s about Yen.” Tae explains, and at the mention of your name, Namjoon sits straight in his chair, work forgotten, and mind focusing on you.

“What? Is she okay? Did something happen? Is she--” Voice heavily decorated with worry, Tae has to bite back the laugh that threatens to be released. Is this how he sounded to you? No wonder you started laughing at him. Smiling softly at how open and kind Namjoons heart is, Tae shakes his head once more, pulling on a grey hoodie.

“Actually I wanted to talk to you about that.” Tae replies, as he pulls on his socks, and rummages for his jean jacket. Namjoon waits a bit impatiently on the other line, trying his best to be polite and wait for Taehyung to finish. Once he finds it, Tae lets out a small cry of victory before looping his arms through it and finishing his look. Picking up the phone as he grabs a plain white mask and heads for the door, Taehyung smiles slightly at his victory.

Try to refuse staying home after this, my Wendy.

Just as RM opens his mouth to demand a straight answer from him, Taehyung replies, leaving behind the mess he had made just moments before untouched and forgotten.

“Namjoon...could you do a favor for me?”

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: this chapter was kind of sad...

chapter 22 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

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smoochi-dazai · 4 years

Note

can i request a fluffy dazai x reader,, where dazai & reader celebrate after a successful mission or something,, and they go to a bar to drink,, and reader is actually the type of person who gets drunk really fast so dazai needs to take care of them and reader ends up confessing to dazai. reader is like,, flirty + giggly drunk. bonus if dazai teases them about it next morning hehe,, ty in advance!!

✿ “ Love & Champaign ” ✿

—> Bungo Stray Dogs, Dazai Osamu | Reader

—> Sweet | Oneshot

—> Description | after one too many drinks for the celebration, you find yourself in a daze while staring at Dazai. Slurred flirts lead to a confession, will you handle the embarrassment?

—> Little note | not gonna lie, this is like my... my favourite so far.i got carried away tonight haha. 3.8k words! HhhH I got too distracted by cuteness, it’s almost 2am. I started this at 10pm I think. Please enjoy! Sorry if it’s a mess 💕 came from the heart and I never plan ahead for this stuff haha. I just write it as it flows from my soul.

Shifting her weight, the women of familiarity sat comfortably next to Dazai on a tall wooden stool. Her beautiful eyes seemed to grasp onto his heart as she held an angelic appearance. That far off look in her dilated pupils due to the dim lighting, a thoughtless expression purely in her eyes alone- he found it unimaginably attractive. Observing each small detail from the flush on her cheeks to the strands of hair framing her face perfectly.

That woman is you.

The same very person who was invited by none other then Dazai himself to have a drink together, a celebration for a hard task full day at work.

“ So, How come you ordered an extra glass of champagne? ” You inquired, “ Did you invite someone to come drink with us? ”

Glancing to your right, the bartender was the first to gently set the glass half-full of rather expensive wine on the counter you sat at. He was friendly, much older than you or Dazai by appearance. Without a word, he set yours and Dazais glass’s down before leaving you two on your own.

“ It’s for a friend, he won’t be showing up tonight. ” Dazai muttered softly.

“ If he won’t be here, then how come you bought the drink? ” You pushed on for some kind of answer to satisfy the curiosity, looking away from the mysterious drink. Your eyes now focused on Dazai, he held a faint smile while staring at his glass of alcohol. Eyes downcast, appearing to be lost in his thoughts.

As his lips part, Dazai lets out a gentle sigh. Opening his mouth more to find words to reach you, nothing came out. Shutting it again, Dazai raised his hand to the glass, however— instead of picking it up to taste the alcoholic drink, a slight chime echoed through the bar from Dazai flicking the glass once. The spherical ice began to bob up and down in the glass, vibrations from the clash gave him a familiar sense of nostalgia.

Finally, he spoke up.

“ Odasaku. He, Ango and I would often meet here to talk. Those days are long gone now, however. ”

Something in Dazais tone seemed off, you were all too aware of his masks to hide the scars of his past. It was tough, you knew it was— not only for him but you as well. Whenever you’d try to convince him to vent his pain, he’d laugh it off and ask what you were talking about.

Something about those situations always made you hurt, the feeling of uselessness would grasp your heart. Making it almost hard to breathe, the feeling of being unable to help Dazai when his eyes held so much pain he’d try to hideaway. It wasn’t healthy— you wanted to help him but never found yourself capable of doing.

Staying silent, the two of you seemed more distant than ever. In an attempt to clear the atmosphere, you thought of a silly idea that may help. Sliding your drink closer to Odasakus, you found yourself tap the two glasses against each other. As a form of cheers to Odasaku even though he wasn’t quite there to see. The sound of two glasses made Dazai lift his head, staring at you in slight confusion and bewilderment.

“ Cheers,” You exclaim in a hushed tone, “ I never got to meet you. But from all the stories I hear from Dazai, you were a brilliant man. ”

Speechless, Dazai’s gaze leaves your back as soon as you begin to turn around. His own flush of blush began to sink into his skin, thinking over your odd interaction with his past friend. Lifting his drink, a warm smile met his lips.

“ Hey, how about a toast? ” Dazais voice caught your attention, lifting your glass to his.

“ Sure, what’ll it be for this time? ” Assuming it’ll be for your hard day of work at the detective's agency, it somehow didn’t surprise you with what he had said next.

“ To the Stray Dogs. ”

Dazais features held an enchanting smile, cheeks rose while a faint flush could be spotted. Not enough to notice unless you’re close, along with the lighting it was hard to point out. He seemed to genuinely be enjoying himself, just you— him and don’t forget Odasaku.

“ Before we do that, give me a second. ”

You seemed to confuse Dazai more by the minute, yet it seemed to amuse him the more you did so. It wasn’t common for something to surprise that man. It gave him a refreshing chill.

Still holding up your glass, you carefully reach over for Odasakus as well. Lifting it, both hands were now full. Your smile looked ridiculous at this point from the amount of sheer joy. It started to hurt honestly, but you didn’t mind at all. Preparing to have a toast, both glasses were held high for Dazai to join you on the toast in celebration. After a moment of silence, Dazai pushed his glass forward in the air. Hearing the clatter between three glasses, more nostalgia hit him.

“ To the stray dogs! ” / “ To the stray dogs. ” You both say in unison.

Mismatching smiles were viable as you set Odasakus drink back down before downing yours a little too quickly. Meanwhile, Dazai takes a small sip of his, feeling the burning sensation of beer rush down his system.

Both Dazai and you were always pretty close friends within the agency, maybe it was because you somehow tolerated his nonsense without having to smack him. He didn’t find you that interesting from afar, yet now he can never get that side glanced look out of his head from before. You were something he adored, something he found as a sort of coping mechanism from the pain he truly felt within his hollow heart. He never saw you as something similar to him, you were full of life, a flame that never seemed to falter or be brushed away by the gusts of wind.

A deadly nightshade in his system that refused to leave—no matter his aggression, you were always at his side. He’d push you away, he’d raise his voice and tell you how wrong you are when you make absurd accusations of who he really is. Little did you know, they were all true. Or were you aware? Was that why you never seemed dazed by his harsh words? Either way, he knew you both wouldn’t have the chance to get any closer. Always being caught up in work was a struggle, you were just like the rest of the agency. Just a stranger to him deep down— why did the idea make his heart clench? Was his body telling himself another story then he had thought? Truth be told, he couldn’t tell what his feelings for you had been.

“ Hey... Osamu? ”

The thought of falling in love with you was odd. But at the same time, just the idea made butterflies swell up within his stomach. You were incredibly strange, but so was he.

“ Osamu~ ” You whined while leaning closer to him, scooting your stool closer and closer without him noticing. Was he that out of it?

Finally snapping out of it, the feeling of warmth brushing against his skin caught him at a somewhat vulnerable point. Gazing to the source of heat, he came to the realization you were calling his name. But not just any name, not your usual ‘Dazai’ it was his first name that escaped your plump lips. A giant pout was adorned in your features as you lean closer to his face. He lifted a hand to the part where your breath hit his neck, feeling the hairs stand.

“ Hey, stop ignoring me- Osamu! ”

As his eyes met with hers, she started giggling. Leaning away from the bandaged man known as Dazai, she smiles childishly. Both legs swing back and forth.

“ Have I ever told you how beautiful your eyes are? They’re like yummy chocolate...” You chant to yourself and him. “ You’re so handsome~ I’m almost jealous! ”

This was not common for you to be so straight forward, and going by the sudden change in attitude Dazai could only assume you’d already gotten yourself drunk. Sighing deeply, he could only pray you wouldn’t be as much of a handful as Chūya had on his off days.

Speaking of which, either you got drunk abnormally quick— or he was a little too trapped in his thoughts.

Observing your every motion, Dazai put his drink to side calmly. Never once losing his composure, an amused smirk makes his way to his lips. Oh, how he’s going to enjoy teasing you in the morning— he can only wonder how many embarrassing things he could make you say tonight.

“ Thank you, I think you’re rather beautiful yourself. ” Dazai said, the smile remaining in place which only seemed to encourage your flirts unexpectedly.

“ You say that to every girl, ” You mutter, leaning closer to him again while squinting your eyes. Feeling a little light-headed, or did you feel heavier? You couldn’t tell. “ Your smirking is ever hotter... nngh, you’re so perfect~ how do women complain about you so much. If you value that double suicide thingy, doesn’t that just mean your that much more committed? To end everything with them? ”

Dazai decided to reply with a small hum, lifting his glass and taking a sip of his leftover drink. Yours meanwhile had been empty to awhile, how did you manage to get drunk over a single glass? Or did you get another without his eyes catching you? Frankly, he didn’t care, amused with the scenario at play. Something caught his attention though, you’d always disagree with his requests for a lover's suicide while sober. But now you’re complaining about other women not wanting to do it. Does this mean you actually wouldn’t mind going to such extreme lengths with him? God, he was in for a lot tonight. He could tell.

“ You always have a cute smile, you’re talented as hell— ” your speech was replaced with a small fit of giggles, tears escaping your eyes which mildly concerned him for a moment, “ You never fail to make laugh... when I cry, you’re there for me through it all. Maybe your ability is right, you aren’t human! ”

A small laugh escapes Dazais throat at your slurred nonsense, Dazai then enlightens you on his thoughts.

