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lostloveletters · 2 days

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Still Crazy After All These Years (Bucky Egan x OC)

Summary: It's a perfect Saturday evening in spring, which means only one thing for the Egans: baseball (specifically their son's Little League game).

Note: Fluffy post-war fic of Holly and Bucky being unhinged Little League parents (but we love them for it🥲) Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: None.

“C’mon ump, that was out!” Bucky shouted from the bleachers. “Foul ball my as—butt,” he muttered to Holly, who had three-year-old Cynthia in her lap, her chestnut hair pulled up in twin ponytails that blew along with the late spring breeze.

The mid-May air was heavy with DC’s summer creeping up on them. The swampy, humid season dragged along until he finally reached fall’s reprieve. Spring was perfect, though, with its early season baseball games and cherry blossom festival.

“It’s ridiculous.” Holly shook her head, her hand in the bag of pretzels she brought along, having carefully broken some into smaller pieces for Cindy.

“Who’s pitching? Is that the Baker kid?”

She nodded. “Yeah, Terry and Lynn’s youngest boy, Danny. He’s pretty good when he’s focused.”

“I can’t see,” Cindy pouted.

“Come on up, princess,” Bucky said, lifting his daughter and holding her on his hip. “Better?”

She nodded, wrapping her small arms around him as best as she could.

“You know, when you’re a little older, they have leagues just like this for girls.”

“Honey.”

“I’m just letting Cindy know she has options!”

“Where’s Henry?” Cindy asked.

“You see him, right over there?” Bucky pointed at the boy playing shortstop whose dark, curly hair was barely contained beneath his blue baseball cap, a big orange ‘B’ for Bears embroidered on it. All of the local Little League teams were named after some type of animal, and Henry’s game schedule made him feel like he was in the Wizard of Oz with how many lions and tigers and bears were on the sheet of paper he brought home from his first day of practice.

“Henry! It’s Cindy!” she shouted, waving frantically at her brother.

The boy looked up, waving in the general direction of his family. Bucky and Holly had been in the middle of packing up the Christmas decorations when Henry asked them if he could sign up for the neighborhood Little League team that upcoming spring. Holly nearly dropped a box of glass ornaments in excitement.

Watching a major league game, Yankees or not, paled in comparison to cheering on for his own son. Even strikeouts and missed catches made Bucky overwhelmed with pride, because Henry was out there trying, making mistakes he could improve on in their backyard with Bucky’s encouragement to buoy Henry’s spirits if he felt a little discouraged—or got distracted. He had to give the coach credit. Keeping the attention of a dozen six- and seven-year-old boys long enough to teach them how to play a decent game of baseball couldn’t have been an easy feat.

“Out!” the umpire shouted.

Holly clapped as Henry’s team left the field to line up near home plate. “Now we’re talking.”

The kid batting before Henry hit a pop fly and was out before he could even make it a few feet from home plate. Bucky heard Holly take a deep breath when Henry walked up to bat. First pitch was a strike, but the second was almost perfect, the crack of the bat breaking through the crowd’s murmuring. The ball flew into the outfield, landing just in front of the chain link fence that separated the baseball field from the playground.

“Nice hit, Henry!” Bucky shouted.

Holly jumped up, bag of pretzels spilling across the bleachers. “Way to go, sweetheart!”

Bucky grabbed Holly’s hand as they watched their son pass first and make it to second before the centerfielder could throw the ball back to the infield.

“Kid’s a natural,” Bucky whispered excitedly, as all good parents do, adoration filling his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of Cindy’s head. Holly liked to joke that the day Henry was born, Bucky cried more than their newborn baby did, but their son, and later their daughter, too, were the culmination of every hope and dream he desperately clung to for the better part of two years of just surviving. Because of that, he’d do anything for them.

He watched as the inning continued, his eyes on Henry the whole time. The next batter managed to get to first, but Henry flew past third and made a break for home just as the second baseman caught the ball.

“Go Henry!” Holly shouted. “Go go go!”

“You got this Henry! Come on buddy!”

Bucky was sure his heart was going to explode by the time Henry slid to home plate, barely a second before the ball flew into the catcher’s hand.

“Safe!” the umpire announced, nearly drowned out by Holly’s screaming.

“Attaboy Henry!” Bucky cheered.

“He did it! He fuc—flipping did it!” Holly gave Bucky a celebratory kiss, the two of them hardly able to contain their smiles long enough for their lips to meet for all that long.

The rest of the game flew by. Nothing could compare to the rush of watching Henry steal home. The Bears won by a run, and Holly and Bucky were equally convinced it was thanks to their son. As soon as they found him after the game was over, Holly engulfed him in a hug, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“You did fantastic, sweetie! What a game!” she exclaimed, almost looking a bit teary-eyed when she took Cindy’s hand in hers.

“Look at you! Stole home like a champ,” Bucky said with a smile, pulling off Henry’s cap to ruffle his hair.

Henry smiled, front tooth missing, the first of his baby teeth to fall out. The tooth fairy had left him a quarter to mark the occasion. “Thanks, dad.”

“I think this calls for ice cream,” Holly said, as if they didn’t go for ice cream after every game Bucky was able to go to.

Bucky nodded. “Definitely. Whatever you kids want.”

——

Scoopland was one of the first places Holly had taken him to when they were stateside and he made the move to DC with her. A neighborhood staple she frequented before the war, she’d been excited to bring him there. The place boasted over 20 different flavors of ice cream, and after trying them all over the course of their first summer together after the war, found he liked their Rocky Road the best. Holly was partial to mint chocolate chip, a newer flavor which he thought tasted like toothpaste.

Bucky walked up to the counter, tasked with ordering the ice cream while Holly wrangled Henry and Cindy into a nearby booth. She had the most difficulty getting Henry to sit down, since he spotted some friends from his baseball team on the other side of the ice cream shop.

“How’s it going Mr. Egan?” the teenage boy behind the counter asked.

“Can’t complain.”

“The usual for you guys?”

Bucky smiled. The usual. He wasn’t sure he ever figured himself to be the type of guy to have a usual at an ice cream place, but parenthood changed a lot of things. Sometimes, Cindy dealt out tea parties and temper tantrums in the same day. Henry got himself a trip to the emergency room just a few months prior while he was sledding on a snow day with his friends and went straight through a neighbor’s fence. He wasn’t sure how Holly managed on her own when he’d go away for work. At least her parents were nearby and took every opportunity to spoil their grandchildren that was presented to them.

He brought the four cups of ice cream over to the table, two in each hand, and placed the hot fudge sundae in front of Henry and tutti frutti with extra rainbow sprinkles in front of Cindy. He gave Holly a kiss as he handed her the cup of mint chocolate chip and snickered to himself when he sat down next to Cindy and saw Henry’s nose scrunched on the other side of the table.

“Listen champ, if there’s ever a day I don’t kiss your mom, that’s when you should be making that face.”

“‘S gross,” Henry said through a mouthful of ice cream.

“So is talking with your mouth full.”

Cindy stuck out her tongue, a distorted rainbow of ice cream and toppings that made Henry laugh.

“Next time, we’re taking you both to the zoo and leaving you there so the monkeys can raise you,” Holly said.

“We’re going to the zoo?” Henry asked. “When?”

“I wanna see a zebra and a giraffe!” Cindy exclaimed.

“How about next weekend?” Bucky looked to Holly for her approval, which was given in the smile that’d begrudgingly spread across her face.

Everything said and done, they made a damn good team as parents. Maybe he indulged the kids a little more than he should have, but Holly did her fair share of it too, letting Henry skip school to bring him and Cindy to weekday Nationals games for the hell of it.

“Can I go say ‘hi’ to Danny and Paul?” Henry asked, looking over his shoulder at his friends who were waving at him.

“Fifteen minutes, but we’re heading home soon. It’s past your sister’s bedtime,” Holly said. “Don’t climb over the seat, Henry, that’s—” She sighed as he climbed over the back of the booth anyway, leaving a streak of dirt from his sneakers behind him. “He definitely gets it from you.”

“Me? The first time I met your parents, they made a point to tell me how much of a wild child you were,” Bucky reminded her with a grin.

Her parents were gracious enough to let him stay with them until he and Holly found a place of their own, although he was sure her returning with a ring on her finger made it easier for them to welcome him into their home. Holly must have done a hell of a job talking him up in her letters to them, because none of the awkward tension he’d been expecting was there when he first walked through the door to meet them.

Holly laughed to herself as she wiped off the seat with a napkin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Drawing on your bedroom walls?” he pressed.

“Can I draw on my walls?” Cindy asked.

“No. It wasn’t good when mommy did it.”

“Why not?”

“Because you have nice paper we bought for you to draw on, baby,” Holly said.

“It’s not as fun.”

“Sure it is,” Bucky said. “Remember the other day when we drew that castle with the unicorn and the dragon?”

She yawned. “You made the unicorn look funny.”

“Are you sleepy, Cin?” Holly asked.

Despite shaking her head, Cindy rubbed her eyes. She always did whatever she could to push out her bedtime, as if she were afraid she might miss something big if she went to sleep.

“I guess I should’ve asked mom and dad to watch her, huh?” Holly said. “I didn’t think we’d be out this late.”

Cindy mumbled something incomprehensible before dozing off.

Holly laughed softly, “And she’s out.”

“I got her,” Bucky said, picking up Cindy from her seat and placing her in his lap. She immediately curled up against him, and he tried not to think too much about how he wouldn’t know when the last time she’d ever do that would be. Hell, Henry was six and already ditching them to hang out with his friends. He glanced over at his son, face scrunched up in laughter at a joke one of them told him. His smile was like looking in a little mirror.

Bucky ate a spoonful of ice cream, trying to tamper down the ache in his chest.

“You ever thought this would be how you’d spend your Saturday nights?” Holly asked teasingly.

“No.” Bucky smiled. “This is a lot better.”

#bucky egan x oc #john egan x oc #masters of the air x oc #masters of the air #bucky egan #john egan #mota #mota oc #mota fanfic #hbo war #hbo war fanfic

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underground-secret · 8 months

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The Hunter and the Witch ~ Dean Winchester x fem! reader

Description: Dean asks Y/N to help him find his Dad who mysteriously went missing. The two along with Deans brother, Sam, go to investigate John, the dad’s, last hunt the one in which he’d gone missing from.

Warnings: cannon violence, mentions of su!cide, arguing,witch craft, arguing, curse words, everything written is fiction and should not be taken seriously

word count: 6,103

The Woman In White

(Masterlist/ Next chapter)

Present day…

A knock at the door halted my movements, I wasn’t expecting anyone.

I placed the book I was reading on my coffee table, jumping up to see who was at my front door. Suspicion and anticipation flooded my veins as I peeked through the peephole seeing a familiar deep brown leather jacket, not needing anymore confirmation I opened the door swiftly.

“Y/N.” Dean spoke, a mix of relief and worry laced within his voice.

��Dean” I responded with a smile making its way on my face. I practically jump on him my arms around his neck, the last time I saw him was a month ago when he came up to Maine to hang out with me. We were sitting on the hood of the impala just taking in the view when he said he needed to tell me something, he had this look in his eyes that I couldn’t quite place and just as he was about to ask his phone rang and he had to leave. Since then I hadn’t heard anything from him, no calls or texts.

I let those thoughts pass through me as his initial shock wears off, wrapping his arms around my waist squeezing tightly.

I end our hug, remembering the worry in his voice as he said my name, motioning for him to come in leading him to my living room.

