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thicctails · 3 years

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Summer Of Whump Day 18 [Collapse/Beaten]

This one is such a mix of fluff and whump, I love it!

“She’s so pretty! Do you think she’ll let me do her hair?”

“He’s so pale… is that normal for humans?”

“For some of us, yes.”

“I think they’re waking up…”

“Oh, Tiger’s right! Step back, little ones.”

Omega groaned softly, blinking blearily. The Force nudged her, urging her to open her eyes. She obliged, opening her eyes and allowing her vision to come into focus. Her breath caught in her throat when she spotted a scaly, toothy muzzle right in front of her face. She yelped and scrambled back, tripping over something. She heard a grunt from beneath her, and a quick glance down revealed that it was Cal that she had tripped over. The duo quickly moved into a defensive position, her back against his as they called out to the Force.

A group of people had surrounded them, all from varying species. They were all different ages as well, ranging from a mature adult to a young toddler. They didn’t look aggressive, but they hadn’t ended up here on accident, so Omega remained on guard. She’d learned to not trust strangers at this point, no matter how friendly they seemed. The eldest member of the group, a Togruta, if her memory served her correctly, raised her hands.

“Easy, young ones. We’re not going to hurt you.” She said.

Omega reeled back at first, remembering hearing that same voice when she had been grabbed, but found herself unwilling to stay angry when she felt a wave of calm being sent to her through the Force. She felt Cal relax, and decided that she would put her trust in his comfort.

“C-crèshe Master Mirthver?” Cal’s voice held a trembling note of blinding hope. The Togruta nodded.

“It is wonderful to see you alive and well, young Ketsis.” She smiled, opening her arms. The padawan launched himself at her, sinking into the hug like his life depended on it.

Omega had no idea what a Crèshe Master was, but she’d gathered enough information to figure out that the woman was definitely a Jedi. Around her, she heard the Force hiss irritably, and it urged her to get up and get away from the Togruta. But one look at Cal’s relieved expression made her decision for her. If staying with this Jedi and her little group for a bit meant that her friend got to be happy, then the Force would simply have to suck it up.

“I can’t believe it! I- I thought for sure that you were dead!” He cried, burring himself on her robes.

“I am very much alive, as are some of those under my care.” Mirthver’s voice turned sad. “But not as many as there should be. I was not able to save them all.”

“You did the best you could. I know you did.” Cal whispered.

The Togruta smiled softly, and Omega could feel her Force signature thrum with comfort. She looked towards Omega, her smile still on her face even as a tinge of confusion.

“Who are you, little one? I don’t remember ever seeing you at the temple.” She said, looking Omega over.

“That’s because she never was. Omega is a clone.” Cal explained, pulling back from the hug.

“What?!” A voice snapped.

The Force buzzed with danger as Omega heard something flare to life behind her. She leapt back, falling off of the bed she had been sitting on. Just in time too, as a bright yellow lightsaber swung down on the place where she had just been.

“Chex!” Master Mirthver yelled, pulling Omega into her arms.

Cal’s eyes flashed dangerously and he growled. The Force buzzed with anger, and suddenly there was a crash and a grunt. Omega looked over her shoulder to see a human boy holding his head, a discarded lightsaber clattering to the ground. Cal pulled Omega into a protective hug, and she could feel that he was shaking. Actually, they both were.

Someone rushed over to where Chex lay, her muzzle pulled back into a concerned frown. She grabbed the lightsaber and tucked it away in a pocket before checking up on the boy. Chex groaned and rubbed his head, glaring at Cal and Omega.

“What the hell?! Why are you defending a karking clone?!” He hissed.

“Chex Varren!” The Togruta’s voice boomed as she stood. Cal and Omega shuffled to the side, and Cal cringed in shame at the tone of her voice, even if her ire was not directed at him. “We do not attack innocents! And watch your language, there are younglings here!”

“Innocents?!” He balked. “She’s. A. Clone! You know, the people who betrayed us and murdered our entire Order?!”

“Does she look like a murderer to you?” The woman gestured to Omega, who shrunk back under Chex’s gaze.

“It doesn’t matter what she looks like.” He spat venomously, getting to his feet. “A clone’s a clone, and clones are monsters.”

“No we’re not!” Omega defended, her chest puffing up in defensive rage. “It’s the inhibitor chips! They’re what made everyone go bad! They didn’t want to betray you!”

“Lies! You’re lying!” Chex snarled. “I’m not going to let you trick me, and I’m not going to let you hurt my family!”

“I don’t want to hurt your family!” Omega exploded, the Force crackling around her. It wanted her out, wanted her away from the danger.

“ENOUGH!”

Master Mirthver stepped in between the two bristling children. She pointed a finger towards a tunnel entrance, and Omega realized that she wasn’t sitting in a room, but a well lit cave.

“Go scout the perimeter. We need to make sure the actual threat hasn’t managed to find us.” She commanded.

The padawan slunk away, scowling as he went. His hand raised, and his lightsaber snapped into his grasp. The furry person that had been checking him over stepped aside, scowling at him.

“Dick.” She muttered, and Omega blinked at the insult.

The scowling teen turned to Omega, and her face became infinitely softer.

“Sorry about him, he’s a jerk even on the best of days.” She said, kneeling down to that she was eye level with Omega. Cal released her from his protective hold, the Force settling as the tension in the air dissipated. She had brilliant white fur and piercing blue eyes, a headpiece adorned with crystals looped around her pointed ears. “I’m Ebba Freclo, but everyone calls me Ebby.”

“I’m… Omega.” Omega said, reaching out a hand, as she knew that was what was considered to be polite. Ebby smiled and extended her own paw, shaking Omega’s hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. The Light shines so brightly in you.” Ebby complimented.

“Thanks?” Omega glanced at Cal, wondering if that was the right response. He nodded.

“It’s a good thing. The Light guides us down the right path.”

Omega nods, before looking at Master Mirthver. “Um, why are we here? I mean, you could have just came and said hello.”

“Ah, yes, I apologize for our… less than favourable methods of getting you here.” She said, sounding a bit sheepish, “But we had to be sure that strange looking clone couldn’t sneak up on us.”

“Crosshair? But he-” She cut herself off, taking a moment to imagine what Crosshair might do if he came back to find them talking to a bunch of lightsaber-wielding strangers. “Okay, fair enough. But we need to go back. He’s gonna be worried about us!”

“Wait, you were with him willingly?” Ebby questioned. Cal nodded.

“He saved our lives. We got captured by the Empire, and he got us out. His chip is malfunctioning for some reason.” He explained.

“And now we’re trying to contact his brothers so that they can come get us.” Omega added.

“You’re not staying?” A tiny voice piped up.

Omega looked down and saw a Nautolan girl looking up at her with wide, sad eyes. She was a rich purple with pale cream markings, dressed in a soft green tunic and brown pants. A bracelet was fastened around her wrist, a chunk of the same crystal as the teen had attached to the simple brown accessory.

“Well…” Omega glanced at Cal, who was giving the youngling with the scaly muzzle a hug. He mouthed “just a bit longer”, and Omega sighed.

“Crosshair’s gonna have our heads for this- okay, we’ll stay for a little bit longer.” She conceded.

Cheers erupted from the gathered younglings. The Nautolan girl and a young Wookie grabbed Omega’s hands and pulled her away.

“Come on! Let’s make flower crowns!” The girl squeaked happily.

Omega laughed and let herself be pulled away.

“Will you train with us? Me and Tiger are gonna practise tree hopping.” The scaly girl asked Cal.

“I guess I could. Don’t expect me to be very good though.” Cal smiled, letting himself be pulled along.

Omega quickly picked up the skill of flower crown making, her hands easily threading the stems. The two younglings chatted on either side of her, although she needed translations for what the Wookie was saying. They told her about everyone who lived in their little hidden crèshe. There was Crèshe Master Azeu Mirthver, Ebba the Bothan, Tiger the Dathomirian, Javeri the Wookie, Xanbi the Nautolan, Chex the Human, Beska the Barabel, and Chi the Togorian. Tiger, Ebby, and Chex were padawans, with Ebby almost ready to become a Jedi Knight. Javerie, Xanbi, Beska, and Chi were still younglings, Beska being the oldest at 10, and Chi being the youngest, only a few months old.

“What’s it like living with a baby?” Omega asked.

“It’s hard. He’s always putting out his emotions, which means you’re either feeling really happy, really tired, or really upset. Me an’ Javeri can’t watch him for too long because we can’t put shields up yet.” Xanbi sighed.

“And he cries when he’s upset! He’s really loud!” Javeri rumbled, Xanbi translating.

“Sounds awful.” Omega frowned.

“It’s not all bad.” Xanbi said, examining her flower crown. “He’s really cute, and he’s fun to play with when he’s happy.”

“Why isn’t he out here with us?” Omega asked.

“Chi’s too little to make flower crowns!” Xanbi and Javeri giggled.

“Oh.” Omega said simply. “I didn’t know. I’ve never actually seen a baby before.”

“What?” Javeri questioned. “Didn’t you see baby clones?”

“No, clones aren’t sent out until they’re physically around your age.” Omega explained. “The Kaminoans do something to make them grow up twice as fast.”

“How old are you?” Xanbi looked up at Omega.

“5 and a half years old.” She replied.

“WHAT!” Both younglings yelped.

“You’re younger than me!” Javeri warbled.

“You’re, like, a little kid!” Xanbi said, dumbfounded.

“Remember, I age twice as fast as you do.” Omega reminded them.

“Why?” Xanbi asked.

Xanbi’s question made Omega’s face turn sad.

“Because clones were made for war. They wanted us to grow up fast so that we could go and fight. If I was a regular clone, I’d be sent off to fight in a few years.” She said softly.

“That’s horrible!” Javeri said. “You can’t make little kids fight! That’s a grown-up thing!”

“It should be.” Omega agreed. “But to the Republic and the Kaminoans, the clones were grown ups.”

The two younglings looked at each other in utter disbelief.

“We’ll change it!” Javeri stated in a serious voice, or at least as serious as a 6 year old could be. “One day, we’ll be big! And we’ll make sure no kids ever have to fight, clones or not!”

Omega gave them hopeful smiles. These kids were the future of the Jedi, and if they could learn from past mistakes, Omega thought that future would be pretty bright.

Cal panted as he leaned against the tree for support. Beside him, Tiger crouched on the branch, the tree limb still shaking from when he had landed. The peach-coloured Dathomirian smiled at him, his milky white eyes shining in the mid-day sun. How a blind boy could jump and land so gracefully, Cal would never know.

“How,” He sucked in a deep breath, “how do you do this so easily?”

“I rely on the Force.” Tiger said with his feather-soft voice. “It guides me. I can feel it constantly.”

“Yeah?” Cal huffed, sweat dripping down his neck. “You and Omega would get along great.”

“The Force loves her. It sings with joy when she’s happy and thunders with anger when she’s not. I could feel its anger when Chex tried to attack her.” Tiger mused. “It won’t let you two stay, you know.”

“What?” Confusion rippled through Cal. What did that mean?

“It wants her to leave, to get away from us. I don’t know why, but her place isn’t here. But she won’t leave without you, and it doesn’t want her to be alone.” He explained.

“How do you know this?” Cal asked.

“I told you, I’m always feeling the Force. She has bonded to you, which is unheard of. Padawans don’t even form bonds like that with other padawans, let alone random Force-sensitives.” Tiger gave him a knowing look. “But you don’t seem to be to keen on the idea of severing the bond while you still can.”

It was true, he didn’t want to loose his connection to Omega. She was a source of comfort in a sea of turmoil, a guiding star to keep him on the Light’s path. He wanted to be the same for her as well, someone that she could go to when she was at her lowest. So what if this wasn’t the Jedi way? The Order was gone, its members left scattered to the wind. The Code, he figured, could be broken a bit if it meant that himself and others might make it to adulthood, to be able to grow up and become the next generation of Jedi.

“Cal!”

He looks down, and there she is, holding a ring of golden and orange flowers, a crown of her own adorning her head, petals of blue and purple hues creating a halo of colour.

“I made you a flower crown! Come down here so that I can put it on you!” She chirped.

A warmth blooms in his chest, and he wonders how the idea of him leaving her can even exist in someone’s mind. Tiger laughs beside him.

“You’re so open around her. Perhaps Master Mirthver can teach you both to reign in your emotions.” He suggests as Cal begins to climb down. “You two are like beacons in the Force when you’re together, it’s how we found you today. If we could track you using your Force signature, so could someone less friendly.”

Cal paused at that. Tiger had a point. If the Jedi had been able to find them, then a Sith definitely could. His stomach roiled in fear at that thought, and he accidentally sent his emotions through his and Omega’s bond.

“Cal?” Omega called, worry in her voice. “You alright?”

“I’m fine!” He called back, shoving his fears into a small place deep down in his chest. Hopefully, she’d think that his emotions had come from him being up so high.

“Do you need help?”

“No, no I got it!”

He shimmied his way down, jumping off once he was low enough. He gave her a reassuring grin, and she returned it with a smile of her own.

“Here!” She chirped, placing the flower crown on his head. “I made this for you!”

He let her put the flowers on his head, bowing his head a bit so she could position it easier. The ring of bright gold and orange sat lightly on his hair, just snug enough to not slide off when he moved.

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” He said sincerely, reaching up to feel the soft petals.

“You look so pretty.” Omega gushed.

Cal sputters at that, his cheeks flushing red. “Y-you don’t call boys p-pretty, Omega!”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “What? Says who?”

Cal rubbed the back of his neck. “You know… people.”

Omega snorted. “I don’t care what “people” think, Cal. I think that you’re pretty, and that’s that.” She said, booping his nose.

He blinked, going cross-eyed as he tried to look at where she’d tapped him. Her boldness was stunning, and he found himself feeling a bit more okay about being called pretty.

“You’re pretty too, ‘mega.” He murmured, and he felt his breath stutter at the electric burst of fondness that exploded across their bond.

“You think so?” She asked shyly, although it seemed like she didn’t know why she suddenly felt shy.

“Yeah. Prettiest girl I know.” He said, confident in his answer. If he could make her feel that happy just by giving her a compliment, than he would do it far more often.

Omega beamed at him, her honey-brown eyes positively sparkling.

“If you two start making out, I’m actually going to be sick.”

Chex’s voice shattered their shared serenity. Cal whipped around, missing how Omega’s face wrinkled in confusion. He glared at the older boy, his green eyes turning sharp.

“If you say something like that again, I’m actually going to punch your teeth in.” Cal mimicked Chex’s tone of voice as he made his irritation clear.

“Oooh, I’m so scared.” Chex put his hands up in mock surrender. “Like you could even reach my teeth. You’re such a runt, you’d have to jump.”

“That’s not very Jedi-like of you, Chex.” Cal hissed.

“Yeah well, neither is your attachment.” The older padawan draws out the last word teasingly.

Cal opens his mouth to retort, but suddenly he feels a sharp pang of panic ring out from Omega. Chex turned his head, raising an eyebrow in mildly disinterested confusion as he looked at her.

“What’s wrong with yo-”

“GET DOWN!”

Omega launched forward, tackling Chex to the ground. A screech pierced Cal’s ears, and he stumbled back as a creature burst through the canopy, smashing into the ground where Chex had been seconds ago. Its tail whipped him, sending Cal to the ground. He grunted in pain, curling up into a defensive ball. Clutching his stomach, he could only watch as the beast reared up, snarling.

It was a winged equine, skinny and malnourished with shining blue fur. Dark purple spots that reminded Cal of eyes dotted the animal’s body. It had three talon-like toes, and its wickedly sharp claws dug into the dry earth. A set of powerful feathered wings beat wildly, their teal and pink feathers gusting up dust. Rectangular pupils honed in on Omega and Chex, the black blocks standing out admits the creature’s yellow and orange eyes.

The creature lunged for Omega, dragging her up by her foot and tossing her to the ground. Omega screamed, and Cal could feel his own back explode with pain as she hit the dirt. Fear drove him to try and get up, but he found himself unable to. A warm wetness was beginning to form under his hands, and he instinctively applied pressure. Helpless, he watched horrified as the winged animal kicked at her, it’s sharp hooves slicing through her shirt and leaving bloody marks behind.

“Nrgh! Get away from her!” He shouted, trying to draw the animals attention off of her.

The equine payed him no mind, grabbing at Omega again. It’s wicked fangs closed around her leg, and he felt himself pale when he saw rivets of blood dribble down the beast’s thick neck. Omega was howling in pain at this point, and the sound broke his heart and made him feel like the lowest scum for not being able to help her.

“HEY FEATHER-FACE!”

The animal jerked it’s head to the right. A dusty, angry Chex. His yellow lightsaber crackled fiercely, the glow reflecting off of a stream of blood that dripped down his face from a gash on the side of his head.

“Eat lightsaber!” He yelled, swinging his weapon at the feathered equine. He managed to hit a wingtip, and the creature shrieked, dropping Omega. She hit the ground with a thud, and he saw her eyes go wide as the air rushed out of her lungs.

The aggravated animal snapped and snarled at the teen, the two circling each other. Chex darted forward, slicing into the creature’s flank. It roared and whipped its head around, grabbing Chex’s arm and tossing the teen away. Suddenly, Tiger leapt out of the tree above the animal with a yell, landing on it’s back and grabbing its ears. The equine bucked and brayed, trying to throw Tiger off of its back. Tiger moved to grab his lightsaber, but the animal took advantage of his distraction and swung its tail around and struck Tiger in the head. The Dathomirian yelped in pain and fell, gasping in pain when a hoof struck him in the chest.

The animal was heaving at this point, foamy saliva coating its jaws. It staggered in pain, its injured wing twitching as it made an odd wheezing sound. It lowered its head, growling at the ground as it continued to sway and twitch. Omega let out a high pitched whine, and the animal’s attention snapped towards her. It bellowed and reared up, its hooves poised to come down directly on her chest. Cal closed his eyes and jerked his head away, unwilling to watch his only friend in the whole galaxy die right in front of him.

Bam!

The beast fell silent, then Cal heard a loud thud as it hit the ground. His eyes flew open, his vision now filled with bright blue fur. The animal wasn’t breathing. As quickly as he possibly could, he lifted himself up as much as possible. His ears were full of the sound of his own heart pounding, but he was vaguely aware of the sounds of the other Padawans making noises of pain and calling out for Master Mirthver. His head tilted upwards, and he nearly sobbed in relief when he saw an armored figure crouched on a high up branch.

Crosshair’s presence brought a sense of much needed safety, especially as fatigue grabbed Cal in its iron-clad grip. His head his the dirt again, darkness starting to seep into his vision. As the world faded away, he saw Crosshair rush towards them, unable to decide which child he should attend to first. He must have seemed more injured, because he was soon scooped up into a secure hold and brought closer to Omega. He blinked as Crosshair began speaking in Mando’a, his words too fast and Cal’s hearing too muted to be understood. His head lolled to the side, his cheek resting on Crosshair’s scuffed armor. Omega stared back at him, her eyes full of pain. She was panting shallowly, tears dripping down her face. He reached out and grabbed her hand, holding it as he slipped into unconsciousness.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump[18]#the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #star wars #omega bad batch #cal ketsis #crosshair bad batch #jedi oc #padawan oc #youngling oc #whump #tw blood #tw injury #tw animal death #tw animal harm #tw child harm

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gacy-lajla · 3 years

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karasuno x trans!reader

warnings: accidental and intended misgendering, transphobic comments like twice and probably a curse or two

summary: after outing yourself as a trans man you were forced to live with your uncle Ittetsu Takeda and transfer schools

a/n: heya i’ve been binge watching haikyuu this past month or less (currently through half of season 4) and i just really really wanted to read some content where the reader is transgender!! i’m agender (they/them or he because we don’t have neutral pronouns where i live)

_____

Training started just like always, after a quick warm up everyone got back to improving on their skills. The team worked like clockwork as they practised as a group – of course not leaving out a little banter here and there. Coach Ukai was currently talking outside with Takeda which was nothing too out of the ordinary. The team was used to depend on themselves and coordinate accordingly. What they didn’t expect was for the two absentees to enter with a third person again. You. Tanaka and Nishinoya were the first to react, curiosity making the served ball drop.

“Is that a new manager?” Nishinoya’s eyes lit up as he took in the figure of the new person – Karasuno sure was lucky in that regard, it seemed.

“She looks cute, but not as cute as our Kiyoko!”, Tanaka added in, standing next to the Libero.

The other players attention was on you shortly after, taking your presence in before Sugawara scolded the two friends for being distracted that easily and to keep their eyes on the ball. They were about to resume when Takeda called for everyone’s attention. Quickly gathering around the coach, the teacher and the newcomer they bowed their heads in greeting, just as you did.

Harshly giving you two pats on your left shoulder blade Ukai made you step forward with himself, giving you a reassuring smile in the process. You rubbed your cold hands together, nervousness taking over your body as all eyes were now set on you. Catching on quickly the man introduced you to the team himself.

“Everyone, this is (y/n), a third year. He recently transferred to this school and will be joining our team from now on, I expect you to be respectful towards him.”

You bowed again giving a small “pleased to meet you”, thankful that Ukai spared you of making a fool out of yourself by tripping over your own words. After that you got a short introduction from everyone, trying your best to remember their names immediately but that wasn’t really your forte so you just told yourself you’d pay attention to the others calling each other’s names.

After that you warmed yourself up to join them in the actual training. During that time you couldn’t help but listen in on some of the conversations as there wasn’t much else to focus on.

“Isn’t that a girl? Why is she training with the boys?”

“Yeah, wouldn’t it be better if she just joined the girl’s training?”

“I heard that she’s actually a he.”

You didn’t pay attention to who was talking – they seemed not to be part of the volleyball club – but it sure hit you in the most vulnerable of all places. Just until recently you had been playing with the girls from your former school. You actually transferred because, after coming out as trans, you have been excluded from any gendered club activities as the authority was unsure about how to handle a case such as yourself. There were also some actions inside of school which convinced you that your former school was not the ideal place for you to stay at. Not only that but your parents sent you to stay with your uncle – Ittetsu Takeda – because obviously you were ungrateful towards them. Not that you really mind, he’s much nicer and way more understanding – well, still in the process of understanding, but at least he’s trying his best, which was nice.

“It’s weird calling someone with boobs ‘he’.”

Your jog slowed down, your mind trying to focus on suppressing tears that threatened to appear. Taking a deep breath you gained some tempo again before taking a stop next to the coach again.

“I think I’ve warmed up enough, am I supposed to just… join them?”

Ukai nodded so you continued to walk towards the line waiting to receive their spikes. In your old team you didn’t really have a set position, rotating it around inside the group as the sport wasn’t taken too seriously. Though opponents were cautious of you every time you went out on an attack you had to admit that you had more fun in a defensive position, receiving the ball was one of the best feelings you could imagine while playing on the field. But when it came to skill you would probably be considered an all-rounder.

It didn’t take long until it was your turn to hit the ball – two setters being present making progress like clockwork. You got a pass from a grey haired boy, Sugawara if you remembered correctly. It was easy to remember him, he just had a sweet aura about him which made it easy to remember his name. The moment the ball hit your hand and the ground on the opposite side of the net immediately after, silence befell the room. The Libero didn’t manage to get the ball by a hairs width. Turning towards the setter you nervously played with your hands.

“Could you try to pass the ball a little higher next time? I might not be the tallest person but I can jump pretty high.”

After a brief silence a smile flashed on his face – which you immediately returned -, giving you a thumbs up. “Sure!”

Moving out of the way a boy about your height came up to you, looking at you with bright and sparkling eyes. You didn’t remember his name but you were quite sure he was a first year.

“Can you show me how you did that? When did you learn that?”

You were stunned into silence for a second, wondering what he could possibly mean. He must’ve meant your spike, right? You’ve noticed that they tended to spike their balls quite far which you didn’t – a force of habit since in your old team your teammates struggled to get the ball higher up most of the time. Rubbing the back of your neck nervously you chuckled a bit.

“Well, my old team didn’t really have a setter that managed to keep the ball at the perfect height every time so I had to adapt, I guess? So when I jump too high I just try to get the ball on the other side as close to the net as possible. It took me some time not to touch the net in the process but with enough training it just happens less frequently.”

“Woah, that’s so cool! Do you mind staying after training so you can show me, please?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not.”

After that you got quite comfortable with Sugawara’s sets which never seemed to falter. It finally felt like you were playing volleyball with people who shared the same enthusiasm as yourself which was a nice change. After a few more turns everyone was gathered again. The coach announce that you’d be playing one set before packing up for the day.

The opposing team consisted of Daichi, Sugawara, Tanaka, Kinoshita, Hinata, Yamaguchi and Nishinoya. You were teamed up with Asahi, Ennoshita, Narita, Kageyama and Tsukishima. To be honest, you really hoped you’d end up with the setter you’ve been training with already but that wishful thinking should apparently be denied. You wondered if the coach did it on purpose because he noticed you avoiding the other setter until now? Whatever it was there was no time to complain, not that you actually would.

You started in the back left – thankfully not serving the ball as you struggled most with it. You always made little mistakes, if it was throwing the ball too high or too low, but most commonly not noticing that you stepped over the line. Yes, when you hit the ball you usually hit it hard but if it didn’t reach the other side of the net or flew into the out there was no use to it.

The whistle ripped you out of your thoughts, focusing on the game. Yamaguchi had the first serve. It seemed like the ball was heading straight for Ennoshita next to you but in the last moment it drifted off to the side towards you. Noticing this you quickly sprang into action, diving for the ball. Despite managing to touch it there was no way of it to be saved, the first point going to the opposite team. That had to be a jump float serve! Impressed you looked at the boy breathing a quiet ‘woah’ before resuming your position. Ennoshita turned toward you as well.

“You react quick, I’m sure we’ll get the next one!”

You smiled at him, nodding.

The next serve was easier to react to as Yamaguchi failed to hit the ball right, resulting in Ennoshita successfully receiving. Next thing you knew your teams setter passed the ball towards the guy with the ponytail in front of you, spiking the ball with confidence only to be received by Daichi.

“Good spike!”, you cheered the guy in front of you, receiving a shy ‘thanks’ in return.

The other team struggled a little with the received ball, the second touch not reaching the setter resulting in a successful block from the tall blonde with the glasses, earning your first point. Encouraging words were exchanged and your team rotated its players clockwise, you now standing in the front left, ponytail standing to your right and Ennoshita behind you, Narita having the next serve. His hit seemed a little unstable but ended up rolling over the net, earning you yet another point.

His next serve seemed more intentional but was easily received by Daichi once more, passing the ball to Sugawara who set the ball nicely for Tanaka, but the tall blonde managed to touch the ball taking a direct course towards Narita once again who passed the ball towards your setter. You took the opportunity to run forward, either receiving the ball or distracting the other players – you assumed that he’d play to the ponytail guy again since the middle blocker was smaller by a few heads and thus less likely to block the ball. Sugawara, opposite of you, kept you covered, not joining the small redhead. And just as you predicted ponytail got the ball. What took you a little by surprise was the height the first year student reached, he was easily on par with you. But that didn’t help as a point was scored nonetheless.

The game went on, a head to head game. Your team had 12 points while the opponents had 14. You had scored none of the points, the setter not having played once in your direction. It bugged you, yes, but you also tried to be mindful. You’ve never had any interaction with that guy so it would be hard for both of you to get used to one another, possibly making you lose more points than you would gain.