“ If I’m not human,” Dazai began, shifting his body to look at your questioningly, an eyebrow lifted while the other furrowed. “ ...then what would I be, Belladonna?”

“ An angel! ”

Did he hear you right? Was he, the ex-port mafia member— titled as an angel in disguise?

You almost seemed in awe at your own words, making it twice as amusing for him. Before he could even speak, you interrupted his thoughts again.

“ Osamu? Am I allowed to be in love with an angel? Can a human fall for an angel without consequence... will you leave me behind to go to heaven by yourself? ” You questioned him in an unsure whisper, fatigue showing more than the bright red flush coating your cheeks. Those half-lidded eyes gave you away, but you seemed to still manage to keep your consciousness.

Dazai takes a moment to grasp what your spiral of words meant, was this a form of confession? Did you feel that way about him, or were they meaningless drunk words? Surely they had to be, but something about your saddened eyes ... Dazai thought of it plenty of times and found himself really picking his words carefully.

“ I’m not any kind of angel, but I’m sure you’ll find an angel to love you someday. My true nature is nothing but evil, Belladonna. I’m sorry, I can’t be your angel— even if I want too...” Dazai apologized with a more sadden tone, smiling slightly as he brushed his hand through your messy hair.

Both your stools were sat so close, you practically could lean against him safely without falling. And that’s exactly what you found yourself doing.

“ But even Lucifer was once an angel... why can’t you be mine—Osamu, if you can’t be my angel... then... ” Lifting your head off his shoulder, your lazy hands lift to cup his face.

“ Be my handsome- my.. partner in crime, my own Lucifer. ” You mutter close to his ear, something about your tone was somewhat alluring and even seductive. Shutting your eyes tightly while leaning in, your noses brushed against each other, then as you tilted your head you brush your lips against his as if asking for some kind of permission- there was hesitation for a split second. Only for your lips to connect with his forcefully, that’s what sealed the deal. Would he pull away? You desperately held onto him, though your grasp was rather weak due to alcohol in your system.

An abnormal feeling in his heart appeared again, it began to pound in his ears faster by the second— even skipping a couple of beats. What was this? Why did he feel this way, he didn’t deserve it- so why did God bless him with you. Was there a god? If he agreed, would you be willing to go to depths of hell with him, just for some silly love? No, it was more than that for you. You had genuine feelings for him, you cared for the suicidal maniac. His eyes remain open during the kiss, feeling a presence behind you. That’s when he saw a distant light at the door of Lupins bar. There stood Odasaku, smiling at him.

Was this right? Odasaku once said Dazai would never find something to fill that void in his heart. Yet his heart felt like it could burst at any second, tears began to brim his eyes while Odasakus blurry image faded. As the first tear slides down Dazais cheek, he wrapped both arms around your waist, shutting his eyes during the kiss to enjoy you. Pressing your body closer with his than ever before, the kiss deepened. It was so incredibly sloppy, but it was perfect for all its imperfections.

Even if his demons were to ever return, Dazai would protect you just as Odasaku did for him. Odasaku saved Dazai from imaginable darkness in the Mafia, even if it put him through pain- he’s met so many kinder people in the light. Meeting a new world, a world more beautiful and full of colour,

Odasaku standing there almost felt as it’s own congratulations, not to only his hard work- but he was proud of Dazai. The tears pour uncontrollably while the kiss lasted for almost a whole minute. Both pulling away, they panted together- taking each other’s breath away completely. Pulling you into his chest, Dazai combed back your hair, allowing you to rest against him for a while in blissful silence.

He couldn’t let you see him tear up like this. All he cared about now, was his pure happiness. The idea of his lonely days being brushed away now swept away with the wind. He knew this won’t cure his pain, and it hurt to remember. So all he tried to do was forget that pain for a minute, allowing you to take over his mind.

He loves you.

And now that he understood the feelings were mutual? Dazai could maybe learn to be himself more often with you around.

After a while of his deep thoughts, Dazais bandaged arm around your waist relaxed. While your body fell limp against him, you were knocked out cold. Smiling to himself, Dazai looked at the bartender's familiar smile- it was the same person who worked there from ages ago.

Taking you out for a drink wasn’t a mistake after all, though the idea of Kunikida getting pissed with you two because you’ll probably have a pretty bad hangover in the morning at work is gonna be troublesome. Guess it’s an excuse to stay home with you.

“ I’ll be your Lucifer, as long as you continue being my beautiful Belladonna. ” Smiling gently to himself, Dazai began to lift you off of him. Slipping off the stool, he changed your position. One arm was beneath your knees while the other hoisted up to your back. Holding you close to his chest, he thanked the bartender and left the bar. Three glasses were left behind on the table.

In the morning, you woke up feeling sick to your stomach. A pounding heartbeat was left ringing in your head as you sat up in your bed, when did you ever return home? Struggling to remember what happened in the bar with Dazai, you throw your legs off your bed. Lifting yourself, you began to stumble. Suddenly a buzz came from your phone, tripping over your own feet you fall into your bed again. Groaning tiredly, you felt so weak right now. What in the world? How much did you drink last night to get like this... oh yeah- the phone. Lazily throwing your hand up onto your bedside table, you search for your phone. Only for someone else to take it from you. Lifting your head from the mattress, your eyes widen at the sight of a shirtless Dazai. Feeling self-conscious you then realize you were wearing next to nothing either. Suddenly your face bursts into flames, becoming a stuttering mess.

“ Dazai- w-we didn’t do anything bad last night did we? ” You blurted out, he took notice of your embarrassment and smiles innocently.

“ Of course not, we just came to your house and I helped you strip to sleep easier~ your body is incredibly hot if I do say so myself, Belladonna. Shame you hide it all the time. ”

“ You’re one to talk Dazai, always covered in b- wait... you stripped me?! ” more flush coated your cheeks, picking up a pillow— you threaten to throw it at Dazai. Almost I’m que, your head suddenly began to pound again, throwing the pillow at his feet instead.

Concerned, Dazai rushed out of the room to get you some water. Returning to the room to find you holding your mouth and stomach while hunching over, he could only worry more while crouching down. Lifting your head gently, he held the glass of water to your lips.

“ Drink it slowly,” he instructed almost like a parent or some boyfriend, worried about your health. He guessed the teasing must be saved for later, your health is a priority to him. Unless...

Following the orders, you grasp the cup in his hand while he still assisted with a simple task. It was rather endearing, who knew Dazai could be so gentle. The water went down smoothly, feeling a little clearer in the head at least. But then suddenly you felt it begin to come back up- dashing out of your room you find your bathroom.

Dazai chases after you, finding you hunched over the Toilet gagging. It wasn’t an attractive scene, in the slightest. But he found himself smile- remembering last night.

Kneeling to your height, his hand gently caressed your back. Soothing you slightly as you confuse to gag- he remained at your side through it all. As your system felt clearer it finally ended, lifting your head from the toilet bowl, you flush the toilet. Staring nervously back at Dazai, “ I’m sorry you have to see me like this, I hope I wasn’t a handful last night. I hardly remember anything, what I do know is it gave me a massive headache though. ” You curse out loud, head refusing to give you any mercy.

“ It’s alright, I know it’s rough the first couple drinks. ” Dazai smiles, it was so sincere you couldn’t help but question what lightened his mood so much. You weren't complaining though, it made your heart flutter. “ Not only that, but you said some pretty bold things while you were drunk~ ”

Oh god. You knew it was coming- the bastard was prepared to tease you for how long now?... oh sweet god.

Dramatically throwing his arms around him, he began to wiggle.

“ You’re so handsome~ oh you’re perfect Osamu~!” He teased, enjoying how embarrassed you got. “ Be my Lucifer! You muttered in my ear, ah~ Belladonna your way with words made my heart soar. ”

“ Shut up, there is no way I said all of that to you. ”

“ Playing denial now are we, my sweet Belladonna?~ want me to continue? ” Dazai challenged, it was all playful but it still had you fuming with frustration and embarrassment.

“ Do I even have a choice? ” You frown, feeling defeated. And while you complain, the small awkward smile and blush gave away your true emotions.

“ This time, you do. ”

To your surprise, his words took you a moment to understand. Looking at him disbelief, you saw a playful smirk- that smirk was way too damn attractive yet the dangerous intent was terrifying.

“ Just kidding~ how could I let a chance like this pass up? ”

Knew it.

“ Though, I do have a question. ” Dazais tone suddenly becomes more serious, no longer as playfully and happy-go-lucky as before. Leaving you confused, until he lifted you off the ground. Pulling you into a hug, you could feel his breath against your ear.

“ If all you said is true, would you commit a lover's suicide with me someday? ” The question seemed a little too silly but a part of you couldn’t turn it down at this very moment, maybe because of how serious he seemed while saying it.

“ Maybe?... ” You whisper back weakly, unsure of yourself.

“ Let me rephrase,” Dazais grasp on you became stronger until he pushed you away a little, just enough for you to be face to face. Holding your shoulders, his arms snake around your waist instead in a split second- eyes staring deeply into yours.

“ Will you be mine? ”

In reality, he was just repeating what you had told him many times during that drunken state, but the fact he was the one to ask you out here in your home? You could faint again. Nodding with a small smile, you tried to hold back a stupid goofy grin. With that response, Dazai holds you close to him, his arms felt so secure- you couldn’t help but relax under his touch.

You two finally were official, and you were both finally happy. He found his reason to live and even received Odasakus approval. But it wouldn’t end at that, oh no.

“ You know this isn’t saving you from my teasing, yes? ” Dazai chuckles, sending shivers down your spine while expecting only the best of the worst for your fate. You were defeated, but the happiness distracted you from the cruelty of his future teasing.