“You cut your hair” He acknowledged, sitting down.

“Felt like it needed a change” I say shrugging.

I had so much I wanted to ask him, but even before that I wanted to hug him again. I didn’t move to do either not wanting to scare him off.

“You sound worried, Dean, is everything okay?” I can’t help but ask, my eyebrows scrunching with worry.

“I'm okay sweetheart, but I do need your help. Dads been missing for a couple of days.” He explained the worry in his voice returning.

“You really think he’s in danger? I mean this has happened before and he always comes back fine” I rationalize.

“Not for this long.” he answered simply.

“Okay” I breathed out already knowing my answer the moment he said he needed my help, “Okay, just give me a couple of minutes to pack.” I repeated as I stood up, that charming smile landed on his face as he stood up with me. I took this as my opportunity to wrap my arms around him, this time around his torso, giving him another hug, if missing someone was illegal then lock me up. His arms wrapped around my waist and I felt the tension I hadn't realized was there, washing off my body.

I broke away first, immediately regretting it, pointing upstairs as a sign for me to start packing.

After traveling many days from Maine to LA we had finally made it to Sam’s place, who Dean naturally also wanted on board to find their dad.

Dean had parked the Impala in a parking lot close by, the darkness of the night cloaking us as Dean found a way in.

I whispered, warning Dean, “He’s already gonna be grumpy about you showing up here let alone breaking in!!”

But he dismissed me with a wave of his hand as he carefully opened up a window, sneaking in before turning back around and offering me a hand. I give him a look that says ‘really we’re doing this’ as I accept his offer and enter the house.

I follow after Dean as he enters a hallway, when suddenly a tall man lunges forward and grabs Dean's shoulder.

I figure it’s most likely Sammy and decide that I can stay back as the brothers have their quarrel.

Dean knocks Sam's arm away and aims a strike at him, missing as Sam ducks. Their fight continues until Dean finally knocks Sam down and pins him to the floor.

“Easy tiger” Dean huffs.

“Dean?” Sam asks, getting a laugh in response.

“You scared the crap out of me!” Sam complains

“That's ‘cause you're out of practice” Dean responds before Sam manages to knock Dean to the floor.

“Or not” Dean mumbles, face full of floor.

They finally get off of each other, as Sam asks “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Well, I was looking for a beer” Dean replies, getting a response from me this time

“Dude, really?”

“Y/N? You're here too?!”

“Hi Sam!” I respond, smiling brightly.

Dean pats Sam on the shoulder, in the weird way guys do to greet another guy, “We gotta talk” Dean explains.

“Uh, the phone?” Sam reasons

“If I'd called, would you have picked up?” Dean counters, getting a low stretched out “yikes” from me as I add in very helpful commentary earning two hard glares from both boys.

Then the light suddenly turns on revealing a curly haired blonde woman wearing short shorts and a cropped Smurfs shirt, very fashionable. I already like her even though I don’t know who she is.

“Sam?” the woman asks, tiredness lacing her voice.

“Jess. Hey. Dean. Y/N, this is my girlfriend, Jessica.” Sam introduces

I smile wildly waving at her, excited to finally meet the woman i’ve heard lots about, while Dean checks her out earning a slap on the back of his head from me

“Wait, your brother Dean? And your friend Y/N?” Jessica asks as Dean turns his head to me annoyed.

Sam nods and Dean moves closer to her ignoring my warning via head smack.

“Oh, I love the Smurfs. You know, I gotta tell you. You are completely out of my brother's league” Dean grins.

“Really, Dean” I deadpan, getting an appreciative half smile from Sam while Dean ignores me.

“Just let me put something on” Jessica says, turning to go before being stopped by another sly comment from Dean “No, no, no, I wouldn't dream of it. Seriously.”

I move forward hitting Dean on the back of the head once more, this time harder, he turns around to me “Really?”

“Yes.” I repond simply.

Dean turns back to Jessica, “Uh anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business” He explains before turning to Sam throwing a “But, uh, nice meeting you.”

“No,” Sam replies, going over to Jessica and putting an arm around her.

“Whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her” he goes on.

Dean turns to look at them both head on, “Okay, Dad hasn't been home in a few days.”

“So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back sooner or later” Sam reasons.

Dean huffs, clarifying, “Dad's on a hunting trip. And he hasn't been home in a few days.”

Sam's expression doesn't change as Jessica glances up at him.

“Jess, excuse us. We have to go outside.”

Dean heads downstairs, Sam follows after him once he changed into jeans and a hoodie, knowing they would be having an argument. I walked behind Sam making sure I was going slow.

Sam states the obvious, “I mean, come on. You can't just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you.”

I hold back my ‘I told you so’ comment.

“You're not hearing me, Sammy. Dad's missing. I need you to help me find him” Dean counters.

“You remember the poltergeist in Amherst? Or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He's always missing, and he's always fine” Sam reasons, pointing out the same thing I did only a couple days ago.

Dean stops and turns around, Sam stopping too.

“Not for this long. Now are you gonna come with me or not?” Dean asks

“I'm not” Sam replies simply prompting a “Why not?” from Dean.

“I swore I was done hunting. For good” Sam clarifies

“Come on. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad.” Dean try’s reason.

Even though he said it I know we were all thinking it is that bad, it’s always a dangerous game.

Dean starts walking again, Sam and, subsequently, me following.

“Yeah? When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45” Sam recalls

Dean stops at the door to the outside, “Well, what was he supposed to do?”

“I was nine years old! He was supposed to say, don't be afraid of the dark.”

“I’m sorry Dean but Sam’s right about that” I chime in.

“Don't be afraid of the dark? Are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid of the dark. You know what's out there” Dean explains, looking at the both of us like we’re crazy.

“Yeah, I know, but still. The way we grew up, after Mom was killed, and Dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her. Yet we still haven't found the damn thing. So we kill everything we can find” Sam rationalizes.

“We save a lot of people doing it, too.”

There was a pause where no one said anything before Sam asked, “You think Mom would have wanted this for us?”

I tense knowing that was a sensitive topic, as Dean throws open the door clearly pissed at the mere mention.

“The weapon training, and melting the silver into bullets? Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors” Sam, sadly, points out as we cross and enter the parking lot to the Impala.

“So what are you gonna do? You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it?” Dean argues.

“No. Not normal. Safe” Sam clarifies before adding,

“And that's why you ran away.”

“I was just going to college. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing.”

“Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble right now. If he's not dead already. I can feel it.”

“A-And what about you Y/N? Last time we talked you were saying how you were really happy with your job. Did you just throw that all away to help Dean? No offense Y/N but you really don’t owe him, let alone our Dad, anything.”

I breathe in sharply not expecting him to throw me into this conversation. He was right though, I really did love my job, I was a journalist for a crime website/paper. It paid well and was a way for me to signal to any hunters around if there was something supernatural about the case.

But even so I countered, “I do love my job and just because I agreed to come with doesn't mean I stopped doing it, I was able to make a deal to do it on the road and I’ll do it as long as I’m able to. And trust me I know I don’t owe anyone anything, but you guys are my best friends so you say you need help and I will gladly come, no questions asked.”

Sam looks down, sighing, “You’re too nice for your own good.”

Dean pipes up, “I can't do this without you, Sammy.”

“Yes you can.”

“Yeah, well, I don't want to” Dean clarifies with a sadness in his voice that if you hadn’t known him well you probably wouldn’t have heard.

Sam sighs, “What was he hunting?”

Dean opens the trunk of the car, then the spare-tire compartment that he uses as an arsenal. He props the compartment open with a shotgun so that he can dig through the clutter.

“So when Dad left, why didn't you go with him?”

“Well, first I was hangin with Y/N here for a while before I started working my own gig. This, uh, voodoo thing, down in New Orleans” Dean answers.

Even though it was hardly a sentiment, the mention of us hanging out those weeks brought a smile to my face.

“Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?” Sam questioned.

“I'm twenty-six, dude” Dean spoke as he pulled out papers from a folder, the ones he showed me at the first motel we slept at on our long journey to LA.

“All right, here we go. So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy.”

Dean hands one of the paper articles to Sam, adding on “They found his car, but he vanished. Completely MIA.”

“So maybe he was kidnapped” Sam reasons.

I answer this time, reciting what I remembered reading as Dean handed Sammy more articles, “Well there was another in April, then in December of oh-four, oh-three, ninety-eight, ninety-two and some more for a grand total of ten over the last twenty years.”

Dean puts the papers away pulling out a bag and then a tape recorder as he continues the info dump,

“All men, all the same five-mile stretch of road. It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough. Then I got this voicemail yesterday on our drive to you.”

He presses play, the familiar voice of John, their dad, and static playing, having heard it multiple times, “Dean...something big is starting to happen...I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger.”

He stops the recording.

“You know there's EVP on that, right?” Sam mentions.

Dean smiles, “Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?

All right. I slowed the message down, I ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got.”

He presses play again, “I can never go home…”

“Never go home” Sam repeats as Dean puts everything back where it belongs to shut the trunk.

“Fun, right?” I comment sarcastically.

Sam sighs, “All right. I'll go. I'll help you find him. But I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here.”

Sam turns to go back to the apartment but turns back when Dean says, “What's first thing Monday?”

“I have this...I have an interview.”

“What, a job interview? Skip it.”

“It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate.”

Dean smirks, “Law school?”

“So we got a deal or not?”

Dean says nothing so I do, “Yes, we do” I confirm.

We arrive at the highway where all the men have gone missing just as Sam hangs up the phone, “All right. So, there's no one matching Dad at the hospital or morgue. So that's something, I guess.”

“That’s good!” I add.

Dean then slows the car as we near on a bridge, police cars and men all around, he pulls over fully leaning over to open the glove box, exposing the many fake ids he and his dad had, one’s like FBI and such.

Sam glares at while I say, “Love a good ol’ fraud”

We exit the car heading towards the deputy.

Dean starts, “You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?”

The deputy looks up at us asking, “And who are you?”

Dean flashes his badge, clarifying, “Federal marshals.”

“You three are a little young for marshals, aren't you?” The man asks.

But Dean just laughs, “Thanks, that's awfully kind of you.”

Truthfully he has absolutely no reason to be that smooth.

Dean goes over to the car, the one that belongs to the guy who went missing aka Troy, “You did have another one just like this, correct?”

Jaffe, the deputy who’s name tag I was finally able to read,responds “Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that.”

“So, this victim, you knew him?” Sam chimes in, asking

“Town like this, everybody knows everybody.”

Then I ask, “Besides them being all men have you found any other correlation?”

“No. Not so far as we can tell.” He responds truthfully.

“So what's the theory?” Sam asks

“Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?”

So nothing. Great.

Just before I could ask another question Dean comments, “Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys.”

Sam stomps on Dean's foot, clearing up his comment by saying “Thank you for your time. Gentlemen”

We walk away, with nothing, no helpful information, no nothing.

We make it into town, luckily finding who we assume to be the girlfriend of Troy.

Somehow Dean managed to convince the girl, Amy, that we were Troy's Uncles and Aunt who were also looking for our missing nephew.

Even more surprising we were able to get her to come to a Diner with us to talk, her friend Rachel joining us.

Rachel and Amy sat across from us in a booth, me being squished in by the wall as Dean sat next to me with an arm on the back of my seat and Sam sitting next to him.

Amy begins to explains the last time she saw Troy, “I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did.”

Sam asks, “He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?”

Amy shakes her head, “No. Nothing I can remember.”

“I like your necklace, it’s really nice” I say, noticing the pentagram she was wearing.

“Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents—with all that devil stuff.” Amy says, laughs at the memory.

“I don’t know if you believe in that kind of thing but pentagrams are actually a good tool, it protects you against evil. Your boyfriend has good taste, even if his intentions were different” I smile, careful to not use past tense to not give her the wrong impression.

Dean takes his arm off the back of my seat to lean in “Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything…” going the complete opposite direction I was aiming for aka nice and sympathetic.

But it seems to work as the girls look at each other debating whether whatever they had was worth sharing.

Rachel speaks this time, “Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk.”

Dean and Sam ask at the same time, “What do they talk about?”

Neither boy called jinx, missed opportunity.

“It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered on Centennial, like decades ago.Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever.”

After heading to the library we found out about our murderous spirit, a twenty-four year old Constance Welch who committed suicide in 1981 after her two kids died in the bathtub when she walked away for a moment.

She commited on the very bridge that Troy, and many others went missing.

So that very night, we walked along the bridge, stopping to lean on the railing. “So this is where Constance took the swan dive.” Dean said, looking over the railing.

“What a respectful way to put it, Dean” I say to him sarcastically.

“So you think Dad would have been here?” Sam asks Dean.

“Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him.” Dean spoke, I knew this would turn into another argument between them so I walked in front of them to give them room.

Their conversation became murmurs as I kept ahead, minutes going by before I turned around to wait for them to catch up.

“Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—“ Sam said frustrated before being cut off by Dean

“Monday. Right. The interview.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?” Dean asked.

“Maybe. Why not?” Sam answered back

“Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?” Dean argues.

“No, and she's not ever going to know.” Sam responds.

“Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.” Dean turns around and keeps walking, Sam following, caught up to me at this point.

“And who's that?” Sam questions.

“You're one of us.” Dean motions to me and him.

Sam hurries to get in front of us, “No. I’m not like you. This is not going to be my life…no offense Y/N”

“It’s okay Sam no offense taken, this job isn’t so dreamy” I respond.

“You're on his side?!” Dean yells, turning towards me.

“I-I mean do you blame me? It’s his life! And if he wants to settle down and try to forget the things that go bump in the night then that’s his decision to make. Don’t you wish things could be different?” I argue back, dying down with my question.

“He has a responsibility to—“ Dean gets cut off by Sam now, “To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back.”

My heart aches for him, I understand what it’s like to lose a mother but at least I had time with her.

Then Dean grabs Sam by the collar and shoves him up against the railing of the bridge. “Don't talk about her like that.”

“Dean!” I shout out.

He releases Sam with a huff and walks away.

“Are you okay, Sam?” I ask

He nods but by the look on his face I can tell he’s frustrated.

“Y/N.Sam.” Dean alerted us, we moved to stand next to him seeing a pretty pale women in white with dark brown hair, Constance. She was on the edge of the bridge, and with one final look back at us she stepped off.

We run to the railing but see nothing.

“Where’d she go?” Dean asks no one in particular. “I don’t know” Sam responds while I add on “Freaky.”

The sudden roaring of an engine forces our attention behind us once more revealing it to be the Impala with its headlights also on. I whip my head towards Dean, double checking that he isn’t the one in the car.

“What the—“Dean starts

“Who's driving your car?”

Dean pulls the keys out of his pocket and jingles them. Sam glances down at them. The car suddenly jerks into motion, heading straight for us.

With no other speaking necessary, we turn and run.

“Go! Go!” I yell, panic running through me. But the car was moving faster than we were and it was all too close far too quickly.

Dean grabs hold of my wrist forcing us both on and over the railing of the bridge into the ice cold river, knowing I would never do such a thing willingly (even with the circumstances). Sam jumped over, right after us.

The river was, truthfully, more mud than water or at least that’s how it felt. I choke as I breach the surface, Dean’s firm grip on my wrist remaining making it easier to locate him as he pulls us both out and onto the riverbend.

“Dean? Y/N” Sam calls out, his voice coming from above meaning he hadn’t fallen into the river and wasn’t suffering like us, lucky bastard.

It’s only when we’re both standing, out of the river, do I realize just how bad we are. Mud cakes to every inch of my skin, forcing the clothes I was wearing to stick to me, and I knew that my hair would be a catastrophe to deal with.

I want to start crying, seriously.

“What?” Dean calls back

“Hey! Are you all right?” Sam asks the both of us. I watch Dean through an ‘ok’ hand sign along with an “I’m super” just as I hang my head down.

Sam laughs and I suddenly feel very compelled to go up there and throw him in the river so that he could suffer too.

Dean still kept a hand on my wrist all the way up until we were back to the Impala, immediately he went to check if Baby was okay.

He shuts the hood of the car and leans on it.

“Your car all right?” Sam asks him.

“Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now. That Constance chick, what a bitch!” Dean complains.

“Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure. So where's the job go from here, genius?” Sam asked as he settled on the hood next to Dean while I prompted to stand knowing that if I sat I'd just feel the mud even more.

Dean throws up his arms in frustration, flicking mud off his hands.

Sam sniffs, then looks at Dean and I. “You guys smell like a toilet.”

“Alright I can't take this” I complained, moving to stand right in front of Dean. I slap a hand near his shoulder and begin a cleansing spell. The latin slips off my tongue as I catch my reflection on the car seeing my irises glowing purple, like they always do when I use my powers.

The mud, the icky-ness, and the smell vanish from the both of us as I finish the short spell. It’s definitely a weird feeling but far better than the feeling of mud being everywhere.

A sigh of relief comes from Dean as he covers my hand on his shoulder with his own, giving it a squeeze. “Thanks sweetheart”

“You’re welcome! Consider it a thanks for pulling me out of that mud-river.” I respond back cheerfully, eyes focused on Dean as I smile.

I feel Sam’s eyes going from me to Dean in an almost freaked out way.

“I didn’t know you could do that” He breathed

“If I sat here and listed everything I could do we’d be here for a hot minute” I smirked just a little pridefully.

“Two rooms, please.” Dean asks the motel clerk. By the time we got to a motel it was already morning so it was safe to say we all wanted a little break.

The Clerk picks up the card and looks at it. “Are you guys having a reunion or something?”

“What do you mean?” Sam asks as I look between both boys, also confused.

“I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought a room for the whole month.” The Clerk explains, and the realization hits us all.

John.

The motel door swings open, Sam having just picked the lock to John's room. Sam and I enter, complementing his criminal skills while Dean is just outside, playing lookout until I grab hold of his upper arm and pull him inside. Sam closing the door behind us.

Every surface has papers pinned to it like maps, newspaper clippings, pictures and notes. There’s books on the desk and assorted mess on the floor and bed. There’s a line of salt on the floor and half eaten food on the desk.

“I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least.” Dean informs sniffing a half eaten burger.

“Salt, cats-eye shells...he was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in.” Sam noted.

Dean looks at the papers covering one wall.

“What have you got here?” I ask, half looking at the junk on the bed.

“Centennial Highway victims.” He replies

The paper showed some of the victims including Mark somebody, William Durrell, Scott Nifong who disappeared in 1987 at age 25, and somebody Parks. Judging by the photos Mark, Durrell, and Nifong were all white males.

“I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs—ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?” Dean asks to no one in particular

“Well it’s not always about the outward stuff could be something more personal in their life, maybe a sequence of events or just something as simple as an action” I inform.

“Dad figured it out” Sam detects, me and Dean turning to see him in front of papers on another wall. Something about Witches, demons, devils, and so on along with an article about the “Woman in White.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asks him

Sam clarifies, “He found the same article we did. Constance Welch. She's a woman in white.”

“You sly dogs…All right, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it.” Dean comments looking closer at the pictures of her victims while I get more distracted on the clippings about the witches, yes it hadn’t a thing to do with this hunt but I mean come on.

“She might have another weakness.” Sam suggests

“Well, Dad would want to make sure. He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?” Dean counters.

“No, not that I can tell. If I were Dad, though, I'd go ask her husband.”

“If he’s even alive, and he’d be sixty-two by now” I murmur, chiming in.

“All right. Why don't you guys, uh, see if you can find an address, I'm gonna go take a piss” Dean informs.

I scrunch my eyebrows as I say, “Have fun!”

Dean starts to walk away but he stops when Sam starts speaking, “Hey, Dean?…What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry.”

Dean holds up a hand, “No chick-flick moments.”

Sam laughs and nods, “All right. Jerk.” It’s then that I knew that everything between them would be okay.

“Bitch” Dean calls back as he disappears into the bathroom.

I keep looking at the articles on the wall, reading more on Constance victims, but in the corner of my eye I see Sam smiling sadly at a photo he picked up from a mirror frame in the room.

A minute or so later Sam begins to pace the room before opting for sitting on the bed, with his phone to his ear

Dean exits the bathroom half shrugging on his jacket as he says, “Hey, man. I'm starving, I'm gonna grab a little something to eat in that diner down the street. Do either of you want anything?”

“No.” Sam answers plainly.

“Oooh! Can you get me some fries?” I ask, getting all excited for some food as I pull out my laptop from my messenger bag ready to find that address.

“Sure thing, baby.” He says throwing me that charming smile and a wink that causes my cheeks to flush. “You sure Sammy, Aframian's buying.”

But Sam shakes his head printing Dean to head out.

I’m just about to start searching on google when Sam stands up suddenly with panicked eyes.

“We have to go, now.”

Sam filled me in on the ride to Joseph Welch’s house, we had to keep going even with Dean arrested.

“Hi. Are you Joseph Welch?” Sam asks the older man

“Yeah.”

Sam had given him a photo, the one he got from the hotel mirror, as we followed Joseph down his cluttered driveway.

“Yeah, he was older, but that's him.” Joseph says, referring to John, handing the photo back.

“He came by three or four days ago. Said he was a reporter.”

“That's right. We're working on a story together.” Sam explains.

“Well, I don't know what the hell kinda story you're working on. The questions he asked me?”

“It’s an article about the understanding of young women committing suicide as a result of grief. We wanted to get all the details and even include a case that was more than 20 years old” I said cutting in, my experience as a journalist coming in handy.

“He asked me where she was buried” he deadpanned.

“I’m sorry Sir if our partner came off gruff and unsympathetic, and truly I hate to have to ask you again I mean I know this must still be difficult but where was she buried? It’d be helpful to know it again as a fact check because, as you can tell, our partner isn’t the best with people” I explain trying to come off the exact opposite way that John had.

“In a plot. Behind my old place over on Breckenridge.” He answered simply, only seeming a little bothered.

“And why did you move?” I ask.

“I'm not gonna live in the house where my children died,” he replied, I nodded at what he said.

Sam stops walking so I stop not knowing what he was getting at, Joseph then stops too.

“Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?” Sam pipes up.

“No way. Constance, she was the love of my life. Prettiest woman I ever known.” John reminisced.

“So you had a happy marriage?”

But Joseph hesitates for a beat then says, “Definitely”.

How convincing.

“Well, I think we got what we needed. Thank you, Mr.Welch, for your time and sorry again.” I concluded.

Sam and I turn to walk back to the Impala, but he pauses turning back towards Joseph who began to walk away.

“Mr. Welch, did you ever hear of a woman in white?”

Joseph pauses, turning around “A what?”

“A woman in white. Or sometimes weeping woman?” Sam clarifies.

But John doesn't respond.

“It's a ghost story. Well, it's more of a phenomenon, really. Um, they're spirits—“

“Sam, What are-“ but my point goes on deaf ears as Sam stalks towards Joseph.