You nervously fiddled with the volleyball in your hands. It was time for your first serve and your gut was telling you something really bad was about to happen. You’d definitely screw this one up. You really wished you’d practised your serves a little more now. If you didn’t jump you probably wouldn’t be able to score at all because you knew from experience that your standing serves always ended in home runs. Gulping down whatever was blocking your airway the moment you heard the whistle you took a deep breath before throwing the ball. Taking a few quick steps you jumped, dread filling you the moment you hit the ball with all of your might. It wouldn’t be high enough.

Oh no.

A loud thud was heard and the person in front of you stumbled a little forward, holding the back of his head before falling to his knees. Panicked you rushed towards the setter, the looming silence making you wince with every squeaky step you took.

“I’m so, so incredibly sorry! Are you okay? I didn’t mean to hit you like that-”

You cut yourself off the moment the dark haired setter whipped his head around and glared at you. Taking a few steps back others rushed to his side, helping him up asking if he was alright. Reassuring them that he was alright everyone went back to their positions, albeit reluctantly. And not like this situation was humiliating enough already, the moment the coach spoke up you really wanted to be swallowed by the ground.

“(y/n), you stepped over the line.”

You felt your soul leave your body, Asahi, now to your left tried to assure you that everything was alright. But for the rest of the game you didn’t dare call out for the ball once, not having scored once in the end despite winning by a narrow margin. You really feel like you’ve fucked up this one.

After cleaning up you quickly threw on a sweater to keep yourself warm. You were about to call out to you uncle to wait for you when something quick made you stop abruptly. It was Hinata.

“Do you still don’t mind showing me that spike you did? It was really awesome and I want to see it again!”

_______

a/n: thank you for reading! I’m not sure how i want to continue this, i might just turn this into one overall thing with no focus on one character (i’d probably write something similar for other schools as well) or i might split off from here so there would be different ‘routes’ (also including other schools! as in karasuno reader and kuroo, bokuto, akaashi or whoever)

feedback regarding this would be nice :0 have a nice morning, day, evening or night <3

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bumbleberrysky · 4 years

Text

alexa, play candyshop (bass boosted) | 01

pairing: gabriel x reader genre: soulmate au, canon divergent around s13, hurt/comfort, humour, future smut (probs) wc: 3.2k rating: sfw warnings: none except the appearance of battered gabriel fresh out of asmodeus’ hold notes: welcome to my first dive into writing for supernatural! i saw someone say that s13 lit a fire under their ass like nothing else and honestly i don’t think i could have described it better. i binged so much while catching up the past few weeks idk who i am anymore

You knew there was a reason some divine power brought you to the Winchesters all those years ago, but to this day you still have no idea what that reason is. It's something you're destined to find out soon though, especially when you return to the bunker after months away and find not only a new face, but one that belongs to someone who up until that point you'd thought was dead. What does his return have to do with the changes you're suddenly experiencing in yourself? Will you finally find out the reason you'd been brought here in the first place? Maybe...

Chuck works in mysterious ways after all.

next.

“Honeys, I’m home!”

The bunker has the same light aroma of musty air and metal as you let yourself in through the heavy front door, feet carrying you, out of habit more than anything, to the steel landing that marks the entrance to the fortress. It’s been so long since you were last here that the two men you used to hunt with regularly have likely forgotten they gave you a spare key. Well, they hadn’t exactly given it to you so much as you’d made a copy on the down-low and kept it for occasions such as this.

One hand keeps pressure on your arm, an attempt to stem the bleeding, and the other carries your single carry-on bag. You make it about halfway down the stairs before your gaze swings out over the foyer and you freeze, mid-step.

Sam and Dean, the two figures you expected to find here, are standing stock-still with their guns half-poised (not directed at you) and expressions on their faces that are a combination of shocked, pissed, and extremely confused (mostly directed at you). Following the line of their weapons leads you to the other two occupants in the room, most definitely unexpected and completely unfamiliar.

One is in rags, cowering, and whimpering, unrecognisable underneath filthy tangled hair that covers his face, and the other is in a prim suit marred only by blood and a bit of dirt, barely a single strand of dark hair atop his head out of place.

“Twinkletoes? What the hell are you doing here?!”

It’s Dean’s stupid, old nickname for you that breaks you out of your shock, a glare already falling onto your face with the practised ease of muscle memory.

“I’ll answer that when you tell me what the hell I just walked in on—” You come the rest of the way down the stairs, slower and more cautious now, with your gaze trained on the two at the other end of the table. It’s when the man in rags finally looks up from where he had been cowering and you catch a glimpse of his face, bloody and bruised but instantly familiar, that your words swell and catch in your throat.

“… Gabriel?”

The brothers in front of you heave a great, unanimous sigh, a look passed between them telling you that you’re about to be on the receiving end of a very ludicrous and typical Winchester story.

x x x

The first time you met Gabriel was not long after you’d gone through the biggest plot twist of your entire life. You’d gone to sleep in your bed, in your home, and woken up in a completely different part of the world, like some magician had snapped their fingers and you’d been the punchline of their very next trick. Much to your regret and distaste, some minor investigation revealed that where you’d woken up in the backseat of a car on the side of the road was in some state in the US. You’d sworn to yourself that you would never step foot here in your entire life and then, like God or whoever reigned above was laughing straight in your face, you’d just up and woken up in some random car in a place that made you long to be literally anywhere else.

Preferably somewhere where the occupants didn’t have such easy access to guns.

…like the two men who screamed and pointed theirs at you when you popped up from their backseat after they climbed into the cabin, fast food in their arms.

That was the first time you’d met the infamous hunting brothers, the Winchesters, and the first time of many you’d nearly died in their company.

It had taken a while for them to trust you, but after you inviting yourself onto a few of their cases and saving their asses a handful of times (ignoring the amount of times they saved yours because you forgot that almost every American slept with a gun beneath their pillow) they’d eventually taken you under their proverbial wing. It helped that you had literally nowhere else to go and nothing but the clothes on your back and a bare handful of belongings to your name. Once they figured out you weren’t hiding anything up your sleeve and that you’re just naturally annoying and a little dumb, they’d happily invited you to become an official-unofficial part of their little hunting gang. This means you’re also familiar with the hilarious angel they have in their back pocket. Castiel is a riot and one of the things you miss most when you go off to hunt on your own.

Having been around during the whole ordeal of Lucifer and Michael going through the motions of continuing their family spat on an apocalyptic scale, you too grew to be familiar with their youngest brother, the archangel Gabriel. Of course, while you’d been there for a fair amount of the angel-turned-trickster’s shenanigans, you weren’t there for the final appearance he made at a hotel in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. In complete juxtaposition to the fact that you could count on one hand the amount of times you’d interacted properly with Gabriel, the sensations you experienced at the news of his sacrifice, his death, were unlike anything you’d ever felt before. You like to consider yourself much more emotionally healthy and with an emotional range far larger than that of a teaspoon and the Winchesters’, but that… that news was something that it had taken you months to recover from fully.

And even then, apparently your recovery wasn’t as complete as you’d thought, because hearing what the boys have told you now has made your eyes burn and your stomach turn into a nest of manic bees, your insides lined with flowers and pollen. You think, for a moment, that you just might be sick.

You’re sitting in the library, Gabriel having been taken to a room of his own by one Winchester while the other fills you in before they’re both reunited before you, and you’re in the kind of mood where you sort of want to just sit there and dissociate for a few hours, truthfully. You can tell you’re not going to get that opportunity though, so in the wake of the bombshell they’d just dropped on you about all you’d missed in the past few months—that they had apparently forgotten to tell you over the phone when you checked in occasionally— you do the next best thing you can think of for the moment.

Put it on the backburner, baby.

You massage your temple with your fingers as you lean your head into your hand, a sigh escaping through your nose. “See, this is why it feels like I have been brought on as a babysitter—I leave for a few months and you old men manage to dig up another almost-apocalypse and find and raise Lucifer’s kid?”

“Alright, first of all,” Dean whips out a finger to point at you, filling you with glee. You’ve barely been back a few hours and already you’re stepping back into your favourite “stir-the absolute-shit-out-of-Dean” pants. As always, he is almost pitifully quick to rise to the bait. “Old? Who are you calling old? Alright so maybe we have a few years on you but that’s just because you’re a toddler and w—”

“Dean,” Sam places a placating hand on his brother’s shoulder, a look that seems to be a mixture of amusement and exasperation crossing his features. “You’re making it too easy for her.”

The older Winchester pauses, turning to pin you with an accusing look. You smile, not even attempting to appear innocent. After staring at you for several long moments, Dean makes the ‘eyes-on-you’ gesture with his fingers before turning away, rolling the tension from his shoulders as he takes a seat across from you.

“You were gone for almost a year this time, did you have any luck, well, leaving?” Sam brings your attention back to him, the question dragging out a sigh that feels like it’s been dredged from the very depths of your being.

“No,” you answer, sounding somewhat petulant even to your own ears. “Why is it so hard to leave this god-forsaken country! I hate it here. I’m sick of trying to make a run for it and being zapped back into a swamp, or—or a pool at the top of a penthouse suite in the middle of some random city! It sucks balls.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dean waves his hand, enjoying the dirty look you give him. “So you still haven’t found whatever purpose you’re meant to fulfil while here?”

You huff, shaking your head. “No. It’s been years and I still have no idea why I woke up here that day. Or why I can’t leave.”

Over the time you’ve spent with the Winchesters, a few things became apparent to the three of you about your stay here. One, it was indefinite. You’d discovered quickly that you are, quite literally, unable to leave. Every time you get close to escaping this country you black out and wake up back inside. Sometimes in a helpful place, sometimes…. Not.

Two, the three of you had thrown around and entertained the idea that maybe you’d been brought here for a reason, that like them maybe you’d been divinely allocated a role to play. But you’ve been through a lot with the Winchesters, whether in person or by association, and still…

You’re no closer to being able to leave and return from whence you came.

You have no idea why you’re here!

This is something that has really contributed to your temporary career as a hunter here. That isn’t to say that this profession isn’t something you were involved in before you came here, but you’ve really… you really dove into it, whether as a distraction or as an ongoing investigation as to what on earth was going to set you free of your tie to this place. A part of you thinks that each case you take on, each person or family you save and creature you slay might be the one reason that brought you here, and the one task that with its completion will grant you freedom. You’ve never been a fan of being caged; just because this one spans a grand total of 9.834 million square kilometres doesn’t make it any less of one.

This most recent expedition that led you to part from the Winchesters for such a long time was another of your failed attempts to leave. You think you’ve tried escaping at every possible point along the coastline and border by now, with a definite lack of success.

“Well, if it really is some divine intervention keeping you here, then it’s better if you just sit back and settle down, twinkletoes.” Dean huffs a laugh, leaning back in his chair with an accompanying creak from the wood. “Those divine types have proven to be… kind of assholes.”

You frown, but he isn’t saying anything you haven’t already thought. It’s part of why you’d settled so easily into hunting here, actually. ‘When in Rome…’, as they say. You’re familiar with the hunting grind and there is comfort in familiarity.

“Are you going to stay a while?” Sam asks, opening the first-aid box he’d first brought over when you’d settled down. Ah, right—you’d almost forgotten about the injury on your arm, despite the fact that you are still pressing a palm to it. You listen as he speaks, almost swearing you can detect a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “You still have a room here for you, of course. We haven’t touched anything inside.”

“Yeah, mostly because we didn’t wanna deal with the mess and the booby-trapped doors—” Dean’s under-the-breath mutter is cut off by your coo, a wide smile pulling your lips.

“Oh, you two missed me, didn’t you?” Instantly, you are successful in ruffling Dean’s feathers— Sam might take a bit more work, though. “I know I really light this dark, dingy place up but I didn’t know it was that bad without me! Ah, perhaps I will stay a while. You know, out of charity.”

“Sammy,” Dean says, beseeching. “It’s not too late—you hold her back and I’ll find her key. It’s not too cold, she’ll be alright outside.”

An appalled and affronted look slips onto your face and Sam has to clear his throat so that he doesn’t laugh and add to his brother’s torment.

“I’m not a misbehaving puppy,” you say, holding your arm out for Sam as he comes over and finally freeing your bloody hand. “Wait, unless you want me to be. Been broadening your horizons beyond animated tentacle porn have you, Deanie-bo-beenie?”

On cue, Dean’s face flushes light red, whether from anger or a brief spritz of embarrassment, only God knows. You can see Sam’s face grow tense from the effort of holding back noise in your peripheral as he tends to your arm.

“You know what? I’m better than this. I’m gonna let it go.” Dean rises from his chair, making a show of dusting off your metaphorical drama. His light eyes flick to you, squinting. “I’m tired; I have a date with my memory foam pillow and nice, warm, feather duvet and a good night’s rest, so goodnight. I hope your bed has bed bugs, twinkletoes, and I hope they bite.”

“I hope you sleep well too, Dean!” you call after him, deciding you’ll have to give him a break from the bullying tomorrow or else he’ll explode before you can have much fun. “Do you want me to come tuck you in?”

“No! Goodnight!”

His yell and disappearance down the hall is followed a few moments later by the familiar sound of a door slamming shut,

“That’s not very fair of you,” Sam announces, sounding strained and very much like he’s trying not to laugh lest Dean has an ear pressed to his door. “He’s too tired to fight back right now.”

“I know,” you answer, wincing as he wipes down the laceration on your bicep and cleans the blood away with an alcohol wipe. It burns, but it’s definitely not the most painful thing you have ever experienced. “I hadn’t seen you guys in so long, though. I couldn’t help myself.”

Sam simply snorts, reaching for the needle and thread to being stitching the skin back together, and you breathe harshly through your nose as you reach for another topic to distract yourself.

“Are the two—sorry, the three of you actually dads now? To… to Lucifer’s half-angel kid? I thought angels getting frisky with humans was, uh… illegal up in heaven.”

You feel rather than see Sam roll his eyes, your own pointedly directed away from your arm where he has begun to get to work. “It’s Lucifer, y/n, I don’t think he cares about what’s illegal up in heaven.”

You purse your lips—he makes a fair point. Honestly, you feel a little silly for questioning it. “Right, and he’s… trapped in some other dimension? An alternate world where the apocalypse really happened.”

“Yep,” Sam says, hitting a particularly painful spot with his needle. You hiss, giving him a glare.

“I wasn’t even gone a year! Just hearing all this shit is stressing me out so much, dude.” You sigh, attempting to adjust your position in the wooden chair without jostling your arm too much. Thankfully, practice has made Sam quick at his job and already he is almost done piecing you back together. He finishes up with a knot, snipping the thread and then placing a large bandage carefully over the wound. He dusts his hands once done, standing from where he was leaning against the table and proceeding to loom over you like a T-Rex.

“You’re blocking my light, bro,” you inform him, narrowly avoiding a subsequent good-natured smack to your good arm. “Damn, what the hell! Didn’t you take an oath or some shit? I’m your patient!”

“I was studying law, not medicine,” Sam retorts dryly. He turns to leave and put the first aid supplies away, his back facing you but not before you see how his lips twitch. “So your annoying ass is free game.”

“Maybe so,” you acquiesce, rising from your seat with a light grunt as you jostle your arm. You consider asking Sam where Castiel is, to see if you can get a hit of the good stuff and skip the healing process, but think better of it. You always feel a bit bad asking him to heal you, though you barely ever have to since he’s like a rabid mother hen the second he sees blood on any of you. “God, I’m beat. I didn’t think I could get any more tired than I was before, but as always catching up with you two has aged me a few years and now I’m just about as tired as you two are all the time.”

Sam doesn’t rise to the ‘old man’ bait you dangle in front of him—never really does, if you’re being honest; that’s mostly Dean’s vice— but he does offer you a smile that is unexpectedly sincere and fond.

“Go to bed, toddler,” he retorts, before continuing in a softer tone, “… It’s good to see you again, y/n. I’m glad you’re here. Dean and Mom are going out on a hunt in the next few days and I think you can really help with, uh… the whole Gabriel thing.”

For a moment, you don’t say anything. You’d sort of been trying to avoid thinking about the elephant in your mind, for the very same reason that makes your eyes burn once more. It hurts, a lot, thinking and imagining what he must have gone through at the hands of Asmodeus. It feels like your heart is going to tear itself to pieces in your chest from the sheer extent of your empathy and how terrible you feel for him. The Gabriel you saw cowering before you earlier is nothing like the confident feathery asshole you used to know.

Even having only seen him once, it’s enough to make you fearful of the possibility that… he might be too far gone to ever return to that last echo of his previous self.

“I’m not sure what I’ll even be able to do to help,” you respond, approaching the doorway to the hall with your bag in tow. You pause to finish what you’re saying, meeting Sam’s puppy-like gaze from across the room. “But I’ll try. It hurts to see him like that, so… I’ll stay a while, to do whatever I can.”

Sam’s answering thankful smile and nod is all you can ask for in response as you turn and head further into the bunker, dragging your bags back to the room you’d come to call your own over the years. Your gaze strays on the way to one of the doors that has a little note taped on saying, ‘please do not open suddenly or loudly’, undoubtedly the room that they have allocated to Gabriel for the time being. Heart heavy in your chest, you continue on down the hall and tear your gaze away.

You’re not sure how much you can do for him, but you hope you can do something.

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bluejayblueskies · 3 years

Text

ten to one

Words: 2.8k

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Relationship: Tim Stoker/Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims/Sasha James

Characters: Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood, Jonathan Sims, Sasha James

Additional Tags: Fluff, Kissing, Alcohol, New Year’s Eve, tim is a sore loser, sasha has cats, martin hates chestnuts, jon just wishes they could drink something other than champagne

Summary:

“You’re going to be sick,” Jon comments, taking a small sip of champagne from his glass and ignoring the way Tim’s lips curl into a pout. He’d said, when Sasha had poured him a glass of champagne, that he’d thought it was meant to be drunk at midnight; she’d assured him that this bottle was one of their pre-countdown bottles.

Given the number of bottles lining her kitchen countertop, he was inclined to believe her.

----

The archival staff counts down to the new year with cupcakes, champagne, and cats.

Read on Ao3

Or read below:

That’s how many little cupcakes Tim’s eaten, by Jon’s count. When Tim grins at him, his sharp-toothed smile is stained black from the frosting.

Given the number of bottles lining her kitchen countertop, he was inclined to believe her.

“I’ll have you know,” Tim says, sliding closer to Jon on the couch and snagging his glass out of his hand, “that I have a stomach of steel. It’s sick-free!”

He takes a long sip of champagne as if to prove his point. His lips stain the rim of the glass black.

“Tim,” Jon says flatly. “That’s disgusting.”

Tim looks at the glass, noticing the discolouration. “Huh.” Then, a wide grin splits his mouth nearly in two, and before Jon can pull back, Tim presses a quick kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough that Jon can taste the sugar on Tim’s mouth.

It’s nice, and for a moment, Jon’s irritation melts a bit, softened by the champagne in his stomach and the feeling of Tim’s lips on his.

Then, Tim pulls back too-quick and squints at Jon’s mouth. “Huh,” he repeats. “Looks like black food dye really does stain everything.”

Jon looks at the glass, still in Tim’s hand, and then at Tim’s lips, tinged ever so slightly with black. His own still taste of sugar.

“Tim!”

That’s how old Martin was the last time he spent New Year’s Eve with someone. It had been the first time his parents had let him stay up until midnight, and they’d given him a champagne flute of sparkling apple juice so that when the clock hit midnight he could toast the new year just like they did. He’d barely made it, his eyes fighting a losing battle against exhaustion as the new year inched closer and closer, but he’d done it.

That had been a long time ago, though. After a while, Martin had taken to treating New Year’s Eve like any other day. No point in forcing himself to stay up late for something that was bound to be disappointing in the end.

Now, though, Martin’s sat on the couch at Sasha’s house with Tim’s legs across his lap and Sasha tucked into his side, a large container of cheesy popcorn balanced between the three of them. Jon’s somewhere in the kitchen, having squirmed out from underneath Tim long enough to take the chestnuts out of the oven. From the little frustrated noises Martin can hear coming from the kitchen, Jon’s struggling to extract them from their shells.

Martin’s really not a fan of chestnuts. But he’d rather die than tell Jon that right now.

So when Jon finally returns to the living room, a steaming bowl of shucked chestnuts in his hand, Martin accepts one with a smile. And maybe it’s something about that night or the way that Jon’s smiling at him, but when he bites into the chestnut, he doesn’t hate it.

He doesn’t hate it at all.

That’s what time Jon appears at Sasha’s front door, on time to the minute. He’s a good fifteen minutes ahead of Martin, who had sent Sasha a running late! text with a string of apologetic emojis attached to it, and at least an hour ahead of Tim, who has being fashionably late down to a science. Jon seems nervous, shifting back and forth on Sasha’s threshold with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a large bag of raw chestnuts in the other.

Sasha lets him in with a warm greeting and a smile (and, once she’s taken the bottle out of his hands so he won’t drop it, a quick kiss on his cheek). He sets the chestnuts on the counter, his eyes going to her living room couch, then the kitchen, before finding her again.

“Am I too early?” he says, eyes wide and unsure, and Sasha wonders briefly how he’d ever managed to convince them that he was stuffy and closed-off. Particularly when he’s standing in her living room, clutching a bag of chestnuts in his arms like a lifeline.

“Nope,” Sasha says, extracting the chestnuts from his arms with a smile. “You’re right on time.”

That’s how many times Sasha’s caught Tim trying to open the bottle of special midnight champagne, tucked away on the far corner of the counter and labelled with a bright blue sticky note to avoid being accidentally opened. She supposes if she’d wanted to Tim-proof it, she probably should have put it in a locked safe. Though he knows her so well, he’d probably be able to guess the passcode.

It should be irritating. Somehow, it’s hopelessly endearing instead.

“Tim,” Sasha says, snatching the champagne out of his hands as his thumbnail begins to pick at the gold foil covering the cork. There’s a rip in it when she extracts it from him, revealing a small strip of cork underneath. “That’s for later!” Her eyes slide to the left, where there’s a half-full, open bottle of champagne sitting on the counter next to them. “What’s wrong with that champagne?”

Tim gives her the saddest set of puppy dog eyes he has in his arsenal. “Sasha, I have been waiting months to drink that champagne. Months! I don’t want to wait until later!”

A weaker woman would have folded under the impressive weight of Timothy Stoker’s big brown eyes and pouting lips. Sasha just grabs the open bottle of champagne and presses it into Tim’s hands with a smile and a quick kiss on those same lips. “Later,” she repeats, before taking the bottle to hide it somewhere Tim won’t be able to find it.

She hopes.

That’s how many letters are in Martin’s name, Tim thinks idly as he runs his hands through Martin’s hair, scratching his nails lightly against Martin’s scalp. Somehow, in the rearranging of the four of them on Sasha’s obscenely long couch, Tim had ended up with Martin’s head on his lap, and he certainly isn’t going to complain.

Sasha and Jon are bickering about some small detail in the movie they’ve put on, Tim thinks, like they always do—is it pronounced this way or that way, would a wide shot or a close-up be better here, would that specific piece of clothing have been period-typical at the time (yes, if it were dyed with indigo flowers, Jon had said primly, which had then been followed by a hey as Sasha’s elbow connected with his side)—and so he’s got Martin all to himself. Which is such a lovely place to be, he thinks as he continues to massage Martin’s scalp with his fingers.

“Tim,” Martin says, his voice pinched slightly in that way it always gets when he’s receiving affection—like he’s always surprised by it, half-expecting it to be taken away without warning. “I have to tell you something.”

Tim hums, a soothing noise, and says, “Okay, but I should warn you—I’m currently seeing someone. Several someones, actually. In fact, I believe it would technically be three—”

“Okay, okay,” Martin says, one hand coming up to swat at Tim’s. His mouth is curled into a small, amused smile. “No need to be so…” He waves a hand in the air vaguely.

“Handsome?” Tim suggests with a sharp grin.

“Cheeky.”

Tim puts on a comically large expression of shock. “No. Me? Couldn’t be.”

Martin laughs, a small and breathy thing, and Tim loves him for it. His expression slips into something warmer and real, and he resumes running his hands through Martin’s hair. “Fine, fine, I’m listening. Go ahead, Martin.”

“Thank you.” Martin closes his eyes, hums gently, and says, without opening his eyes, “You have frosting on your nose.”

That’s how many fingers are on Jon’s left hand as it finds Martin’s on the couch, those same fingers threading through Martin’s with an ease that could be practised had it not been just a few months since working together had turned into getting lunch together had turned into pining had turned into… everything else. Martin had spent a lot of time looking at Jon’s hands, before; the way that his knuckles are wider than the rest of the finger, or the way that he drums his fingers on his desk when he’s bored, or the way that his hands look wrapped around a mug of tea, black and over-steeped just like Jon likes it.

They’d looked soft, Martin had thought.

He’d been right.

The kiss Martin places over the top of Jon’s knuckles is quick and impulsive, his lips still wearing the smile from something Tim had said and his other hand clasped with Sasha’s (her grip is impressively tight, like she’s afraid she’s going to drop him). The soft, surprised smile that Jon gives him is worth the entire world.

That’s how many cards Tim has to draw when Martin plays the Draw 4 Uno card, giving him an apologetic smile that does nothing to alleviate the fact that Tim had one card left and was about to win, goddammit!

“Martin,” Tim says as he draws painstaking card after painstaking card. “Dearest Martin.” He draws another card. “Lovely, kind Martin.” He draws the final card and gives Martin his best solemn expression. “This is how you ruin relationships, Martin. This, right here.”

Martin’s face is flushed pink, but his voice is casual when he says, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Tim. I’m just playing the game.”

Tim points at Martin, looking back and forth between Jon and Sasha for support. “Do you hear that? Nothing but disrespect. Treachery. A fatal blow!”

Sasha looks like she’s trying not to laugh. Jon just looks bemused. “I mean, he is just playing the game,” Jon says with a small shrug. “And I believe he’s winning.”

Tim looks over at the single card Martin’s holding, and before his brain can process the situation fast enough to call Martin out for not declaring it, Martin says quickly, “Uno!”

“Jon!” Tim says, kind of wishing it hadn’t come out so whiny but feeling altogether too slighted to do anything about it.

“My turn,” Jon says, and plays a reverse card.

“Oh, I hate you all.”

That’s how many glasses of champagne Martin has had, which is a lot for him since he doesn’t really make a habit of drinking, especially wine, which tends to give him a headache even if he drinks white. But Jon had assured him that champagne is essentially tannin-free, having minimal skin and oak contact, so the only thing Martin had to worry about was his own terrible alcohol tolerance.

Well, Jon hadn’t said that last part. That was just Martin.

Three glasses, it seems, is enough to activate Martin’s least-favourite part about drinking—the complete inability of his brain to keep every single thing that comes across his mind from spilling out into the open. He’s already told Sasha that he accidentally stole the cardigan she keeps in her desk at work and, by the time he realized a week later, was too embarrassed to give it back. (“So that’s where that went!” Sasha had said with an accusatory tone.) He interrupted Tim mid-sentence to tell him, quite abruptly, that whenever Tim wore that black-and-white patterned shirt to work—which was just a bit smaller on him than the others and which he usually wore with the top two buttons unbuttoned—he could never stop staring at it. (“Really?” Tim had said with a smirk. “I suppose I’ll have to wear it more often then.”)

And now, when Jon shoots Tim a very impressive glare and says, in his best professional voice, “I don’t think that’s quite work-appropriate, Tim,” Martin isn’t able to keep himself from blurting out that he finds Jon’s “archivist” voice really, really hot.