“ I wouldn’t have it any other way, Dork. ”

Tags : @i-am-a-bastard @writing-for-me-at-this-point @soukokuwu

#smoochi dazai #bungo stray dogs #bsd #osamu dazai #dazai osamu #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs imagines #bsd imagines #Osamu dazai x reader #Dazai Osamu x reader #Osamu Dazai Imagine #dazai osamu imagines #Sweet #fluffy fluff

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moonbeamsung · 3 years

Text

CRΣΣKS

Love, a second glance, it is not something that we need.

member: jeno

au: guardian angel in disguise!jeno x gn!reader, guardian angel au

word count: 3.4k

genre: angst

warnings: character death/loss, profanity, no happy ending, mentions of religion, questioning/loss of faith

recommended song: 715 - CRΣΣKS by the nor’easters

author’s note: Please be very careful with volume when listening to the song (above) that inspired this story! But even without reading the lyrics/listening, the fic will still make sense, and happy reading :)

network tags: @kpopscape @neo-constellations @starryktown

The wind is whistling, weaving in and out of the tall river reeds like an invisible needle and thread, stitching itself into each and every crevice of the world’s gift called nature.

Another one of its many gifts is the young boy that’s resting beside a rushing brook, toes dipped into the cool water and face illuminated by the sun as it beats down onto the earth with celestial strength.

Well, a gift from the heavens, that is.

Sent from the endless skies above, Jeno is your guardian angel, assigned with posing as a humble peasant boy in the village, all to keep a watchful eye on you from afar. In his human form, he spends his days wandering the cobblestone roads and narrow alleyways between the quaint buildings, with no family to return home to at dusk. A sunny meadow on the outskirts of town becomes his home, and he takes refuge in the shelter that the overgrown grass provides.

Everything is going smoothly, and he’s doing his job just as he should be. It’s routine now, waking up and rising from his earthen mattress, curtains of copious plant leaves letting in the sun’s rays. He finds you, observes at a comfortable distance, and that’s that. At its core, being a guardian is really an easy job. A predictable one.

A monotonous one.

Until one day you approach him, youthful eagerness in your eyes piercing and nearly painful, even to his invulnerable body. He’s never seen you up close before, only on the near horizon as you’ve gone about your daily chores, tending to the housework just like any obedient child should.

“...Who are you?”

Now, Jeno is faced with a decision more challenging than any that us mortal beings have to make in our entire lives. Engaging with one’s assignment is an extremely dangerous path to take. Unimaginable punishments await, should the guardian make a wrong choice. But Jeno was careless, and he had allowed himself to be discovered by the only human on Earth that the divine forces permit him to be seen by.

He makes the fatal error of answering you, ultimately shattering a future he’ll never get to live out, one that he doesn’t even know he would’ve had. Like a sharp rock being thrown at a church’s stained glass window, the meticulously carved pieces of his worldly existence fall to the ground with a deafening crash, broken beyond repair.

“I’m Jeno,” the strikingly majestic cadence of his words is like that of angel trumpets, the sound ringing in your head and making you dizzy with both fascination and infatuation.

And just like that, in three short syllables, you’re both fated to fall before you can even spread your wings.

From the moment you hear his name tumble from those beautiful lips, you’re hooked, and he knows it. He sees it in the way you look at him, in the way you act, the way you talk. A child experiencing a first and a forbidden love all at once.

It breaks his heart, because he knows it can’t, and shouldn’t last. The churning rapids of the creek nearby weep for him, for they know that in a matter of just a few short years, their waters are destined to mix with the salty tears that will steadily cascade from your trembling chin.

Jeno remembers, although vaguely, the brief amount of time he spent living amongst the clouds, being prepared by the heavenly elders for this expedition of a lifetime, quite literally. He remembers the scriptures, the strictures, and all the times he’s been warned of the severe consequences that come with immorality.

But even the purest of young angels aren’t infallible, still susceptible to compulsions that lead them to sin and defy their creator.

Relishing in the fading daylight, you join him by the water’s edge, listening to his soothing tone as he answers your ceaseless inquiries with harmless little lies as white as heavenly robes and cherub wings.

Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. The first sin.

It’s interesting, he thinks, that despite looking after you in the endeavors of your youth for quite a while now, he knows next to nothing about who you truly are. Actions may speak louder than words, but how can he know that if he’s never heard your voice to begin with?

As the quiet, languid conversation shifts from his purpose there to yours, Jeno learns that you’re very content with your life, taking pride in helping your family with daily tasks as well as assisting your neighbors in the close-knit village with theirs.

Just then, all the smears of dirt and scattered scratches adorning your face catch his attention, gained after hours of hard work. No amount of water is ever enough to scrub them off of your skin at the end of the day, no matter how hard you try. Sometimes, you feel tears prick your eyes as you try to fall asleep at night, frustrated with your lowly appearance and how it never seems to match your relatively optimistic outlook on life.

But Jeno doesn’t care. You’re breathtaking even in his eyes, the eyes that belong to an actual angel. If that fact alone isn’t enough to boost your confidence, he doesn’t know what else possibly could.

Like a fool, he lets himself drown in your sublimity for a moment, marveling at the ethereal glow of the sun on your smooth, ageless face. The faint noise of wisps of air blowing gently through the meadow and rustling the flora makes him drowsy, but the sight of a pure white heron landing gracefully on the opposite side of the riverbank brings him back to full consciousness in an instant.

The bird, an omen of sorts, had been sent down from Heaven, conjured up from a fleeting idea and into a physical reality, by the holy beings looking down upon the earth, indicating that they’re well aware of the threat he poses and just how close he is to making an irreversible mistake in regards to you, his assignment and assignment only.

The heron abruptly unfurls its delicately feathered wings, as if frightened, before taking off and floating away on the breeze, both of your gazes inexplicably drawn to it as it flies until it’s out of sight altogether.

It warns him of just what he’s messing with, exactly.

This is not a part of the creator’s plan for you, for him. Falling in love with the one an angel is supposed to guard is an appalling crime to commit in the eyes of the elders that inhabit the sky, in the eyes of God. Though it doesn’t explicitly go against a commandment or biblical law, it’s just an understood rule. It’s wrong.

Jeno tells himself this, and continues to do so over the many years that he looks after you, never acting on his emotions, only acknowledging them before sending the less-than-acceptable thoughts into the depths of his conscious mind. He only wishes he had a key to lock them up and forget he even felt them in the first place.

Even as an angel, he ages just like anyone else, the both of you going from kids to teenagers and then nearing the young-adult stage of life, with you remaining blissfully unaware of Jeno’s true identity all the while. It’s a miracle he’s managed to keep his secret for this long, honestly, but like grains of sand in an hourglass, your time together is running out, whether you like it or not.

Not even a year before your entire world, your entire reality comes undone before your very eyes, Jeno feels as if his has already done just that. Because you’ve found someone. And that someone isn’t him.

He hates the feeling of jealousy, despises it with every fiber of his heavenly being. But he can’t shake it, can’t bear the way it clings to him like an unwelcome visitor. An unrecognizable emotion, one so foreign that he can’t even put a name to it, is stirred up at the sight of you in their arms, so pure and so unworthy of this person. Boy, if he didn’t know any better, Jeno would swear that you were the angel.

With each day that passes, he begins to feel the final shreds of both his dignity and his self-control slipping away, lost to the familiar breeze that whips through the village, stronger than ever these days. He can no longer contain it within himself. He wants you.

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s goods. The second sin.

How ironic that a Sunday, of all days, is when everything falls apart.

The sun is hanging low in the sky, just barely grazing the horizon with its bright beams of warmth as it steadily rises, bathing the world in a soft yellow glow. You can also see the moon leftover from the night that ended not so long ago, fading fast but visible nonetheless. Two complete opposites, so close but prevented by the laws of nature for coexisting in the same space, at the same time.

Maybe, just maybe, if you knew just how much you had in common with the celestial objects above, you would have clutched the hand of Jeno a bit tighter yesterday, intertwined your fingers a little more closely with those of someone who had become the closest thing to a best friend that you had ever known. You admit that you wish he could be something more, but you know better than to push your limits.

You got tired of waiting to see if he felt the same way, choosing to fill the void with someone else that you liked, yes, but who just wasn’t the same as the boy who had always been there, waiting in the meadow every morning without fail. Still, your emotions are ever-alert and always searching for any sign of reciprocation within Jeno.

He’s nowhere to be found when you reach the water’s edge, the edge of the creek where you wasted away endless summer days and frosty winter nights, colorful spring afternoons and brisk autumn evenings.

This morning would seem no different than the rest if not for his absence. The knot in your heart loosens, but not by much, when you spot him at the forest’s edge, looking weary.

Jeno notices you and calls out your name with a smile, but something about it isn’t genuine. It’s pained, desperate, like he wants to hold onto this moment forever, unwilling to carry out the plan he’s already regretting. It’s too late now, he thinks to himself, but he’s wrong.

It’s been too late for years.

“Jeno?”

“This way!” He chokes out. It’s somewhere between a sob and a plea, but there’s no time to figure out which is the more appropriate term. He disappears between the trees and amidst their mossy branches, blending in with the shadows cast by the thick canopy of leaves, and you break into a sprint, afraid of losing him to the merciless wilderness and what lies within.

Thankfully, he’s not too far gone. A small clearing greets you less than a dozen strides in, and in the very center of it stands a glass gazebo, run-down and covered in so many twisting vines to the point where the small structure is almost fully consumed by the nature surrounding it.

The scene is beautiful, so much so that it makes you uneasy. What’s going on? Why did he bring you here? Why does he seem so sad? Jeno is never sad, maybe he could be described as brooding or solemn on the rarest of occasions, but never this melancholy, never so utterly hopeless in his expressions and his aura.

None of these questions are answered, even as he takes your hands in his own and leads you inside of the gazebo, its see-through panels catching the light with elegance and ease.

“I need to tell you something.” Just like it did the first time you heard it, his voice still shocks you like a bolt of electricity, your blood pressure and heart rate skyrocketing. All of this is heightened, though, by grim tone he’s speaking to you with.

“What is it, Jen?” There it is. The nickname you made up for him that, although simple, makes him feel like he’s on top of the world. Actually, scratch that: it makes him feel like he’s floating in the sky, up past the clouds and even further away from this cruel planet than the heavens are from Hell.

You’re only making this harder for him. He might as well just spit it out, because all this waiting is agonizing for the both of you.

“We... we can’t be together.”