“They've been sighted for hundreds of years, dozens of places, in Hawaii, Mexico, lately in Arizona, Indiana. All these are different women. But all share the same story.”

“Boy, I don't care much for nonsense.” Joseph says walking away but Sam remains insistent as he follows

“See, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them. And these women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children.Then once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads, waterways. And if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him. And that man is never seen again.” Sam goes on stopping Joseph in his tracks, getting his attention once more.

“You think...you think that has something to do with...Constance? You smartass!” He lectures Sam.

“You tell me.” Sam says, calmly.

“I mean, maybe...maybe I made some mistakes. But no matter what I did, Constance, she never would have killed her own children. Now, you get the hell out of here! And you don't come back!”Joseph yells one final time, shaking with anger or maybe grief.

Sam turns walking back towards me.

“That was good Sammy, seriously” I admire his blunt choice patting him on the back.

Sam’s driving when his phone rings, handing it to me to pick up. I put it on speaker phone as a familiar voice rings out.

“Fake 911 phone call? Sammy, I don't know, that's pretty illegal.” Dean laughs proudly.

“It was actually Y/N’s idea” Sam clears up.

“Eh what’s one more crime to the endless list?” I say smiling pridefully.

Dean laughs and it bubbles something inside me, something that’s been there for a long time.

But his laugh dies down and he goes serious,

“Listen, we gotta talk.”

“Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad's next stop.” Sam informs Dean, catching him up.

“Sammy, would you shut up for a second?” Dean warns.

But Sam continues on, “I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet.”

“Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gone. Dad left Jericho.” Dean spoke.

“What? How do you know?” I ask, beating Sam to the question I know he was about to ask.

“I've got his journal” Dean announces

“He doesn't go anywhere without that thing.” Sam pointed out.

“Yeah, well, he did this time.”

“What's it say?”

“Ah, the same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going” Dean informs.

“Coordinates. Where to?” Sam questions

“I'm not sure yet.”

“I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? Dean, what the hell is going on?” Sam slams the brake causing the phone to fall out of my hand, I whip my head to Sam and then back to the road seeing Constance standing ahead of us, the car doesn't slow quick enough as we halt right as we go through her.

All of a sudden Constance is in the back seat saying “Take me home”

I yelp, having not expected her to just be in the back seat. Next to me Sam is breathing hard, looking at the ghostly women in the rear view mirror.

“Sam? Y/N? Y/N!

150 notes · View notes

aclowntiny · 10 months

Text

Smell You Later- Gryffindor Quidditch Captain!S.Coups x Slytherin Quidditch Captain!Reader (Gender Neutral)

What are the odds one Potions class could shake things up between two house Quidditch captains?

Word Count: 4996 | Rivals to Lovers, Hogwarts AU (sortings/headcanons for each member here) | Warnings: You go through some physical strife a bit at one point, but it’s not violent, you’re just really winded & stuff. Wandless magic is canonically very difficult stuff 🤕 also some swears 😅

Tagging @belladaises on request- feel free to join the taglist for Hogwarts AUs too or anything 🥰

Practice was over.

Rough day chasing, too, because half your Beater duo was so eager to send it flying you were having to spend the game with your portion of Slytherin reminding them you wouldn’t actually be playing against maniacs.

“Until you’re up against Gryffindor-have you seen Soonyoung?”

A fair point from Hogwarts’s Quidditch commentator, a Hufflepuff named Seungkwan who was friends with a couple of your teammates, who’d decided to watch you guys play.

“He’s even worse than Jeonghan.”

“Hey,” your exuberant Beater exclaimed, “I’m just doing my job! And besides, they’re indebted to me for convincing the referee we were tied even though they clearly shot three points!”

“Yeah, well, you aren’t Slytherin for no reason,” Seungkwan shot back.

“Oi, enough out of you,” you swooped in closer to the Hufflepuff as you landed, shaking some sweat from your hair, “you said you were rooting for us!”

“Well yeah, only because a ton of my friends are in Slytherin and I don’t want to give Soonyoung the satisfaction.”

“Well, then you should be happy that we’re going to crush him.”

“Once you get that one play down.”

“Once we get this one play down,” you repeated with a small grimace.

The sun was beating down, school having just returned to session from summer, so you went to the pitch’s well to scoop yourself up a drink. As you gulped down the refreshing coolness, flicking away the remains that trickled down your chin and dripping a bit down the front of your heavy green Quidditch robes, you heard Jeonghan’s slightly raised voice.

“Quit doing that, you’re lions, not tigers!”

Such a quip could only mean one thing: Gryffindor had entered the pitch. Sure enough, as you turned around your eyes were met with an array of heavy robes just like yours, but red and gold replaced your-more elegant, in your opinion- green and silver. They all had their brooms in hand, of course, and were led by Choi Seungcheol.

Gryffindor’s Keeper and captain, leader of the team rivaling the one you spearheaded. He smiled, eyes sparkling mischievously, when his gaze met yours.

“What’s this I hear about a difficult play? That’s probably the one we mastered last week, huh guys?”

You smiled and shook your head in disbelief. No ill will toward Gryffindor- in fact, two of your friends played on the team and half your mates were buddies with Soonyoung and Seungcheol- but they still got under your skin, especially the captain. Just one look at his smug face and you were ready to crush him. Competition was competition, after all, and pride ran high in both your houses.

“No, we already learned how to hit a ball in First Year,” you shot back with a nod at the Beaters, “but it’s nice to see Soonyoung almost has it down.”

“Has Jeonghan stopped hitting his own teammates?” The tiger lover in question asked you, shading his grin with a gloved hand.

“He’s never actually hit us before,” Joshua, your Keeper, countered, “so that’s one thing you two have in common.”

For that one, you reached up and gave Joshua a high-five so coordinated you never even turned to look at each other. Suddenly, the sun didn’t seem so stifling, your energy less depleted and practice less feckless. You had a battle to fight.

“Is that the play you practiced, (y/n)?” Seungcheol asked, inclining his head in the general direction of where the high-five occurred.

“No, we’re just that in sync,” you replied, “aren’t we, Joshua?” Your teammate hummed in response, bringing a smile to your face. “Jealous?”

“You wish,” Seungcheol replied with another smirk and shake of his head, “you guys done with the pitch for the day?”

“Yeah,” you replied, banter over for the afternoon, “go for it. Get ready: first match is us.”

“Don’t I know it,” he said, and with that he waved the rest of Gryffindor forward, striding past you as you left- well, all of you but Seungkwan, who watched pretty much every practice due to his diverse friend group, “it’ll be legendary as always, especially when we win.”

“Smell you later,” Chan, your Seeker, called out as your teams pass each other.

Your hand hit your forehead. “Chan, that was immature.”

The Gryffindors snickered and, knowing Chan, Seungcheol full-on laughed. Guy had a nice laugh, but there was no appreciating the sound made at your expense.

“I didn’t know you were letting First Years join the team, (y/n),” he commented.

After they passed, you shook your head and hissed to Chan, ��You know what, I’m with him on that one. You need to work on your smack talk.”

“They do smell, though,” Chan protested, wrinkling his nose and crossing his arms as best as he could with a broomstick in hand, “haven’t you noticed Seungcheol almost always smells like glove leather even off the pitch? That’s why he tries to cover it up with that dumb cologne.”

“No,” you answer, “I can’t say I’ve ever thought that hard about what Seungcheol smells like, but hey, you do you, man. Whatever floats your boat.”

Chan spluttered defenses that had you and the rest of Slytherin laughing as you hung your broomsticks and threw your outer sporting robes in your lockers.

Whizzing narrowly past a Bludger, you waved a finger and charmed a spark to catch Jeonghan’s attention, taking a few deep breaths and putting all your energy into steadying yourself afterward. It was the one bit of wandless you could do, and boy did it knock the wind out of you, but having a silent signaling system worked wonders for your team. And as dedicated to beating Gryffindor as you were, that possibility and the guarantee of their shocked looks was worth feeling like you’d been punched in the gut for a minute. The wind whipping in your ear suddenly seemed twice as loud.

Huffing, you banked hard, eyes on the Quaffle, this time dodging the Bludger that Jeonghan sent back towards your opponents and straight into Soonyoung’s flight pattern, sending the energetic boy swerving as you landed a score past him.

“Nice one!”

“Lucky shot!” Soonyoung complained, flying past you with his tongue sticking out. Who was acting like a First Year again?

“Oh-ho! I don’t know what that light-up thing was all about, but it looks like Soonyoung didn’t either!” Seungkwan caught his friend’s glare, smiled and waved at him, then continued at the big round mic. “And despite that weird bank of (y/n)’s, Slytherin scores again!”

“Hey, whose side are you on?” You called to your friend, who flapped his black and yellow scarf at you.

“Hufflepuff,” he replied into the mic, earning a chastising “Focus” from the nearest professor, who was obviously not a Hufflepuff.

As you flew on, though, the feeling of doubled-over exhaustion wasn’t leaving your body. Maybe practicing the signal play every day was pushing you too far. Heaving another deep breath, you fought on, almost getting hit twice but never letting the lions get the best of you. In the end, you won the game, but your voice was barely strong enough to cheer, even as you masked it with the wide smile nothing would fight.

As soon as your team got off the pitch you let yourself go, stumbling and clutching your chest, barely making it to the bench in the locker room. The rest of your team milled around you, Chan shaking you and asking if you were ok and Joshua taking your hand, telling you to never try that move again if it hurt you.

“I’m fine,” you croaked, “just drained is all. I may lay down for a bit.”

“Get water! Get water!” You heard Jeonghan and Amir, another Chaser, calling out as Chan left the room for some before your eyelids fluttered shut, your body falling to lay on your side.

“Hey, what’s all the commotion?”

“(y/n) isn’t feeling good, so we’re getting water,” Joshua answers, hand still clutching yours.

Your eyelids had fluttered open at the new voices in the room, vision revealing lights too bright for your headache as well as Seungcheol and Soonyoung, who surely heard their friends’ concern.

“You fool,” Seuncheol tuts, not unkindly despite the insult, “wandless magic isn’t something even most adult witches and wizards attempt. All that for a game?”

“I…beat you, didn’t I?” You croaked, lips curving a bit into a faint smile.

“Yeah, I guess you did. Here.” Reaching into the satchel he always took up after a game, he extended a hand to you, fingers curled around a dark green bottle.

“Are you…trying to poison me?”

“Enough jokes,” he said firmly, smile fading as his gloved hand took the bottle’s metal-topped stopper out, “Drink this. Please.”

Joshua helped you into a seated position, taking the potion for you and holding it to your mouth. The draught tasted kind of minty, kind of tree-barky, and kind of like too-long-brewed coffee, but your headache was gone seconds later, strength flowing back into your limbs.

“Wiggenweld,” Seungcheol told you with a nod to the tiny, now-empty glass bottle Joshua handed him, “you feel better, right?”

You’d never seen him look at you with legitimate concern like that before, no smirk, just a softening of his features as his brown eyes bore into yours, brows creasing slightly as your silence lengthened. You opened your mouth, closed it again as his hand hit your shoulder, heavy and hot in its well-played-in leather glove, yet a welcome pressure.

“Come on. What’s going on?”

You shook your head, sitting up and shaking his hand off your shoulder. “Yeah, I do feel better. Thanks. Surprised you wasted a potion like that on a Slytherin.”

“A player in need is a player in need,” Seungcheol replied simply, shrugging and shaking his hair back into place as he stood back up from leaning over you.