The silence that blankets the room at that is deafening. Tim looks delighted; Sasha looks amused. And the flush that spreads over Jon’s face is really quite impressive, visible even in the low light of Sasha’s living room.

Martin really shouldn’t have had that third glass of champagne.

That’s how many cats Sasha has, until now shut away in her bedroom to avoid being overwhelmed by the loud noise or being stepped on. At Tim’s insistence (and Jon’s not-so-subtle glances toward her closed door), Sasha finally relents, but not before pointing a stern finger at Tim and telling him to behave.

(“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Tim says innocently, like he doesn’t always end up getting himself bitten or scratched.)

Now, one cat—an orange-and-white shorthair named Darwin—is curled up in front of the television, currently being assaulted by Tim and Martin as they spoil him with pets and treats and the little feather on a string that he likes. The other—a midnight-black longhair named Emily with wide yellow eyes—is sprawled across Jon’s lap, her purring loud enough that Sasha can hear it from the kitchen where she’s subtly retrieving the bottle of midnight champagne from its hiding place. Sasha’s pretty sure she’s never seen Jon look at anything like that—with eyes full of love and wonder and the corners of his mouth pulled up into what looks like an involuntary smile.

Sasha’s suddenly so very in love with him—with all of them—that she can barely breathe. It’s not an emotion she’s very comfortable with—she’s never gotten crushes easily, and the ones she’s had tended to ruin year-long friendships when they sprung up almost overnight, when her brain finally decided that it wanted more. Jon, she’s known for ages, their desks in research being directly across from one another and her persistence knowing no bounds. Martin longer still, having met him when he worked in the library and she worked in artifact storage. Tim is the most recent, technically, but god, it feels like she’s known him her whole life.

There’s a small shriek from the living room, and when Sasha looks back, she sees Tim with his hand buried in the fur of Darwin’s stomach, Darwin’s teeth nipping at the flesh of Tim’s thumb. “Ow ow ow, sharp,” Tim says, but he’s laughing, and he continues to rub at Darwin’s belly with a smile on his face.

Really, Sasha thinks as she turns back to the kitchen with a smile of her own, there’s nowhere she’d rather be.

That’s how many minutes there are until midnight. The glass of champagne in Jon’s hand looks exactly the same as all the others, but Sasha had insisted that it was better, Jon, it’ll taste heavenly, I promise, so he holds it and watches the numbers on the television screen begin to count down.

It strikes Jon, as the seconds pass and midnight draws closer, that he’s never really felt any need to celebrate the new year. The two days—New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day—were technically indistinguishable from one other, delineated only by the human decision to make them so, and therefore what was the point really of staying up so late just to drink bad wine and stare at a clock? He’d gone to a New Year’s Eve party once with Georgie in uni, and it had been fine, but once they broke up he really didn’t see any reason to attend another. He disliked everything about New Year’s celebrations—the bad champagne, the resolutions nobody kept, the way he always wrote the date wrong for a few weeks afterwards.

He doesn’t dislike this, though, he realizes, sitting with Tim pressed up against one side and Martin against the other and Sasha on the end of the couch next to Tim, all of them watching the countdown with rapt attention. Maybe the champagne is terrible and the resolutions are silly and having to constantly erase the last number of the year will be frustrating, but this—being together, celebrating together—really isn’t so bad at all.

The countdown reaches ten, and Tim begins to vocalize the numbers along with it as they flash across the screen, altogether too loudly for this time of night. Sasha and Martin join in at eight, and Jon finally makes up his mind as the counter hits one, his lips shaping the word along with the rest of them.

Glasses clink and champagne is drunk (not heavenly, Jon thinks, but more palatable than the rest) and kisses are shared as Happy New Year! flashes across the television screen. And, Jon thinks, it’s really quite lovely after all. To bring in the new year with the people you love.

That’s how many of them wake up the next morning without mouths full of cotton and pounding headaches, the several empty bottles of champagne making themselves known.

“Ughhhhh,” Tim groans eloquently, and falls back asleep.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #the magnus archives fic #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #s1 polycule #my fic #my writing #i know its not nye anymore but you know.... nye fic

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

BTS Reaction || First I Love You

Seokjin:

You’d gotten a call from Namjoon at around 3 am one night telling you that Jin had gotten sick, really sick and the first thing that came to your head was rushing over there to look after him but you knew Taxi drivers were going to be busy all night so you packed an overnight bag full of everything you were going to need and headed to catch the bus over to the dorms, telling Namjoon you would use your spare key to get in and for him to go and get some rest.

Jin woke up at 5 am to you placing a wet cloth on his head, putting a glass of water on the bedside table and a bucket next to the bed for him, you hadn’t noticed he’d woken up because you were cleaning up the room in silence, trying not to wake him up. He watched you half asleep as you folded his clothes and left them on his desk, then turning around and checking on him.

“You’re supposed to be resting.” You warned, coming over and feeling the side of his neck, he was sweating which wasn’t good.

“I’ll get you a sheet instead of the quilt.” You whispered, going over to the airing cupboard and pulling out a sheet for him to use instead of the entire quilt, you came back and he was asleep again, so you changed the covers over and went to wash the ones you removed from him.

It was a few days later until he was finally feeling back to his normal self, and you’d been staying over every night on the sofa, keeping the dorms clean, feeding the rest of the boys and making sure Jin was okay, you told Namjoon you wouldn’t leave until he was okay again and he was fine with that. The meals you were cooking were just as good as Jin’s, if not better, but they wouldn’t tell him that.

“You’re still here?” Jin asked coming into the kitchen, you’d just finished cleaning up the breakfast dishes and turned to face him, nodding and coming over to feel his forehead.

“You’re feeling better?” You questioned, looking into your boyfriends’ eyes and smiling, glad he was feeling better.

“Thanks to you.” He whispered, bending down and laying a kiss on your lips, you smiled against his and pulled away, going to the fridge and getting some ingredients to make him some pancakes.

“Pancakes on me, the boys had some this morning so it’s only fair.” You added, turning on the hob and if you turned around you would see him staring at you in awe, amazed that you’d done everything for the boys and him.

“I love you.” The words slipped from his mouth before he even registered them in his mind, of course, he had been thinking it for the last four days of you being there for him but he hadn’t said them, neither of you had said it to each other yet, you slowly turned around on your heel and stared at him.

“I love you too.” He smiled in relief and you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Yoongi:

Yoongi had been working late again and you were worried, of course, you knew his work meant everything to him but you were worried about him eating and drinking properly. He’d leave early in the morning and not get back until late at night, you understood and supported him 100% but just wished you could do something to make sure he was getting the right kind of care he needed. It was another day of no texts and you knew he was probably going to skip lunch because he wouldn’t leave his studio so you took it into your own hands and made him some lunch. Making the main meal and a small dessert as a treat for him to have, packing it up into a container and heading to the studio in your car.

“Hobi, can you give this to Yoongi, I don’t want to bother him.” You said entering Hoseok’s studio, he was sitting on his sofa eating his own lunch and nodded at you, you wrote down a quick note and stuck it to the top of the container and left it on the coffee table in front of Hoseok who was greeting you in a tight hug.

“Thanks, Hobi you’re the best.” You said before leaving the studios and heading back home to have a quiet day in.

Yoongi looked up from his computer to see Hoseok coming into his studio after hitting the pin he’d given him for emergencies only, Hoseok said nothing only placing the tub down in front of him and leaving. Yoongi was annoyed but as soon as he saw your handwriting on the small pink post-it note he smiled that gummy bear smile you loved so much.

Didn’t want to interrupt you at work, don’t forget to eat and stay hydrated, see you later! Fighting! xx

He chuckled to himself, opening the drawer on his desk and adding the post-it note to a stack of others he had from you, all with different notes on, some about working late, how much you loved the last song he showed you and how proud you were, he couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten. You understood that his work meant a lot to him and didn’t want to ruin that but at the same time, you knew how to take care of him and make sure he was getting the care he needed without annoying him and giving him the space he needed.

You woke up to the front door of your apartment opening, you frowned not expecting Yoongi to come round at 2 pm, he was normally in the studio all day.

“Yoongi?” You questioned but he said nothing, only came towards you, pulling you into his arms and pressing his lips against yours, his hands a little shaky and sweaty but you ignored it, kissing him back and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I-” You looked at him, you knew he wasn’t the greatest at sharing how he felt but he was determined to say it.

“I love you.” Your eyes were filled with tears as soon as he said it and you kissed him again, pulling away for a second.

“I love you too Yoongi."

Hoseok:

The moment you began dating he told you it was going to be hard, spending time together would be hard because he would be on tour, or in the studio or home with family but you told him you didn’t care, even five minutes with him would make you happy. You could call or text each other, you’d like each other for a while and if spending little time together was the only downside to being together you would work around it. You’d been dating for a few months now and you met his family, you got along amazingly with his sister, she was like a best friend to you and you would always hang around whenever you got the chance and that’s what made Hoseok realise he was starting to fall head over heels in love with you. It took him by surprise at first, you’d just posted a photo of you and his sister together, you’d gone out for a shopping spree and a coffee date and you posted some selfies together, he found himself smiling at his phone when he was supposed to be practising with the boys. The fans knew you and Hoseok were dating, it was harder to hide than you first thought but they weren’t rude or nasty about it, there were a few at first but it was calmer than anticipated, they could tell how much Hobi liked you, loved you, even though he hadn’t seen it yet and they supported the relationship because the little ball of sunshine needed his own sunshine to brighten up his day.

"Hobi?” You spoke into the phone, stepping away from the cafe table and going outside to answer your phone, standing in front of the cafe near a wall and waiting for him to answer,

“You okay? You’re at practice, has something happened?” You questioned, you knew he never called you from work unless it was an emergency, that last time he did it was to tell you Namjoon had cut his hand after breaking a mirror in the dance studio and he was going to the hospital with him.

“Hobi?” You asked again since he was silent on his end, maybe he’d dialled you accidentally but he spoke before you could hang up on him.

“I just wanted to tell you something.” You stayed quiet letting him speak, he began to take some deep breaths and you frowned, letting out a nervous laugh.

“I love you Y/N…I don’t know if it’s too soon or too late to be telling you but I love you…Seeing you spend time with my family…it just…You’re perfect.” You began blushing in front of the store and hid your cheeks in your sleeves even though he couldn’t see you.

“I love you too Hobi…it’s not too earlier or too late.” You reassured him, biting down on your lip as you heard him laughing from the other end of the line.

“Okay good…I’m going back to practise…call you later?” You hummed in response to him and he chuckled.

“Bye…Oh…I love you.” He said with another laugh, you giggled at him.

“Goodbye Hobi, I love you too.” You whispered, hanging up the phone and going back into the cafe.

Namjoon:

Namjoon was having a hard time writing lyrics at the moment, he was blocked and he knew it. So he’d come round to spend the night at your apartment together, you wanted to help him with his writer’s block so you planned a night of relaxation for him. You’d planned on keeping phones away, and just spending time together but as soon as he was with you, he was suddenly getting inspiration to write again, so he was currently sat on your living room floor writing in a note pad on the coffee table while you made a cup of tea for you both to drink, you stayed out of his way knowing he needed his space to work in and slowly and quietly made your way in with his drink, going to sit on the opposite sofa and read while he did his own thing.

It had been a few hours since then and it was starting to get dark outside, you looked up from your book and went to make some dinner for you both, Namjoon had only moved from his spot a couple of times, he was now sitting on the sofa with his airpods in, trying to write some more lyrics. You made his favourite food and then went to get him when it was ready.

“You have to eat.” You said taking the notepad away and laying it on the coffee table, he whined at you but you pulled him into the kitchen, making him sit down and eat with you, he was still trying to come up with lyrics in his head and making little to no conversation with you, so when he finished you washed up the plates and went to have a bath. Coming back out two hours later to find him on the floor in front of the coffee table yet again.

“Joonie.” You whined going behind him and hugging his back, placing your chin on his shoulder and trying to get him to pay you attention.

“Let’s go to bed, it’s 10 pm.” You sighed kissing the back of his neck and then looking at the lyrics but he moved the notebook away and kept scribbling.

“I’m going to stay up and finish these.” You got up and went back to your spot on the sofa, taking out your book and looking at it, you had about twenty chapters left.

“Fine, if you’re not going to bed…neither am I.” You said, this grabbed his attention, he looked up and saw you curling into a ball on the sofa with a blanket and book, he took your appearance in for the first time and saw you were in one of his hoodies.

“No, you have to go to bed.” He said to you, you just shook your head and continued to read.

An hour later he looked up from his notebook to see you asleep, curled up in his hoodie and the blanket, the book open on your chest, he sighed getting up and walking over to your sleeping figure, he found it sweet that you’d tried to stay up with him, bending down he picked you up slowly, going to the stairs to take you to bed.

“Don’t leave me.” You murmured in your sleep as he put you on the mattress, your hand grasping his wrist, he was about to go downstairs back to his writing but seeing you pouting half-asleep made his heartache.

“Love you Joonie.” You mumbled again, half-asleep, he was shocked at first but laid down next to you, spooning you in his arms.

“Love you too Y/N.” He whispered, leaving a gentle kiss against your cheek, you hummed snuggling against him and relaxing instantly.

Jimin:

“JIN!” You screamed as he came into the kitchen ordering you around on how to cook yet again, you smacked his hand away as he went to take the spoon away from your hand. You’d come over to surprise your boyfriend Jimin, you hadn’t seen one another in around a month since you were both bus and you were trying to make his favourite meal for him on your own but Jin was having a hard time leaving you in the kitchen, scared you were going to blow it up or ruin the meal but you reassured him time and time again that you had practised this meal many times before.

“I know what I’m doing, just keep an eye out for him.” You pleaded, pushing him out of the kitchen, he’d taken the day off work telling the boys he was sick but it was a ploy to get home and let you into the dorms, so you could get everything ready. Jin was like one of your best friends in the group, you got along with all of them but Jin the most, it was like having an older brother you actually got along with and didn’t want to kill on a daily basis.

“He’s coming!” He yelled at you as you put the finishing touches on the kitchen table, you’d laid out a nice table cloth, some candles, and a rose in a glass, you just wanted to do something special for the night, you rushed off to the bathroom changing into a dress you’d brought with you and then coming back out, Jin had been distracting him in the living room for you, the others all going to their own rooms knowing you were waiting to surprise him.

“Go into the kitchen for me Jimin, I left something for you,” Jin said before rushing off to his own room and leaving Jimin to go into the kitchen, you sat on the chair furthest away from the kitchen door, as soon as he came through he almost jumped out of his skin not expecting anyone to be sitting in the kitchen.

“Y/N?” He questioned as if not believing what was right in front of him, you began giggling and went to go and hug him but he picked you up spinning you around in the air and chuckling.

“Do they guys know?” You nodded kissing his lips and smiling at him,

“Jin took the day off to watch over me while I cooked all your favourites.” You said pointing at the table which he now noticed was packed full of everything he loved.

“Everything I love in one room.” He whispered wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back into his chest, leaning down and kissing your lips.

“I love you.” He whispered as you pulled apart, you giggled kissing the tip of his nose.

“Love you too, dummy, now eat before it goes cold or Jin comes to steal more.”

Taehyung:

You knew the boys were in Amsterdam, you’d been planning your trip to visit them in secret with Jimin, he’d convinced you it would be an amazing surprise for Taehyung’s birthday and you agreed. You went online, getting your plane tickets and hotel room, before finding a museum you knew he would love to visit so you bought tickets.

“Jimin my plane just landed, I’m going to the hotel and then I’ll head to the museum, are you sure you can get him there without him noticing where it is?” You were starting to doubt the plan you had set, you were going to meet him at the museum but Jimin was going to have to find a way to get him there without him seeing all of the signposts, you’d gotten tickets months ago for you both to go around the Van Gogh Museum together.

“I have a plan, trust me and go get ready.” You rolled your eyes although he couldn’t see you and got into a cab, giving him the address.

“Fine, I trust you.”

You were standing outside of the museum, dressed in some blue jeans, a faded band shirt and had a TaTa bag with you so Jimin would spot you easily enough, the museum was pretty dead and not many people were around, your relationship was out in the open and fans knew about you, you just wanted to be alone with Tae for a while, you saw a black SUV pull up and you knew it was them so you stayed by the entrance.

“What are we doing?” Taehyung asked you turned around to see him, Jimin covering his eyes with his hands and you giggled at the sight, Taehyung’s hands sprung into action ripping Jimin’s away and looking around for you, as soon as he spotted you he ran into your arms, you wrapped your arms around him.

“Hi baby.” You greeted with a giant smile on your lips, he looked into your eyes before kissing you passionately,

“We have a tour to get to.” You giggled pushing him away and taking hold of his hand, taking the tickets from your handbag and showing them to him.

“You’re the best.” He spoke looking behind him, Jimin getting back into the black SUV and leaving you both alone on your date, you giggled pulling him inside and going to explore.

You’d been around the museum three times now, holding hands and being the happy couple you were, you were reading a plaque when Taehyung came out with the words,

“I love you so much.” You stood up, turning away from the painting and back at him, a blush on his cheeks as he realised he’d said what he was thinking out loud for you to hear.

“I love you too Tae.” You whispered, coming closer to him and kissing him on the cheek, before pulling him away to another painting.

Jungkook:

You’d been dating Jungkook on the secret side since you were Namjoon’s little sister and it took Namjoon a while to come to terms with you being friends with Jungkook never mind dating him. You’d been going out secretly for four months now and you were starting to fall head over heels for him and he was falling for you too. You knew you were going to have to come clean to your brother soon because whenever you were around them together you turned into a mess, you were never great at lying.

“Kookie, I don’t feel comfortable hiding it anymore.” You whispered against his bare chest one night, you’d snuck from the spare bedroom at the dorms to come and cuddle him once Namjoon was asleep, something you always did whenever you’d spend the night at the dorms.

“I value my life still.” Jungkook joked, playing with your hair as you closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat as you laid in silence together, falling asleep embracing each other like you normally would.

“What the fuck?!” You jumped up from the bed looking around the room, you were still in Jungkook’s room, the door open and an angry-looking Namjoon standing there.

“Joonie.” You breathed looking at Jungkook who’d just sat up, half-asleep still until he saw your brother red in the face, you’d never seen the boy move so fast in his life.

“Joonie no!” You yelled as he lunged for his band member, you stepped off the bed and stood in front of him, stopping him grabbing Jungkook.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t beat him for touching you!” You pushed him back a little and frowned.

“Maybe because I love him Joonie.” You begged, both of them staring at you, neither of you had said it to one another. Namjoon walked out of the room and you followed him into his own dorm room, pushing the door but not letting it shut fully, Jungkook followed, stopping outside the door as he listened to you.

“I know you warned me about dating your friends Joonie but I love him, he never leaves my mind, he’s always there mentally if not physically. I love him so much…This feeling stretches throughout my entire body and it’s overwhelming, but he makes me feel complete Joon.” He stared back at you, his anger melted away as you spoke to him.

“That’s the reason you can’t beat him…because it’ll break my heart.” Namjoon scoffed shaking his head and pulling you into a tight hug.

“You break his heart and I’ll break your face…as for you.” He said pulling open the door to reveal a blushing Jungkook.

“Break her and you’re dead.” Jungkook nodded and took your hand in his.

“I love her too Joonie…I wouldn’t dream of hurting her.”

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imnotwolverine · 4 years

Text

Baby it’s cold outside

Henry Cavill x OC Lisa - multi-chapter fic

Author’s note: I know we’re not even halfway through the year and summer is yet to arrive. But please allow me to indulge you in some pre-Christmas sweetness. Are you ready for some Christmas fluff in Henry’s Mews home in London? Have a nice Friday!

Word count: 4.036

Disclaimer: smut and fluff

This is part 13 of the Tea for Two story.

Find the Masterlist here.

< Go back to part 12

‘Do you know what time of the year it is?’ I squealed, excitedly rubbing Kal’s cheeks and pulling his flabby skin up in a big smile.

Kal wagged his fluffy tail and I could tell exactly what he was thinking: I don’t know what you are happy about human..but ..I like it! His dark eyes sparkled as he rolled out his tongue, panting slightly.

I chuckled and finally let go off his chubby cheeks. An action which was interpreted by Kal as: I absolutely need to launch myself up at my human to show my excitement. ‘OHHH! No jumping naughty!’ I laughed, steadying myself so I could hold his weight and gently push him back down, giving him another rub. ‘And to answer your question: “It’s..the most wonderful time ..of the year”.’ I flailed out my arms while I sang in a deep Frank Sinatra-esque voice.

Alright, it was ALMOST the most wonderful time of the year. Just one more week ’til Christmas. But a dog wouldn’t know the difference, right?

Kal yipped happily as he followed me back to the corridor where I picked up the big plastic box that I had found upstairs. It had surely not been used for quite some years, as the dust on it was so thick and sticky, you could barely see the blue plastic lid beneath it. I moved the box to the dinner table and cheered. ‘Alright! Let’s do this!’ A cheer that would soon turn into a sneer as my hands found that everything, and I really mean everything, in the box was tangled up. Lights, garlands, a wreath, some wire. Goodness me. This is going to be taking me all morning…

I pulled on some of the wire to find either the beginning or the end. Well. There was definitely no end in sight. I breathed in deeply, my despair soon forgotten as a soothing cinnamon aroma filled my nostrils. Good thing I’m baking cinnamon rolls. I’m gonna need a reward for all this detangling. And..I really, really need to teach Henry how to store these properly. I sighed. Alright. This is going to require some tea..and…suitable music. My fingers swiped through my phone, looking through my Christmas playlist that had been laying low all year. Oh jolly holly Christmas songs! But where to start? I clicked on randomise and let my phone do the picking for me. Happy flutes and a soft jazzy beat started to twinkle through the speakers as I got up to make myself a cup of tea, Kal following me obediently as his big paws tapped lightly on the wooden floor.

‘Oh the weather outside is frightful

But the fire is so delightful..’

My finger pushed the “on” button on the aluminum water cooker in the kitchen as I started to sing along.

‘And since we've no place to go

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow’

I turned to Kal and smiled as he looked at me with pure confusion. Why was his human making all these weird noises? His head turned sideways and I couldn’t help but release a soft chuckle as I stepped towards the oven to take a quick sneak peek at the cinnamon rolls. The hefty smell of cinnamon spice and everything nice wafted through the kitchen air. Almost done.

‘It doesn't show signs of stopping

And I've brought some corn for popping’

I swayed my hips to the music as the water cooker started shaking, the water coming to its boiling point. With practised hands I deftly took the cooker from its standard, pouring the hot water in my ugly unicorn mug as the cinnamon aroma in the air was now mixed with some spikes of fresh mint, the scents tingling happily in my nostrils.

‘And the lights are turned way down low

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow..’

My eyes glanced over at the classic black and white clock on the kitchen wall. Eleven o’clock. Just 6 more hours before Henry would get back home and we’d celebrate our 6-month anniversary. I just hoped he hadn’t gone too overboard with his plans. All I really wanted was just to be with him. ‘Or better yet..have him inside me.’ Oh! Did I say that out loud? I chuckled as I saw Kal tilt his head again. ‘Hahaha. Sorry Kal. That wasn’t meant for your ears.’ I petted his head while moving back to the kitchen table, looking at the still very much entangled Christmas decorations. Okay, let’s detangle this bitch.

—

It was 5 o’clock on the dot when the front door opened, an elated Henry calling for me. I had just gussied myself up a bit, wearing a body hugging black dress that flared out at the knees, my lips painted red and my hair pinned back let for a few strands of hair. ‘Honey! I’m home!’ He called. ‘Coming!’ I chanted from the bedroom, taking one last look in the mirror. Damnn. I looked fineeee. I thought as I turned in front of the mirror.

Already I heard him come up the stairs - no patience today huh? - the steps creaking heavily under his weight. I looked over my shoulder at the stairs, trying my best to pull my face in a sexy pout. However it wasn’t Henry’s face I saw. Nope. Instead it was a huge tropical plant I saw appearing. What in the..? I turned on my heels, gasping as I noticed Henry’s far-to-excited face, half-hidden behind the large green leaves as he moved into the bedroom. ‘Hey babe.’ He smiled from ear to ear, turning his body so he could lay a quick kiss on my slightly gasping lips. ‘What is…’ I started, but he halted me. ‘Why buy you flowers that only last a week, when I can buy you something that can last you ..years? Besides..I don’t really own any plants ..and you had all these plants in your LA home..I thought I..’

I stopped him mid-sentence, silencing his adorkable rambling with a loving kiss, squealing happily. ‘This is so cute. It’s perfect. Such a beautiful Strelitzia.’ I smiled, my fingers tracing one of the leaves in admiration. Henry looked satisfied, albeit clear he had no idea what “Strelitzia” meant. I gave him another kiss, gesturing him to put it down. He nodded, moving to the window and carefully squatting down to place it next to the curtains. ‘They told me it best be put in a sunny place, so I guess this is probably the best spot in the house.’ He shrugged, turning back towards me and raising up to full height. His eyes gave me an appreciative look up-and-down.

‘Hmmm.’ He nodded, lust twinkling in his eyes. ‘You like it?’ I smiled, turning slightly and looking enticingly over my shoulder. He tilted his head slightly, studying me with that hungry smile curling up on his lips. ‘A lot.’ He purred, closing the distance between us and folding his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me in for a passionate kiss. I instantly felt the need to get very, very naked again, my hands starting to tug on his belt. ‘Wait, baby, wait. Let’s save that..’ He gave me a knowing look. ‘..for later.’ He gave me another kiss, this one more chaste and sweet.

I groaned in dismay. ‘Oh come on you have the stamina of a wild boar. Surely we can do a..quicky?’ I said, gingerly tracing my finger over his crisp white blouse. He let out an amused laugh, but his head was shaking “no”. ‘Though I’d love to indulge you, I’m going to ask you to be patient, because our ride is going to be here any minute now.’ He placed another sweet kiss on my lips before stepping back a bit, his hands starting to unbutton his blouse.

My hungry eyes couldn’t help but stare as the small strip of skin in view grew larger, the smooth white material of his blouse pulling back as his chest hair poked out. ‘The striptease ain’t helping Hen.’ I croaked, letting myself fall down on the bed as my eyes kept lingering on his slowly undressing form. ‘Don’t want me to get dressed for our date night?’ He said, giving me a challenging smile, before turning around and looking over his shoulder cheekily, his hands unbuckling his belt. Oh, being a tease now huh?

I couldn’t help but sit up a bit, propping myself on an elbow to look at him. His back muscles rippled beneath the thin, smooth fabric as his arms flexed slightly while his hands moved to unzip his jeans. I sighed at the sound, making him chuckle darkly, his hips swaying slightly as he slowly pulled off his blouse. ‘You’re killing me!’ I protested, pouting at him as he looked at me again. ‘Patience.’ He said in that deep smooth voice, throwing his phone on the bed before bending over and pulling down his jeans. Oh come on, this is unfair. He’s absolutely teasing me right now. I sighed again, rubbing my thighs together in the silent hope it would offer me some relief.