The sentence that leaves his lips is two declarations wrapped up in one singular statement, the first being that he wants to be with you in the same way you want to be with him. It’s much too hopeful, misleading your emotions down a path of elation instead of dread. The second is unpleasant, a bitter taste lingering on his tongue once he says the words.

“...Yes, yes we can, Jen, because I don’t really love them and all this time it’s been you—”

“You don’t understand,” he tries to stop the confession spilling out from your heart before it overflows, drowns you. “I’m not who you think I am.”

Stunned to silence, he gives you a moment to drink in the implications of his words. “...I’ve known you for over half of my entire life, and you’re trying to tell me I have no idea who you really are? Not a chance,” you laugh softly, shaking your head and glancing down at the wooden gazebo floor, old white paint peeling under your feet.

“But haven’t you ever wondered why I’m always there by the creek every morning? How I turn up throughout your day at the perfect time? How I’m suddenly right by your side when you need me the most?”

You have wondered. Many times, in fact. But the possibility of him being anything other than human was not at the top of your very rational list.

“...Don’t you see? I’m your guardian angel.”

He sees you blink, realization dawning on your face like the sun and stretching your features. “There are laws—” He begins, but your reaction is not the one he anticipated you would have to that information.

Too overwhelmed, you can’t respond with anything other than physical actions, no matter how unreasonable, and you press your dry lips to his soft ones, sealing your fate. Standing there, with beams of golden light infiltrating the space and illuminating your unsteady figures, Jeno is petrified not by your kiss, but by the fact that he doesn’t push you away, and his hands hold onto yours even tighter than before. Nothing has ever felt so right in his entire life. Not when he was in Heaven, and not in all the years he’s spent on Earth, either.

You’re his Heaven, this moment is his eternity. Jeno has endured enough temptation, the undeniable thrill that a deliberate sin promises has become too much for him. If he pulls away now, everything would still be okay, you could both go back to normal and pretend this never happened. But alas, he was doomed to kiss you back from the beginning, and so he does, and you have no idea what the universe has in store when you feel his lips finally respond to yours in the most unholy way possible. For the first and last time, you indulge in each other’s touch and taste, and it does not please the ones watching from above.

The third and final sin, one sin too many for him to remain in this world without consequence.

Several things happen all at once. A clap of thunder sounds overhead, though there are no clouds in sight. Jeno is painfully ripped from your grasp and thrown out of the gazebo by some invisible force of nature, into the grass and dirt on the forest floor.

And inside of you, a piece of your soul is torn from your being, bile rising up in your throat as you comprehend the excruciating sensation that racks your body with pained whimpers.

Stumbling to his feet, Jeno heaves, hunched over and close to tears. Suppressing the agony you still feel, you hurry over to him only for the boy to charge away, heading back towards the open meadow. With a broken shout of his name, you follow.

You didn’t notice before, but now the blinding light reveals the condition he’s in. He looks almost normal, but the edges of his form are becoming fainter by the minute, blurring with the rest of the world around him. He’s fading away before your eyes, and it’s all your fault.

It’s a torturous experience, watching him slowly meld with the emptiness of the air. Making him disappear into thin air in an instant would have been an act of mercy, a mercy that’s apparently beyond the capabilities of the spectators in the sky.

Struggling to maintain your composure, you force a question out. “What’s happening?” You ask, though you know he doesn’t have an answer himself.

He’s obviously panicked, though he tries not to show it. “I... I don’t know, I knew that it was forbidden for us to fall in love but I didn’t think I’d be robbed of my existence like this...”

“What?! No, Jeno, please don’t go...” You beg the gods and angels above, if any exist. You don’t know anymore.

If there is a God, how can he be good if he’s taking Jeno away from you like this, depriving you of the one constant source of joy and comfort in your life?

It’s far too cruel to bestow such a kind and generous heart upon someone who isn’t allowed to love in the first place.

Even Jeno’s touch is faint, making you feel like he’s not there at all. You just barely detect the pads of his fingers smoothing over your cheeks, trying to stop the water spilling from your eyes. He smiles sadly, “Don’t cry for me. I’m not worth the tears.”

“You’re everything to me, Jeno. You’re worth every drop.”

“Remember me like this, okay? By the creek,” he gestures to the turbulent waters a short distance away. Walking slowly, he begins to take steps in its direction, but as he speeds up you’re no longer able to match his pace. “Jeno, turn around...”

Glancing back at you for the final time, he whispers a goodbye that the breeze carries away with it, the sound something only the two of you would hear, one that could never be replicated.

“Goddamnit, Jeno, don’t you dare leave me!” But you know you can’t hold on, you’re not strong enough. A greater force wants you two apart, unable to be overpowered by one human, a relatively insignificant being in the grand scheme of the universe. He vanishes completely.

You fall to your knees, the pain from the pebbles digging into your legs and feet underneath the surface of the creek numbed by your sorrow. The water drenches your clothes, splashing up onto your skin and becoming one with your relentless tears. You’re left all alone, with only the cattails to keep you company. You wish the waves would just swallow you whole so you don’t have to feel this suffocating isolation.

In an unnecessarily harsh trick of the light combined with the dancing shadows generated by the water, you swear that you see Jeno again for a second, sitting on the riverbank like always. You sob louder.

It takes forever for you to find the strength to stand up again, water running over your soaked shoes and threatening to topple you over. You wouldn’t mind if it succeeds.

Inconsolable even to your closest friends and family, you reluctantly return to the village, unwilling to leave behind what you’ve just been through and unable to explain just why you’re crying so hard. Maybe if you stay there forever, spending each day and night waiting among the reeds and the flowers and the grass, he’ll come back someday, but no. He’ll never return, but you simply can’t bring yourself to accept this fact.

You’re never quite the same after that. Part of the curse that haunts you for the rest of your life is this: no matter how hard you try to retain your memories, you’re destined to forget Jeno eventually, leaving vast gaps in your brain when it comes to the years of your youth.

You’re left with only a feeling of inexplicable nostalgia at the sight of the meadow and the creek running through it, the waters still as violent as they were on the day you lost him.

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wherethingscomebackx · 4 years

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Top 25 Larry fics of 2019

It’s that time again!

You may be familiar with these lists:

Top 25 Larry fics of 2016

Top 25 Larry fics of 2017

Top 25 Larry fics of 2018

As always, I read a lot of fic and the majority of it is Larry. I like making lists and I like Larry so I thought I’d do some minimal research of the top 25 larry fics published/completed in 2019 in order of least to most kudos (with links). All of these fics are top notch so you should all check them out!

25.) Foolishy Laying Our Hearts on the Table by @runaway-train-works (11k)

“You think Harry wants that?”

“Dunno. Maybe. Wanna make him happy.” Harry takes advantage of the red light he’s pulled up to turn and look properly at Louis’ face. He’s not even looking in Harry’s direction though, focused instead on something out of his side window, head drooped, mindlessly playing with the string of his hoodie between his fingers, lost in his own world somewhere. For some reason, it makes Harry’s spine straighten.

“Because he’s your best mate?” Harry questions carefully.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

He couldn’t have heard him right. “What?”

Louis releases a deep breath, still not turning around. Harry wonders who he thinks he’s talking to right now. “He’s so pretty. Want to kiss him all day long. And buy him a big house and give him presents and marry him.”

The one where Harry is in love with his best friend Louis but doesn't think he stands a chance until some wisdom teeth and a rather unusual confession might just change his mind.

24.) Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices by @toomanydreamers (126k)

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

23.) all we can do is keep breathing by @avocadolouie (310k)

“Harry, I-I’m so sorry…” Louis stutters out, trying to keep his voice level and even, to portray a depiction of strength, but with the way Harry is looking at him, staring at him like he has a personal passage way straight to Louis’ soul, it’s so hard, nearly impossible.

That simple opening phrase, that short introductory acknowledgement that is often rushed out so easily, painlessly, at a safe distance. Giving a doctor the ability to portray empathy without true emotion, without feeling the full brunt and sheer force of the underlying pain itself.

But Louis feels it, he feels the crushing agony laced behind the phrase, he feels the weight of the painful words slipping from his lips, the cause and effect that the three-word expression holds. The distantly empty “I’m so sorry” that doctors throw out in self-preservation, isn’t at all empty for him. Louis recognizes it, he understands it, he feels it.

a fated story of two broken and battered boys who barely survived the unimaginable and how the love of one little brave girl defies all the odds and somehow puts them back together.

22.) Raise a Glass to the Four of Us by @2tiedships2 (25k)

Louis stared at his luggage.

Well. Apparently not his luggage, because the clothing he was looking at currently was a: worth more than everything he currently possessed, b: not his size at all, and c: more suited for a fancy ass lawyer than a holiday in NYC with his best mates.

“Ooh, nice loafers,” Niall said as he pulled one out of the suitcase. “I love the rainbows.”

“Okay,” Liam began. “What do you want to do first? Eat, shop for new clothes, or spend hours on the phone with the airline?”

Louis continued to stare at the luggage.

21.) You Have to Retreat to Advance by @2tiedships2 (18k)

“What am I going to do, Perrie? I can’t go on this retreat by myself. My boss literally said he wants to meet my omega.” Harry paused. “Okay, not literally but he definitely expects me to be bringing him.”

“Don’t people go on these things by themselves?” Perrie asked.

Harry shrugged. “Of course but that’s not the point.”

“What’s the point?”

“My boss is expecting to meet my omega! I don’t have an omega!”

“Is this a paying gig?” Perrie asked.

“You mean paying an omega to spend the weekend with me? I’m sure the resort has nice amenities. Does that count?”

“I take that as a no,” Perrie said with an eye roll. “It’s okay, Louis might be willing to do it for free.”

“Who’s Louis?”

Or the one where Harry is expected to bring his longterm omega to the company's mountain retreat. Since he hadn't told anyone that they'd broken up months ago, he now has to find someone willing to play the part.

20.) A Darker Shade of Love by LittleSpoonStyles94 (750k)

Louis is a 30 year old multi-billionaire with a very dark past. He is violent and is a sadist with a taste for pain. Harry Styles is a 19 year old student who sets out to London after being kicked out by his homophobic father to follow his dreams. He wants to go to the best University to study but he needs a lot of money so he starts to work as a part time stripper at a gay club to support his studies and his life. The club he works at, Garland's, is part owned by Louis Tomlinson. When they meet, its life changing for the both of them.