Palming the hard bench seat, you rose to your feet, too, potion’s effects dulling your exhaustion so much you almost wondered why you were laying down in the first place.

“I’d hope you’d do the same for me,” Seungcheol continued, “though it looks like your team hasn’t figured out to keep medical supplies present.”

“That’s what Madame Pomfrey’s for,” you countered even though he had a point and, to his credit, really did care for his team, “but yeah, I’d sure think about it.”

He smiled at you, shaking his head in exasperation. “Best I can expect from a snake, huh? Well, good game, (y/n). Nice fakeout bank you did out there.” He extended a gloved hand.

Your newly bared palm stuck to the leather unpleasantly, but you still shook his hand. One thing you could say about Seungcheol, he was a hell of a Quidditch player. “Thank you. I practiced that one forever.”

“You were almost passing out and we both know it.”

“Alright, moment successfully ruined, thanks. Now get out, I gotta change,” you shooed your fellow team captain out of the locker room with a look of amusement.

“You’re welcome,” he chuckled as you disappeared into a stall, bootsteps echoing in the stone room.

“I already said thank you!” You called back as you started removing your outer coat. “Are you adding greed to all the bravery and chivalry crap you guys tout?”

“Yeah,” he snorted, “they’re adding it at the same time as they put ‘foolhardy’ on the Slytherin crest.”

“Fools for the game!”

You heard him give that laugh of his. No more banter this time, though. “You’re funny.” And with that, he was back out into the pitch sun, heading for his own locker room, no doubt.

You were funny? Funny like stupid or funny like ha ha? How were you supposed to take that? Maybe it was supposed to be vague. Well, whatever. It’s not like you’d dwell on it.

“Wow, I heard you saved the Slytherin captain’s life, huh?”

You snorted. She didn’t even know your name, just that Seungcheol tossed you a potion after the game. Apparently your little stunt was giving Gryffindor some publicity too, at least in Rhea’s eyes.

“Whoa, is she putting the moves on Seungcheol?” Chan gaped at the girl who corned Gryffindor’s captain, gaze drifting up and down as he gave a short reply about how he just gave you what you needed, no crazy rumors necessary. You appreciated that, especially when you had seen his pride at work. That was a game face just like yours. “That’s crazy, she just dumped Matthew Kim, like, two days ago- does she only date within the Gryffindor team?”

Rolling your eyes at the way she put her hand on his shoulder and snorting as he politely brushed it off, you shrugged and replied, “Well, good luck to her. Bro code, not to mention she’s not his type.”

Chan’s eyes bugged as he glanced between you and her. “What do you mean? She’s gorgeous! I wouldn’t mind if she tried Slytheri-”

You held up a hand for him to stop, grimacing. “Yeah, I’ll just stop you right there. I just mean Seungcheol likes someone who looks out for others and cares for them- that’s his type, not some self-serving rebounding-”

“Whoa, whoa, ok, point taken, red flags,” Chan shot back, hands raised in defense, “how do you know Seungcheol’s type though?”

“I’ve heard him say it,” you shrugged again, book bag jostling at your side, “I could tell you Seungkwan’s type too.”

“Yeah,” Chan agreed, hands sliding into his pockets, “who doesn’t know Seungkwan’s type? He’s even more of a hopeless romantic than Soonyoung.”

You spluttered out a laugh at that as you made your way to your house dungeon’s stairs, glancing one more time at Rhea, who was walking away from Seungcheol with the pout and crossed arms of a girl unsuccessful, with a smirk of amusement. That’s what she got for just calling you ‘the Slytherin captain’- you’d fought hard putting Gryffindor through hell to make sure Seungcheol remembered your name and never forgot it.

Rhea could never.

She didn’t care about him. She wasn’t, what was it, funny?

Oh, shit. Shit. You were late for Potions with Gryffindor of all classes; Snape was going to kill you. Ok, maybe not kill you since you were in his house, but he’d make some snide remark and may have you stay after to clean up, which would send a wave of lateness through your day that may not look great to blame on a professor. But taking the fall would annoy you on principle because you may not have had to deal with that if Snape had just let you go with some points off, which you could only pray he did.

All that because of a stained house scarf and a forgotten spell. Jeez, you felt like an idiot.

Luckily for your pride, Snape wasn’t in the main Potions room when you got in, but you had to take the last empty space on a Gryffindor-Slytherin split, next to Jeonghan luckily but equally unfortunately across from Seungcheol and Soonyoung.

The room was dim as always, lit only by torches and cauldron fire like the creepy dungeon it was, and it smelled odd, too. Something else snaked over the room’s usual musty smell, something less dank and far more overpowering. At first, there was a waft of your favorite baked good amidst the smells of Quidditch pitch grass, must, and flame, then… cologne.

Oh, Merlin’s beard, that was strong. It had to be someone at your table, right? And there was no way it was Jeonghan, despite him being right next to you. He never wore musky stuff like that- he was a floral guy and you knew it. Seungcheol or Soonyoung then.

Wait, didn’t Chan just say something about the captain’s cologne last week? Something about it covering up the leather stink. Speaking of leather stink, oh man…

“Wow, Chan was right, Seungcheol,” you teased your rival captain, “you do smell like sweaty leather.”

“(y/n),” Jeonghan’s voice came at your side.

You just shrugged, giving him a breezy smile. All the Gryffindors and Slytherins knew you were joking more than anything. Heck, your Seeker and their Beater ran the dance club together! They’d said worse things than that before- Soonyoung once called Joshua a Frog Face despite that not being true at all. Speaking of Soonyoung, he gave his captain a funny look, brows furrowing, then raising as he gave him side eyes. Seungcheol barely spared him a glance, eyes focused straight on you. Ha.

“And you think you have enough cologne on over it? I think maybe Chan was right.”

“(y/n)?” Jeonghan again, this time with a questioning tone, his leg reaching out to kick yours gently under the table.

You ignored him, eyes squarely on Seungcheol, who still hadn’t come up with a rebuttal. Instead, he just…leaned back in his chair with a little smile, eyes falling from you. Soonyoung looked pretty happy, too, but he was looking you in the eye.

“What?” You asked him.

“Snape had to get some supplies, but he had us write this down in our notes about his potion. That one over there.” Nodding towards the cauldron on the flame, its open surface coated with a gorgeous iridescent sheen with shifting colors you wanted to stare at, Soonyoung flapped a piece of parchment in your face, breaking the shining effect.

The parchment read: Amortentia. Strongest known love potion. Distinct mother-of-pearl sheen and infatuating effects. It smells unique to its beholder, reminding them of their favorite things as well as the object of their affection.

“Seungcheol isn’t wearing any cologne today. I saw him getting ready right next to me,” the Gryffindor added smugly.

Was he really trying to say you liked Seungcheol? Sure, you respected his leadership even if you gave him a hard time for it, and sure, you’d always enjoyed keeping up the banter and had the most fun playing his team, and sure, you never saw him the same since that day he gave you that healing essence, looking at you with such care and laughing that laugh of his as he left, calling you funny, which stuck in your head because what did that mean-

Shit. Ok, be cool, be cool. Lie. “Well,” you crossed your arms, leaning back in your stool and inhaling that cursed intoxicating air, “that obviously doesn’t apply to me, so someone else must have the same one.”

Best you could do. Glancing back to Seungcheol, though, you saw the last thing you would have expected. His expression fell from a smile to something softer, sadder? Something swam in those dark eyes you’d never seen before.

“W-would that really be so bad?” He asked quietly, wringing his hands atop the heavy wooden table, “I…kind of thought we had something.”

“Oooooh!”

“Soonyoung, not now,” Jeonghan waved a hand across the table in front of his face.

“All the back and forth was really fun, I guess I thought we were flirting?” He looked truly surprised, clueless, almost sweetly innocent, like a kid on the playground falling off the swings for the first time. Maybe you two had been acting like kids.

For what felt like the first time in your life, you could not come up with a comeback for the life of you. As your lips parted, working faster than your brain, which seemed to have slowed considerably the moment Seungcheol looked back up, staring into your eyes once more…

“Here are the last ingredients. Class will begin.”

…in walked, or more like floated with those robes of his, Professor Snape, who waved your heads immediately up at him and back down into your lesson on how to brew the potion that had sent your metaphorical foot careening so violently into your mouth.

Or so you couldn’t help but think as you worked, Jeonghan trying his best to help you and even calling over your friend and housemate Mingyu while you spent half the time stealing glances at Seungcheol. Soonyoung whispered something to him. He glanced at you, met your eyes, smiled a bit awkwardly, then wider when you ventured a wave. Seriously, what was wrong with you- what were you guys, eight?

Where was that bravado that was so easy to hide behind? God, you wished you were back on the pitch. Everything made sense fifty feet in the air with a broomstick in hand. Then, your body was in the clouds, not your mind.

“N- Need help crushing the pearls?” Seungcheol’s voice cut into your reverie as he leaned across the table toward you. “I know that’s one of the hardest parts,” he says to you.

“What, because you’re so buff?” Teasing was just easier, though it may not have been the best choice, as he leaned a bit back again, looking rejected. “No,” you hastily amended, “that was a compliment! Like, being buff is a good thing? Unless that wasn’t what you were going for, then stop working out I guess?” Laughing nervously, you mentally kicked yourself. Apparently you really did only know how to speak to Seungcheol in banter.

“Oh,” he responded dumbly, running a hand through his hair as he reached gently for the pearls at your station, “you think I’m… thanks.” This time it was his turn to laugh nervously. “I didn’t know you were looking.”

Neither did I, you wanted to say.

Scurrying out of Potions was an action surprisingly motivated more by Snape than by your fellow Quidditch captain, who shot out of the dark room just as fast as your punishment avoidance. Neither of you moved half as fast to head to your next class, though.

Seungcheol met you right around the corner from the steps back up into the castle, wetting his lips nervously as he stood to face you. “Hey, I- I’m really sorry if Soonyoung put you on the spot, but I really do need to know if you’re comfortable saying. Mine… My, er, my Amortentia, if you will, it smelled like you. It was broomstick straw, my favorite ice cream from Fortescue’s, and the scent you wear. I catch it every time you pass me on the pitch, but I never told you how nice I thought it was because I thought we weren’t doing that in front of the guys.”

You were his Amortentia?

At this point, at the way he looked at you- and how could you never have realized what all those smirks did to you, how the feeling of Seungcheol’s eyes on you was all you were looking for, how possessive you felt when anyone else showed interest in him and yet more satisfied still when they got rejected- it was a fight to keep a borderline hysterical burst of laughter from bubbling up. As was your wont, your mouth worked faster than your brain, articulating the first thoughts that rose to your swimming head. “Dude, if you really thought all that was going on, why didn’t you ever just kiss me?”

Seungcheol took a step closer to you, eyes drifting slightly down and back up, expression still uncertain even as you were practically backed against the castle’s stone wall. “Do you want me to?” He asked.

“Why would I say that if I didn’t want you to?”

“You are very hard to read!” He shot back, hands raising in defense, though the remainder of his posture stayed the same, not a single step taken from its proximity to you.

“Well, if I’m so hard to read, fine.” And with that, you stepped forward away from the wall completely, ignoring the weight of your book bag swinging into your side as you took his face in your hands, barely pausing to appreciate the warmth meeting your palms before you pulled his lips into yours.