Henry had moved to his overloaded closet, gingerly scanning through his clothes, wearing nothing but his briefs. God what a view. His broad, well sculpted shoulders, his muscles moving sharply beneath smooth skin as he finally reached for a fresh blouse and some dress pants. He looked over his shoulder, seeing my hungry stare, my legs rubbing together. ‘Very impatient today huh, love?’ He grinned, putting the clothes on the edge of the bed before moving towards me, his legs brushing against mine. I sighed again. ‘Very.’ I agreed, feeling a slight blush creep up my cheeks as he looked down at my wriggling body. I stilled for a moment, trying my best to calm down, our eyes interlocking. ‘And I noticed you made the house all cosy.’ He smiled sweetly, absolutely ignoring my slight tremble as he brushed against my leg again, now sitting down next to me on the bed. ‘Mhm.’ I hummed, strain in my voice. ‘I like it.’ He stated, his eyes darkening slowly as his eyes wandered down my eager body. ‘Good.’ I breathed. ‘You know what. We could be a LITTLE bit late.’ He smiled, quickly crawling on top of me.

I nodded excitedly, gasping softly as he pulled me further up on the bed so it was just my feet dangling off the edge, before pressing me down into the mattress as his hands finally touched me where I needed them. ‘Henry..’ I moaned as his hands hiked up the hemline of my dress, his head bending down to kiss me. ‘Cinnamon rolls.’ He smiled, still tasting the sweet stickiness on my tongue. I chuckled as he happily licked his lips, his fingers brushing over the insides of my thighs. ‘So sweet for me.’ He mused in my ear, his hands now reaching up higher and higher. I let out a laboured, shaky breath.

‘Fuck me Henry.’ I purred, eagerly reaching for the waistband of his briefs. He looked intently in my eyes, his eyes dark and stormy as he moved my panties to the side, a lone finger stroking my slit. He studied my face as we slowly circled his finger. Fuck this teasing. ‘Please.’ I begged, rolling my eyes in annoyance as he raised a playful eyebrow. ‘Please.’ I said with more urgency, grabbing his chin and pulling him closer. He chuckled against my lips. ‘As my lady wishes.’ He whispered huskily, his body folding over mine as he kissed me more demandingly, his tongue rolling over my bottom lip as his hand moved down to lower his briefs. In one smooth strike of his hips he filled me, his erection hot and heavy. We both gasped.

‘Fuck baby.’ He groaned against the corner of my mouth. ‘So fucking sweet.’

I let out a sigh, trying to relax around his girth as I wrapped my arms around his large back. He was so fucking big. Fuck.

‘Ai Henry.’ I moaned, my nails clawing pink marks on the skin of his back. He hummed and started to push into me, filling me up completely, his hips soon finding a punishing pace. ‘Gods!’ I exclaimed. Henry smiled. ‘I should buy you plants more often huh?’ He panted, grasping my hips to get better leverage and angle my hip in such a way that he hit that delicious spot inside me. Soon enough that all familiar tingle started to spread through my limbs, my core coiling up tighter and tighter.

His phone rang.

‘No..’ I protested, but thankfully Henry didn’t stop. Instead he propped himself up on one arm, his free hand gesturing me to shush as his hips kept at it. I bit my lip and nodded quietly, my body still shaking violently by his pounding. He reached for his phone and he swiped the screen to answer. ‘Yes?’ Our eyes met as the deep baritone rolled off his tongue. ‘Mhm. Good.’ He breathed out, his voice slightly laboured. He licked his lips as he saw me reach down for my nub, our eyes remaining interlocked. ‘We will probably..run a little..late. Ten minutes or so..’ He tried with all his might to keep his voice level. I just hope the soft slapping of skin on skin isn’t heard on the other side of the phone line. ‘Okay. Thanks.’ He hung up and immediately threw his phone to the side, leaning down for another heated kiss. Without question I let him replace my hand with his own as his much stronger fingers made light work of getting me undone.

‘Frisky little thing.’ He breathed, a tone of amusement in his voice. ‘Now come for me.’ He commanded, a bit more sternly, his fingers and hips working feverishly. I nodded, my body still shaking with every thrust as I let myself be swallowed by the electric feeling, my coil about to snap, my blood now rushing through my veins and my mouth forming an erotic “o”. And just like that..I came. My back lifting off the bed, my legs wriggling helplessly, Henry’s eyes staring hungrily down on me.

When I came back around, I noticed he had slowed down his pace, his eyes now slowly traveling down my black dress. Our eyes met and I let out a satisfied sigh, a soft smile appearing on his lips. ‘Good.’ He smiled, pulling out and climbing off the bed. He didn’t even cum. He did not even…cum. I studied him, slightly confused and breathing harshly, as he stood at the edge of the bed, struggling to get his erection back in his briefs. He let out an amused chuckle, before looking back at me. ‘See what you do to me, love?’ He said. I smiled and shrugged, offering him my most innocent look.

His phone buzzed again. ‘Our ride.’ He groaned, finally having managed to get his briefs back on. He quickly pulled on his dress pants and his blouse. I also moved, crawling to the edge of the bed to help him button up, his fingers working from the top, mine from the bottom. I looked up at him, a cheeky smile gracing my lips. ‘Thank you.’ I cooed. He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement before bending down and kissing me. ‘You’re welcome.’

——

After a 30 minute drive we arrived at our destination. And what a destination it was. Thousands of little lights glittered around us in what appeared to be some kind of a large park or garden. The sun was painting its last few strokes of yellow hues, making the mix of well tended plantation with the small lights all the more fantastical. I plastered my face against the car window, looking out with childish curiosity. ‘Now for our date night. I thought I could extend the plant theme a little further, by taking you out for some wining, dining..and..well.. plants. Lots of plants.’ Henry said. I heard his deep voice as he had leaned over, but couldn’t take my eyes off the park as my eyes now noticed an entrance sign. ‘Kews royal botanical gardens.’ I gasped, excitedly wiggling in my seat before looking back at Henry, his face but mere inches away from mine. ‘This is so cool! Oh bear!’ I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him eagerly, my eyes still enchanted.

We were let in through the back entrance by a small, but overly enthused park ranger who walked us through some small pathways to reach the beautifully lit greenhouses. ‘That’s so pretty!’ I smiled, leaning closer into Henry’s arm as our eyes looked in amazement at the large glass structure as it lit up in a variety of pink and green hues, the plants inside creating hauntingly beautiful silhouettes.

The park ranger clicked open a glass door and waved us in. ‘Now, I bid you a wonderful night. Please stay on the paths and don’t pick any of the plants. If you walk straight ahead you’ll surely not miss my colleague Richard.’ He said, smiling to show a row of crooked teeth, his moustache curling scruffily over his thin lips. Henry thanked him kindly, elegantly moving his arm to bid me first entrance. I blushed a bit before stepping inside, feeling my body tingle as I was welcomed by that pleasant mix of heady and wild exotic scents. The air wasn’t as humid as I had expected, but everything else surely oozed “jungle”. My eyes instantly travelled down the softly lit path that stretched out before us, tiny garden lights stuck in the ground to lead the way. All around us were plants, their thick foliage reaching up meters high above our heads. It made you feel like you had stepped right into some wild adventure in the amazons.

I felt Henry hook his arm back around mine as he also stepped inside. ‘Wow.’ He whispered, equally impressed by the scenery. I looked at him, my excitement evidently etched on my face. He smiled one of those handsome, tender smiles, before leading us ahead as someone walked up to us, bowing in greeting. ‘Madam, sir. I bid you a good evening. My name is Richard and I’ll be your host for tonight. If you please follow me.’ The man said, turning elegantly on his heels and taking a sharp turn, leading us further into the jungle, the lights around us now slowly growing brighter. I trusted Henry to keep me safely on the pathway, while my eyes eagerly looked up and around us, studying the mysterious plants. Some leaves were about human size, whilst others were so thin and fickle you could barely see them. It sure was mesmerising.

We arrived in a much larger greenhouse and my mouth fell open in amazement. The trees reached way high here, and in the midst of it all was a little square, neatly tiled off in brown hued mosaic which glittered under the lights of hundreds of small light bulbs floating down from the trees. At the bottom, there was a quaint table for two, neatly set out with a white table cover and cutlery and wine glasses for multiple courses. I looked over at Henry in pure astonishment. My eyes probably were the size of saucers by now. I couldn’t even truly form words, my mouth just gasping “what..?!”. He chuckled, obviously very proud of having this all planned out.

Richard took our coats as we seated ourselves, my eyes still mostly peering up and around us. ‘Yeuss Henry. You didn’t have to do THIS. This is crazy!’ I whispered. He laughed, looking at me with those twinkling eyes, his hands unfolding his napkin which he laid out over his lap. ‘I didn’t have to. But.. I wanted to.’ He said, his hand now reaching out for mine. ‘I really, really wanted to dine here sometime, but it felt weird to bring like..friends or something.’ He shrugged, looking at the romantic lights that were sparkling around us. I giggled. ‘Yea..that would be kinda weird.’ We both laughed.

Dinner ran smoothly. The wine rolled over our tongues as we discussed the food on our plates. The herbs, the cooking techniques, what we liked and disliked and how the food paired with the wine. I couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. Had I ever met someone with whom I could talk about food and cooking like this? I think not.

‘I saw you posted a throwback Thursday picture on your Instagram today. Care to tell me that story?’ Henry raised a handsome eyebrow as his lips hovered over his glass of red wine. I chuckled. Ah. Yes. I had posted a picture of one of my Christmas dinners, a few years back. Let’s just say..some people on that picture were wearing EVERYTHING (santa hats, ugly sweaters, garlands as necklaces), whilst others were wearing naught but their underwear and socks. The text I had written with it was simple: “Trust me when I say our Christmas parties never have been boring. Sorry to be missing out this year guys! #tbt #friendsfordinner #prechristmasdinner #uglysweatermadness #2017”

I chuckled as Henry looked at me curiously. ‘Ah, yes. The notorious pre-Christmas dinner party.’ I smiled as I took a sip from my wine before continuing. ‘It kind of started in my college years. I cooked practically every week for my friends and since everyone would be gone, visiting their families, over the Christmas holidays.. I decided to cook them a pre-Christmas dinner. It was super fun, but, as you know with big dinner parties, some people try to slack and not help. I don’t like that. I mean, I worked my butt off to cook you amazing food so don’t be a sissy and just help me clean these plates.’ I shrugged, rolling my wineglass in between my finger tips. ‘And then..?’ Henry asked. ‘Well, one of the guys absolutely refused, so I dared him; “You either help, or you strip. Then you are at least some entertainment to us!” Apparently I should not have said that. Because….he..stripped. And from there on some weird tradition was born. If you didn’t feel like helping out during the pre-Christmas dinner party, you stripped down to your underwear. Talking about it now, I’m still not sure how it ever became a thing. But..yea..my friends are kinda weird.’ I laughed, finally taking another sip of my wine.

Henry smiled. ‘Did he like you? The guy who stripped at your party?’ I looked up from my wine glass. ‘What do you mean? Like..in a friendly way..or?’ ‘The other way of course.’ Henry rolled his eyes, chuckling. ‘I don’t know. Maybe yes, maybe no. Men don’t always come clean about their feelings and we sure never got down and dirty haha.’ I looked back at Henry, seeing that all familiar glitter in his eyes. It was this mix of admiration, lust and love. ‘What?’ I asked softly. ‘I guess I got real lucky, that’s all.’ ‘How so?’ ‘Well, you surround yourselves by nerdy men. All the time. That’s some stiff competition for me, okay?’ He shrugged. I burst out laughing, giving him a playful kick against the leg. ‘Silly! Well just so you know. You are my favourite nerd of them all okay?’ We both laughed. ‘Good. I don’t like sharing.’ He winked.

‘Oh ..and please don’t strip when we’re at my parents. You can just say “no” when my mom is luring in help to cook her Christmas dinner, okay?’ Henry said, leaning forward while keeping his face in a mock-serious expression. I burst out laughing. ‘Gotcha, gotcha. Hahahah. Oh Henry. I’d never…’ I shook my head, laughing heartily. He chuckled as he folded his hand over mine, looking at me intently as I slowly caught my breath. His lips turned into an enamoured smile as my eyes looked back into his. I let out one last, amused huff, smiling back at him. He gently squeezed my fingers before pulling them to his lips, laying a sweet kiss on them.

‘Happy half year anniversary dear. I love you.’

‘I love you too Henry.’

Part 14 >

#henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #smut #henry cavill smut #fluff #christmas #kews #dinner #teafortwo #babyitscoldoutside

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sweetiejunie · 4 years

Text

Till we meet again

Pt1

Summary: you had to leave him

Genre: angst, fluff

Yeonjun x reader

Part: Prologue | Pt1

=====================================

The days went by and there wasn’t a single one either of you wasn’t thinking about each other. You were his first love and he was yours. Who could ever forget that?

The day you had to leave each other it broke both of you to the core, you both knew that day had to come, it was inevitable. Before you had gotten together, you already knew what your parents had planned for you, to send off to study at some prestigious overseas school, god knows how many hours away from your home, from him. Neither of you cared though, simply wanting to live in the moment, until that fateful day came and you both realised how painful it was going to be. Chocking back sobs as you walked away from him, feeling guilty for hurting him like this, and him crying his heart out as he watched your silhouette fade away.

For the first year or so, you both tried to keep in contact, messaging to each other, sending selfies, face timing, anything you could imagine and it was more than enough for either of you at the time.

However, as time went on, you got busy with school and he got busy with his debut, eventually, neither of you had the time. Eventually, both of you got used to the pain of not having each other and before you knew it, years had already passed.

——————————————————————————

The present day

It started out as a normal morning for yeonjun. He had awoken to the sounds of his members arguing over god knows what once again. He check his phone: 7.56am, well it was about time for him to wake up anyway.

Before he could lock his screen, he took a minute to appreciate his wallpaper, the most breathtaking sight he’s ever seen, and no, he wasn’t talking about the sunset in the background. He was referring to you.

Though it’s been years, he still admired you too much, his wallpaper hasn’t changed. It was still his favourite picture. It was you and him on a beach, together. The golden colours of the sunset behind you enhancing your already beautiful features. He remembered that day as if the picture was a book, reading him the memory.

~flashback~

The day started off like any other. Well, not really it was 11am and yeonjun decided to surprise you with an impromptu lunch date and went to your place to pick you up. Little did he know you were still asleep. He knew you treasured sleep, maybe even more than him, woops but it was almost noon!

He tried to reach you but you had the habit of turning your phone on to silent mode during the night so no matter how much he called, it wouldn’t go through. This resulted in him throwing small pebbles at your window, romeo and juliet style.

After a bit, you woke up, of course, who wouldn’t have been woken up by that irritating nois-, i mean romantic gesture. You went to the source of the noise that interrupted your slumber, opening your window, ready to throw the rocks back at whatever or whoever was there. However, when you saw your dear blue haired boy, all you could do was glare at him. You loved him, but it was true, you loved sleep just a ‘tiny’ bit more.

“Rapunzel, rapunzel, let down your hair!” He said in the most ‘prince charming’ voice he could, getting down on one knee to sell the act even more.

“Wrong fairy tale romeo!” You replied sarcastically, smirking as you held back your laughter. You rested your elbows at the legde of your window and continued to look down at the boy.

He pouted, “you could have at least played along!”

This caused you to laugh again, shaking your head. “Hold on I’ll be down in a sec!”

And you can probably guess it but the day ended with the both of you, barefoot on the beach, soft sand between you toes, hand in hand, walking in silence, simply appreciating the sound of the crashing waves and of course, each other.

tbh i could write an entire part just on this, should i? I think it’ll be cute ㅋㅋㅋ

~end~

He missed you... so, so much, every single day but that feeling of longing was already something he grew accustom to. He missed you, there hasn’t been a day when he didn’t. But for some reason, he was feeling it a lot more today.

He believed you would come back into his life one day and that was enough for him, for now. He believed you were meant to be and fate, as cruel as it may be sometimes, will bring you back together. No one has ever made him feel the same way you did and that was something he was willing to wait for no matter how long it took.

Eventually, his stomach growled, causing him to drag himself out of a bed for breakfast.

“Hyung, you’re awake!” Soobin greeted him as he walked out of his room.

“Yeah, good morning soobin,” he replied, groggily, rubbing his eyes as the got used to the light.

“Beomgyu and I wanted to head to the practice room early, if you want we could wait for you. Taehyun and Kai just left for school.”

“No it’s alright, thanks, you guys go on ahead. Ill be there around 9,” waving off Soobin’s offer, and headed to the kitchen to make himself some breakfast.

“Alright, we’ll see you later.”

“See you later, hyung!” Beomgyu added before shutting the door behind him and soobin.

He habitually lifted his phone, as it turned on automatically, it read 8.12am. He sighed. What was he expecting? A text from you? It’s been months since you last spoke, but i guess old habits die hard. He stood up, turning on silent and leaving his phone at the counter.

The members all knew what yeonjun went through when you parted ways. He wasn’t himself for a while, he wasn’t eating proper meals, he was messing up at practise, he wasn’t his cheerful, childish self. That faithful day had really taken a toll on him and it wasn’t until recently they starting seeing bits of the old him coming back. But the main thing missing, was the piece of him that he left with you, it was a part that wouldn’t come back until you did, no one knew how long that would be.

It was a quiet morning for yeonjun. With the others having already left, he was left alone with his thoughts. He remembered all the fun times you had together, all the laughs you shared, it made him smile fondely, but maybe remembering was more of a bad thing than good.

He felt as if his head was about to explode, what have you done to him? He decided to abandon his half eaten breakfast, throwing it in the sinj and went to have a quick shower instead. Maybe that could help clear his thoughts.

He let the water run, heating up, while he stripped himself of his clothes and stepped in. As the water hit his bare skin, he remembered the day you two had went to the water park with the other boys. He remembered how shy you were when you admitted to him that you couldn’t swim. How you would cling on to his arm in fears of him leaving you in the middle of the pool. And how he would threaten to let go, just to see you whine, panic and pout, in that order. He let out a frustrated groan, why was it hitting him so hard today?

Supporting himself against the glass panel, he stood there for a while, feeling the steam calm him down the tiniest bit. Looking as if he came straight out of a drama scene. Stepping out, he wrapped himself in a towel.

He cleaned off the condensation that formed on the mirror, seeing his reflection. It shocked him, he looked so out of it. He was out of it. He hardly recognised the person staring back at him, he left the bathroom and went to get dressed for the day, a basic oversized hoodie and sweatpants. Didn’t have to look too nice, nothing special was going to happen anyway.

Leaving the dorm, he grabbed his phone off of the counter, 8.50am, and headed for the practice room. Little did he know, his entire world was about to change in a matter of minutes.

He took his usual route to the building, stopping at the traffic light as he waited for the pixelated man to turn green. He stared at the ground as he bounced on his feet, patiently waiting, mind still racing with thoughts of you. His surrounding disappeared as he sunk in further.

He should have tried harder, he should have did more to convince you to stay, he should have-

*honk, honk*

The sudden obnoxious car honk knocked him out of his thoughts. He had half a mind to swear at the diver for doing that but almost as if by fate, the moment he looked up, he was rendered speechless. Across the street from him was a silhouette he would recognise anywhere.

=====================================

Sry this took me a while to write ㅠㅠ ive been sick for the past few days and generally i just had a hard time thinking of how to start this hah. But its done now and hope you like it!

#yeonjun scenarios #choi yeonjun #yeonjun au #yeonjun ff #txt yeonjun #yeonjun angst #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun #txt ff #txt au #txt angst #txt imagines #txt fanfic #txt fluff #txt post #txt

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insfiringyou · 4 years

Text

BTS - V watches another guy fuck you

Contains: Smut. Oral sex. Vaginal sex. Slight angst.

Although this can be enjoyed on its own as ‘reader’, we imagine the girl here to be our OC girlfriend for him, Cassandra. This is a major part of their ongoing storyline and is set a month before the disastrous events of ‘V and Cassandra try roleplay / use their safeword’.

The events of this fic were briefly mentioned by Cassandra to Nana in ‘Refuge’ and we decided to expand on what happened...

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook

& Our full masterlist can be found here

Rated content below the cut

If there was one thing you had learned in over two years of dating your boyfriend, it was that he could be incredibly stubborn and once he got an idea in his head, it was often much easier to play along than to argue. ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’ had been a massive success and the international cast had brought in a large audience from all over Seoul. Your co-star, Taylor, was half American and a recent graduate from a drama school in New York. His typical good looks and muscular body paired with a youthful innocence made him the perfect choice for Marlon Brando’s character. You yourself, in an attempt to avoid being typecast, had auditioned for the mature role of Blanche and, in the month of practise before the debut, you had perfected the dainty, southern belle accent; even taking to use it while at home. Taehyung had found this adorable and kissed you softly on the mouth every time you entered the room. Your affection for him which, you had to admit, was sometimes tested, came flooding back in an instant the first time he mimicked your accent and, in broken English, teased that you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen. He had been acting strange ever since he received the service letter and these moments of sweetness meant a lot to you.

The afterparty of the closing night had been bustling and you rushed to meet Taehyung by the bar; forgetting to remove the pale powder from your face and the rosy, petal-coloured blush on your cheeks. He had smiled at you, his eyes full of admiration as he pecked you softly on the lips. It hadn’t taken long, however, for his demeanor to change once he was introduced to Taylor. While he was polite to the younger man, his stance immediately shifted and you found yourself thinking of exotic birds, displaying their flamboyant tail feathers. You were more than surprised when he finished his glass of red wine, his third of the night, and invited Taylor back to your shared apartment for a couple of celebratory drinks.

The shipment of wine had arrived directly from France, courtesy of a vineyard you had visited together the year before, and Taehyung wasted no time in cracking open a bottle in the loft of your studio. Despite your protests, your boyfriend had sold his Gangnam apartment six months before to move in with you; an arrangement which had caused some tension when you realised how quickly the cost of housing in the district was going up and what an investment he had lost out on.

You eyed the actor opposite as he helped himself to a second glass, and couldn’t help but wonder what your boyfriend was playing at. When the younger man excused himself to use the restroom, you turned towards Taehyung.

“Do you want another?” He asked.

You shook your head and lowered your voice. “Why did you invite him back?”

“What do you mean?” You couldn’t read any clues in his voice which frustrated you further.

“Taylor.” You whispered, indicating in the direction of the bathroom. “Why did you invite him back?”

He shrugged casually. “Why shouldn’t I? He’s your colleague.”

You felt yourself deflate, wondering whether you were being unreasonable. “We haven’t spoken much outside of work.” You explained. “Our relationship on stage is pretty intense…”

“I could tell.” He said somberly, looking up at the sound of the bathroom door opening. Taylor had a huge grin on his face as he sat back down on the sofa opposite.

“Who’s is the false teeth?” He asked.

“Mine.” Taehyung said. “They’re antique.”

The straight delivery of this made you smirk, remembering how he had brought home them home in an old jar following a visit with Namjoon to an antique warehouse in Prague. He had immediately put them by the sink in the bathroom, finding them hilarious. Taylor clearly didn’t get the joke and a slightly awkward silence ensued.

“Do you want me to top you up?” Taehyung asked after a moment, picking up a half-empty bottle of Syrah.

Taylor eyed the puddle of liquid inside his glass. “I should probably head off soon…”

“Stay for another.” Your boyfriend insisted, topping up his own glass. “It seems like we should enjoy ourselves a little longer. The show was packed tonight…” You felt his hand caress your uncovered knee. “And besides, it’s the final one - you deserve to relax a little. You both did a great job.”

A sense of unease fell over you as you anticipated the younger man’s answer, hoping he would say no so you could just go to bed and forget about whatever weird motive Taehyung had for inviting him here.

“Well, maybe just one more…” Your heart sank as your boyfriend leaned over the coffee table and poured the remainder of the bottle into the man’s glass. “The wine’s really good.” Taylor’s smile made him appear younger and the image flashed through your head of a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck, or, perhaps more fittingly, a young fawn who is blissfully unaware he is being watched by a wolf.

Taehyung smirked. “Do you prefer French or European wine?”

“French definitely…” Taylor said confidently, the deliberate shift in his position breaking his youthful facade. “European’s too bitter.” He settled back against the sofa casually and slowly sipped from the glass, trying to appreciate the notes and flavours in a manner that would satisfy the host.

“Tae…” You warned quietly, suddenly realising your boyfriend was, for some reason, trying to make the man opposite look stupid.

He turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “More?” He offered. You knew he had at least a dozen more bottles in the wine rack under the kitchen sink.

“Can I have a word?” You asked.

Taehyung smiled softly. “You can have several.” You were already halfway across the room when he rose, and he turned to Taylor apologetically. “Sorry, excuse us.”

You looked around for a quiet place to talk and realised that, other than the bathroom, there were no viable options. Taking a quick glance at the younger man to make sure he didn’t look suspicious, you unlatched your front door and stood on the landing. “What are you doing?” You questioned sternly, pulling the door closed.

The way that Taehyung shrugged made you want to hit something. “Entertaining our guest.” He replied simply, moving his hand to your shoulder to push up the thin strap of your short dress which had slipped down your arm.

“Stop it.” You snapped, making him pull away. “You know French is European.”

There was a pause and you realised that his sweet, creamy vetiver aftershave you usually loved suddenly seemed cloying; the space at the top of the stairs was narrow and you had no choice but to stand close together.

“Do you not want him here?” He asked in a low voice.

“It was you who invited him…” You argued.

“I thought you two had great chemistry.”

You paused, eyebrows furrowing. “On stage?”

“You looked good together…”

You slowly exhaled, sensing you had finally gotten to the route of the situation. “What are you trying to get at?” You asked, trying your best to remain calm. This entire thing was ridiculous and you wondered how your boyfriend couldn’t see this.

“Do you find him attractive?” Taehyung asked, his voice equally calm, as though asking you how your day had been rather than whether you wanted to fuck your co-star. You had been through this before, countless times with different actors, and didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a proper answer.

“Are you jealous?” You enquired, keeping your tone steady so as not to betray your annoyance.

“Should I be?” He asked seriously.

“No…” You answered honestly. “But it seems you want to be...” You sighed, knowing that while he was undoubtedly being a stubborn asshole, there may be an underlying motive as to why he had asked. You continued gently. “I know you’re worried about going away...but I wouldn’t cheat.”

“Have you ever thought about it?” His reply took you by surprise and you met his gaze across the dark landing.

“Have you?” You challenged.

He hesitated, refusing to break his gaze as a bout of silence stretched for what felt like minutes.“Eighteen months is a long time…” He eventually said, his voice soft.

You thought for a moment. “Do they have escorts in the military?” The idea should have been painful to think about, but you realised he was right...eighteen months was a long time, and if he needed some relief while inside, you wouldn’t object.

“I wasn’t thinking about me.” He said, voice barely a whisper.

Your jaw clenched at the implication. “I wouldn’t…” You said, echoing his soft tone.

He seemed to ignore you. “You seem a good match.” He nodded towards the closed door, where Taylor sat on the other side.

You placed your hand on your hip in an argumentative stance. “We have nothing in common.”

“You both speak English.” Taehyung contended.

“So do a lot of people.” You said with a sigh.

“I’d understand if you did.”

You found yourself growing angry once more as you realised he wasn’t paying any attention to what you were saying, his own ideas fixed and, as usual, taking priority. “So why don’t you fuck him?” You raised your voice, regretting it at the last second when you remembered there was only one wall separating you from the living room.

He was silent for a moment and, for a second, you suddenly became fearful that he would turn on his heels and march down the stairs in a rage. “I’d rather watch you do it.” He eventually said.