19.) You Still Make Sense to Me by @amories (37k)

Harry, Louis, and their family navigate life together through the years.

18.) Like Water Over Fire (Like Water On Fire) by @mcssymon (119k)

“I’m sorry your highness, I think I misheard you, did you really say that you are hoping to meet your husband?” Oh god, Louis panicked. Was Prince Harry gay? Was he even allowed to be gay? Surely he wouldn’t be allowed to have a selection from a group of men, right?

Prince Harry looked partly like he wanted to laugh, but also very, very nervous about what he had just admitted, “Yes, sir, you heard correctly”

Or Prince Harry has 46 men and 13 weeks to find the husband of his dreams, Louis has a limited amount to time to live out a royal fantasy. They might just be exactly what the other needs.

17.) waiting for the tides to meet by @nauticalleeds (59k)

Louis lets out a deep breath, thinking about Harry’s soulmate. Thinking about how Harry’s soulmate is probably as beautiful as Harry, some person that Louis cannot compare to, and how the universe has chosen them to be Harry’s. Fuck the universe. “Fuck you,” he calls out to the universe. He’s aware of how crazy he sounds.

Maybe he is crazy, with how he’s falling for Harry. And fuck that, too.

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

Featuring a lovely cup of OT5, a road trip down the coast, and a scene where Harry eats a whole head of lettuce. Don't ask why.

16.) Call Answered by @vondrostes (249k)

The day after his 27th birthday, Harry Styles attempts suicide. Louis is flown to his bedside to unravel the mystery of why he did it after a flash drive is found with a note attached, addressed to Louis. On it are a collection of 78 songs, all written for different dates from their past.

15.) Counterbalance by @louandhazaf (44k)

Harry Styles loves two things: teaching ballet and racing motorcycles. Those two worlds collide when his greatest rival on the track, Louis “Tommo” Tomlinson brings his tiny siblings to Harry’s class.

14.) Everywhere and Nowhere by @2tiedships2 (16k)

Niall took a seat and said, "Apparently Louis' downstairs neighbor is a fan of giving Louis creepy gifts. Maybe I should go introduce myself and tell him that Louis actually prefers food."

"What has he given you?" Liam asked.

Louis shrugged as it were no big deal. "There was a rabbit's foot keychain on the door a little after he left from introducing himself and there was a small teddy bear sitting by my door tonight. Obviously I can't prove it's from him, but they seem to have his scent. I could be wrong though."

"Wow," Liam said, looking deep in thought. "That's old school."

"What's old school?" Niall asked. "Giving creepy gifts?"

"I've never known an alpha to do it, to be honest, but he's courting you."

Louis couldn't contain his look of disbelief directed at Liam. "He's courting me. Like some sort of romantic shit they'd do in the 1800s or something?"

13.) Swallow The Knife by whoknows (76k)

“You came,” Louis says, still breathless, clinging to Harry, uncaring that his sweat is getting all over Harry’s presumably clean dad shirt, or that he’s making Harry hold up all of his weight.

“Of course I came,” Harry says. He shifts, one arm curled underneath Louis’ arse, the other spreading wide in the middle of Louis’ back. “If I ignored you every time you pissed me off we would have stopped being friends a long time ago.”

Louis already knows that, of course. It doesn’t do anything to stop the pleased squirm in his belly every time Harry proves it, though. They fight like nobody’s business, both of them too stubborn to pull their punches when they’re arguing, and it used to get them in trouble, but they always make up.

Adrenaline makes Louis loose-lipped, and they both know it. He tightens his arms around Harry’s neck, buries his face in his hair. “I missed you,” he confesses, quiet. “Doesn’t feel the same up there by myself.”

12.) and oh, all of your saturdays could end up in woe by ihavetoomuchfreetime (70k)

a fic in which louis' in a long-term relationship with an abusive asshole, niall, zayn and liam are so far but not really, and harry is that all too friendly guy who works in sainsbury's.

11.) thinking about the t-shirt you slept in by @absoloutenonsense (52k)

Harry's alpha fraternity donates to a local thrift shop (because of Liam's latent crush on a cute beta in his lecture). Louis' financial situation (and confusing omega instincts) lead him to make some interesting fashion purchases. Lots of pizza, feelings, and not-really-lying.

10.) Consequences by @allwaswell16 (78k)

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

An amnesia au

9.) Strawberries & Cigarettes by @dimpled-halo (76k)

Harry looks up and immediately freezes. Next to Ms. Archie stands the boy from just the other day. The boy with the leather jacket and chipped black nails, that might or might not be sketched in the very book Harry has just placed on the table in front of him. The leather jacket is missing today, probably because they aren’t allowed as part of their required uniform attire, but Harry can still see the fading black nail polish on his nails, and eyeliner around his eyes. Harry’s mouth goes a little dry. This boy is so intriguing to him.

“Ye-yes, Ms. Archie?” Harry tries to play it cool, but he’s almost positive that his cheeks are burning red, and he’s relieved neither of them can tell how fast his heart is beating in his chest.

The boy seems to also recognize Harry, because his lips curve into a knowing smirk.

“Harry is at the top of his class. He’s your best bet at getting familiar with things around here.” She explains.

Louis nods, his smirk still very prominent on his face. “Thank you Ms. Archie. I’ll be sure to take advantage of young Harold here.”

Summary: Two stories, eleven years, and the two boys that never stopped loving each other.

8.) Pain makes people change by Deidei (113k)

An organization called Canis Lupus existed solely for changing humans imprisoned in their wolf form back to their human form. Some people after experiencing some traumatic event can only ‘’protect’’ themselves from the pain by forgetting everything. To do that, to feel safe, they shift into their wolf form.

Which they'll be stuck in forever should no one intervene.

Louis Tomlison went through a traumatic experience at the age of twelve in which he lost his mother, to make the pain go away he shifted into a wolf and fled. He survived in the wild as a wolf for five years until Canis Lupis caught him... Though he wasn't alone, he had a pup at his side.

7.) Pretty Please (With Sugar On Top) by @angelichl (113k)

Harry is a sugar baby omega who cons rich alphas for a living. Louis is a rich alpha with too much self-control.

6.) Enemies with benefits by ssii8 (267k)

Where Harry is captain of basketball team and Louis is captain of football team and they hate each other. But somehow this doesn't stop them from having sex.

And everything is perfect until they start to feel something more.

5.) Ready To Fall by whoknows (21k)

“Ninety and rising,” Nick says triumphantly, as though making Harry’s heartbeat pick up by thrusting an obscenely attractive person in front of his face is any kind of success. “Louis Tomlinson has just walked into our control room and suddenly our dear Harry Styles has lost all ability to speak. Could this be some kind of strange coincidence?”

“I hate you,” Harry hisses, forcing his eyes back into Nick’s direction, uncaring that the mic must have picked it up. “I thought we agreed that you were going to play fair.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick denies, except he’s holding up a picture of Louis’ face now, sharp cheekbones prominent, soft lashes nearly sweeping against his cheeks as he looks down, and his fucking mouth –

“A hundred and two!” Nick crows, all but clapping his hands together in glee. “The highest it’s ever been!”

“To be fair, I did bend over the desk on purpose,” Louis’ voice comes crackling in the headphones. Harry practically breaks his neck whipping his head around at the sound of it, gaping at him through the glass panel. “You can’t really blame him for getting a little excited about that, can you?”

4.) Close to Nowhere by @angelichl (34k)

“I will kill you in your sleep,” Louis threatened as he quickly stepped out of his jeans.

“I don’t think that would work very well baby, seeing as you talk to dead people all the time.”

“I’ll kill you in your sleep and ignore your ghost. And don’t call me that.”

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

3.) Play Pretend, Find a Friend? by @angelichl (40k)

They had to pull back for air. Louis surveyed the guy’s face, in awe of his blown pupils and sharp jawline, the way their shared spit glistened on his lips.

“Hi,” he breathed. He blinked, and came back to himself a little bit, blushing at his own boldness. “Sorry. Is this okay?”

The stranger removed his right hand from the curve of Louis’ waist in order to cup his jaw, tilting it up to the angle he desired. He pressed their lips together, murmuring, “Definitely.” And then he kissed harder.

When Louis sees his ex-boyfriend kissing a random girl at a party, he acts out of blind jealousy. He kisses the first guy he can find. It turns into a thing.

INSPIRED BY CLOUDS.

2.) Let Me Feel Your Heartbeat by @angelichl (34k)

Harry is 98% sure Louis hates him. So he feels like his bewilderment is justified when the omega offers to help him through his rut.

1.) All My Colours by IceQueenRia (267k)

Green… yellow… red. Red! RED!!!

Some people were born Dominant and others submissive. Sixteen year old Louis Tomlinson was a submissive and was proud to be so… until he was forced to his knees for the first time. The man before him was every subs nightmare, an abusive Dom, the kind who didn’t believe in the colour ‘red’ unless it was in the form of blood.

There were others, but Louis was the ‘favourite’ and he was the one the Dom liked to ‘play with’ the most. In fact, when the rescue team arrived, Louis was the one currently providing ‘service’ to the Dom.

Louis, Zayn and Niall are abused subs. Liam Payne is their devoted new Guidance Counsellor who just wants to make Niall smile and hear Zayn speak. As for Louis, he knows his guidance won’t be enough to help the boy heal. No, Louis Tomlinson needs something very special and very specific. He needs Harry Styles.

#larry #larry stylinson #harry styles #louis tomlinson #fic rec #larry fic rec #one direction #1d #one direction fan fiction #larry fan fiction #larry is real #larry fic #dom/sub fic #alpha/beta/omega verse #1d fan fiction

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wyofabdoms · 3 years

Text

Undercover I Do - Chapter 5

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: While on an undercover assignment posing as a married couple, you are attacked and nearly assaulted. Upon waking, all you remember about Javier Peña is what you remembering seeing from two photographs of the two of you posing as the happily married couple. As you struggle to regain your memories, Javi struggles with his own feelings for you.