He responded immediately, one hand wrapping around your waist as his lips worked. It surprised you how sweet of a kisser he was, every motion gentle, reverent, loving? Whatever it was, you couldn’t get enough. His lips were soft with just the faintest bit of wind chap you were sure you had too from all your time on a broomstick. And for all your talk of banter and tension, all you could feel as Seungcheol held you there like thatwas right. For the first time, you forgot to compete, just reveling in the feeling of his warmth around you. And then as you pulled away, he gripped you tighter still, a wide but tentative smile on your face. You just nodded.

“Yeah, I felt it too.”

“I didn’t say anything yet.”

“Well,” your eyelashes fluttered as you leaned in towards him again, “I may be hard to read, but I guess I have you figured out.”

“Oh, yeah?” He leaned forward a bit too, just to bump his forehead against yours. “Well, you need some chapstick.”

“So do you,” you shot back, giving him a playful shove.

Banter just worked for you guys. “Well, guess if we’re going to keep on like this, someone has to buy some.”

“Rock paper scissors. Loser buys the chapstick?”

He chuckled, then that competitive smirk you’d come to love returned. “You’re on.”

He threw scissors, you threw rock. Pumping your fist, you exclaimed “Yes! Ha, take that! I knew a Gryffindor would throw a weapon!”

“But did you know he’d do this?”

And there you were, back locked in another kiss. This time though, he pulled apart first, eyes wide. “Oh, wait, shit, we’re going to be late for class.”

You arched a brow. “You stopped kissing me for that?”

“It’s Herbology, I have to go all the way to the greenhouse.”

You stuck your tongue out. “Sucks to be you, I have Divination with Hufflepuff, so all I have to do is climb up.”

“Yeah, yeah, you win,” Seungcheol waved a hand, finally walking away, though his eyes stayed on you, winking, “smell you later.”

“Yeah,” you just agreed, shaking your head just as incredulously as it was fondly, “I guess so. You’re lucky I don’t mind the leather.”

“I can’t believe Amir is stepping down from the team!” Joshua lamented.

“I know,” you replied, arms crossed, “but I understand. He messed up his shoulder pretty bad, so I wouldn’t ask him to keep on. At least we get some young blood on the team, right?”

“Right. I think our new player shows promise, too” Joshua replies, gaze leaving you to travel across the pitch, where the new girl, a Fourth Year Slytherin named Jess, chatted with Chan.

You roll your eyes at your Seeker’s emphatic, expressive motions. Even for a dancer you could tell he was being dramatic, especially with the proud kid look on his face. “I better go see what they’re talking about, though,” you tell him, shouldering your broomstick and crossing the pitch grass.

“What’s he telling you?” You called to Jess, sauntering over. “Don’t let him scare you off.”

She shook her head, blonde hair falling into her eyes and back out. “No, he was actually telling me about all the times we’ve beat Gryffindor’s arses,” she answered in her thick brogue, “and how you ‘n’ the Gryffindor captain are always goin’ head to head!”

Biting back a more like mouth to mouth joke, you simply replied, “Maybe sometimes, but it’s all in good fun. Seungcheol’s a great leader; I respect him.”

Her blue eyes widened in awe before blinking back the day’s warm sun. “I thought you two hated each other?”

“No,” Chan interjected, singsonging, “I told you! They looooove each other!”

Hand on her hip, Jess just side-eyed him. “Very funny, of course they don-”

“Still not done with the pitch, babe?”

Your body swiveled immediately at the familiar voice, eyes laying on Seungcheol, who strode up to you as he shrugged his crimson jacket on. As if instinct, you jogged right over, boots crunching on the grass as you bounced into his side, crashing into him for a messy side hug that he pulled you further into. That day, he had worn his cologne, a scent now beyond familiar to you especially when he bugged you, then you jokingly blamed it for having to deal with him.

“Leave us alone, we have a new recruit,” you whined into his shoulder, motioning to Jess with the arm that wasn’t wrapped around him.

“Don’t blame her when your maneuvers go wrong.”

“Don’t come crying to me when you wish you had her.”

“We can’t steal another house’s players. Otherwise we would’ve stolen you already,” Seungcheol remarked, glancing down at you with a satisfied grin.

“Hey,” Chan butt in, looking up from re-lacing his boots, “not me?”

“Sorry, (y/n) is the only one up to our beauty standards.”

“How’d you get in, then?” Chan muttered.

“Hey!” Both you and Seungcheol exclaimed.

Jess, for her part, had deer-in-the-headlights eyes as her had bounced between you three like it was a table tennis match.

“Too mean,” you admonished your Seeker, “unsportsmanlike conduct.”

“You said I needed to work on my trash talk,” he pouted.

“Yeah, tell him he can’t get his Beaters in control, don’t insult his appearance when you’re clearly jealous.”

“Hey,” Seungcheol said, pausing for a heartbeat, “and thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, babe. Also, don’t think we won’t still wipe the floor with you on Friday,” you reminded him with a sarcastic bat of your eyelashes.

“You’ll be nothing but a pebble beneath our feet,” he replied with a bright smile.

“All right, all right, go throw your stuff in your locker, we’re almost done,” you swatted him away as if you hadn’t been the one to grab him.

“Ok. This isn’t over.”

“I know it’s not.”

His face softened again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“See, you may think I’m bad at smack talk, but my insult did that,” Chan pointed out as Jess gaped.

For that, he got a high-five from Seungcheol and a friendly arm punch from you.

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #s.coups #s.coups x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #hogwarts au

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dracoxsworld · 1 year

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I told you so. - Draco M. x Reader

Summary: Reader drags Draco outside in the winter time to build a snowman, but ends up starting to get a cold. How will Draco take care of you?

warnings: none!

I got this prompt from this generator

“Come onnnnn, Draco!” You begged your boyfriend, dragging him down the castle hall.

“Y/N, it is way too cold.” Draco groaned.

“But we’re wearing so many layers! We will be fine! Pleaaaaaseeee,” You whine, clasping your hands together, begging.

“We’re going to catch a cold!” Draco exclaimed. You puckered your bottom lip, and batted your eyelashes. Draco furrowed his eyebrows at you and took a big deep breath through his nose, and exhaled. “Fine.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You and Draco ran out into the field of fluffy white snow, you kicked it up in the air, scooped some up in your arms and threw it upwards. Draco ran after you, trying to gather snowballs on his way, making them compact.

Before Draco could make his aim, you pelted one right in his face. “Gotcha Malfoy!” You laugh out loud, pointing to his snow covered face. His hands covered with dark green mittens his mother knitted for him wipe off the sparkly white snow off his now cold, red face. He immediately comes towards you, smiling from revenge. You scramble upwards and start running, but Draco is too quick. He wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up.

“Draco! No! Please! I’m- sor-sorry!” You say, laughing from both fear, and excitement. “Too bad, you asked for it!” Draco replied maliciously. He tossed you into a big pile of snow, you went flying with a big landing into the soft snow, like a cold pillow.

You have trouble getting unstuck from the snow, like a turtle stuck on it’s back. Draco walks up to you, his shadow covering you. “Would you like some help?” He suggests. You pout at him. “Please,” you beg. He sticks out his mittened hand and you take it, he yanks you out of the snow.

You start rolling snow into a ball. “Watch it, I’ll pelt you again!” Draco threatened, putting his hand up in defense. “Easy, tiger.” You tease. “I wanna build a snowman with you!” You huff as you continue to roll the snowball, slowly growing bigger. “It’s cold, y/n. Your nose is red, we should go inside before you catch a cold.” Draco said, watching you work. You stop rolling your snowball that is now up to your knees and look at your boyfriend who has snowflakes clinging to his eyelashes. “Draco please, I promise once we’re done with this we will go inside, I feel fine,” You plead with him. You pucker your lower lip at him, and give him the biggest puppy dog eyes possible. Draco groans and rolls his eyes.

“If you’re sick…”

“I’m not sick! I won’t get sick.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You and Draco finish the snowman with perfect pebble buttons, a potato nose (you couldn’t find a carrot) and pebble eyes. You both stand in front of your frozen admiring it. “Let’s name him… Nelson.” you decided. Draco scoffed at you. “Nelson.. please don’t tell me you’re going to name our future son Nelson.”

“Of course not.” You assure him. “I’m gonna name him Hermes.” You joke. Draco’s head snapped in your direction. “You’re joking, right?” He asked seriously. You let out a laugh and playfully push him. “Obviously.”

You both laughed until you were interrupted. “Achoo!” You sneezed. Draco’s smile immediately dropped. “Y/f/n.”

“It’s just a sneeze, Draco!” You exclaim as he picks you up over his shoulder.

Draco takes you to his dorm room and flops you onto his big, comfy bed. He helps you take off your snow boots, parka, and thermal undergarments. He gives you a big, comfy, soft hoodie of his with his quidditch number on the back. He gives you a pair of boxers to wear as shorts. “Get under the covers and stay there. I’m going to get you soup.” Draco demanded. You nod and cozy underneath the covers. You can feel your eyelids getting heavier. All of a sudden you start dozing off. Just as you hit a deep sleep, his dorm room door swings open. Your eyes shoot open and see your boyfriend come in with a tray with tea, honey, sugar cubes and soup.

“You know, I love me a good ‘I told you so.’ But you’re sick, so I won’t.” Draco said while mixing honey and sugar into your tea.

“Go ahead.” I said, congested.

“With what?”

“Tell me you told me so.”

“Nah; I’ll let you off the hook. My poor baby is sick.” Draco said sympathetically.

You insisted you were able to eat on your own, but Draco insisted even more to help you. He fed you, had you drink tea, and wrapped you in a big blanket.

You are cocooned in the blanket, laying on his chest.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yes Draco?”

“I love you.” He said simply, his hand trailing up and down your spine.

“But I told you so.” He added, with a small chuckle.

#draco malfoy #draco fic #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x y/n #draco fanfiction #draco #harry potter universe #draco fluff #draco imagine #draco lucius malfoy #draco x reader #draco x reader fluff #draco malfoy x reader fluff

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joannanora · 8 months

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In need of a TV series to fill those chilly autumn evenings? The Couple Next Door is here to heat things up.

Drama! Suspense! Sex! The Couple Next Door sounds right up our street. Add in some of our favourite actors in leading roles, and we’re firmly on board.

We don’t know yet exactly when this TV series will land on our screens (other than sometime in autumn), but what we do have is enough details to convince you to add The Couple Next Door to your ‘ooh, I’ll definitely tune into that’ list for future reference. Oh, and some exclusive first-look images.

Let’s talk you through everything you need to know to get thoroughly excited about this show.

What is The Couple Next Door about?

The Couple Next Door is a dark psychological drama that’s all about desire.

When Evie and Pete move into a fancy new neighbourhood, they’re surrounded by gossip, anxiety and curtain twitching. But thankfully they find some pals to help them navigate their environment: the couple next door (like the title of the show, get it?), traffic cop Danny and his wife, Becka, a glamorous yoga instructor.

The two couples get closer together, then… something happens. As the show’s description says: “One fateful night, [they] become sexually entangled in a way that will change their lives forever.”

Who stars in The Couple Next Door?

We’ve got some great names playing the pair of couples. Eleanor Tomlinson (Poldark, The Outlaws) plays Evie, and Alfred Enoch (Tigers, How To Get Away With Murder) is her husband, Pete. The couple next door are played by Sam Heughan (Outlander, Suspect) and Jessica De Gouw (Pennyworth, Our Man From Jersey).

What are people saying about The Couple Next Door?

The show is described as “a deliciously dark, psychological drama, exploring the claustrophobia of suburbia and the fallout of chasing your deepest desires”. Sounds fun to us.