You took a step back in disbelief, your back connecting with the door. “What?” You tried to wrap your head around what he had said and were disappointed to find that it sort of made sense. The events of the evening suddenly clicked into place and you internally rolled your eyes, realising your initial suspicions about Taehyung’s motives had been wrong.

“You heard...” He said in a deep voice, before nodding towards the apartment door. “We’ve kept him too long.”

You turned to head reluctantly back into the studio, quietly wondering whether Taylor might have changed his mind and wanted to leave early after all. “You talk about him as if you’re planning on murdering him.” You commented, twisting the handle.

“I won’t touch him.” His promise was not entirely reassuring.

Taylor was as you had left him but the glass in his hand was now empty. “Is everything okay?” He asked tentatively as you slipped down onto the sofa by Taehyung’s side.

“Peachy.” Your boyfriend smirked, speaking in English.

Taylor smiled at the attempt. “Cassandra says you make music.” He said, clearly trying to make small talk.

“I do.”

“How did you two meet?” The younger man asked with curiosity and you realised it wasn’t something you spoke about often.

“He saw me playing Titania.” You explained. The blank look on Taylor’s face, however, showed you he didn’t get the reference. Some theatre student, you thought. “In A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” You clarified.

“Oh…” He smiled, finally understanding. “I dig Shakespeare.”

Taehyung interrupted, once more stroking your thigh beneath the short hem of your black and gold dress. It was a 20s style, flapper number you had picked up in America during your brief stint on Broadway. “I saw the poster. Queen of the fairies…” You felt his hand move, slipping affectionately around your shoulder to caress the ends of your ponytail delicately. His voice was nostalgic and a little dreamy.

“He sent flowers to my dressing room after the show.” You explained, remembering how shocked and flattered you had been to see them on the table. The role was only your second in a major theatre and, so far, you had received little attention as an actress.

“Red carnations…” Taehyung remembered.

Taylor smiled. “Because of her red hair?”

Your boyfriend met his gaze directly. “Because I wanted her.”

You rolled your eyes, noticing a nervous smile touch Taylor’s lips at your boyfriend’s blunt explanation. It didn’t surprise you; Taehyung seemed to get a kick out of making people uncomfortable.

“How did you meet your girlfriend?” The older man pressed on.

Taylor shifted. “Oh, actually I’m single right now.”

“Isn’t there anyone you’re interested in?”

You noticed Taehyung’s deliberately casual tone and suddenly wondered why he had never gone for more acting roles; he clearly had the talent.

Taylor sighed a little. “It’s hard to date when you’re on the road.”

His answer made you scoff quietly. The only road he had seen in the last three months was the one from Incheon International to the 5 star hotel he was staying at in Gangnam.

“I manage.” Taehyung shrugged.

You sighed, getting to your feet. You had grown tired of this little game and wanted the hot-shot actor out of your apartment before things had the chance to escalate. “It’s getting late…”

“Sit down.” Taehyung commanded, placing his hand gently on your bottom without taking his eyes from the man opposite. You sat back down quietly, realising that Taehyung was serious about what he wanted to happen and that he was already putting the ground-work in place. “Do you have a type?” He pressed on. If the other man had noticed that something was wrong, he didn’t let on. Instead, he sat back on the sofa, relaxing into the cushions.

“Confidence is sexy…” He shrugged. “And with a good style.”

Taehyung smiled. “Like her?” He asked, nodding towards you. You shifted uncomfortably.

Taylor faltered, a little timid smile playing on his lips. “I guess so…”

“You seemed to like kissing her on stage.” Taehyung said nonchalantly, making you cringe internally. And there it was, the penny finally dropped. You saw Taylor’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion and almost felt sorry for him.

“I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick.” His eyes briefly fluttered to yours, as though waiting for you to step in, before moving back to your boyfriend’s. “It’s not like that…”

You sighed loudly. “He knows it’s not…”

Taehyung ignored you, his gaze fixed lazily on the man opposite. “If you had the chance to fuck her, would you?” He asked. You sensed the curiosity behind his question, despite him trying to mask it beneath a casual air.

Tipping your head to the side in a dismissive gesture, you rolled your eyes once more. “You don’t have to answer that…”

Taylor seemed to ignore you, his focus instead fixed on Taehyung. “What are you suggesting?”

You felt your already bubbling frustration begin to rise as the two men bargained over you like you weren’t in the room.

“That you fuck her.”

“What?” Taylor raised his voice in disbelief.

“I want you to make her cum.” Taehyung said casually. The other man finally locked eyes with you.

“Is he serious?”

“Unfortunately yes.” You admitted, knowing at this point Taehyung was not going to let up on the idea.

The younger man hesitated. “And you’re okay with that?”

You hesitated, realising that if you wanted to back out, now was the time to do it. While Taehyung was clearly fixed on wanting this to happen, you knew he would not object if you did not want to. Nethertheless, the whole idea was ridiculous, and a part of you hoped that allowing this to happen would make your boyfriend see just how stupid and petty he was being. You sighed, giving in. “You don’t have to make me cum.”

“Yes he does.” Taehyung said coldly.

Taylor looked at you both, his eyes flicking from right to left, before finally fixing, unsurprisingly, on your boyfriend. “You want me to do it here?” He asked, looking at the pair of sofas; the delicate, autumnal tapestry pattern a near-perfect match to the busy wallpaper. You regarded him blankly, disappointed that he had not put up more of a fight. Then again, you weren’t surprised. Men could be so predictable.

“The sofa was expensive.” Taehyung said in a manner that suggested he was disappointed the younger man couldn’t tell. “On the bed.” He requested.

There was a moment of hesitation were you were sure the actor would come to his senses and ask to leave, but eventually, he raised from his seat and walked across the living space and towards the double bed. The open-plan layout of the studio meant that Taehyung didn’t have to move to get a good view and, when you followed the younger man and sat on the edge of the duvet, you noticed you would be in your boyfriend’s eye line.

“Suck his cock.” Taehyung’s voice was low, but you heard him clearly. Taylor, whose back was to the sofas, turned around.

“Are you just gonna watch?” He asked.

“Yes.”

The actor shrugged. “That’s okay man, if that’s what you’re into.”

You suspected, not for the first time, that while Taylor was undoubtedly straight, he had paid his way through acting school by taking on a number of elicit modeling jobs and that his clientele, with his handsome looks and muscular form, composed of more males than females. You looked up at him from your position on the bed. “Don’t worry...it’s not about you. He’s just got this idea in his head.” You said dryly, nodding towards your boyfriend who met your gaze.

“Do it Cass.” Taehyung said gently.

You paused for a moment, before nodding, looking away to slide your hands across the younger man’s leather belt and unbuckle the clasp. He gasped as you pulled apart the material to stroke him through his white underpants, finding him already hard. This didn’t surprise you; guys like Taylor, in your experience, did not take a lot to get worked up. You wasted no time in slipping your left hand beneath the elasticated waistband, grasping his cock in yours and pulling it from the confines of his shorts. He was, annoyingly, well-endowed; a few drops of pre-cum glistened from the tip and you brushed your thumb over it, spreading it over the flushed head. At least, you thought as you stroked him, he had an attractive cock which might make this whole experience that bit more pleasurable. His taste was different, unfamiliar, as you closed your lips around him and sank your mouth down his length. You clutched him in one hand, holding him steady as you looked past his hip to your boyfriend who watched intently. He sipped his wine slowly, clearly enjoying the sight of you as you sucked Taylor’s cock. It didn’t take the younger man long to get into it and he started to moan loudly as you quickly worked him; his eyes scrunching in pleasure. You wondered as you pulled away to lick along his length, whether he had half-forgotten your boyfriend’s presence in the room. You took him back in, moving your hand in time with your lips to avoid the need of taking him in too deep; you couldn’t deny that a part of you had started to enjoy the feel of Taehyung’s intense gaze on your face...of having him watch you do this to someone else. You moaned loudly, adjusting your position slightly to get more comfortable and, in turn, blocking the view as you continued to lick and suck his erection.

“That’s enough…” You weren’t surprised to hear Taehyung asking you to stop and you complied easily, unwrapping your hand from around the other man’s thickness and allowing his wet cock to drop from your lips as you slowly backed up. Taylor stepped aside, taking his erection in his hand and pumping it a few times as his eyes moved down your chest. Glancing over at your boyfriend to make sure he was looking, you took both of his hands in yours and brought them to your breasts, running them along the outside of the silky fabric. You had foregone a bra and your nipples poked at the material as the actor palmed them, pushing them together a little roughly before squeezing them one at a time.

“It’s okay to enjoy it…” Taehyung commented, making you realise that you hadn’t yet broken eye contact with your boyfriend. You let out a groan you really didn’t feel as Taylor moved forward, pushing you gently onto the duvet as his lips met your collarbone, kissing along the visible skin with his warm mouth. This felt better, and you sighed softly at the sensation.

“Her nipples…” Taehyung suggested. “They’re really sensitive.”

The younger man took the hint and you allowed him to slip the straps of your dress over your shoulders, pulling the material down over your bare breasts and running his thumbs slowly along the hardened buds. You gasped and your eyes momentarily connected with Taylor’s for the first time since you had started this; he could see that your boyfriend had been right and, dropping lower, he closed his mouth over your right breast, cupping the soft swell of flesh in his palm as he sucked your nipple sensually, pulling away to circle his tongue around the areola before capturing the other one. You moaned, feeling thankful as you realised the space between your thighs had started to tingle in pleasure; that when he finally undressed you, you would be soaking. As if on cue, Taylor released your nipple and moved down, sliding the dress the rest of the way from your body and discarding it easily on the floor. You could just about make eye contact with your boyfriend from your position on the bed; he looked at you hungrily as your body was revealed to him.

“She tastes exquisite...” He piped up, taking another sip of Syrah. You suspected, from his longing tone of voice, that the wine was not his first choice of beverage in that moment. “Like almonds and silk.” He finished.

“Enough of the running commentary Tae!” You complained, to no avail.

“Why don’t you try it?” Taehyung smirked.

Taylor looked at you, waiting to see if you would protest. You slowly nodded, giving him permission and he slid his fingers beneath the elastic sides of your nude-coloured underwear, pulling the string panties down your legs to join your dress on the floor. His tongue was flicky on your clitoris; the contact brief in a way you had seen tens of dozens of times in porn. You wondered how often he did this, and whether he seemed this squeamish with all of his girlfriends. Taehyung’s sly smile grew as he observed the man’s pathetic attempt at oral. It was worlds away from how your boyfriend ate you out.

“Is that good babe?” He asked loudly from his space on the sofa. You sensed his mocking tone and moaned loudly, spurring the younger man on.

“Quicker…” You instructed. “Use your fingers...”

Taylor complied, increasing the speed of his tongue against your sensitive nub and hooking his fore and middle finger inside you. The change was welcome and, while the feeble pressure of his clit work was not doing much for you, the feel of his digits stretching you was incredibly pleasurable.

“Careful…” Taehyung piped up, his voice laced with sarcasm you suspected only you could detect. “You don’t want her to cum too soon.”

“Fuck off.” You groaned, directed at your boyfriend, before brushing your hands through Taylor’s dark hair to get his attention. He pulled away, looking up at you from between your parted thighs. “Put it in me.” You requested.

He looked a little relieved at the prospect of getting his release and shifted position, hovering over you. “Should I use a condom?” He asked.

“Do you have Chlamydia?”

“Fuck no.” He seemed offended and you couldn’t help but smirk sourly. He was happy to be fucking someone else’s girlfriend, but the suggestion that he could have caught something unsavoury while ‘on the road’, as he put it, was too much for him to comprehend.

You sighed beneath him. “Then he’ll want to see you do it inside me.” You nodded towards the living room. “He’ll enjoy it more.” You admitted.

Taylor paused, trying to wrap his mind around this. “If you’re sure…” He said.

Taehyung was silent as the other man undressed and entered you deeply, the sounds of your thighs coming together echoing loudly around the wooden beams of the loft. You focussed on the sensation rather than the man delivering it, and found yourself moaning loudly as you clenched your muscles around him; his cock hitting your inner walls deliciously. As you shifted position, turning Taylor around to ride him, you were able to tune out the fact your boyfriend was watching from behind; his gaze undoubtedly fixed on your naked back and bare arse as you bounced up and down on the young man’s cock, pursuing your orgasm.

Reaching up, you unfastened the bobby pins which held your hair from your face and let the red curls cascade against your chest, brushing your nipples which Taylor eventually reached for; playing with them between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and tweaking lightly as you felt the first wave of your climax rock through you. Keeping up the fast pace, almost unaware of how loud you had become, you rode through it, encouraging it to peak as your thighs began to tremble around the man’s hips. You laid your palm flat against his chest as you grinded your clitoris against him; his neat tangle of pubic hair tickling the smooth skin of your labia as you came roughly. Your orgasm was surprisingly intense; you couldn’t remember the last time it had stretched on for so long, and you tried to savour it, rocking forwards and backward in time with the pulsations which grew and eventually ebbed away; waxing and waning like the tide. You were too exhausted to move when you finally came down from your high and was more than happy to be flipped over onto your back as Taylor tried to follow.

The pleasure was still there but had a dull edge to it as the man finished inside you with a loud groan, half-collapsing against your chest as his breathing slowed. Like yourself, he took a while to get over the intensity and you became vaguely aware that he was still inside you, softening, as he clung to you. “That was amazing!” He sighed, pulling away to smooth a gentle curl of hair from your forehead. His own skin glistened with a sheen of perspiration which, you thought ironically, would undoubtedly have caused the mostly-female audience at the theatre tonight to lose their minds if they saw. He slowly, and reluctantly, pulled out of you as he pressed his lips to your forehead, kissing you affectionately before moving down, towards your mouth.

“Get the fuck out.”

Your boyfriend’s voice rang through the room and Taylor snapped back, turning around to see the older man slowly standing up from his position on the sofa. Taehyung’s eyes roamed over your naked body, to the space between your legs and you closed them automatically, a little ashamed as the younger man dismounted you and scrambled anxiously off the bed.

“Are you serious?” He asked, voice full of confusion and, if you were correct, an ounce of fear. When your boyfriend did not answer, he held his hands up in disbelief; palms outstretched in an act of surrender. “You asked me to do this!” He protested.

“I know I did.” Taehyung agreed easily. “Now I want you to leave.”

You worried for a second that he was going to argue, but were relieved when he quickly grabbed his underwear and slipped them on. At least you wouldn’t have to see him again. He finished undressing in a hurry and backed away towards the front door, taking one final glance at you as your boyfriend joined you on the edge of the bed. The younger man hesitated, wanting to have a final say, before thinking better of it and leaving in silence.

You sat up against the headboard as Taehyung looked at you tenderly, his eyes moving over your breasts and stomach before resting on your pubis. He gently nudged your thigh, and you moved it aside to let him view your plump lips and inner folds, uncovering yourself to him.

“He’s made such a mess of you…” His voice was incredibly soft as he reached between your labia and ran his fingers down the centre until he reached your exposed cunt. He sank the very tips of his fingers in gently and you felt your body leak the remainder of the fluids Taylor had left in you. Taehyung bit his lip as the cum dripped from your opening, watching as it trickled down your perineum and anus before puddling on the bedsheets. “How does it feel, having another guy’s cum inside you?” He asked in a low voice, pulling his fingers away.

“It was your idea…” You reminded him.

“Tell me.” He pressed gently.

You shrugged. “Pretty gross.”

His mouth met yours passionately and your tongues merged together as he pulled you closer by the back of your head. When he finally moved away, he caressed your lips softly with the pads of his fingers. “At least he didn’t ruin your pretty mouth.” You couldn’t help but moan gently as he leaned back in and captured your lips once more in a gentle, open-mouthed kiss.

“I’m proud of you.” He eventually said, brushing your hair away from your face and stroking your smooth cheekbone. You knew it was true and, despite how ridiculous the request had seemed at the beginning of the evening, you were likewise proud of yourself for going through with it. “Can you take more?” Taehyung asked cautiously, knowing you might be too sensitive or not want to.

You had known he would want to fuck you afterward from the moment this whole thing started and anticipated the question wondering, not for the first time, if he had an emotionally masochistic streak. “If you’re gentle.” You nodded.

He kissed your cheek sweetly. “Of course I’ll be gentle.”

Laying back against the covers, you watched him take off the formal shirt and tie he had put on for the show, before moving to his plain black trousers and underwear. As promised, he moved against you slowly; unbothered by the slick sensation he was met with as he pushed through your folds and held you close.

“You’re so beautiful…” He whispered, gazing at you with deep, expressive eyes as his hips pressed forward. “So lovely…”

You remained silent, allowing him to talk while he was in the mood to do so; sensing that whatever he needed to say was important.

“I’m really going to miss you.” He eventually said, his mouth flush against your chest as you rocked together gently.

You felt your chest ache, knowing this had been on his mind for weeks, ever since he got the stupid letter in the mail. “We still have a while yet... ” You reasoned, kissing his face softly.

“I don’t want you to be lonely.” He revealed sadly. “Who’s going to take care of you?”

You shook your head, knowing he meant well but unable to let it slide. “I can take care of myself…” You paused. “I’ll miss you too.” You said honestly.

Burying his head in the concaving space between your shoulder and neck, he pressed his lips to your skin, savouring your scent and taste. “Someone needs to keep you warm at night.”

“You’re overthinking it...”

Your faces were inches from each other as he pulled away to look at you. “Are you upset with me?” He asked. You knew what he was referring to and, for the first time that evening, saw that he was feeling apprehensive about what had happened, and how far he had pushed things.

“No…” You said truthfully.

“Can you understand why I asked?”

You thought of the conversation you had shared on the landing, about how he was worried about you being alone for so long. “You have nothing to worry about.” You reassured.

“I’m not anymore.” He admitted and you frowned, finally realising why he had been so eager for you to do it.

“Did it put your mind to rest?” You asked.

“I thought it would kill me…” He spoke softly, his breath gentle against your face. “Seeing you with someone else...”

“So you just had to see it?” It made sense, in a strange way, that in order for him to get over the fear of you cheating on him, he needed to see you do it with someone else.

“I can’t explain it…” He said, a little breathlessly. “It made me appreciate you more.”

“How so?”

“That you’d be willing to do that for me.”

Your lips came together softly as his body finally shook against you.

***

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mythicalsecretsanta · 4 years

Text

Mr Audi (T)

Title: Mr Audi Creator: @cryo-girl Prompt(s) used: a romcom meet-cute Rating: T Tags/warnings: N/A Description/caption: N/A

Link to AO3, or read below:

Link floored the gas pedal and took a quick look in the rear-view mirror. He smirked and readjusted his sunglasses with a practised move before he set his eyes back on the road. The light of the day was already fading, casting the streets in a red and golden shimmer that blinded him if the angle was just so.

The map on his crappy sat nav told him what he needed to do, and after a glance at the glowing green line on the screen Link drifted around the next corner with a slick flick of the wrist. The car spun, and for a moment Link was flying. This was what he loved and craved so much, these seconds where he was the centre of a blurry world which revolved around him and his machine.

Link was a racing driver, and he loved it. Nothing could give him more satisfaction than the sound of his car— the howling of the engine, the rubber of the tyres against hard concrete. Every little purr seemed synchronised with his heartbeat.

Link shook his head and took a look back again. The white Lexus was still closely following him, too closely perhaps. Link had only recently made it into the top twenty, and he needed to end this race on a darn good position if he wanted to keep his rank and get the cash to replace a few much needed spare parts on his baby.

His baby was a 2005 Corvette C6 with a professional nitrous system and reinforced gears, spray-painted after his own design in matte black with yellow highlights. It had been in a pitiful state when Link had won it in a midnight race a while ago, and it had taken him a long time to gather all the original parts which were needed to restore it.

For the last month it had been on the street though, with over 400 hp and 190 mph, and it had won Link the entrance into the high circles of the illegal underworld of car racing.

This race wasn’t exactly high-class, but winning it still meant good money and circuit practise. Link took another glance at his sat nav and changed onto a lane that led into a long tunnel. There was a lot of traffic around this part of the city, and he had to navigate around trucks and family vans without losing speed. He lost sight of his pursuer in the Lexus for a while and when he rushed out into daylight again he noticed a slightly battered BMW tailing him instead.

He took the next off-ramp to the freeway. This was the part Link loved the most, when he could tease the last kilowatt out of his machine and make use of an engine that enabled him to accelerate from 0 to 70 mph in 5.2 seconds.

The road over the bridge was surprisingly empty, only a few cars scattered on the lanes. Later, Link honestly couldn’t fathom how it had happened; one moment he was enjoying his leading position and the nice view onto the river, easily pulling around the other road users. A second later he heard a grating noise and felt the whole vehicle shaking as he gripped the steering wheel tightly, struggling to regain control over his skidding car. He’d hit another car, right at the back of it, and pushed it around 180°.

“Fuck!” he yelled, watching at least three of his competitors rushing past. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!!” Link slammed his fist into the dash.

How could he be so stupid? To make such a damn beginner’s mistake, getting into an accident without any cause, crashing into a civilian’s car?!

Link’s instinct was to get going and try to make up for the lost time, but there was something that made him stay and take a look at the other car. It was still standing on the spot where it had come to a stop; it didn’t seem seriously damaged, fortunately. A matte blue Audi A1, shimmering in the soft evening light.

Link didn’t know what had gotten into him, but he put his own car into reverse and slowly drove up to the Audi. He was only a couple of feet away when the blue car suddenly began to move, the damaged engine producing a pitiful sound.

What the heck, Link thought and started to follow the car. Why didn’t the driver confront him? The accident had been his fault. He followed the Audi, the race completely forgotten. Something was telling him that this little yuppie car was special; he felt drawn to it.

After twenty minutes of following the Audi he had enough. He went down on the accelerator and bumped into the back of the other car which came to halt. With a triumphant smile, Link steered his Corvette around it and prepared himself to finally, finally look at the driver of the blue car.

He turned his head and— saw nothing. The inside of the Audi was entirely black, and instead of a person who drove it there were only a handful of pixels.

——

Link put the controller down and rubbed his eyes. You’re getting insane, he thought. He’d just spent half an hour pursuing a digital car in the hope that the driver of said car, who didn’t exist because it was a fucking video game simulation, might fall in love with him.

“I need to get out” he muttered to himself and pushed the power button on his Xbox. The TV screen flickered for a second before it went black. Link wondered when he’d been outside for the last time. Yesterday? No, it had been the day before that, he’d had the monthly meeting with his boss. Link had always thought that working from home was one of the great advantages of being an analyst, but now he almost wished he had a job which forced him to go into the real world more often.

Still embarrassed about his strange behaviour in the racing game earlier, he decided to take a shower and go to the stores. It’d do him good to get some fresh air. Link stopped in front of the bathroom mirror to take a look at himself. What he saw depressed him to a certain extent.

Floppy hair, big glasses that always seemed to have smudges on them and pale skin. A scrawny body in a nerdy graphic tee.

Link was usually confident about his personality, he was smart and he prided himself on valuing his brains over his looks, but the blue Audi incident had surprised him and left a queasy feeling in his stomach.

Maybe his desire to find someone to love was bigger than he’d thought. But who would take a nerd like him? Who would put up with his adult braces and his weird eating habits? Link was a realistic person; there was no prince for him who would come riding on his German automobile and swoop him up into his arms.

With a sigh he turned to the shower.

——

“Hey! Look where you’re going, dude!”

Link had bumped head first into something very big and very soft. He’d been in the pasta aisle, looking down on his shopping list and hadn’t noticed the other man standing in his way.

“Oh, sorry, I-” He looked up and immediately stopped talking. The most attractive guy he had ever seen was staring down at him with an amused smile.

“You have to watch your step, man” the stranger said softly and shook his head, his long hair flying around. “Delicate guy like you, could easily be broken.”

Link felt panic rising in his chest. He was terrible at talking to strangers, especially when those strangers were beautiful and called him ‘delicate’. “Um…” was all he managed to choke out.

The other man laughed. “Are you all right? Did I knock the ability to speak out of you?”

“Oh, erm, no I’m okay. Sorry again.” Link adjusted his glasses and looked at his feet. He was afraid that he might die if he looked into that face again. That beard…

“It’s fine. It’s not everyday that I get that much body contact with someone as pretty as you are.”

What? Link knew that his social skills were incredibly poor, but it almost seemed to him as if he was being hit on by the stranger. That couldn’t be, right?

“Are you flirting with me?” he blurted out before he could stop himself. Stupid.

The stranger’s smile disappeared and Link hated to see it go. “Er, kind of? I’m sorry if I’m too straightforward, I’ve been told that I’m coming on a bit strong sometimes. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Link’s heart was pounding and he noticed that he kept readjusting his glasses. He almost pinched himself to make sure this wasn’t just a very good VR video game.

“No, it’s okay! I don’t mind it, I’m just… not very used to anyone wanting to flirt with me.”

The stranger smiled again, running his fingers through his blond mane in a deliberate way that made Link suspect he was doing it in order to impress him.

“That can’t be true. Pretty guy like you.”

Okay, now Link was certain that the man was messing with him. There was no way a guy like that, with expensive jeans and a carefully styled beard, would call him pretty.

“Are you trying to make fun of me?” he asked, taking a step to the side in case the man got mean.

“What? No, no! You are pretty. Not by regular standards maybe, I mean I’d get rid of the glass bricks in your face and maybe a shirt that fits would help, but you’re definitely cute! I like nerdy types.”

“Oh.”

“But if you’re not interested, that’s okay, sorry to have bothered you.” The stranger put his hands up and took a few steps back, away from Link.

This was Link’s one shot at meeting someone. He knew he finally had to break out of his shell.

“No, I’m interested!” he called out. The stranger stopped and looked at him. “I’m interested, please stay. I’m just not good at flirting, but you’re really handsome and I think I want to get to know you. Please allow me to ask you out?”

Link hoped that this was what people said in these situations. He only really knew how dating worked from films. Apparently his words had been right though, because the other man beamed and walked back to Link.

“Great! I’m Rhett. I’d like to give you my number, but my phone’s in my car. Do you wanna go outside to get it with me?”

Link nodded eagerly and they left the store, both abandoning their shopping carts. “I’m Link, by the way” he said.

They reached the parking lot and Rhett pointed over to a car at the very end of it. “That’s my car.”

Link followed his gaze and almost started to laugh.

On the other side of the parking area —standing out between a mass of white, beige and silver cars— stood a matte blue Audi A1.

#type: fic #rating: T #submission #gmselfiso

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heavens-bookshop · 4 years

Text

merry christmas

(This is mostly just an excuse for me to project my own issues with family and the holidays. I wanted to write at least one thing for @drawlight‘s Ineffable Advent Calendar event but I didn’t end up having much time in December. “Love” seemed like a good theme for this. Excuse the sloppiness.)

It was strange being back in Tadfield. Neither of them had been for a visit since they’d averted Armageddon and had largely intended to avoid setting foot there ever again. However, Aziraphale insisted it would be rather rude to turn down an invitation to Christmas dinner, and while Crowley couldn’t have given a toss about bad manners, he was somewhat lacking in willpower when it came to Aziraphale. So, after a quick jaunt down the M40 in the Bentley, they found themselves approaching the doorstep of Jasmine Cottage holding the fanciest bottle of wine Aziraphale was willing to part with. There’d been some initial awkwardness stirred up by the damned horseshoe hanging above the threshold - Aziraphale had been entirely unwilling to allow Crowley to enter the house until Anathema had assured him that it had no power over invited guests (demon or otherwise). But it didn't take long after that for things to settle into something resembling pleasantness.