Rating: Mature (Eventual smut)

Warnings: fake/pretend relationship, married and undercover trope, temporary amnesia, hospitalization, blood and injury, swearing, awkward Javi, unrequited feels, mentions of sex toys, feelings, pining,

Word Count: 3132

Notes: You're released from the hospital, and Javi sets up house. While doing so, he stumbles across a couple of things that make him feel all kinds of ways!

Read on Ao3

You were released from the hospital two days later under the stipulation that you were to rest and were not to return to any kind of active field duty until fully cleared by the doctor and his medical team. Over the course of those two days, some of your memories had seeped back in, like figures appearing through thick fog and slowly taking form and shape. But, it seemed to you, not any of the really important ones were returning. You remembered now some specific events from the last two years of your time as an agent: big busts you had made, critical incidents that had ended badly for your agency, colleagues that had been lost in the line of duty. You had been able to recall many details of your work against the worst of the drug cartels in Colombia from the last two years and even further back...but most memories of things from the past three or four weeks were still a grey void with nothing in them, not even shadows to hint at memories waiting there in the fog.

You were rarely alone at the hospital: if Dixon was not sitting at your bedside, then Javi was there in her place. Between the two of them, you had managed to scrape together some large pieces that were missing about your relationships: you had worked with Dixon earlier in your career in San Diego and when she had risen in ranks and earned a seat down here in the thick of things, she had brought you along with her. You had the feeling that she viewed you as a bit of a protege and you felt confident that the memories you had of her support and backing of you were true. Memories about your relationship with Javi proved to be a bit more difficult to get confirmation on. While both Dixon and Javi were very willing to discuss and confirm anything you asked about your mentor, when you inquired or asked for clarification on your history with your husband, both agents seemed to hesitate for a moment before answering you. Dixon was more guarded than Javi and the older woman would often change the subject as quickly as she could when you asked her about your husband. You got a distinct sense that she did not approve of your marriage to the man you had been partnered with during your time here.

You remembered that was how you had met Javi; you had been assigned as his partner. You remembered the earliest days of working with him: how he had flirted with you and you had rebuffed him, how there had been moments when your partnership had skated the line of something more. But it was only the older memories that seemed to come clearly to you...the closer to present day you came, the emptier your memories became. You had tried to remember when exactly your relationship with Javi had made the jump from work partner to life partner. When and how had the two of you told each other how you felt? And you had zero memories of a proposal, a wedding....no memories at all of how it felt to touch and be touched by the handsome man who spent hours sitting in comfortable silence next to your bed. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask him questions about those things...not yet.

Surprisingly, Dixon was the one who escorted you when you were released. After the older woman saw you carefully buckled into the passenger seat of the car, you inquired as to why Javi wasn’t the one driving you home. Dixon’s eye flickered behind her dark sunglasses, and she mumbled something about him getting your apartment ready for you. She assured you that he would be waiting at your home when you got there.

Your home. For a moment, your stomach sank, thinking about how you would be going back to a place that was foreign to you but was supposed to be a safe haven, a refuge, the home you shared with a husband you were supposed to be in love with. Would you remember any of it? Would anything that you found there help jog anything loose in your memory?

You could only hope.

***

“Fuck!”

Javi growled as he struggled to keep a box from teetering off the pile of other boxes that it was precariously stacked on. His hands were full of his clothes on hangers, halfway between the box he had just removed them from and the clothing pole in the closet. He had been struggling most of the morning with lugging half of his possessions down the two flights of stairs of their shared apartment building and trying to make it appear as though he had lived in this apartment for longer than a few hours. Both he and Dixon had agreed it would be best for her to return to familiar surroundings...but they still needed to keep up the premise that the two of you shared a life together.

Javi had never given much thought to domesticity. The closest he had ever come was Lorraine...and the brief moment of introspection he had had when he had seen her those several years ago at that wedding. Thoughts had crossed his mind then: what would it be like to have a wife, to wear a ring on his finger, to have promised himself to someone forever? To have a future that was shared with another person? To make important decisions with another person and not just on your own? To have 2.5 kids and a house? But he hadn’t spent too much time dwelling on it simply because none of that was really who Javi was, was completely unimaginable to him. He had never once really thought that sort of life would ever be one he would want, much less be able to live. And, quite honestly, he wasn’t all that sure that that kind of life was one that he deserved.

Now, it seemed, life was playing a little gag on him: turns out maybe there WAS a way for him to see if married life was for him...although he did hate the fact that his partner had had to be injured in the process.

One thing he was certain of at the moment, though: if getting married and divvying up and combining possessions was as big a pain in the ass for real as it was for this farce?...Well, that was a strike against matrimony in his opinion.

At first he had merely grabbed a small duffle bag full of items; things he thought he might leave at a woman’s house if he was spending the night or a weekend: a change of clothes, toiletries, firearm. But when he had let himself into her apartment two floors below his in their building, it had struck him that that wasn’t going to be good enough.

Her apartment was lived in. Unlike his own, which he realized now seemed a little sterile and cold, her’s was warm and (though not a word he often used in his vocabulary) cozy. She had artwork on the walls, shelves full of books from all different genres...even a few board games and some well-worn records on the record player stand. He spotted a rolled up yoga mat under a bench beneath the window and a couple of handwritten recipes and smiling photos tucked under bright magnets on the refrigerator. Her bedroom smelled of lavender and soft vanilla; the bed was neatly made (again, unlike his own) and dirty clothes resided in a hamper rather than tossed carelessly into a corner. The spare room that served as an office housed neatly organized work related content and photo albums of people from home, holiday decorations stashed under the guest bed; her closet had her clothes neatly organized (by color, who knew!?). He had quickly come to the conclusion that he might need to put a bit more effort into this charade.

So he had proceeded to spend the next several hours being swept into a whirlwind of imagining what a shared space would look like if the two of them were actually married. He had started with the few books he had in his own apartment; a few biographies, some car magazines and a ratty copy of “The Art of War” and “The Hobbit”. He had jammed them onto the neat bookshelves in her living room before returning quickly with some of his own records: some Cumbia records and an Eagles album, which he shuffled in with her own Steely Dan, Creedence Clearwater and Three Dog Night.

He didn’t have much to contribute to the kitchen besides a few bottles of whiskey and a bottle of tequila next to her own bottles of red wine. He had pulled a photo taken when he graduated from high school from his wallet and placed it on the fridge next to one of her with her huge family. He paused a moment to assess the contrast in the two pictures: her in the midst of her five older brothers and parents, all wearing matching Christmas sweaters...him standing bashfully and stiffly next to his dad, who grinned proudly at the camera, one arm awkwardly slung over a teenage Javi’s shoulder. The bathroom didn’t take long, either. He added his razor, a bottle of Old Spice, and his toothbrush and comb; he glanced into the medicine cabinet as he placed his deodorant there and eyed what looked suspiciously like a package of prescription birth control...his mind started to wander and he slammed the cabinet door shut, heading back upstairs to his apartment for another load.

He had strong-armed his clothes still on the hangers into some file boxes to make them easier to carry down the stairs, then had hauled shoes, underthings, suits, jeans, and (what he had not really realized until this moment) a ridiculous amount of the same style shirt in different colors downstairs and was now trying to wedge them into one half of her closet, trying to make it look like they had been there for a while and doing his best to not become buried by the haphazardly stacked boxes. Once the last set of shoes was stuffed into the closet next to a pair of sky high red heels he had never seen her wear before, (he was CERTAIN he would have remembered those) he opened the dresser to shove his socks and underwear into a drawer and gulped. Staring back at him was a drawer full of his partner’s bras and panties.

For a moment he felt like a creep pawing through her underwear drawer, but he steeled himself and carefully nudged the sensible pieces of cotton material to one side of the drawer. As the material shifted, he spotted a brief flash of red lace and something that could be black and leather, but he refused to investigate any further; he could feel his face flushing and his heart pounding harder. He dumped his own underwear into the drawer and shoved it closed, sighing with relief and opening the next one; socks wouldn’t cause his mind to wander into dangerous territory nearly as badly! He carefully shoved the rolls of clothing to the side to make room for his own once again and felt his hand hit something. His breath hitched as he uncovered what was very obviously a vibrator. Next to it was a tube of lube and a small box about the size of a deck of cards. Try as he might, he could not stop himself from carefully tilting open the lid of the box...Javi was quite educated when it came to knowing his way around a woman, but he was clueless as to the purpose or use of the two small colored balls nestled into the velvet inside of the box...although he was pretty sure he at least knew where they were supposed to go.

His mind clouded with images of his partner stretched out on the bed behind him, bringing herself to orgasm using these items and he felt himself harden in his jeans. He let out a puff of air and carefully nudged the items to the other side of the drawer, reburying them beneath the socks as they had been before. He piled in his own footwear, then shakily closed the drawer, still trying to blink away the images playing out in his mind. He wondered what her face would look like as she came apart. What did she sound like? Did she cry out when she reached her peak? What would his name sound like tumbling from her lips in the middle of her climax, what would she taste like…?

He stormed out of the bedroom, furious at himself for going down that path. He felt like a pervert, getting so turned on after snooping through her personal effects. He was angry at Dixon for insisting that they do this; but he was frustrated at himself, more. He shouldn’t be going through her things like this. He splashed some cold water on his face from the kitchen sink and trudged back up to his own apartment, pacing for a while once he got there, trying to both ease his erection as well as determine what else he should bring with him back to her apartment. His eyes settled on the shoulder case that had been retrieved from the house that had been used in the undercover operation. He pulled out the two framed photographs that had been next to “their” bed; the photos that she had referenced when she had first woken up. He stared at them, thinking that if he hadn’t been present at the time they had been taken, he would have believed they were real, too...that they were actual photographs of two people madly in love with each other.

Maybe…

No. He stuck both pictures under his arms, grabbed another box filled with work files, tossed his favorite ashtray and lighter in the box along with one or two small tchotkes, a couple of coasters and a small plastic plant from the window sill, and made one more trip down the stairs. He dispersed the items randomly throughout her apartment, thinking to himself that it at least gave a more unified image of two different people existing within the same space.