And Caroline Hollick, head of drama at Channel 4 declared the series “an addictive, emotional roller-coaster with something to say about modern sexual mores, with an electrifying cast that will set our screens on fire”.

Of playing lead role Evie, Eleanor Tomlinson said: “Evie is an exciting challenge for me – a girl whose world is turned upside down as she navigates devastating trauma, which isn’t helped by unresolved issues from her past. We have an excellent team on board, and I am looking forward to exploring this dark and complicated world alongside Sam and our director Dries.”

“At the heart of this series are two couples who get increasingly close to each other, and one fateful night become sexually entangled in a way that will change the rest of their lives forever,” added Jo McGrath, executive producer. “You never really know what goes on behind closed doors but this series sets out to make you wonder.”

Juicy, right?

How can we watch The Couple Next Door?

No word yet on an exact release date, but we do know The Couple Next Door will be out at some point this autumn. The series will premiere on Channel 4 in the UK and will be available on Starz in the US and Canada, as well as Lionsgate+ in Latin America, including Brazil.

#sam heughan #the couple next door #eleanor tomlinson

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deaths-presence · 3 months

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Two of a Kind || Dazai x Reader Part 5: Brave New World

Story Summary: The search for your brother has led you into conflict between the Armed Detective Agency of Yokohama and the Guild. Fitzgerald keeps you involuntarily, that is until you finally find your chance of escape. Will you find strength within the ADA, or will you only become more astray? Word Count: 1.1k Characters Featured: Atsushi Nakajima, small Dazai mention Warnings: afab!reader, slowburn, plot heavy to build up romance, lmk if I happened to miss anything please! Tag List: @decaf-nosebleed @isa-ghost @xakumi @bunchofdoodlesinspace A/N: If you want to be added to the tag list, feel free to let me know! Guess who's heeeeere!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Adrenaline rushed through your veins. The feeling of your stomach fluttering as you kept gaining momentum from the fall nearly made you scream, but the air prevented you from doing so. Your eyes looked to Atsushi when the wind wasn’t irritating them, his gaze fixed on the city that you were steadily getting closer to.

Your body froze in the air, and you realized Atsushi noticed the missile-like object that had flown by your head. Shit, you thought. Twain’s ability with Tom and Huck. You would be lucky if you weren’t shot out from the sky. You decided then that until you got closer to land, keeping your wings tucked in was the best course of action in living another day.

You didn’t warn Atsushi in enough time once he opened his parachute, crying out for him when he was stunned by the next shot that was aimed at him. The air cannon cut away his own chance of surviving the fall, the one thing Lucy gave up helping him. The parachute flew away gracefully, leaving Atsushi unconscious and plummeting head-first towards Yokohama.

You rushed to grab him, desperately reaching for one of his legs to help stop him from dying on impact. You grimaced as you managed the task, but gravity was working against you. With your wings outstretched and batting the air in distress, it was no use trying to pull Atsushi to safety, and now you were plunging to your death just as fast as he was.

“Atsushi, wake up! We’re going down too fast!” You wouldn’t accept your fate yet. Your eyes were on Atsushi, gritting your teeth as you found the courage to keep trying to save him. The wings on your back were tiring from how fast you were flapping them, and the adrenaline from earlier turned into panic.

This was it. You were going to die.

You braced yourself for the fast and painless end; with the grim reaper introducing himself and leading you to the afterlife. Instead, it never came. A mixture of confusion and relief washed over you once you realized you weren’t dead, but alive. You were very much alive as you glanced over yourself and your surroundings. One moment you could’ve sworn you were on a tiger’s back, but the next you rolled onto the ground as Atsushi stood from kneeling.

“You— You saved me,” you said breathlessly once Atsushi helped you up, all the oxygen from your lungs feeling like it escaped while diving to the street you were on. “Thank you.”

You were interrupted by a spine-chilling giggle, your head turning towards the doll that Lucy had given Atsushi. That’s right. Atsushi needed to find someone to give that thing to in the hopes of stopping everything.

You both started towards the doll, but not before being greeted with a litter of bullets halting you from grabbing it. You let your ability fall to reveal your natural state, but you were given no time to think about defense. It was time to run. Atsushi managed to grab the toy before making his escape. You weren’t far behind, but your eyes were stuck to him as he used his ability to run on the sides of buildings. His strength amazed you, his legs powerful enough to sprint and jump with ease. You had to be more careful. Unlike Atsushi, you were vulnerable on the ground. Twain’s perfect aim was not to be underestimated.

Atsushi eventually rejoined you on the ground. You both dashed to turn a corner only to pause at the chaos in front of you. Fires were raging, people were mulling around on the street as if looking for their next prey, and your eyes quickly glanced away at the sight of the couple of lifeless bodies you could see. You heard Hawthorne’s voice in your head comparing it to the apocalypse in reference to Revelations as if he were there with you.

Your shock was broken by more bullets behind you. Atsushi guided you to follow him as you ran to avoid being shot. He appeared distracted by something, and it was only by your gasp that he finally looked ahead and came to a halt with you.

“That’s an oil truck—!”

One bullet piercing the container sent a wave of heat across your entire body, and the blast was powerful enough to knock you off your feet and send your body rolling on the ground. The only reason you weren’t crying out from the pain was your body protecting you in survival mode. Your eyes slid over to Atsushi who looked just as beaten as you. He wasn’t getting up right away, but you felt a small wave of relief when his arm finally moved. It was reached out towards the doll he still was determined to protect.

You forced yourself to sit up to help him, noticing the blood running down from his forehead. His dedication to protecting and saving everyone was admirable, and you wanted to match it whether your body was screaming at you to give up and rest or not.

Footsteps. You heard footsteps approaching. Your eyes were on a figure approaching you both from the dense smoke caused by the explosion. You expected the worst. Did Fitzgerald come down to fetch you himself? Was it someone else from the Guild that would finally put an end to your efforts?

Your body was paralyzed as the man revealed himself, but it was no one that you recognized. The first item that was brought to your attention was his right arm in a sling, and then your eyes met brown ones. His shaggy coffee-colored hair framed his face in a way that was alluring, and there was no doubt in your mind that he broke hearts often. His clothes matched him, the tan trench coat he adorned partnered with a brown vest on top of a button-down work shirt. The slacks that were on his long legs were a lighter tan than his coat. His frame was lean, but you knew better than to base your thoughts on that alone.

Your gaze broke from his as he kneeled to take the doll into his grasp, and your eyes were stuck to him as he activated his ability. The doll was surrounded by a blue light before disappearing altogether, and Atsushi’s next words confirmed who you thought it was.

“Dazai.”

Atsushi’s warning to Dazai about the bullets raining from above became faint, and before you knew it your body had finally forsaken you. Your eyes fought to stay focused on them, and your upper body went slack, hitting the ground underneath you in the process. Despite your horrible circumstances, you had never felt so free being unconscious.

#dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x female reader #dazai imagines #dazai x y/n

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cottondo · 10 months

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NEGAN SMITH X READER // fluff |

IN THE GARDEN

[ TWD ] s9 themed

You went outside to the garden, and peered around for a familiar face.

Today, it was warm; the sun was out, and it was promising good growth for any crops throughout the day.

Everybody you ran into seemed to be in a good mood, for the most part. After all, mostly all of Alexandria was getting ready for a small get together tonight. It was just something the council had planned on for folk to hopefully brighten things up around there. You’ve all been through enough.

Your target was acquired; You spot a blue shirted man embedded within the gardening grounds. Negan was crouched down, picking out weeds and raking up any overgrowth. With his back turned to your front, you felt the curl of your lips lifting a sneaky thought into your mind.

Wouldn’t it be fun to just mess with him a little bit?

You trot your way up behind him, sneaking low to the ground, crouching behind a wheelbarrow. Slowly, you move closer, like a tiger after its prey. He didn’t make any notion that he saw or heard you yet, so this was definitely going to play out nicely.

Without a second thought, your body springs forward with the help of your back foot. You launch yourself onto his back and loop your arms around his upper shoulders and neck. His initial instinct would normally be to whip an intruder of space off of him— so that's exactly what he did.

"Shit!" He yelled, and you landed right on the grassy ground with a heavy thud. Laughter escapes your chest as you close your eyes up at the blue sky. A few passing others caught a glance at the two of you, and briefly ignored it, only giving off furrowed looks in return. Negan stares down at you with a mixture of confusion, and uneasiness. He should have known by now that he wasn’t safe behind these walls, and not just by the walkers.

"Y/N, what the hell. You out here trying to get me in trouble?" He asks, standing back to his full height. More laughter fits escape as you look up to his figure towering over your own. "Maybe."

The grass was warm, but you sat up from it anyway, dusting off any dirt or weeds from your pants.

He cracks a soft smile and looks around the area for signs of life. Nobody else had been passing through there now, so he ignores his garden duties for the moment. Negan leans against his shovel handle and shakes his head. "Well, you were close."

Your hands place on your hips and a smile takes over. "I bet I was."

"What are you doing out here anyway? Don't you have dead prick duty?" He asks. That's just another word for walkers. Your shoulder raises and drops. "If you'd been paying attention, you'd know I already finished my shift for the morning. I go back later tonight to keep guard again."

Subtly, he blinks his irritation at you.

"Sorry that I don't keep my eyes on you twenty four seven." He gives me a look. You ignore it.

"Keeping Michonne, and all the others here safe, huh?" Negan had leaned a little closer to you now, keeping his voice low. You raise your head slightly, faltering the smile you were wearing, a bit. "I'm keeping myself safe. We live here too, don't we?"

Negan makes a face. "We're prisoners. Not members of their happy little mountain club."

"That may be partially true, but when we get overrun, and they have to abort home, guess where we're still going to be?" You tilt my head. "In that prison."

Negan shakes his head at me. I frown.

"Wrong. They're stupid enough to let us free and go with them. It's part of their code, or something." He says, glancing around. “Then we’re the ones they use for bait.”

"Yeah- - they're stupid enough to let you free." A softer smirk dances across your lips now. His eyebrow raises in question. You shrug innocently, as well as you could anyway.

His quick hand reaches out to snatch your arm, but you dodge his playful grab just in time. "Gotta be quicker than that." Your words sneer at him.

Trotting over to the dirt path, away from the garden, you decide to stand there to use as a safe zone. He wasn't allowed to leave the garden grounds on duty, and if he's seen talking with anyone, he'll just get yelled at for it.

Negan glances around the area once again before letting his shovel drop, and take a few steps towards your lingering figure. Your eyes widen and you feel yourself backing up a few steps. "Don't be dumb."

Negan smiles all the same, though. He moves quick, and you don't catch on until it was too late. Two arms wrap around your torso and pull your frame into him. You can't help but laugh through the terror, as Negan scoops you up in a playful manner. "What's that about not being dumb?" He asks in your ear. His stubble brushes against your skin, and your instincts can’t help but to cringe at the sharp prickles against you.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry." Your voice wobbles through more laughter. Negan carries your figure back to the garden grounds, away from the street, and your eyes land on the large pile of sloppy wet dirt he's been digging up from the ground. For some reason, he was bringing you closer to it.

Your body starts to squirm uncomfortably in his hold, and you had a sick feeling you knew what he was going to do. Your lips tug to a frown, warily. "No, no, no, wait, these pants are clean for once!" It's not like it really mattered during an apocalypse, but some things were still nice to treat with respect.

He chuckles deeply, bringing you closer to the messy pile, completely ignoring the calls of distress you make. You struggle through his grasp, kicking your feet, and wiggling your body.