Everyone from the airfield was there. The Them were in full attendance alongside their parents, who all seemed terribly confused by the strange assortment of people their children had befriended but nodded along politely as they were regaled with tales of vanquishing War and Death. Sergeant Shadwell was talking Newt's ear off in the corner while Anathema fled to the kitchen under the pretense of needing to check on the roast. Madame Tracy sidled up to Crowley's elbow, beaming as she congratulated the pair of them.

"Oh, you should have heard the thoughts that went through his head when you turned up in your car!" she said with a cheeky grin. Crowley bit down his laughter as Aziraphale's face turned a few shades shy of the red wine in his glass.

"I think I'll go check on our lovely host in the kitchen," he said tightly, turning on his heel. Crowley watched in silent amusement as he disappeared through a cheerfully decorated doorway, while Madame Tracy continued chattering away about what a handsome pair they made.

A few drinks later, Crowley found he was in fact having a what could be described as A Good Time. It wasn't until he'd finished successfully convincing Anathema, Adam and Pepper that the Earth is shaped like a tetrahedron that he realised he hadn't seen Aziraphale in a while. He excused himself from the living room and started wandering through the corridor, following the faint trail of angelic energy to the back of the house. Through a window, Crowley spotted a pale figure with a crown of platinum blonde curls sitting on a bench at the bottom of the garden. He slipped through the back door and picked his way across the garden path, feet moving silently over the flagstones. When he got a few steps from the bench, he heard Aziraphale sniffle and sigh heavily.

"Aziraphale?"

The angel startled and quickly dragged his hands down his face.

"Oh, my dear, I didn't see you there," Aziraphale said in a watery voice.

Crowley settled himself down next to him on the bench. When he could finally get a look at Aziraphale, it ripped his heart open a little. His face was flushed and blotchy, and - despite his best efforts to wipe away the evidence - his cheeks were damp.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, gently laying a hand on top of the angel's knee.

Aziraphale smiled half-heartedly and nodded his head. “Yes, of course, it’s nothing really.”

That was obviously a lie. Even without the thousands of years of practise, Crowley could have spotted it. Aziraphale had never been good at lying. But Crowley understood how difficult it still was for him to not just default to hiding his feelings. He understood how difficult it was to avoid falling back on the old habits that used to keep them both safe. So he sat in patient silence, stroking the side of his knee with the pad of his thumb. Finally, Aziraphale heaved a tired sigh.

“I suppose I just wasn’t prepared for how difficult Christmas would be," he said quietly. "It was always a busy time, you know. I used to get far more assignments around Christmas. Possibly the one time of year I felt that I was actually doing some good."

Aziraphale turned his gaze up to the sky, his profile outlined in silver moonlight. Not that long ago, Crowley would have been falling over himself to commit the view to memory, save it for a lonely night.

"I know it's silly," he said, not quite able to hide the quiver in his voice. "I'm much happier without any of them, I can actually enjoy my life now. But it still feels like I've lost something. It… somehow feels like I'm the one who's done something terribly wrong."

There was a blunt ache in Crowley's chest, a burnt out hole left by the grace that had been torn from him millennia ago - the dull pain of a phantom limb. He'd never wanted Aziraphale to feel anything close to it.

"It's not silly," he replied, squeezing his knee.

Aziraphale covered his hand with his own, soft and warm and wonderfully familiar now. There was a fragile smile on his face, and it lanced Crowley right in the heart.

"It feels silly."

Crowley wanted desperately to take away his pain, to draw the venom out of the wound. He remembered the little surprise he'd prepared, tucked next to his chest. It was something he’d meant to give him later, something he’d hoped might look like a sweeping romantic gesture, but this seemed like the right time for it.

"I've got something for you," he said.

He withdrew his hand from the warmth of Aziraphale's palm, reached into the inside of his jacket and produced a small wooden box. The angel plucked it from Crowley's fingers, turning it over a few times and inspecting the design made of inlays of mother-of-pearl. A small heart embraced by two wings.

"I thought we said we weren't going to bother with getting each other gifts."

"I've had it for a long time, doesn't really count," Crowley replied, waving off the protests. "I'm just passing it along."

Aziraphale pried open the box and gingerly dropped the contents into his hand - a small, very weathered coin.

"Is that… an old sixpence? What on Earth are you doing with one of these still on you?"

The coin winked at them from the middle of his palm as it glinted in the light spilling out from the cottage.

"I don't expect you'd remember, but it was one of the times we were at The Globe, watching our old mate Will put together the debut of Hamlet. We were figuring out who was going to draw the short straw and hike all the way up to Edinburgh."

Aziraphale chuckled softly and swiped his thumb over the surface of the coin.

"And we tossed for it," he said, smiling. "Of course I remember, darling. You kept this for four hundred years?"

Crowley gently nudged the angel with his shoulder.

"I did. Every time I found it in my pocket, I thought of you." He reached out with slender hands to close Aziraphale's fingers around the coin. "And it reminded me that no matter how alone I felt, how rejected by Heaven or hated by Hell I was, there was someone in the universe that cared about me. There was someone on my side."

Aziraphale smiled at him - a smile that put crinkles at the corners of his eyes and shifted a few tears loose.

"Oh, Crowley."

He wrapped his arms around the demon's neck to pull him in for a kiss, enveloping the both of them in a golden haze of tender affection. When they parted, they settled into each other's arms, with Aziraphale's head nestled in the crook of Crowley's neck. Blonde curls tickled at his jaw, and Crowley buried his face into them, into the familiar scent of sandalwood and rosewater. They sat like that for some time, listening to the muted voices floating down the garden from the house alongside the soft rush of the motorway somewhere close by. Aziraphale leaned his weight a little further into Crowley's shoulder and began turning the coin over between his manicured fingers.

"I can't believe you kept this," he said with a chuckle.

Crowley craned his neck to get closer to the angel's ear and smirked.

"And I can't believe you never even considered I'd cheat at the coin toss."

Aziraphale sat straight up and threw him a look of mock outrage, the cheeky spark that Crowley loved dearly dancing in his eyes.

"You wily old snake," he said with a grin.

Crowley pulled him back in against his chest, their noses almost touching.

"You did always think the best of me," he said, tilting his head to kiss him. "Even if it was entirely undeserved."

The warmth of Aziraphale's hand caressed his cheek.

"I love you, Crowley."

It had been months now, but the words still made his heart backflip inside his rib cage.

"Love you too, angel."

After one more kiss, Aziraphale stood up, straightening out his waistcoat with a few sharp tugs.

"I think I'm ready to go back inside," he said with a gentle smile.

Crowley rose to his feet as well, taking the time to enjoy the way the light of the waning moon caught the tips of his curls. He took the angel's hand in his and they walked back up the garden path together, towards the kindness and laughter of their gathered friends, towards a houseful of people Crowley knew loved his angel the way he always should have been.

#good omens #31 days of ineffables #prompt fill #ineffable husbands #my fics #i guess this was more cathartic than anything else

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dear-yunho · 5 years

Text

The Mistake

Pairing : Jeong Yunho (ATEEZ) x Female!Reader Genre : Angst/Fluff Word Count : 3,595 Author’s Note : This was a really quick and random write up, so there are likely mistakes and parts that make no sense but nontheless.. here it is.

“Y/n?” Groggily you pulled your phone away from your ear, checking the time displayed at the top of the screen. 2:38am. “San? Why the hell are you calling me at almost 3 in the damn morning?” You groaned, pressing the speaker back against your ear so you could hear his response. You’d barely gotten to sleep more than two hours ago, mind a turbulent blend of every tiny thing you had to stress about at the moment. School. Family. Friends. Hiding the fact that you knew and were friends with Ateez from the rest of the world. Not something that a normal 20 year old had to worry about, but something that was an everyday worry for you non the less. San cleared his throat, speaking much quieter when he started talking again. “Well.. Yunho is..” Your throat tightened at the mention of Yunho. Jeong Yunho, the tall dark haired boy with puppy like eyes who you’d had a crush on for as long as you could remember. The boy who had, inadvertently crushed your heart just two months ago. The one who you’d begged the rest of your friends not to talk to you about, because your heart couldn’t take the pain of thinking about him after what had happened that night. You squeezed your eyes closed tightly, only half hearing the next words San said in a hushed voice. “He’s really upset Y/n, he thinks that he did something wrong because you haven’t been talking to him.” He did do something wrong. “He didn’t do anything.” You breathed, knowing it was a lie but not caring. San was quiet for a moment, a soft sigh buffering through the speaker. “I don’t think that’s true but either way, whatever happened, shouldn’t you at least talk about it with someone? Even if it isn’t him, you know that any one of us are always here for you.” You appreciated the thought, truly. But you could barely even let your thoughts wander back to that night, let alone relive it to one of them. Tears welled behind your closed lids and you drew in a few shaking breaths until you felt confident enough to speak. “I can’t, San.” No matter how ready you’d thought you were, your voice still cracked at the end, making you feel small and worthless. You couldn’t even hide your emotions from San, how did he or any of them expect you to be able to face Yunho again without him figuring everything out in seconds? He may be an energetic ball of energy and good looks, but the most attractive part about him was his intelligence. “Y/n…” You could almost hear the sad pout in San’s voice and picture the way he’d have his knees pulled close to his chest, chin resting on the tops of them and hand clutching the phone as tight as he could to his ear. You could feel the sympathy and love from him like a beacon through the phone and it only made you miss him, miss them all, ten thousand times more. “I need sleep.” You choked, hurriedly wrenching the phone from your ear and hitting the end call button before throwing the device as far across the room as you could. It landed with a crunch of glass that made you wince in the corner of the room, close to your doorway. Despite knowing you’d probably just completely broken it, you could bring yourself to regret throwing it as you curled up in a sad ball below your covers. You didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. “Are you hungry?” You looked up in surprise at the sound of Yunho’s familiar upbeat voice, his tall figure leaning against your doorway, a take out bag held up in the air. He’d positioned it almost as if it were a shield, his wide brown eyes peeking out past it at you, as though he expected you to reject his company. You smiled, nodding him in and shifting some of the books on your bed to give him a space to sit. You needed to study, desperately. But there was nothing in hell that could make you turn Yunho away. He grinned, looking somewhat relieved and plopping himself with his normal energy beside you, humming and shoving the bag of food into your hands. A mouth watering scent rose from it, drawing a groan of hunger from your lips and a gurgle from your stomach as you wrenched it open and peered excitedly into it. “Yunho!” You beamed happily, dragging the tub of bulgogi out. His mouth quirked up as you dug into it, briefly forgetting about the piles of assignments you still needed to complete this week. “How did you get in by the way?” You asked through a mouthful of beef and rice, eyebrows raised at him. “You left the door unlocked.” He said pointedly, eyes glancing to the doorway of your room, through which you could just see the front door that entered your small apartment. You grimaced, shaking your head. Every time you entered your apartment you told yourself to make sure you locked it behind you. And almost every time, you still forgot. “You should really get an electronic lock, it’s safer.” Yunho reprimanded you softly, reaching out with his slender fingers tor ruffle your hair. You ducked out of his reach, resenting the brotherly gesture. You’d given up on putting any belief in your feelings for Yunho being returned long ago, but that didn’t mean you were going to make it any easier for him not to see you. “Can’t afford it.” You swallowed your mouthful and offered him the nearly empty container, smiling when he let out a small laugh and accepted it, scooping a small amount out into his mouth before handing it back to you. He chewed silently, watching you as you grabbed for your books again now that you were done being distracted by food, trying your best to focus on reading the information on the page you were up to. But his gaze on you was as distracting as a thousand bells going off at once and you found yourself glancing up at him curiously, trying to figure out why he was watching you so intently. “Yunho, what?” You finally blurted in exasperation, closing your book and giving him your attention. He blinked in surprise, a half hearted smile flitting across his lips, his cheeks tinging pink. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you..” He said apologetically, lifting his broad shoulders in a shrug. You raised your eyebrows, not entirely believing the statement but choosing not to chase it up. He clearly had something on his mind, though what it could possibly be to make him act this strangely, you had no idea. “Yunho?” You asked quietly after a few more minutes of silence, reaching out to poke his side when he continued to stare at you, his eyes completely unfocused. It was unsettling to see him like this, he was normally so bubbly that it gave you a headache. He shook his head at your touch, offering you another one of those half smiles, still looking faraway. “What’s wrong?” You persisted, shuffling closer to him. You couldn’t help it, though every nerve in your body screamed at you to maintain distance between you, because it meant something different to you than it did to him, every other part of you ached to comfort him however you could. You knew he took immense comfort out of closeness to people, out of caring touches. On more than one occasion he’d dropped his head onto your lap and demanded you untangle his hair while he practised his lines for one of their songs. He’d never known how much it killed you and satisfied you at the same time and you’d never told him. You didn’t ever plan on telling him how he felt. Having all of his friends know was embarrassing enough and you just weren’t ready to risk losing his friendship over some stupid unreciprocated feelings. He looked at you carefully, biting his lip. You’d have to be blind and not secretly madly in love with him to miss the shine of tears in his wide eyes. “I think I made a mistake.” He admitted in a tiny voice, his bottom lip beginning to quiver. You frowned, reaching for him and hugging him tightly. “Whatever it was or is, I’ll help you through it.” You murmured into his shoulder, pulling away to look at him. You could have ripped out your heart and given it to him in that moment, watching a single tear slip from the corner of his eye and track its way down to his chin, his face contorting in something similar to pain. He clapped a hand over his mouth, turning his head so you couldn’t see, sniffles escaping in muffled puffs from below his fingers. Your heart ached in your chest and you had to force your hands to remain at your sides, not on his face to turn him back towards you. You wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to hide from you, you of all people couldn’t ever see anything but the best of him even in his worst moments. But that would be too much and this wasn’t about you, it was about him. “You can’t help me this time.” He whispered finally, turning back to look at you, his eyes still swimming with tears and his cheeks soaked. His forehead was furrowed and he swept his fingers over his eyes, as if that would stop any more tears falling. In spite of the action, a few more sped down his cheeks. “Wanna bet?” You murmured, finally giving in and reaching out to thumb away the remaining shine of tears glistening on his cheeks. He squeezed his eyes closed, shaking his head fervently, making you retract your hand. “Seriously Y/n, you can’t. Unless you know how to make me stop loving someone that is never going to see me.. you can’t.” He sighed out, glancing at you. You could have sworn that time froze around you as your heart shattered in your chest, your lips parting in both shock and pain. “You..you’d be surprised.” You choked out. You shouldn’t be surprised. You’d known he didn’t, couldn’t have feelings for you. You’d known that a day would come when he’d inevitably fall for someone that wasn’t you. You should’ve known. You sat up with a gasp, hand clutched tightly to your chest, cheeks warm and wet with tears. You could feel strands of hair clinging to your face. You’d fallen asleep, clearly, because the sun was up now, shining brightly through the window across from your bed, the curtains of which you’d stupidly left open last night. Your mind wandered back to the call from San as you reluctantly dragged yourself out of bed, searching for your phone beside the doorway. “How is it not broken?” You mumbled to yourself, turning the device around in your fingers in surprise. It was almost completely unmarked by the abuse of your throw last night, aside from the tiny scratch on the top left corner. The screen lit up with a message when you were done inspecting it, the green bubble adding on to the ridiculously long list of others. San : I’m so sorry San : Y/n please answer, I’m seriously worried about you. San : If you don’t answer I’m gonna get Yunho. Seonghwa : Is everything okay? San is worried about you.. Seonghwa : Y/n? Now I’m worried. Hongjoong : You’re scaring us all, just let one of us know you’re okay. Yunho : Y/n?? Y/n added to ‘Ateez GC’. Wooyoung : Has anyone heard back yet? Yeosang : What do you think idiot? Of course not. San : I shouldn’t have called her. I should have just let her be. Seonghwa : Which is exactly what we all said to you about fifty times the day before, did we not?… Hongjoong : He was worried, we all were. I understand. Yeosang : Has anyone tried going over to her place? Jongho : Well nobody knows where she lives now except Yunho.. Mingi : He won’t tell you, don’t even bother. Wooyoung : Do you know too Min? San : Mingi don’t know you know it too then? Jongho : You idiots really think he’s gonna tell you that? Yeosang : Someone needs to go and check on her, seriously. Seonghwa : Honestly, I agree and so does Hongjoong. He’s trying to contact Yun… Y/n removed from ‘Ateez GC’. San : Don’t hate me too much when you wake up.. Hongjoong : Aish I can’t believe you’re so stubborn. Yunho : Y/n.. Yeosang : Y/n I don’t know if you’re looking at any of our messages but just so you know, Yunho is comin.. Panic filled your chest and you swiped desperately on the most recent text, from Yeosang, fingers scrambling in your passcode to see the rest of the message. Yeosang : Y/n I don’t know if you’re looking at any of our messages but just so you know, Yunho is coming to your place. Now. San and Wooyoung begged him to come check up on you. You groaned loudly, swearing under your breath and leaping to your feet, rushing towards your front door. You were 90% sure you’d left it unlocked last night. Now more than ever you wished you’d listened to Yunho the last time you saw him and installed the electronic lock with a pin. You reached the door just as the handle turned and desperately you threw yourself and your weight against it, attempting to keep it closed. A useless endeavour considering that Yunho was both twice your height and weight. “Y/n stop it.” He grunted from the other side of the door, giving a push that sent both you and the door flying backwards. Whereas the door was stopped by the wall, you tumbled to the floor, a stabbing pain shooting up your backside where it connected harshly with the floor. “Shit, sorry.” You looked up in time to see Yunho kneel beside you, his face scrunched in both concern and relief. His hair was blue now and he looked older, and less happy than you’d ever seen him. “What are you doing here?” You snapped, shoving away his hand when he tried to help you up, opting for using the nearest wall to your advantage instead. His eyes dropped to the floor, mouth turning even further down if possible. You hated it, you truly did. But you couldn’t let yourself care about it, because if you did that then it was only going to hurt ten thousand times more that he loved someone else. “Everyone was worried about you..” He said quietly, peeking back up at you hopefully, as if that explanation would be enough to return you both back to your normal friendship. You clenched your fists, squaring your jaw and glaring back at him. “So give literally anyone else my address. Why did you have to come?” You were basically hissing now, barely able to see past the tears pooling in your eyes. You knew this was unreasonable, you were the one who’d asked him not to give them your address, not wanting to risk them turning up and outing both you and themselves to their fans. It was bad enough that Yunho knew and turned up so often. Had, past tense. It had been months since you’d seen him. His face was a sea of confusion and hurt, his hands twisting at his sides. He hadn’t understood then why you’d so suddenly told him to get out, clearly knowing that your excuse of needing to study was nothing more than a cover and he still didn’t understand now, months onwards. So much for his intelligence. But then, you couldn’t expect him to ever even believe that his second closest friend would have hidden feelings for him when he was so focused on his own feelings for someone else. “Y/n.” He said quietly, frowning at you as you slid back down the wall, barely containing sobs in the back of your throat. You just wanted him to leave, to take his familiar presence away and to let your heart continue to splinter until you convinced it to move on from him. You didn’t want to owe him the explanation sitting heavily on your tongue as he knelt back down in front of you, his hands steadying himself on your knees, drawn against your chest. You stared helplessly at him, wishing you had a better explanation for why you were so clearly against him being here. “Whatever it is..Whatever it was or is, I’ll help you through it.” He said, using the same words that you’d used on him all those months ago. Fresh tears sprang to your eyes and you looked away from his face, every possible inch of it covered in concern and care that you didn’t deserve for the way you’d treated him. “You can’t help me this time.” You closed your eyes as the words slipped from you, the exact ones that he’d said to you before breaking your heart. It felt like someone was ripping your chest apart now, trying to dig around for the remaining fragments to squeeze and destroy them some more. “Wanna bet?” His hands were on your face, turning it towards him the way you’d wanted to do to him that night but couldn’t. It was different for him of course, it didn’t mean anything. You looked at him, half glaring and half trying to keep in more tears. His lips pressed together sadly. “Y/n, whatever I did wrong, tell me. Tell me so that I can fix us because I’m dying without you by my side.” He begged, his voice catching in ways you’d never heard it catch on each word, tearing your chest apart even more. “Every night I’ve gone over and over what I did wrong, why you pushed me away. How I could have hurt you.” His lip was quivering now and his hands were still on your face, holding you and preventing you from looking away. You wanted to scream and curl into a ball, to beg him to leave. “Please.” He choked, desperation shining in his eyes. Eyes that had always known what you were feeling without you ever having to say it, until it came to your feelings for him. Hands that had always known just the right way to comfort you until he broke you into pieces that just didn’t go back together the same way anymore. Lips that you’d always known would be a source of safety for you until he used them to tell you he loved someone that wasn’t you. “I can’t.” “You can’t forgive me?” “Mhm.” You nodded, watching him try to understand you. “Why?” “You broke my heart.” The words came out before you even knew they were on the tip of your tongue, surprising you both. He stared at you, hands dropping slowly from your face to his side, his eyes wider than you’d ever seen him. You could almost see the cogs in the back of his head spinning out of control, his eyes glazing as he repeated your words in his head over and over. “I mean-” You stuttered, grasping at something, anything that you could say to explain away your slip up. He shook his head at you, pressing his finger to your lips, blocking any words from coming out. “I know what you mean.” He said quietly. He breathed in and out for a few moments, like he was calming himself. And then he did the unthinkable. He smiled at you. “You should have probably told me.” He said in a soft voice, finally dropping his finger from your lips. You blinked slowly, your turn to be confused and attempt to understand what he meant. “I don’t understand.” You finally admitted, sighing heavily. He was almost grinning now, shaking his head, sending blue strands across his forehead. “I think you really misunderstood me a few months ago,” Yunho whispered, leaning forward, his hand cupping your cheek and his nose brushing yours. Fireworks encased your body. “Yunho what do you mean?” You choked, frozen in place by the fact that his mouth was closer to yours than it had ever been. And then you were melting, because his lips were brushing yours, his hand pulling you until your mouth fell against his, returning his gentle kiss. “Idiot, you thought it was someone else?” He chuckled quietly, mouth moving to your nose, planting a delicate kiss, then to your forehead, dusting a few more lingering ones before returning to your mouth, catching your bottom lip between his teeth. “Mmph.” You pulled away from the intoxicating hold, staring wide eyed at him as his words sunk in. “Yunho-” “Yeah.” He nodded, moving forward back into your space, this time pressing your back solidly against the wall with his chest so that you had no space to escape him. You melted into his mouth, hands wrapping in the material of his shirt, chest arching against his. His hands held your waist, his soft chuckles falling into your lips as you kissed, until you managed to pull yourself away again, heavy pants filling the space left between you. “Me?” You asked in shock, wide eyed. He nodded. “You, it’s always been you.” He murmured, eyes softening at you. “It will always be you.”

#yunho fluff #yunho #ateez #atiny #ateez imagines #jeongyunho #yunho angst #yunho x reader #y/n

146 notes · View notes

panda-noosh · 5 years

Text

Fools Gold {Prince Zuko x Reader}

Words: 8k

Summary: You and Zuko aren’t supposed to be together, but the rules set in place do very little to stop the feelings that have always been there.

Genre: angst

Warning:

Notes: hola please enjoy thank you xx

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Zuko pressed his lips against your own. There was a literal spark.

You didn't flinch away, used to the feeling of the flames that shot between the two of you when you got like this; it was difficult to control, a hunger that erupted in your stomach and showed itself through your powers. It didn't matter how many years you practised your control – Zuko always managed to bring them out of you.

His hands were warm against your hip bones, rubbing circles into the flesh as the two of you stumbled into the closest bedroom. The back of your thighs hit off the edge of the bed and you both tumbled, him straddling you with little to no intentions of stopping.

You weren't complaining.

Your fingers trailed through his hair, tugging on the strands and he groaned into your mouth, the noise being the only reason his lips detached from your own. It did not last long, however, as he was back to kissing you in a matter of seconds, rougher this time, as if in warning.

“Zuko,” you choked out, pressing your fists against his shirt. “Zuko, I have work. Your father will be expecting me in-”

“He can wait,” was Zuko's abrupt reply before he was kissing you all over again. “I haven't seen you in days. He's been keeping you all to himself.”

“He is the one paying me,” you replied.

Zuko rolled his eyes, finally sitting up and sighing. You looked up at him, the way his eyes blew out, the new swell of his lips. He ran his hands through his freshly tousled hair, trying to flatten it out after your fingers had attacked it only seconds before.

He looked peaceful, despite the crease between his brows.

You reached up and wound your fingers through the tassels on his fine silk coat. He looked down at you, smiling warily as if trying to assure you that he was okay, everything was fine.

You could read him better than that, though.

“Nobody is going to find out,” you said. “It's been months, Zuko. You don't have to keep worrying. We know what we're doing.”

Zuko hollowed out his cheeks, finally rolling onto his back beside you. You rolled over to face him, absently messing with his black hair.

“Do we, though?” he asked. “If we knew what we were doing, we wouldn't be doing this at all.”

You tensed. His head snapped round in your direction, eyes immediately softening.

“That's not what I meant,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you into his side. “You know that's not what I meant. I love you, but this . . . what we're doing is risky. Most people wouldn't even think of it.”

“Then stop thinking about it,” you mumbled, nuzzling your head beneath his chin.

“That's easy for you to say. If my father sees us together, it'll be me who has to pay the consequences for it. He'll hurt you. Make me watch.”

“At most, he'll send me away.”

“And that's supposed to make me feel better?”

You shrugged. “It's better than him killing me. Better than...” You slowly reached up, grazing your fingers along the scar that covered one half of Zuko's face; you remembered the first time you had seen it, the way Zuko had tried to hide it from your view but without success. You remembered thinking he was the strongest person you had ever met, purely because he could still look his father in the eye even after the terrors that man had put him through.

Zuko did not shy away from you now, though. He closed his eyes, shivered against your hesitant touch before he pressed his cheek firmer into your palm. You ran your thumb beneath his eye before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Everything is going to be absolutely fine, Zuko,” you said.

---

“Send in the entertainment.”

That was your cue.

Plastering that famous fake smile onto your face, you made your way into the throne room. The doors were held open by two guards, both of whom snickered at your outfit choice – well, choice was a risky word for it. Never would you have chosen such an outfit, but amongst the choices of fools garments you were given, this one seemed most appropriate.

It was colourful, tiny little bells dangling from the seams that jingled with every move you made. The king looked up at the sudden noise, scowled as soon as his eyes settled on you. You were used to it at this point, having played the kings jester since you were nothing more than a child.

You grinned at the king, bowing low. Beside him, Zuko was staring at you, flushing red but you had grown used to ignoring the prince and focusing purely on the man you were here to impress.

“Good afternoon, King Ozai,” you said, bowing lavishly with the jingles to add flare. “How are you today?”

Ozai looked over you towards the guards. “Is this what you think I need during a time like this? My court jester to come cheer me up?”

“We thought you just needed a little stress relief, Your Majesty,” the guard replied. “You've been awfully busy lately-”

“And I will remain awfully busy whether the jester makes an appearance or not,” Ozai growled, before turning his sharp eyes towards you. It was moments like this that made you question why you stayed – moments where Ozai treated you as nothing more than the dirt beneath his shoe.

Nonetheless, you had been trained for this. You straightened up, folding your hands in front of you and continued to smile. “My apologies if this is a bad time, Your Majesty.”