He hauled the box of paperwork into her second bedroom converted into an office space and plopped it down on the desk, taking one or two folders and strewing them about the top of the desk, again in stark contrast to her own organized, neat piles. It started to reflect their separate desks at work now, which he found convincing. He sat in the desk chair for a minute and quickly shuffled through the small desk drawers, double checking for anything glaring that might be difficult to explain. As he opened the bottom drawer, his eye caught a blue leather bound notebook. Flipping through it, he saw pages and pages of writing in his partner’s familiar handwriting. As he thumbed through, he was startled to spot his name on one page. He carefully flipped back, scanning the writing and was surprised to find that it actually appeared quite often. He turned a page and began reading from the beginning:

“Everything sometimes feels so incredibly heavy here. The job, the humidity, the pressure of being a woman in this man’s arena. I hate it! I hate that I have to be strong all the damn time. I hate that it feels like I can’t seek the same comforts as other women...even if I have insisted that it be this way. I’m so grateful and proud of myself...most of the time...like 95.5% of the time. The other times, I just wish I could let myself cry when something heartbreaking happens. When someone says something scathing that hurts my feelings at work. When I watch Javi go off to sleep with yet another woman.

Javi. That feels so heavy all of the time, too. I can’t seem to ever level myself out when it comes to him. Some days he drives me absolutely insane and I want nothing more than to bash his face in with a paperweight. Other days, I just want him to put his arms around me and hold me. Not do anything or say anything, just hold me tight…because he is, truthfully, the only single person that I trust.

And yet, am I fooling myself in saying that...in saying that I trust him? Because do I really? If I really trusted him, why don’t I just go to him? He only lives two floors up. Why can’t I knock on his door and fling myself into his arms and kiss him and feel what it’s like to press my body against his? Why can’t I bring myself to do that? Well...probably because I don’t really ACTUALLY trust him...not with that part of myself. Javi is the man I want having my back in a shootout...but is he the man I want to be next to me every night when I fall asleep and every morning when I wake up? I dream about him sometimes...about him being in my bed with me, but we’re usually not sleeping...we’re doing everything but. I dream about it and then I wake up feeling empty because he’s not there, because it wasn’t real. The emptiness is heavy, too...”

Javi clapped the journal shut, feeling his stomach churn. He shouldn’t have read that and guilt thrummed through him. These were her private thoughts; never meant for anyone else but her to read. Once again he felt like an intruder and he loathed himself...Dixon...that asshole Ortiz...for putting both of them in this situation. He dragged a hand over his face, growling low in his throat. He looked down at the box at his feet, still open with a few files and the two photographs staring back up at him. He reached in and took out one framed picture, sitting it upright on the desk: the “engagement” photo. He took the “wedding” picture out and then tossed the journal into the box, carrying both items from the home office. He carefully set up the photo on a bookshelf in the living room, then put the lid back on the box and headed back up the stairs to drop the box off in his apartment and lock up. Before he left, though, he made sure to slip the freshly cleaned gold band onto his left ring finger.

His wife would be coming home any minute now.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13

#javier peña x reader #javier pena x female reader #narcos #javi #pedro pascal fanfiction #fake marriage #undercover marriage

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itsleah728 · 3 years

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Thank you for the request: @Savannahhead4 (on Wattpad)

A/N: I kind of added more details then you exactly requested but I couldn't help myself 😂 I hope you enjoy non the less. Also just a note that this story jumps around a bit (not much though it's still easy to follow)

!!!!!!!!!WARNING: THE FOLLOWING STORY HAS SOME MAJOR GORE, MURDER, AND DARK THOUGHTS ARE MENTIONED QUITE A BIT!!!!!!!!

NO ONES POV

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair how you died and he lived. How he had to watch you suffer before the former Count finally ended your life. He had to witness you being brutally tortured. He watched as you were stabbed over and over and over again. Your limbs were torn to shreds and your guts were spilled. He will never forget the petrified look in your eyes when you could no longer breathe air due to the un human amounts of blood rising in your throat. His own throat still feels sore from the screams he let out, just trying to get to you. He failed you. He failed at protecting you, you were dead because of him. Your disheveled body and your flowing blood is forever embedded into his mind. He can't help but cry whenever he remembers detail for detail what happened to your poor soul on that dreadful day.

FLASHBACK

READERS POV (2nd person)

All was well, you and Muriel were wandering my through the woods taking a break from it all. It was a nice day with a cool breeze. You're hands were connected which made you feel special considering Muriels hatred for human contact. You both idly chat for a while until you both hear rustling in the bushes. You, being curious as ever decide to check it out.

You sneak over to the bush and at first see nothing until a gold arm darts out of the bush and pulls you forwards. You stumble from the force of the pull but quickly gather your bearings. You let out a startled cry when you see Lucio standing in front of you with the most murderous gaze you have ever seen. Your cry must have alerted Muriel because he is suddenly by your side once more looking at Lucio with hatred and confusion. "What is the meaning on this Lucio?!" You can't help but ask the Count. Lucio starts pacing and rambling "it's nothing personal MC but I have plans, big plans and you my friend will simply get in the way. Therefore I have no choice but to get rid of you." "Excuse me" Muriel finally decides to speak up as he quickly stands taller. Lucio doesn't respond he only lunges towards Muriel and quickly stabs his clawed fingers into his leg. He lets out a small yelp and collapses to the ground.

You know Muriel will no longer be helpful in this fight so with all of your strength you summon up as much magic as you possibly can. Lucio tsks and states "this, this is exactly why you can't be around.... it's your horrible magic." "Enough with the chat Lucio let's get this over with." "Yes dear let's" is all Lucio states before a sword is through your stomach. Everything that happens afterwards is a blur. You feel pain in your stomach and you think you've been stabbed more than once. The pain is unimaginable, you feel the blood forming in your throat. You think you can hear Muriel cry out for you but you quickly pass out from the pain. Everything hurts until you feel nothing at all.

PRESENT TIME

MURIELS POV (1st person)

That had been weeks ago, Asra had a funeral but no one knows what truly happened that day. Lucio decided to spill lies and tell everyone that you simply were attack by a bear..... what bear could do such unspeakable things. I can feel the pain and anger slowly eating at my soul. I know you wouldn't want me to get revenge but it is impossible not to. Any man would go insane seeing what I saw. I decided that Lucio would do this to no other person again and so I prepared, I prepared to kill the Count.

SMALL TIME SKIP

Days have past since I first decided that getting revenge was the way to go. Even in the short time span my mind has gotten darker with images of what I could do to the Count. Images of me brutally murdering him the same way he did to you. I could no longer take these thoughts so I decided that tonight is when my plan would take action. Asra doesn't know of my plan but that doesn't matter anymore, the only thing that matters is revenge.

SMALL TIME SKIP

Night has fallen and I make my way to the castle. Sneaking in should be simple, I'm used to staying in the shadows anyways. I approach the castle gates and see two guards standing post. 'Thought this would be harder' I think as I sneak around behind the unsuspecting men.

When I reach behind one of the guards I quickly slit his throat and move to the next before he can call for back up. I quickly take care of both men and continue my way into the castle.

The castle has little to no guards which makes my way to Lucio much easier than expected but of course the simple ness never lasts. When I reach Lucio's chambers I see around 5 guards stationed outside. 'He must have knew I'd want revenge.' Thankfully this is no setback for me. 'I think the Count had forgotten about my gladiator past that he himself had put me through' I muse to myself. I ready myself to attack and quietly dash from out of the shadows. Two men quickly spot me and are taken down just as fast. One other brave soul decides sneaking up on me will be the best approach, only for him to end up with a bashed in brain. The last two guards try teaming up together. One flanks right and the other flanks left. I can see the man on the right is slower than the one on the left. With this in mind I quickly stab the man on the left and then the one on the right. Both men fall to the ground in pathetic heaps, the sobbing only fueling me more. With no more guards in my way I open the door to the Counts chambers.

The room is dark with only a pale dim light coming from the moon. Surprisingly the Count had not woken up from the cries of anguish occurring outside his door. I make my way over to the unsuspecting man and lay my large palm over his mouth. His eyes shoot open and he starts to struggle. Lucio finally sets his eyes upon me and they widen almost comically. He starts to squirm again when I lower my head to his ear and manically state "you killed my one true love and now you will pay."

Before Lucio can even protest I swing my blade into his stomach. The sound it makes is like music to my ears. Blood instantly pouring from the wound. I drag the blade through his stomach and quickly pull it out. He tries to run away but the gaping hole in his stomach is making the task quite difficult. I drag the blade from his forehead to his eye creating a small cut. "The fun hasn't even begun my friend" I state before plunging the blade anywhere I can get my hands on.

SMALL TIME SKIP

Blood. Blood everyone and it is the greatest thing I have ever witnessed. Your screams are replaced by his. Sorrow replaced by freedom. Which can only mean that you can finally Rest In Peace.

A/N: I'm not a psycho I swear 😂 no but honestly this story ended up way more gory tha

#the arcana headcanons #the arcana lucio #lucio x mc #lucio x reader #count lucio #muriel #the arcana courtiers #the arcana #asra headcanons #countess nadia #nadia x mc #consul valerius

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chaseatinydream · 3 years

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pirate king (77) || atz

You hold your breath unconsciously, gazing deep into the inky depths of the sea as the waves roll beneath your feet. Your mind begins to count each heartbeat, one, two, three, four... and that’s when you see it move again.

Goosebumps creep over your skin, and you’re ready to run when it emerges, rippling against the sea, and that’s when you realise that it looks exactly like you.

A pair of vibrant blue eyes lock onto yours - and you feel its gaze deep within your soul.

You know those eyes.

Your lips part of their own volition. “You’re m-”

“Chin Hae?”

“Captain!” Your words come out more of a startled squeak and instinctively, you whirl around and shove the coat behind your back the fastest you can, schooling your face into the most innocent expression you can muster as your captain approaches you with a mildly exasperated, but amused smile from his cabin. “You scared me!”

“Only those with something to hide would wear such a guilty look on their face.” Hongjoong raises a meaningful eyebrow at you, settling in front of you on the bulwarks, one knee drawn up to his chest and completely at ease on his perch. There’s a twinkle in his eye as he regards you, and you laugh, a little embarrassed yet set at ease.

“Well, I’ve been caught red handed. I promise I’ll confess my crimes, but not right now. Don’t peek!” You scold when he tries to glance surreptitiously around you and your captain grins mischievously at you, drawing back. “Why did you need to see me?”

At your words, Hongjoong’s previously content expression darkens slightly, worry shadowing his face with its heavy weight. A sigh leaves his lips, tired and drawn out,

“Do you know who the head commander of the Royal Navy is?”

You frown, a little surprised by such an unexpected question. “No...?”

Hongjoong’s smile is bitter, lost as he looks out to the black sea, watching as dark clouds roll in beneath the half moon.

The signs of an approaching storm.

“He’s my father.”

Your eyes widen in shock.

When he sees your speechless expression, he laughs, the sound tight in his chest. “Surprising, isn’t it? That the son of the head commander of the Royal Navy would turn out to become one of the most wanted pirates sailing the seas.” One of his hands come up to touch the eye-patch over his eye, and his expression is so forlorn you feel your own eyes sting. “Captain...”

He holds up a hand before you can say any more, smile sad. You wonder if he even knows what kind of expression he is making, that makes you want to take him into your arms and hide him from all the pain in this world. “Don’t feel sad for me. My ties with that man have been severed ever since the day he did this to me. He is nothing but an enemy to me now. What I am worried about is that the only one with the authority to approve such a ridiculous bounty would be the head commander himself, which is why I’ve been trying to think about the reason why he would possibly do such a thing.”

“Maybe he’s insane.” The words slip out before you can think them through, and immediately clap your hands over your mouth in horror. Hongjoong looks shocked for a moment, before his lips split into a smile and he laughs brightly, amused. The urge to start insulting his father suddenly wells up in your chest just to hear that sound again.

“Oh, he definitely is.” Hongjoong’s chuckles fade into a warmer smile, and you can’t help but think it much better suits his features than that bitter expression on his face earlier. “But an insane man makes a dangerous opponent, and with what’s at stake here,” his eye lingers on you and one of his hands come up to cup your cheek, an emotion far too deep to be fondness flitting across his face. “I cannot afford to take any chances.”

You recognise that expression because you’ve seen it before, in another pair of green eyes filled with anguished acceptance at your rejection. Dread fills your chest, from the tips of your toes all the way to roots of your hair. Oh no...

“Are you sure you haven’t had any encounters with the Royal Navy before meeting us?”

Your captain’s question takes you by surprise, and it takes you a long second or two to answer. “No... I don’t believe so. At least if I did, I don’t remember them.” Your mind is still swirling with tentative worry, pondering whether you should ask him outright or not.

You can’t let his feelings for you continue to grow anymore - of course, should they exist in the first place. The kindest thing to do would be to stamp them out before they bloom, for a blossom to fall would be infinitely more painful than yanking out an ungrown seedling. But how do you go about doing that?

You’re not sure if you have the strength to push yet someone else away again.

Hongjoong remains silent for a moment as he thinks on your words, his one green eye searching your face, and your heart seems to pause in your chest. “You... don’t believe that I’m telling the truth?”

“No, no, no, of course I believe you.” Hongjoong is quick to reassure you, although his gaze is still faded, lost in thought somewhere. “It’s just... a mystery to me, you see. From what I heard from the Tortuga town officials today, the Royal Navy is offering more than the entire bounty on this ship to have you taken in alive. Which brings me to the question of: why does the Royal Navy want you so badly?”

From now on, we’ll be in immense danger because of this, goes unsaid by him.

A bitter taste lodges in the back of throat when you hear the words ‘Royal Navy’, a shudder running through your body. That’s a ridiculous amount of money, you think, despair seeping into your bones. “Will the crew be in danger because of me, captain?”

Hongjoong must hear the tremble in your voice, because his expression softens, and one of his hands come up to rest on your shoulder, almost painfully gentle. “Well, it’s not like we haven’t been in danger even before you joined, so nothing’s changed there.” Still, you can hear the strain in his voice, the worry that lingers in the back of his mind that clings to him like a relentless parasite. “I promise, we’ll protect you with our lives.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Your voice sounds tiny even in your own ears, and you look down at the floorboards between your feet, unable to meet his gaze. “I wanted to know if the crew would be in even more danger because of me. Because if it ever comes down to it, captain, you should just-”

The grip on your shoulder tightens almost imperceptibly. “Chin Hae. Hey, Chin Hae, look at me.” He coaxes you to look into his eyes, his fingers lightly grasping your chin to tilt it upwards. “Don’t go getting any silly ideas now. You’re a precious crew member to me. As the captain, I would do anything in my power to keep you safe from harm, and I know the rest of the crew feels the same.”

“But is that really all there is to it?” You’re shocked at the boldness of your own words, and for a second, your captain falters, eye widening in stunned surprise. Before you can catch yourself, the words that have been dangling off the tip of your tongue finally burst out, like a dam that has crumbled in the face of his raw sincerity. “Or is it because your feelings for me extend past that of a captain and his crewmate?”

You’ve seen many sides of your captain, angry, cheerful, drunk and mad with worry, but it’s the first time you’ve seen your captain truly stunned into silence, his mouth opening as if to say something, but then closing. His hand falls from your face as the two of you stare into each others’ eyes, searching for something.

You don’t know what you hope to find.

“So... you know.” Hongjoong’s the first to break the silence, running one hand through his hair as he turns away from you, and you feel as if a musket ball has just slammed you straight in the chest, the agony there radiating outwards. Something hurts there, so badly you nearly can’t stand it, but all you can do is to continue staring at your captain in shock.

“Yes, I do confess that my motives to keep you safe are not completely pure.” When Hongjoong speaks again, his voice is steady, eyes fixed firmly on the sea, unrepentant in the least. “I’ve grown fond of you, unimaginably so, it seems to me. I will keep you safe with all the power I have, and as the captain of the Treasure, the power afforded to me includes that of the crew.”

“But they’ll be even more likely to be hurt!” You protest weakly, fingers twisting painfully in the fox fur jacket tucked behind your back. Hells, what do you say - how do you respond? “There’s no rule that demands them to be taken in alive!”

I’m already dying anyway... you want to say, but the words remain trapped in your chest. Hongjoong’s smile is tender as he rests a hand on your head.

“And that’s what I love about you. You’re too selfless.” He says gently, and you choke back a sob. Look at yourself before calling me selfless, you big fool. “I apologise for being selfish, but I keep close what I value. I am a pirate, after all.” His green eye burns near iridescent in the night. “I fight till my last breath to protect my treasure. That’s what a pirate’s life is all about. The rest of the crew know that too, the day they choose to follow me.”

“Captain-” You try to speak, but your words can’t seem to escape your throat. Hongjoong releases you from his grip. His warm gaze remains firmly fixed on you. It burns, like salt water on an open wound. “I don’t... I can’t... return those...”

“I’m already aware that Wooyoung has already propositioned to you, and that you may not return my feelings at all.” Hongjoong says easily, but you can hear how carefully he’s choosing his words in an attempt not to put you in a difficult position, and the pain in your chest only grows. “I want you to know that there is no need to, and I’m doing this completely out of my own selfish desires. Even if I did not hold any romantic feelings towards you, I would still lay down my life to keep you safe, as a captain should to his crew. That was all I wanted to say.”

The two of you stand there in silence, seemingly trapped in a single moment under the storm and the faded light of the trapped moon.

“Stupid...”

The words escape you and then before you know it, you’re pounding on his chest furiously with your hand balled up into a weak fist, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Stupid captain... stupid, idiotic, moronic captain...”

There’s no point in keeping me safe when I’m already dying, stupid...

“Don’t cry.” Hongjoong brushes your tears from your eyes as you continue hitting him weakly, before he tugs you into his chest. You wail quietly into the shoulder of his shirt, and his fingers card through your hair, a pained smile on his face as he looks down at you. “I’m sorry I’m stupid.”

“Damn right you are.” You choke out between sobs, hitting him on the shoulder with each word. “I can’t repay you with anything, and yet you’re willing to give up so much to keep me safe? You’re so idiotic, captain.”

An insincere, apologetic hum. “I’m sorry.”

“So dumb.”

“Mmhmm.”

“So foolish.”

“Yup.”

He holds you close until your sobs have subsided into quiet sniffles, before he speaks out loud once more. “But this stupid captain is the pirate king of the seas, and he’s really selfish about guarding his treasure.” He pauses for a moment, pressing his cheek against the top of your head. “So can you have some faith in him, that he’ll keep you and the crew safe to the best of his ability?”

“Stupid captain,” you sniff again, into his shoulder. “If you ask like that, how am I supposed to say no? You don’t play fair at all...”

“Good.” You feel his smile, and he slides down from the bulwarks to crush you against his chest. “Now I have the strength to think of a way to run from the Royal Navy for the rest of our lives - and the courage to face them in a battle, if necessary.”

With a final ruffle of your hair, he turns around to head for the cabin once more, tossing ‘it’s late, you should get to bed,’ over his shoulder. But you find yourself watching his retreating back, as it moves further and further from you.

Unable to take it anymore, you run after him and grab him by the wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks. “Chin Hae, what are you-”

“It’s my turn to confess. I made a jacket for you.” The words spill out, unchecked, like a rushing river as you yank out the garment to wrap it around his shoulders. Hongjoong’s mouth parts slightly in shock, and you take the opportunity to adjust it on him. It fits him perfectly, you think, and your lower lip quivers. “More than me being safe, I want you and the entire crew to stay safe too, understood? So please...” your fingers clutch the lapels of the jacket tightly. “You have to stay safe too, Hongjoong... That’s me being selfish right now.”

Before he can reply, you run for the infirmary, slamming the door behind you. Hongjoong stands there for a moment in silence, before he looks down to run a finger through the red fox fur. The stitching is a little clumsy, but it only makes it all the more precious to him.

“You called me Hongjoong.” He whispers quietly, a gentle, sad smile touching his lips.

>>>

From the depths, a pair of blue eyes watch, unfeeling as the coldest depths of the northern sea, before they ripple and vanish with the riptide.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #jongho #wooyoung #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; pirate king #w; fanfiction

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