Ozai scowled. “How old are you, jester?”

You froze. This was certainly something you had never experienced before, something you definitely weren't trained in.

“I'm – I'm eighteen, Your Majesty.”

Ozai hummed. “The same age as Mai. Perhaps you two will get on well.”

“Father-” Zuko started, but Ozai cut him off, and it was that very thing that set you on edge.

Zuko looked most uncomfortable at the mention of Mai. Of course, you had heard of her before, but the two of you had barely any interaction between you – neither of you needed to talk, considering you were the court jester and she was someone far beyond your ranking.

Zuko shifted in his seat, glancing to the ground as soon as you made to join eyes with him; he had never done that before, either.

You raised a brow, turning back to the king. “Mai, Your Majesty?”

“Mm,” Ozai hummed, now absent-mindedly picking at his nails. “She's to move into the palace fairly soon to begin her etiquette lessons for when she becomes Empress. I was in need of someone to befriend her, show her around the palace. I can't think of anyone better than you.”

You ran his words through your head once more, evaluating his jumbled mess of sentences in any attempt to make sense of what he had just said. Empress. Moving into the palace. Showing her around.

“Empress?” you spat out before you could stop yourself.

Zuko inhaled a sharp breath and stood up. “Guards, please escort Y/N out of the palace right this instant.”

Your eyes widened. You couldn't help it. Your skin was glowing hot, the realisation dawning on you quicker than you could comprehend it; Zuko would be emperor once his father died. If Mai was to be empress, that meant...

Your head snapped round to Zuko as the guards came to your side and gently escorted you from the room. Even Ozai himself was looking at his son with a raised brow, though nobody said anything in question of his actions – to everybody else, nothing was off. To everybody else, Zuko had just grown tired of the jesters presence, but you knew the real reason behind your banishment.

Zuko didn't want you to hear the truth. Zuko didn't want to see your expression crumble, didn't want to see the truth dawn upon you whilst he was forced to pretend like the arrangements made were nothing.

But it was too late for that now. You knew the truth. You had pieced the puzzle together, and now your heart was breaking.

---

You couldn't sleep. That was why you were able to hear Zuko's light footsteps approach behind you as you gazed out over your balcony that night.

You didn't turn to look at him. It was easier that way. Maybe if you pretended he wasn't there, he would abandon his efforts of explaining and just leave. Maybe if you ignored him, he would get the hint and leave you to suffer on your own.

The brush of his fingertips against your elbow dispelled those thoughts from your mind almost immediately, too quick for your liking. You squeezed your eyes closed, gritted your teeth, cursed yourself for letting him make you feel this way when you should have known all along that he was not the man for you; he couldn't be.

“Look at me.”

His voice was barely audible over the sound of the wind, but you heard him well. You opened your eyes and glanced over your shoulder, intaking the sight of him standing there in all of his glory. His tanned skin was glowing in the moonlight, a ruby robe pulled over his shoulders that was made from finer silk than the clothes you wore on a daily basis. His black hair was ruffled, a sure sign that he had been running his fingers through his own locks with his stress.

It hurt your heart to see him look so dishevelled, but you remembered the words of his father and turned back to face the view, unable to continue looking at him for any longer than necessary.

Zuko sighed and stepped forward, shoulder brushing against your own. “You're angry.”

“I'm confused.”

“You blame me, and I understand that.”

The way he said it with such certainty, not even giving you a chance to deny the truth. He didn't ask questions, he said statements. It was the emperor in him.

“I don't love Mai, Y/N. That's one thing you need to understand,” he continued. “It's an arranged marriage. My father. . . He didn't give me a choice.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, wrapping your arms around your middle.

“Are you cold?”

“I'm fine. I think I'm gonna go back-” Zuko didn't let you finish before he was stripping off his robe and wrapping it over your shoulders. He stood beside you now in nothing more than a thin black shirt and a pair of pyjama bottoms which hung loosely from his waist.

He folded his arms over his chest and said, “Please stay. Let's talk about this.”

“You don't have to explain yourself,” you replied. “It's court life. I've lived amongst it all long enough to understand that there's nothing I can do.”

Zuko sighed. “I'm sorry if I humiliated you in the throne room earlier on. You know I wouldn't have sent you out if I didn't think it was for your own good.”

“I was going to storm out anyway,” you replied, chuckling softly. “It's a good thing you made the order, or else that might have looked a little suspicious.”

Zuko scoffed. “It would have looked even more suspicious considering I'd have probably gone after you to make sure you're alright.” He glanced at you. “I don't like seeing you upset, Y/N. Especially when I can't do anything about it.”

It was right about now that you would have leaned your head against his shoulder, or bundled yourself in his arms, or let him press a kiss to your temple – but neither of you moved. It was an unspoken agreement suddenly set in place; things had changed, and the two of you would be fools for trying to fight past it now. It would only make the situation ten times worse.

And so you both stayed side-by-side, shoulders touching. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough, not with the feelings you harboured for him, not with the memories the two of you had formed together over the past few years.

But for now, it was all you could get, and you weren't willing to give it up.

---

You met Mai a few days later.

Her visit wasn't necessarily unexpected, but that did not stop the jolt that swept through you upon first sight. She was dressed in the finest clothes you had ever seen, red garments, heavy jewellery, her hair tied up in a tight ponytail that made her stern expression look even more dire.

Her fine clothing and graceful walk was a direct contrast to the colourful clothes you were forced to wear, stood in the far corner of the throne room alongside the other help of the palace. Mai and her family were shaking hands with the people they deemed prestigious enough, whilst Zuko and his family stayed rooted to the front of the room, waiting for their greetings to be made.

Mai barely even glanced in your direction. You were part of the crowd, but clearly not of high enough rank for her to think her time should be wasted saying hello. Not like you minded. Your hands were already trembling, and it would be much too difficult to hide if she decided to deliver courtesy to you.

She made her way towards the front, bowing to Ozai before turning her full attention on the prince. Zuko's eyes met your own for a fraction of a second, just long enough for you to get the hint – he did not want to be here. If he could have picked any other route, he would have done, and he wanted you to understand that.

But then he followed orders. He bowed low, pressed his lips to the back of Mai's hand before guiding her to his side as if it were the most natural thing in the world; to him, you supposed it was. He had grown up with etiquette, had been taught from his first steps how to treat a woman of the court.

You had never received that kind of treatment, though you could barely blame Zuko for such a thing. You were different. You were no person of court, but merely the entertainment who popped in from time to time to make sure the king wasn't grouchy for too long.

You scowled at the thought. It wasn't often you let your brain wander to those dark areas of your mind – Zuko very rarely let you – but this seemed like an exception.

“Mai, it is great to see your travels weren't too strenuous,” Ozai began. “I trust you were treated well at the gates?”

When Mai spoke, there was no emotion in her tone. “I was led directly to the throne room, as I was told would happen.”

Zuko pursed his lips, looking down at the ground. Nobody else would have noticed the small tick in his jaw, or the way he had to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from saying anything, but you had seen that expression on his face all too often to call it nothing.

“Well, as you well know, you are here to confirm the joining of our families,” Ozai continued. “Your marriage to my son Zuko is a welcome one, and we are very excited to see you become part of the family.”

Part of the family. You very nearly rolled your eyes. Ozai could hardly treat his own blood as family, let alone an outsider who clearly wasn't taking too kindly to the idea of being bossed around.

When Mai didn't reply, Ozai awkwardly coughed and turned back to the awaiting crowd. You straightened up, bells jingling on your shoulders, and tried desperately to make it seem like you weren't crumbling from the inside out, like you didn't feel light-headed with the need to get out of this crowded room as soon as possible.

“Y/N L/N, please come forward.”

Your head snapped round so fast that the bells on your shoulders echoed throughout the room. Heads turned to face you, curious whispers filling the room. Zuko slowly looked up, glanced at his father with his lips pursed – this was something they had talked about beforehand, and Ozai clearly had paid him no mind.

Nonetheless, Ozai was king, and you would be a fool to go against his orders. That was your only wise thought as you stumbled out of the crowd and bowed, even forgetting your usual smile.

“Mai, meet the court jester, Y/N L/N. They'll be your guide during the first few weeks of your stay,” said Ozai, and your stomach dropped.

“Father, we discussed this,” said Zuko in a low voice. “I am quite capable of showing Mai around on my own if that's-”

“Last I recall, Zuko, when we discussed this, I made it very clear that your assistance will not be needed,” Ozai snapped. “Mai needs someone her own age to show her the ropes, someone who has all the time in the world to get her accustomed to her new setting. You, I'm afraid, will be much too busy to take on such a duty.” Ozai smiled, looking back down at you. “Y/N, on the other hand, does not have them same restraints.”

And that was it. The smile glimmering on the kings face was enough to halt any protestations you may have had, because you knew his mind was made up. Any arguing would lead to something much more dangerous than a scolding, or a nasty glance in your direction; you had no choice but to obey.

So you did what you did best, and you forced that smile on your face, straightened up your shoulders and said, “It would be my pleasure,” before you offered your arm to Mai.

---

“I hate it. I hate it so fucking much.”

You flinched, Zuko's use of a curse word being so rare that it had taken you off guard to hear it now.

The two of you were sat in your usual hiding place – a cupboard beneath one of the many staircases in the palace. After a long and exhausting day of leading Mai around the place, trying desperately to keep up your charade of being the happy-go-lucky jester that people ordered you to be, it was nice to finally be sat by his side again, despite you not being able to touch him in the way you wanted.

He ducked his head into his hands and groaned again. “You must have had such a difficult time today.”

“I was alright,” you lied. “You shouldn't be worrying about me, Zuko. It's you that's being forced into this marriage. After a few weeks, I'll be free to do whatever I want.”

“You'll be forced to sit back and watch me marry a woman I don't love,” Zuko scoffed, glancing at you through a crack in his fingers. “Someone who isn't you.” You swallowed the golf ball sized lump in your throat, looking away before the tears could spring to your eyes. What would be the point in crying? It would be a waste, and you knew it.

You hollowed out your cheeks, let your head fall back against the wall with a dull thump. “I'm just so tired, Zuko.”

“So am I.”

“We should never have done this in the first place. It's done nothing but cause hassle that could have been avoided if we just didn't. . . . If we hadn't have just. . .” “Fallen in love with each other?”

You bit your lip. “Exactly.”

Zuko was silent for only a moment before his fingers crept over your own. “I want you to know that I don't regret a single moment of it.”

“That's risky.”

He scoffed. “Our entire relationship has been risky.”

And he was right. There was nothing about the relationship you two had formed that would ever be labelled normal, and once upon a time, you had liked that. You had liked the risk of running around and hiding your feelings, liked the risk of making eye contact with Zuko and just knowing that forbidden secret between you both. At one point, it had been the only entertainment you had been given.

But when feelings suddenly grow into something more than a simple play-thing, it all becomes a little bit more difficult to deal with. That was what happened. You had fallen in love with him, had suddenly wanted a future with him even though you knew full well it was impossible.

You hollowed out your cheeks and tilted your head back against the wall, basking in the feeling of his fingers creeping through your own. It was the only contact you would risk at the moment, and even on its own it made your chest tighten with the urge to do something more.

Zuko glanced at you, tightened his grip just that little bit. “I still love you, you know.”

You closed your eyes, swallowing thickly.

“Tell me you love me back.”

“You know I love you.” Your voice shook. “But we can't. . . we can't do this any more.”

Zuko didn't argue. He merely nodded slowly, looking towards the darkened door his feet were propped against. Over the years, he had grown much too tall for this room, but neither of you cared. It was your place, and would forever stay that way even years after you would be forced to abandon it.

---

“My dress has to match your brothers,” Mai said, shuffling through the freshly adorned wardrobe she had been gifted upon arrival.

Azula raised a brow, her thin arms folded over her chest. “Is the aesthetic really that important?”

“No,” Mai grunted. “If it were up to me, I wouldn't even be going to this stupid event, but I'm afraid I have duties to complete and little room to argue.”

Azula scoffed, glancing in your direction. You quickly looked away, the bells on your hat jingling. Once again you found your afternoon spent slaving beside Mai as she figured out the ways of the palace; it had been nearly two weeks since she had arrived. She was already well aware of the ins-and-outs of the palace, but was choosing to keep you by her side for company at this point.

Azula and Mai had become friends overtime, as well, meaning you were spending much more time with the princess, a fact which you weren't entirely sure you enjoyed. Though you and Azula had never truly spoken, you had seen her yelling at other servants in the past, had seen the way she treated others, the way she put herself on a higher pedestal than everyone else. She was certainly not your favourite person to be around.

“What do you think, jester?” she suddenly spoke, snapping you out of your stupor.

You glanced up anxiously, quickly caught yourself and plastered a smile upon your face. “I'm sorry, Princess Azula?”

“What dress do you think my brother would like most on his betrothed?”

Your chest tightened. Mai shot up from the wardrobe, holding two silk dresses in her hands. One was emerald green, made from fine silk, whilst the other was a sharp red colour with jewels bedazzling the low cut neckline.

Both of them were glamorous, but you knew Zuko would enjoy the red much better; he always claimed to love it when you wore red.

“The green one,” you replied. “It's very eye-catching. You'll sparkle in that one, Mai.”

Mai hummed, examining the chosen dress for a little while longer before she shrugged and hung the red one back up. “Give me two minutes to get changed and then we can head down to the gardens.”

Mai sauntered off, leaving you and Azula in silence. You shuffled to the side, gazing out the window in any attempt to feign nonchalance; there was truly no use in it, though. Not unlike Zuko, Azula had a way with reading energies. If you were any less wise, you would have been convinced that she had known you for years with how fast she was able to pick up on your uncomfortable demeanour.

“The green one, hm?”

Your head snapped in her direction. “Yes. Very nice dress.”

“But are you sure it's the one my brother would have preferred?” Azula raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, her arms still folded, her expression still menacing. She had features similar to Zuko, and you would be a fool to deny them, but there was certainly a level of evil that was not present on her brothers face.

“Well, of course I can't say for sure. If you can keep a secret, princess, I chose that dress just because I liked the colouring of it.” You tried for a laugh, but Azula did not join you. She pushed her tongue into her cheek, tilted her head to the side and hummed, running her eyes over your form.

“The green one was pretty,” she said. “But I know for a fact that my brother would have preferred red. He's always preferred red.” Azula slowly leaned in. “Especially on the people he loves.”

You inhaled a sharp breath, fighting off the urge to look away. You kept that smile on your face, eyes innocent. “Oh. Well, maybe we should go and tell Mai to change so she can-”

“He's told you on multiple occasions that he likes seeing you in red, Y/N. Why would you tell Mai that he prefers green when you know full well you're lying?”

Your heart skipped. Your breathing quickened. Your palms grew slick with sweat, and you quickly shoved them into the deep pockets of your parachute pants in any attempt to hide the clear sign of nerves.

“I'm – I'm afraid I don't fully understand what you're getting at, princess.” It was a weak comeback, but the safest one, and the only one you could come up with at the moment.

“Oh honey. I'm not stupid. I have eyes all over this palace, and I have seen everything. Heard everything, whether I wanted to or not.” Azula grimaced. “You two were not nearly as subtle as you thought you were. In fact, with those stupid glances you kept giving each other, I'm surprised my father didn't pick up on it either.”

You shook your head like you were a child having a tantrum. “Princess, I don't-”

“Truth to be told,” she continued, starting to pace the room with her hands now behind her back. “I thought it was over. After Mai showed up and Zuko's engagement was announced, I truly thought that not even he would be stupid enough to continue an affair with the court jester.”

“It is over,” you rushed.

“You two may have stopped meeting up and sneaking around, but nothing is over, is it?”

You didn't quite catch on to what she meant. Raising a brow, you opened your mouth to reply, but Azula was quicker.

“Mai and I happen to be very close friends, Y/N, as you have seen.” She glanced at you over her shoulder. “I am very protective of my friends, and seeing her get strung along by my brother just because he can't let go of his childish feelings for you is not something I'm particularly fond of.”

“There are no feelings, Azula. I'm sure – I'm sure that over time, him and Mai will be happy and in love, and – and everything will work itself out. But you have to believe me when I say that Zuko and I aren't – we aren't a thing any more.”

Azula rolled her eyes. There was no tricking her, and even though you wanted to believe you were telling the truth, even your denial wasn't strong enough to cover up the feelings you knew full well you still harboured for the prince, the feelings he still harboured for you.

“I really don't appreciate being seen as a fool,” she growled. “I may not know who you are, or the story behind you and my brother, but I can tell when a person is lying. The jester cannot trick the princess – literally.”

You clenched your jaw, looking away. Tears of anger sprang to your eyes, and it took everything in you to not let them pour down your cheeks.

She sighed dreamily, circling you not unlike a predator circling its prey. “The party today will be the perfect place for you and Zuko to end things once and for all, don't you think?”

Your head snapped up. “Sorry?”

“I'm just thinking, it's going to be most difficult for you and Zuko to dispel your feelings if you're living under the same roof, and Zuko can't move out, of course.” Azula grinned, and even though you knew exactly what her plan was, you let her continue. “That just leaves you. You can be easily replaced, so don't worry about that.”

“W-what are you suggesting?”

“I'm not suggesting anything.” And then her fingers were wrapping round your throat, and your back was being pressed against the wardrobe behind you. You grunted, eyes squeezing closed as Azula tightened her grip just enough for your airways to be blocked, just enough to make you panic.

“I'm telling you what is going to happen,” she growled, leaning in so close that you could smell the ash on her teeth. “You're going to mess something up at the party. Embarrass my father, ruin some decorations – something that will finally pluck at my fathers last nerve, and he is going to banish you from this palace in front of everyone, in front of Zuko. And then my brother will know that there's nothing else he can do but forget about you and whatever stupid little fling the two of you had. Do you understand?”

“Please,” you choked out. Her grip only tightened. “Azula, I can't br-”

“I asked you a question,” she growled. “Do you understand?”

“Yes!” you cried.

Azula grinned, finally dropping her hand back to her side, wiping it casually on the skirt of her fine dress. Your knees trembled beneath you to the point where they could no longer hold you up, and you were falling to the carpet before you could catch yourself. Your own hand travelled up, tracing gentle circles against the area where Azula's sharp red nails had been piercing your flesh.

She turned on her heel and strolled over to the mirror, fixing her hair as she did so. “I'm glad we're both on the same page. This could have been a lot more difficult if you hadn't cooperated so easily.”

---

Almost as soon as you stepped into the gardens, Zuko was the first person you saw.

It didn't matter how big the crowd was – your eyes were drawn to him immediately, and his station at the front of the crowd was doing very little to help with that.

He stood with his usual tall demeanour, seeming to tower over the people crowding around him. His hair was styled, though the neat ensemble his stylists had clearly tried to make had already been ruined by Zuko no doubt running his fingers through it countless times; now, the black hairs stood up on the back of his neck.

You itched to reach forward and flatten them, just like you always did, but the knowledge of Azula's presence somewhere in the crowd stopped you. It was easier to just ignore him, to get this moment out of the way and move on with your life once and for all.

With Zuko or not.

And so, you started your job. It was easy enough to slip back into the fun, bubbly character you had been hired to be, despite the heavy weight in your stomach and the aching of your chest. The urge to cry was forced to the side, because that was all you could do; it would not look good if the jester suddenly had a breakdown in the middle of the dance floor.

“Mai is wearing green,” someone whispered to your right as you walked through the crowd. “But the prince is wearing red. Surely they should match for such a prestigious event?”

“She's new. We have to give her the benefit of the doubt,” somebody else replied. You bristled, quickening your pace to the point where people were glaring at you, the sound of the bells attached to your colourful outfit clearly annoying them.

You paid them no mind, simply placing that smile on your face and darting through the people until you reached the buffet table, where a mountain of drinks and snacks were set up. You were quick to snatch up a glass of champagne, downing it in a matter of seconds before reaching for another one.

“Slow down there.”

You span around, eyes widening at the sight of Zuko and Mai standing behind you – Zuko and Mai, her arm looped through his own, her grimace as broad as ever.

You forced yourself to smile. You had to. You always had to, no matter how difficult it was to keep the expression up.

“Prince Zuko! Princess Mai!” you exclaimed, bowing. “Congratulations on the festivities. I've never seen this place look so good.”

Mai was the one to reply, Zuko too busy staring at you with a raised brow. “I will admit that they clean up nicely. I'm surprised they invited the jester, though. Seems quite inappropriate for a formal banquet.”

Zuko's head snapped round to his betrothed. “Y/N is a respected member of the court.”

“Y/N plans on getting a little bit tipsy tonight,” you added – you were just remaining in character.

That was what you told yourself, even as Zuko's eyes flashed and his mouth dropped open at your sudden confession. The thing was, you weren't even drunk yet. One glass of champagne wasn't going to mess with your thoughts – you were just tired, and judging by the sudden knot in Zuko's brow, he could see that perfectly well.

Mai hummed. “You are the entertainment. Perhaps it'll be good to see you fall off a table by the end of the night.”

“I don't take requests,” you replied. “But I can certainly keep it in the back pocket for later use, princess, thank you very much.”

Zuko coughed. “Mai, if you could leave me alone to talk to the – to the jester for a little bit, that would be very much appreciated.”

Mai raised a brow. “You expect me to walk around on my own?”

“I'll be with you shortly. I just have some things to discuss about the entertainment plans.” Zuko smiled at her, a smile he used to save for you. “Don't want the entire evening to be messed up over some bad communication, now do we?”

Mai hummed again, looked you over one last time before she span on her heel and disappeared into the crowd. Almost as soon as she was gone, Zuko whirled on you and grabbed your arm, dragging you backwards before you could so much as protest.

“What's wrong with you?” he hissed. “How many glasses of that have you had?”

You downed your second one, looking him directly in the eye. “Not many.”

He sighed, grabbed the empty glass from your hand and set it on the table next to him. “Something happened that you're not telling me. You never get this way.”

“Maybe that's why I finally want to get this way,” you shot back. “Spending my entire life making a complete fool of myself for the entertainment of your father, it's about time I got a chance to relax.”

“I completely agree, but do you really have to do it here?”

You rolled your eyes. The anger was bubbling up now, a mix of the alcohol and the previous events tainting your system until you could scarcely stop the words flooding from your mouth; all of it was against your will, your brain foggy both with the champagne and the presence of the prince.

“I'm sorry if I'm embarrassing you, Prince Zuko.”

Zuko's eyes widened. “Prince Zuko? Since when do you call me that?”

“Since you got engaged and tossed me to the side,” you hissed, and it was that very sentence that wrenched at your heart strings, had you very nearly doubling over. You wanted to scream, wanted to stampede right back into the gardens and just let it all out, but Zuko suddenly had his arms around you and there was nowhere else you could go.

You collapsed against his chest, burying your head into the crook of his neck. He ran his fingers through your hair, swaying back and forth as if you were a child in need of comfort. In your ear, you could hear his voice whispering soothing words, but you couldn't make out what they were, not whilst your sobs were racking your entire body.

“I'm sorry,” you whimpered against him. “I'm being so selfish. I should – I shouldn't just be thinking of my own feelings.”

“This is hard on me too, Y/N.”

You squeezed your eyes closed. “I know. I know that. I do.” You pulled away then, reached up and cupped his face. His own eyes were wide, looking down at you with a thin sheen of tears swept over the top of them. You had seen him cry before, had held him as sobs racked his body, but this was a different feeling altogether; never before had you seen him look genuinely heartbroken. Not until now.

“God, I just love you so much, Zuko,” you whispered. “And this is the last time I'll ever get to see you like this.”

Zuko faltered, his eyebrows knotting together. “What do you mean?”

“I have to go,” you replied.

“Go where?” he pushed, curling his fingers around your wrists, keeping your hands pressed into his cheeks.

“Away,” you said. “Azula doesn't want me here. Your father . . . Once he finds out what happened between us-”

“He won't find out. What are you talking about?” Zuko stepped forward, his chest nudging your own. “Wasn't it you who was saying we would be fine only a few weeks ago?”

“A lot has changed in a few weeks,” you hissed. “Azula knows about us, Zuko. She told me herself.”

Zuko's features relaxed, his jaw opening slowly as realisation dawned upon him. “She told you to leave.”

You shrugged. “She made some very decent points.”

“She doesn't know what she's talking about.” Zuko dropped his hands back to his sides, whirled around and started walking before you had a chance to stop him. You yelped, stumbling forward and scrambling for his wrist, but his movements were quicker than you could ever possibly be. “Where is she?”

“Zuko, stop this,” you hissed. “People are staring! People are going to know!”

He reached behind him, grabbed your hand and dragged you to his side. He had dropped all pretence of subtlety now, wrapping his arm around your waist in a way that could not be mistaken for anything other than what it was. The eyes of the crowd burned into your back as you walked, but you found an odd sense of comfort with having Zuko beside you.

“Where is my sister?” Zuko demanded of one of the stall workers.

The elderly mans watery grey eyes widened, snapping down to the place where Zuko's fingers were curled protectively around your waist. You had the sudden urge to pull away, but remained rooted to your spot.

“She – She was with your betrothed last time I checked, Prince Zuko,” the man replied. “Y-You're betrothed is correct?”

Zuko didn't answer, simply started walking towards the main part of the party. You stumbled after him.

“Zuko, please calm down,” you said.

“She's gone too far,” he growled. “It's one thing teasing me about every person I lay eyes on, but it's another going after the person I love. She has no right to banish you from this palace-”

“Azula doesn't, but I certainly do.”

Oh god no.

You froze. Zuko froze. The world froze.

His voice was like ice, cold fingertips trailing down the base of your spine. It was the voice that had ordered you around for most of your life, the voice that you obeyed no matter the circumstances. It was the very same voice that had terrified you for years.

It was the last voice you wanted to hear right now.

Zuko was the first to spin around to face his father. You expected him to pull away, to pretend he had never even touched you in the first place, but he did the complete opposite – his fingers gripped your waist a little bit tighter as he pulled you closer protectively.

Ozai raised a brow, smiling just a little bit. “So Azula wasn't being delusional.”

“I think we have some things to talk about, father.”

Ozai raised a hand. “There is nothing to talk about. You've shown me how much respect you have for this family, and it is clearly very little.”

“King Ozai, please-” you began, but the king was hearing none of it.

“Do you think it's funny to make this family look like scum, Zuko? Do you think it's brave to try and step outside of tradition?”

Zuko clenched his jaw. “I can't help that I fell in love.”

Ozai scoffed. “You know nothing about love, son. You're young, impressionable, rebellious. You hold the jesters hand purely because you want to prove something.”

Your insides clenched. You knew there was absolutely no truth to his words – you knew Zuko well enough at this point to know he loved you, but it still stung to hear such an accusation be made.

“I've spent my entire life trying to impress you, father,” Zuko growled. “But this – this is one thing I have to do for myself.”

Ozai raised a brow. “And what is that?”

“I'm not marrying Mai. I'm marrying Y/N, whether or not you agree with it.”

Your heart stuttered, head snapping round to face him. He had to have been joking – there was no other explanation for it. “Zuko, what are you-”

“You have duties to serve the Fire Nation,” Ozai growled. “You're willing to throw that all away for the help?”

Zuko gritted his teeth. “If that's what it takes, then yes.”

“Zuko, stop,” you hissed, whirling around and putting yourself between him and his father. “This isn't funny any more.”

“I'm not kidding,” said Zuko, looking at you now. “I want to marry you. I've wanted to marry you from the start, but I was too scared.” He looked up at his father, gaze hardening. “I'm not scared any more. You don't deserve what their putting you through, Y/N, and if I have to leave this palace to keep you safe, then that's what I'll do.”

It went silent. The party goers had long since stopped partying and were now staring daggers at the scene in front of them. They must have been so confused – you couldn't blame them. You were in the centre of it all, and yet you were barely able to wrap your head around what was being said.

Ozai inhaled deeply. “Then leave this palace you shall.”

You whirled around. “No! Ozai-”

But your words were cut off when Zuko's fingers wrapped around your waist and tugged you backwards. You stumbled, quickly spinning and catching yourself before you could fall face first into the dirt. Zuko was wasting no time in front of his father, that much was clear, and as much as you wanted to protest, you found yourself jogging to keep up with his pace.

“Zuko,” you panted, unable to hold the sobs back. “Zuko, what just happened? What did we just do?”

“We're getting away from here,” he replied. “We don't have to be scared any more.”

“This is your home!” you exclaimed, tugging on his hand. “Zuko, stop!”

And he did. Just before he crossed the threshold between the palace and the Fire Nation, he stopped and turned to look at you. His eyes were watering, his lower lip trembling, and you knew then and there that the tough persona he had been putting on was far from what he truly felt.

You shook your head. You could have scolded him, called him stupid, refused to leave with him because this was your home just as much as it was his – but you did none of those things. You did the only thing you could think to do in that moment and rushed towards him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and tugging him into you.

He broke down as soon as his head was nuzzled in the crook of your neck. His sobs were quiet, obscured by the crackling of the flames alight beside you, but you could hear him sniffling, could feel the damp slick of his tears against your flesh.

You trailed your hands through his hair, biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from bursting into tears; it would help no one, and yet holding the man you loved whilst his entire heart was ripped from his chest was making the task of staying composed extremely difficult.

“We're gonna be okay,” you whispered. “You said that, didn't you? You told me we were going to be fine, and you were right. We will be.”

He nodded, pulling away to look you in the eyes. His face was puffy, and yet he still managed to offer you the tiniest of comforting smiles. “I know. We always have been.”

---

“Has anyone ever told you how gross you two are?”

Sokka groaned, throwing his head back. “Finally! Someone said it!”

“Oh, be quiet,” Katara hissed, slapping Aang and Sokka on their arms. “They're in love. Stop being spoil sports.”

Zuko grinned against your lips, triggering you into a fit of giggles; the two of you had been pretending like you couldn't hear the protestations of your friends, but the band had been broken now.

You pulled away, keeping one hand on Zuko's jaw. “Are you guys finished?”

Sokka's eyes widened. “We could ask you two the same thing!”

Zuko placed a finger against your chin, tilting your head to look back at him. “No, I don't think we are.” And then he kissed you again, chuckling against your mouth as Sokka and Aang continued to protest behind you.

None of them would understand, though, and you weren't entirely sure if you wanted to explain it to them. Sometimes it was just easier to keep the feelings of mutual freedom between you and Zuko, because you were the ones who understood it best. After years of hiding around, years of being terrified of your own feelings, it was a very nice change to be sitting around a camp fire with people you genuinely cared about, no longer needing to hide from the fact that you were utterly and completely in love.

#avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar the last airbender fanfic #avatar the last airbender fic #atla fanfic #atla fic #avatar fanfic #avatar fic #prince zuko #atla zuko #atla zuko fic #atla zuko fanfic #prince zuko fanfic #prince zuko fic #prince zuko x reader #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #zuko atla imagine

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demoncryptspanties · 5 years

Text

Time After Time

part 3

Masterlist, Part1, Part 2

A/N okay I apologise for this chapter being sort of short, I think there will be like another 3 or 4 after this but enjoy.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

This bliss seemed to last the whole 3 years. You and Ambrose seemed to be joined together by fate. The two of you participated in Lupercalia once, in your last year but again it wasn’t the best night the two of you had together. Lilac’s course was an extra year due to her indiscretions leading her to fail the potion class which she decided to retake so the two of you had remained close.

She acted as the family you didn’t have, excusing Angelica, and Tom became a close friend. You hadn’t spoken to your mother at all, your father at least once a month but even keeping to that seemed difficult due to how busy the both of you were. Your parents had divorced, that seeming like the best option and your father had moved back to his old home, a relic on the edge of the witch’s territory.

Jude had yet to take his place as high priest and therefore although you could have visited you decided against it. The hostility that would have come from the community especially your mother would have been too much and whereas if you went alone it would have been bad, taking Ambrose would have been even worse.

Your time at the school was calm, as normal as you would expect it to be, you kept to the curfew after that night and kept the Friday tradition of going to the river. The weather was always good there, the sky blue and just warm enough. Above all Ambrose made you feel safe and at home, never bored because he would always be around the corner with somewhere new to explore or something new to talk about. Overall, you would argue that it was the best 3 years of your life. You had grown and matured and your relationship by most standards was pretty perfect.

The only thing is that he had yet to introduce you to any of his family. Although close to his aunts who had agreed to house you after your course, you had yet to see let alone meet them. His uncle, as distant as he is didn’t seem bothered about you either.

It was days after your final piece was due, you were now waiting for the results of your efforts. Ambrose had tried to keep you as occupied as he could after you had submitted it but you both had given up after day two and decided to stay in the house until you go the letter. You were comfortable snuggled into Ambrose’s shoulder as he was turned away from you. Your hands drew patterns across his chest and stomach, still in a sleepy haze.

“I am probably the most skilled person you have ever met when it comes to apparitions” He mumbled turning to you with a playful smirk.

“You are an arrogant man and I hope this lie haunts you forever.” You said offering him a lazy smile.

“Stop being so dramatic. I am probably the best in the house at apparitions.” He pulled you closer, one of his hands resting on your cheek.

“Look, I have gotten better so that is actually a gross overstatement of your abilities.” He pulled you onto of him, making you gasp and giggle. You gave him a quick peck before moving out of his arms.

“Prove it.” He said. Raising your eyebrow slightly, you conjured a set of fish almost identical to the ones in the river where you first met. They swam close to him and then in a spiral moving towards the ceiling and then back down to circle him and dissipate near the floor.

“Okay, I admit, you have gotten better. But I also have.” He raised his hands muttering under his breath. Schools of fish filled the room, chasing each other and moving in circles around you. He included coral and seaweed on the floor and a bigger fish at towards the ceiling. Although the room itself was small, the abundance of glowing fish made it seem marginally larger.

Your eyes were full of wonder staring at them, but while the apparitions themselves took a large amount of concentration he was focussed on you and your reactions. Truthfully, he had been trying to do this at this scale for a year now, it’s more difficult when you have no visible reference to go back to. More so if you haven’t got material of the whatever you are trying to replicate. The look on your face was worth the trouble.

You two had stayed together as a pair the entire day showing each other small charms and spells while gorging on fruits and wine. It was truly a day to remember and you did years later when it mattered the most.

The following day brought the results of your final piece. While the marks weren’t as high as you were hoping, you passed and that was enough. When you had received the letter from the academy for gifted students, Ambrose had been quick to wrap his arms around you, lips against your hair. He had read through the piece itself and being a prodigy himself he was beyond proud of you. His exacts words were “This includes such precision in emotion, you really must have drawn from your own experience. It is raw and authentic which is something you cannot teach. It’s good, and I’m not just saying that because I love you”

The following day consisted of you and him packing. You had already booked a place on a boat back to America feeling the urge to go back to a warmer country. Although you had learned to love many aspects of your time here, the weather was not it. You didn’t think you would ever get used to the constant change, you could never just look at the sky and conclude that it would not rain today because an hour later you would be soaked and an hour after that there could be such intense heat you would think you were in Egypt.

You also had decided to move in with Ambrose. The Aunties were happy to have you and his uncle was happy to have you join the coven. Although bittersweet to some degree you had spoken with your dad who was happy with the outcome, after you had promised to visit him.

The three-day journey to the docks was overall grimy and boring. Although Ambrose did his best to keep you as occupied as he could, his love of napping and your inability to get comfortable in the carriage meant that you for at least 4 hours each day you had no company, so you wrote. A habit you picked up when you started the course in order to both practise and fill time when you had little to do. Most of it was nonsense, sometimes you would come out with the odd poem you were proud of but other times it was just a collection of nothing.

Unloading to put on the boat which Ambrose had insisted on doing himself and waiting around for the boat to actually leave itself had given you time to sort out your thought of the last 3 days. You had filled the notebook with mostly nonsense thoughts which you tore out unless the brought back a specific feeling you wanted to remember. You set your notebook down on the cabin and passed out the minute your head hit the bed in your cabin.

Ambrose had wanted to see the boat go off, so he didn’t join you until later when you were already asleep. Still feeling awake due to him napping not 3 hours earlier he pottered around the cabin. At first, picking up a book from the bottom of your trunk but he soon turned his attention to the stuffed notebook on the desk.

He sifted through it settling on one which he had actually watched you write.

Like horses, they rode into the sun as if they knew nothing was wrong,

But when hand in hand they appeared with passion and the whole universe turned to gather.

They watched the star's fashion a rope to tether themselves together.

And when they died, they watched as the stars burned brighter than forever.

And when there was not a spec left the universe still remembered,

The two broken stars who went into the sun and came out together.

He pocketed the paper thinking that you wouldn’t miss it that much with all the other things in there and how he watched you throw out half the things you wrote. He thought you were good, he thought you were more than good. Probably better than himself though he would never admit that. He found it unfair that your gender had prohibited you from studying at Oxford, more so that even at the witch’s school you had not been judged fairly due to you being better than the male students. Although you kept with tradition and still did mostly what seemed as more feminine subjects, it wasn’t unusual to find women in the writing course or the conjuring course and therefore it would make sense that by this point they would judge fairly but they had not.

In his opinion, you were robbed of a distinction but of course, he was biased. He saw everything you did as perfect, better than perfect and connected deeply with all the writing. Most likely because it was often about him, but when it was ambiguous enough you didn’t admit that, saying something along the lines of “I was embodying the character of that book I was reading.”

He looked over at your sleeping form, eyes full of warmth and adoration. Your head was snuggled into the pillow. You couldn’t have been comfortable, with the terrible wooden bed so with a spell he piled you up on an artificial mattress. His Aunt Hilda had taught him to do it a few years ago for this exact reason, something about moss feeling like a cloud underneath you.

You hadn’t met either of them yet, but after 3 years of knowing Ambrose, they felt like they knew you. He had mentioned you in every one of his letters since you had met, and you featured in every mirror conversation he had with them. They had been ecstatic when he told them you two were together, even Zelda squealed a little in excitement. Definitely overshadowed by Hilda’s own joy.

It was for this reason that he took your hand mirror and opened a link to Hilda’s own mirror. She was greeted by Zelda who had been expecting him.

“Sorry dear, Hilda is just writing a list of questions so that she knows what to cook Y/N when she gets here.” Zelda had a sly smirk on her face.

“It’s good to see you too auntie. Is there anything you would like to ask before we get there,” you shuffled slightly in your sleep getting used to the new noise of quiet conversation among the sound of the sea.

“Yes well. What is her favourite colour, we cannot have her feeling uncomfortable in her own room?” Zelda lit a pipe holding it to her lips before blowing out and obscuring his view.

“Peach but I don’t think that matters. She can just sleep in my room, with me.” Ambrose said after a few beats.

“No that won’t do. Your room still doesn’t have a bed and I will not have you having sex in my house.” Zelda’s eyes twinkled slightly despite her blunt wording.

“We are witches and warlocks what about Lupercalia. Isn’t sexuality encouraged?” Ambrose himself shared the same twinkle. Hilda entered the room a moment after.

“I suppose your right” Zelda said nothing more moving to let her sister sit closer to the mirror.

“Okay well first of all hello Ambrose. Is that her in the back, ooo, she’s pretty, move the mirror a little.” He moved the mirror upwards and turned it around giving them a full view of you. You were in the same position as before, face slightly obscured by the pillow.

“Yes, she is pretty, more so when you can see her whole face,” He chuckled lightly as if remembering a moment.

Hilda put him out of his daze shuffling her paper slightly and frowning to herself, “Okay well does she eat meat.”

“Yes.” His gaze was more towards you than Hilda himself. He often did this in the morning. Even though he loves his sleep, he somehow still manages to wake up a good hour earlier than you. Sometimes he’ll just sit for the full hour staring and thinking, other times you wake up because of his stare but most of the time he writes.

You never seem to see what he writes even though at times you watch him do it, he even reads some pieces out to you but the various notebooks that he actually writes them in you can never find. Not that you were looking.

Zelda and Hilda had gotten into a little spat, so Ambrose was free to lose himself in you, “Ambrose, just what doesn’t she eat. That would be an easier question.” Zelda said clearly, overtaking Hilda’s small protests.

“Nothing, she isn’t that keen on pork but not so much that she wouldn’t eat it if given to her,” Zelda gave her sister a stern look and got up to leave. The two said their goodbyes to him, Hilda promising to make a magnificent meal.

He felt the need to be close to you after that, huddling behind your body, he put an arm over your stomach, you snuggle deeper into him with a soft hum. The sway of the ship and warmth of your bodies on each other lulled you both to sleep.

The journey from there seemed to come so much quicker than you would have hoped. Before you knew it, you were standing in front of the Spellman household, while Ambrose was shaking with what you thought was anticipation, you were so lightheaded if it wasn’t for Ambrose’s grip on you, you probably would have fallen over.

The door opened before he could reach to knock, revealing a blonde woman with a large smile. “Ambrose darling and you must be Y/N” It was as if her smile healed you because you perked up immediately.

“Yes, that is me. Aunt Hilda right” A shy smile revealed itself as Ambrose held your hand a little tighter.

“Yes. By Satan’s horns, you are so pretty. You really weren’t lying Ambrose. She’s like a doll.” You giggled slightly at the compliment, another figure this time red-headed emerging behind her.

“Let’s not scare her before she enters the house Hilda and stop smothering her.” Zelda had a teasing smile on her face, leading the two of you into the house with your luggage floating an inch off the ground next to you.

Ambrose put a reassuring hand on your back and gave you a quick peck before walking a couple steps in front of you. Selene wrapped herself tighter on your arm mirroring your own nervousness.

The evening consisted of you unpacking, a quick meal of beef stew from Hilda but no visit from Ambrose’s uncle who had said he was going to be there. Ambrose didn’t seem fussed about it but you held his and the whole way through dinner regardless.

By the time you were settled in bed, you were beyond knackered. The sky was pitch black, the moon not offering a soft glow that night which did little to ease your nervousness. You fell asleep easily in your own room and remained in a dreamless slumber the entirety of the night.

When you woke it seemed to be about midday, Ambrose choosing not to wake you since you seemed so tired. You wrapped yourself with one of his robes and proceeded downstairs to the kitchen. A man in a suit with a mischievous but inviting smile was sitting at the table opposite Ambrose on the table you ate dinner. Zelda was sitting on his left, but Hilda was nowhere to be seen.

You walked down carefully not to disturb the conversation, pulling the robe tighter around you and settling down on Ambrose’s right putting a hand on his shoulder so he knew you were there. He put a hand almost passively on your thigh under the table the conversation stopping.

You put a handout and introduced yourself, he did the same offering you a soft smile when he took your hand. He was Ambrose’s uncle Edward. The reason he gave to missing dinner was that he was in a meeting, but the way Ambrose explained to you while he looked with the same smile suggested otherwise.

Edward had asked about your schooling with a distant interest which led to an hour-long conversation which seemed to make Ambrose increasingly uncomfortable and leading to Zelda practically throwing him out of the house with the guise that he had another meeting.

You turned to him with a worried expression, “Ambrose what did I miss. What did he say?”

He seemed to contemplate something for a moment, his fingers drumming on the table lightly before he answered. “He isn’t exactly happy that I stayed for such a long time with no actual purpose. He’ll be okay in a few days. Anyways you said we would go to meet Angelica next week and then you wanted to go across to Central America for a year.”

“Yeah, there’s a coven of witches somewhere there who are experts in healing charms and herbology whom I’d like to do research with.”

“Central America is a big place to look for a small coven.” Although he didn’t seem distant in the conversation there still seemed to be something weighing on him.

“That is why we are going to see my sister, she studied there during my second year. She said she would set us up and whatever and I’m getting way too ahead of myself, aren’t I?”

He chuckled lightly and kissed your head, “No. Well yes but we already agreed that you were going but I got an offer to go to Rome for something or another. I really want to go, and it would make sense since that coven is basically all women and its more your forte than mine.”

You cut him off with a peck, “That’s fine, it works out great, are you going to go for the full year or?”

“Yeah, yeah the full year. I’ll go with you to meet Angelica but after that, we shall diverge.”

You hummed lightly and finished your tea.

The next week was comfortable for you. In a way you felt more at home than you ever had, staying with the aunties had given you new people to know and a new environment to explore. It seemed like the beginning of a journey that you were happy to take.

Ambrose seemed a little distant but his happiness to see you never wavered, he was just busy with something which is the excuse he gave to you, but you didn’t push. You had yet to see his uncle again, but it seemed for the best like the aunties were deliberately ushering you around so you wouldn’t run into him.

The day it came for the two of you to leave it didn’t seem any different, the aunties said goodbye with sincerity and the two of you left to meet your sister.

The journey seemed longer than expected but easy once you passed into central America. She was staying in a small town by the border to meet you, but it seemed more like a village. The locals were kind and you found your way to her quickly.

She opened the door like she had sensed you there and ushered you inside out of the heat. “So, my favourite siblings how good it is to see you after all this time.”

You both raised an eyebrow at her remark but neither of you commented on it.” Well,, Angelica, we spoke yesterday, and I was busy packing. Also, I’m your only sibling, I have to be your favourite.”

“Yeah well you make it rather difficult,” she said with a smirk. Before you were able to respond she addressed Ambrose with a much more serious tone. “So, you’re leaving us for Rome then?”

“Yup, I’m leaving tomorrow when you go on your way to the coven.” Angelica seemed unnerved about his statement and shuffled uncomfortably in her seat.

“Just be careful. I don’t have a good feeling about Europe in general in all honesty.” You both looked at her in a little confusion but after a second Angelicas, serious nature seemed to dissipate as quickly as it appeared, and her friendly nature was back.

The three of you spoke a little but retired to bed early. Ambrose had left before you woke up but kissed your forehead and left a note saying that he loved you before he left. You couldn’t help but feel as if there was something wrong but didn’t think too much of it.

You left that day, starting off by car and then moving on foot for the remainder of the journey. It took you about 2 days to get there and you were greeted by women from all different places.

The women held a feast for the two of you and your education started the next day. It was done in three components, the first being herbs, mixtures and whatnot. Your teacher reminded you a lot of Hilda, she was smart and kind, forever with a warm smile on her face. The second was hexing, turns out while also wreaking havoc they could be used for good if you knew what to do. The third was summoning, although demon summoning was something you were familiar with there were, any other beings that you could summon that would be of a different help.

Your first week was spent learning these things, with no word from Ambrose. The aunties hadn’t heard from him either which made you worry a little, but it had only been a week. The next couple of weeks were the same. You had joined Angelica with taking over responsibilities of day to day living and settled in well there. Everyone was kind and loving and you felt very much at home here.

You had spoken to Ambrose twice, he seemed distant but about the same as usual. You again thought nothing of it which should have been the first clue that something was wrong.

You had been at the coven for about half a year when the aunties contacted you. Ambrose and you had spoken once a week, up until it became once every two weeks and every now and again, he forgot. The distance between you two had dissipated but he was still distracted.

You hadn’t heard from him for 3 weeks when the aunties told you to come back. You got back to their house in record time. The women of the coven said that you were welcome back any time and let you leave with a gentle understanding of why. Angelica said that she would leave in a week to her small apartment near you to be there if you needed her.

#ambrose spellman imagine #ambrose spellman x reader #ambrose spellman #time after time

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jebentnietalleen · 5 years

Note

Your writing is amazing so I’m wondering what your creative self will come up for 49. “Well this is awkward…”

A lot of things have been really weird lately. Not only is he getting along with everybody in class, finally feeling like he can be himself now that he came out at the beginning of the schoolyear, but he is also satisfied with the grades he's been getting. Sure, Biology has alwasy been his strongest subject, but now he is also acing classes like Maths and French. He is still struggling with Literature, but who isn't? At least he's been getting help in that subject. Then again, that might be part of the problem to begin with…

His mentor insisted on him getting a tutor in Literature because it's the only class he's more or less failing, and it would be a shame to let that ruin his grade point average. His mentor already had someone in mind that could help him, a guy who was in his final year, who needed some afterschool credits. It seemed like a win win, he'd said. Lucas wasn't going to say no to that, because honestly, Literature was such a pain in his ass that he would take just about any help he could get. He just hadn't expected that his tutor would be Eliott. Ever since Eliott transferred last January, he was the talk of the school. And yes, he was also pretty much all Lucas could think about, so he couldn't exactly blame anybody else.

The first time he saw him was in the foyer, it was almost surreal: those grey eyes bore into his own, and he felt a jolt of excitement and electricity go through him. Yeah, Eliott was gorgeous and there was no denying it. He cursed himself for sneaking glances whenever he could, because Yann caught him in the act, looking back and forth between Lucas and Eliott, wiggling his eyebrows and poking him in the chest: 'Nice, Lulu, I approve'. Lucas tried to scold him and shrug it off but it was useless.

Needless to say, his friends have been mercilessly teasing him about his crush ever since. It's been nice, really, perfectly fine, pining for the new kid from afar. He overheard Daphné when she told Emma that it was such a shame that Eliott has a girlfriend, to which Emma replied that a lot can happen when you change schools. New enviroment, new relationships… Daphné quickly explained that Eliott and Lucille had been together for ages. Emma's disappointed face was exactly how he felt as well: even though he never really thought he'd have a chance with a guy as handsome as Eliott, it was fun to fantasize about the possibilities. But knowing that he had a girlfriend (ugh, great) and a longterm one at that, kind of crushed the last bit of unrealistic hope that he secretly still had.

That hadn't stopped him from looking at Eliott whenever they crossed paths, but it did bring him back down to earth. Him and Eliott? Never gonna happen. He was more than okay with that, because it was just a crush and he never interacted with him anyway. So when Lucas walked into the classroom where he was suppose to meet up with his new tutor, and it turned out to be Eliott… yeah, it kind of fucked with his head. A lot. Because this was not part of his plan, his 'look but don't talk' plan. The worst thing of it all is how nice Eliott turned out to be, and how smart. He really was the whole package and it's just not fair, not fair at all. Really, what it boils down to is that despite Eliott's best efforts, he was too damn distracting. Just like right now, when Eliott is reading a passage from Romeo + Juliet out loud, fingers skimming the pages, voice soft. Lucas doesn't know where to look, at his hand or his lips or his eyes, that somehow stopped looking at the book and are now in fact looking straight into his own. Lucas can feel a blush creeping up from his neck to his face. Shit. Did he just ask him something? He isn't going to get out of this one. 'Sorry, I guess I dozed off for a bit.' Eliott grins sheepilly, 'Oh, I guess I should be the one to apologize, for being such a boring tutor.' Lucas isn't sure if he is joking or not and suddenly he feels awful: 'No, no no, are you kidding, you are far from boring.' Eliott chuckles: 'I'm only kidding, Lucas' and why is the way Eliott says his name one of the best things he has ever heard? Lucas playfully shoves Eliott's arm: 'Making fun of your pupil surely isn't in your job description' they spend the rest of the hour chatting about everything but Shakespear, at one point their hands brush together when Lucas wants to grab a pencil at the same time as Eliott and it feels like his hand is on fire. He's doomed.

Yet this wasn't even the weirdest thing that was going on in his life right now. The number one weirdest thing was the fact that for the past month, he has been finding drawings in his lockers. Very cute drawings, always of a raccoon, sometimes paired with a hedgehog. There were always little messages beneath the drawings, which let him know that whoever is leaving these for him to find is really paying close attention to him. One time the message was: 'You always look beautiful, but the blue sweater you are wearing really brings out your eyes.' Another time it said: 'I don't believe in parallel universes, but if I did, I would ask you out on a date in one version.' It should be creepy, but somehow it's not. It kind of brightens his day whenever he finds one, and he keeps every last one of them in his backpack. Whenever he feels kind of grumpy or down, or whenever he just wants to feel extra happy, he looks at the drawings and reads the messages. It drives him crazy that he doesn't know who they are from, but it's also kind of nice, to have a secret admirer. He hasn't told anybody about them yet and he wants to keep it that way.

He arrives at school extra early today, because he is meeting Eliott for a turtoring session at 8:30 and he has classes throughout the whole day after that, and Alex offered to drive him to school because he had football practise at 8:00 anyway. He wasn't going to turn down a free ride, even though it meant waiting for half an hour before he was suppose to see Eliott. He walked through the corridors with Alex until they arrived at the lockers, exchanging a high five before Alex sprinted off towards the gym to change. Might as well check his locker, you never know…

Lucas turns around to make his way over, when he sees Eliott standing still, with a look on his face like he is a deer caught in the headlights. 'What's going on?' Lucas asks as he approaches him. He hopes there's nothing wrong. 'Uhm.' Eliott looks down at his hands, and Lucas follows his gaze. He's holding a... a drawing. What the? 'Wait a minute. This- are you…? Are you really the one who has been leaving me drawings all this time?' He can't believe it even though the evidence is right in front of him. 'Well, this is awkward… uhm, I am really sorry. I thought you liked them, I have seen you looking at them from time to time and I enjoyed making them for you so I figured I would just continue to do so until… well, until I was done tutoring you and I finally didn't have an excuse not to ask you out anymore' Eliott nervously bites his lip as he looks at Lucas, awaiting his response.

He wants to be happy, he really does, but. 'But what about Lucille?' Eliott looks at him like he has grown a second head: 'Lucille? We haven't been together anymore for a while now. I figured it wasn't fair to her, to keep dating her while I was falling for this cute boy at my new school'. And wow, is this what it feels like to fall in love? This warm, happy feeling spreading through your body, giddyness that makes him want to hug everybody, especially Eliott. 'The cute guy is me?' He asks with a shy smile on his face, because he still can't quite believe it. Eliott laughs and takes his hands, and yeah, now Lucas is sure: this must be what falling in love feels like. 'Yes, the cute guy is you. Ahh, screw the rules. Lucas, do you want to go out with me?' Lucas squeezes his hands and tugs them a little, making sure Eliott inches closer to him: 'Very much so, yes. Would it be against the tutor/pupil relationship rules if I would kiss you right now?' Eliott shrugs, looks into the distance and pretends to think about it. 'I think it is. But I don't care much about rules.' Eliott closes the distance between them, slinging his arms around Lucas' shoulder, and shows that he means that statement by kissing Lucas softly on the lips. Lucas wants to protest when Eliott leans back again, and Eliott reads his mind: 'Let's save the rest for tonight. I just decided to break all of the rules, we're going out tonight. Besides, I think I should resign as your tutor anyway, I would much rather see if we can be something else and I don't want to wait another month to find out.' That seals the deal, Lucas can't be blamed for what he does next, which is standing on his tiptoes to give one last quick kiss. 'I like the way you think'.

#skam france #elu fic #my fic #hope you like it #also i have more prompts waiting for me so i hope y'all aren't sick of me yet sjfhsjfh

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