"Negan, don't you dare!" You tried to stay sounding stern, but it was no use. He really didn’t take it seriously.

"Sorry, firecracker." He gives you that wicked smile you always liked a little too much, just before loosening his grip on your struggling figure. Your hands grasp onto him with quick reflexes, not allowing him to let your figure go yet.

You refuse to go down in some mud.

"No way! You're going down with me if you let me go," Your warning had little, if any, effect on him. "No I'm not." His voice was discomforted while trying to hold your dead weighting. As his grip loosens, your fingers tug on his shirt and bring him down to the ground right along with you. You warned him.

Your backside hits the pile in a splat, Negan falling right beside you. It actually got a laugh out of him— followed along with a disappointed groan now that the fall set in to his nerves.

"Yes you are." You say through a grin.

"Shit," He lays his head down and sighs heavily in defeat.

Laughter escapes your chest, giving his shoulder a hard smack. "Now look what you did." You laugh harder, rolling to the side.

Negan sits up and brushes himself off. You catch him chuckling as he looks down at your giggling frame. "Worth it."

#twd #twd negan #negan imagine #negan x reader #negan x y/n #Negan #negan smith #rick grimes #carl grimes #the walking dead

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changenbirthenstein · 8 months

Text

Pranks

(Content Warning: Transformation, Birth, Egg Laying)

“Stop being such a wimp, it’s a harmless prank!”

My friends stood across from me, smirking. This was something we’d been planning for months, and yet now it seemed… wrong, dangerous in a way I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Oh sure, it has been easy, fun to talk about. All a big joke, but in my head I could still tell myself it was all just a big game. I could reassure myself, think it was just a thought exercise, nothing anyone else really wanted to follow through with.

Now though… we were really in front of her farm. The one people talked about in whispers, the one ran by the old ugly woman that was only seen in town around the fall seasons. She never hired any help, never came to the farmer’s markets, never seemed to socialize. All the old farmer would do is glare at everyone she hobbled past, jabbing them with her walking stick when they got in her way, paying for various supplies with money nobody knew how she got.

Of course such strange, hostile behavior would lead to rumors. It didn’t help that nobody had ever seen her working her fields, and yet always had incredible yields come harvest. With becoming a local myth comes a certain degree of people like us wanting to poke the tiger, to discover the truth, certain we’d be ok, find something nobody else had.

The plan was simple. Sneak onto the property, make our way to her barn. Throw some paint over some of her animals as a “costume” for halloween and then get out. And if we looked around for some clues as to how she was managing the farm all on her own, what was the harm of that? And really, what could she do? The cops wouldn’t do much even if she called them, and its not like she would shoot us.

Terra rolled her eyes and walked toward the low fence marking the boundary of the old woman’s farm. “Seriously, you all are so lame sometimes, I don’t get why I hang out with you.” With that, the blonde girl hopped over the barrier with little effort, turning and holding her arms out to show that she was alright. “See? I didn’t evaporate or explode or something. Now come on, lets get this over with.”

Eve was the next one over, a little less gracefully but still without any injury. “Come on, Becca! We don’t have all night, the longer we take the more likely we’ll get caught!” I couldn’t deny the logic of that. Pushing my glasses up my nose, I exhaled slowly, and then hoisted myself over the fence to join my friends. This was it. I was really doing my first real prank. There was no going back.

We crept as quietly as possible with our bag full of paint, wincing at the occasional dull clunk, until we were just outside of the large barn. Quickly, Eve moved to the door and heaved it open enough for us to slip through. She’d always been the biggest of us, sort of the brawn of our trio to my brains and Terra’s beauty. She grinned excitedly as we all entered, and she pulled the door shut behind us.

The bags landed on the ground with a clunk, and Terra clapped with delight. “I can’t believe we’re really doing this!” she whispered, before grabbing a can and carrying it toward some of the sad-looking livestock. One of the cows forlornly moo’d at her, blinking slowly as she approached. “God, look at them. So bloated and gross. Only good for pushing out babies and making milk. Could you imagine having to live as one of them?”

I forced a chuckle, trying not to seem as nervous as I was as I began to look around. “Personally, I think chickens are worse.” I said, only half paying attention as I saw a stall that didn’t have any animals in it and went to investigate. It was right by the front, it’s odd that she’d just keep it completely empty. Maybe supplies? “All they do is lay eggs. Even if it’s not as painful as, like, birth, I can’t imagine how awful it would be. And their cloacas are so gross.”

I drew closer, pulled the stall door open. There was a desk littered with papers, words and pictures jumbled all over. “Pigs.” Terra smirked, grabbing a can of her own. “Nasty, smelly, stupid little hooves. Not strong, not fast, not good looking. The worst of every world, seriously. The only way Pigs aren’t average are all the ways they suck extra hard.”

This was weird. Most of this stuff wasn’t in english, in fact it seemed to be a lot of runes and such. This didn’t make any sense. There was a splash and a distressed bellow from a cow, followed by another gush of liquid and upset squealing from the porcine victims. The paint can for me was left unused as I continued to try to understand what I was looking at. Circles and pentagrams, ingredient lists, strange steps to lengthy rituals. Things labeled “Grant Fertility” and “Animate Plant”. Hand signs, chants…

I stepped back, eyes darting around, my spine tingling with sudden fear. “Uh… girls? I think… something is wrong here.” I turned, walked out of the stall, turning toward my friends. “This isn’t normal. All this stuff… it’s like she’s some kind of sorceress, or enchantress, or…”

“Witch, actually, is what I prefer. Thank you very much.”

I spun around as my friends jumped. There, in front of the door, it hadn’t even moved. She was hunched over, elderly, grinning wide. She made a hand sign, whispered a phrase in a language I didn’t understand, and then… darkness.

) —-------

Everything felt wrong.

My skin was tingling as my eyes slowly opened. I whimpered at the discomfort as I rolled over, finding myself in a large bare patch of the field, nothing but dirt under me. Well… dirt and symbols, coating the ground in a strange dark substance around me. They ended at a wide circle, surrounding me but giving me room to be laid on the ground without touching the edges. To either side of me, making their own pained moans of waking, were Terra and Eve, contained in their own strange circles.

I opened my mouth to answer, but all that came out was a moan as I held my middle. Something was happening, a pressure building inside me. I whimpered, panting, my body feeling overheated as, under my palm, I felt my pubic mound growing firm. Starting to round ever so subtly, barely pressing out before it went away.

Judging from the confused sounds and whimpers of discomfort from nearby, my friends had just gone through similar growth spurts of their own. This didn’t make any sense… my mind was putting pieces together but I refused them, wouldn’t let myself accept what I’d just felt.

“Ah, you’ve woken up. Good, good. I always enjoy it when they’re awake for the good bits.” The tone was filled with malicious mirth, the voice creaky and cold. Looking up, I saw her. The… the witch. God, this was real, wasn’t it? She really was a witch. Could she have done something to us?

“I noticed you seem to have been curious about my livestock. My spells were all shuffled around, thought I wouldn’t notice, did you? I won’t bother asking who you are or who sent you. I’m sure you’ll deny it, lying and insisting you don’t know what I’m talking about. ‘We’re just from the town, we were just exploring, please let us go home!’ Oh yes, I’ve heard it all before. And that suits me just fine, if I’m being honest. You see, I can show you everything you could want to know!”

I opened my mouth to protest, to tell her she had it all wrong. Instead, I grunted, gasping as sweat beaded on my forehead. Once more, the skin of my palm pulled away from the center, and I whimpered as my middle started to push forward, slowly, subtly, once more. “What’s happening to me?!” Terra begged, voice watery with panic.

The witch cackled, eyes gleaming in delight. “Oh darling, you’re to be congratulated! You see, you’re expecting, all three of you! Buns in the oven, such a magical experience!” Eve grunted, gritting her teeth, before saying “I can’t be pregnant. Never had sex. Oh god!” Her rebuttal was stopped by another growth spurt from inside, my own burden seeming to react. My skirt was too tight, digging into my expanding midriff, the pressure of unwanted life developing rapidly within only getting worse.

“We can’t be pregnant… I can’t have a baby!” Terra sobbed, panic taking hold. It was impossible, yet… my chest was aching. My hips were sore. I definitely FELT pregnant. I could only assume, as I looked down at the belly slowly peeking out from under my shirt, and seeing how far along my friends were, that I looked pretty pregnant too. “You really can, dear.” the crone smirked, delighting in our distress. “Just a bit of magic to help your body along, and these little ones took root just fine. You’ll be in labor within the hour, if even that. Can you believe it, girls? You’re going to give birth soon. Oh, I wonder how you’ll scream and cry, especially considering the little surprise that’s going to come with it…”

Heat coursed through me. The growth came in surges. All I could do was try to endure, painting and whimpering in discomfort as I rapidly gestated a child I was nowhere mentally prepared for. I was going to have a baby… Did this make me a mom? Did this count as rape? Nothing made sense. This couldn’t be real, it couldn’t.

My friends endured their own conditions much less quietly than me. Terra was melting down, trying to burst out of her circle, only to find an invisible barrier there. She slammed her fists against it, begging to be let out, even as she hunched forward, groaning as another spurt took her, the moans seeming to slowly get lower, deeper. Eve, meanwhile, kept grunting, the sudden surges of gestation apparently painful for her as they got more guttural and rippling. She just knelt, watching her belly swell in helpless horror. She’d told me years ago that she had been terrified at the idea that someone could just… make her pregnant, if they wanted to, if she was unlucky. Now that nightmare was coming true.

I, meanwhile, watched my little bump continue to grow into a fertile swell. Strechmarks began to form near the back, my navel was nudged into an outie. The others whimpered and gasped, talking about sudden kicks from inside, but I didn’t feel anything. Just ever more pressure. Maybe it was because my belly seemed to be growing slower than the other two? Poor Terra seemed huge, barely able to move as her feccund orb just wouldn’t stop growing, and Eve was noticeably larger than me as well.

“Wonderful. It’s almost time. You are quite the lovely group of mother-to-be’s. You should be proud of yourselves, you’re about to have your very first babies. Isn’t that wonderful?” The witch couldn’t hide the cruel glee in her voice, seeing how her words only upset us further. It’s not like we could do anything about it. We were trapped, as much by our own unwanted fertility as her magic. This was happening, and there was nothing we could do to stop it.

Another surge took me, different than the others. My eyes went wide as my womb squeezed, contracting. The pressure spiked horribly, and then released. To my shame, fluid ran out of me, soaking my panties. My first contraction… my waters… I knew what that meant. It was time. I was going to give birth for this horrid woman, no matter how much I hated it.

“Oh God no, no no, I can’t, I can’t do this!” Terra cried, the crotch of her jeans dark and a damp patch of dirt under her. “Please no… I don’t want a baby, please don’t make me have a baby!” Eve in turn whispered, the terror of her impotence, the delivery inevitable washing over her. I wanted to comfort her. To tell her it was going to be ok.

The contraction took me as I opened my mouth to speak, and all that came out was a cry of agony, the need to push slamming through my mind, washing almost everything else away. Just the need to bear down, and… the feeling of wrongness on my skin. No… not on it. In it. And as I parted my legs, leaning back on my hands, feet curled under me as I bore down… I felt something else coming out. Something that was even worse than this burden I’d been forced to carry.

I could feel that this labor, my giving in and pushing, was giving it power. Making it even worse. But I couldn’t resist, couldn’t stop. Whatever this twisted essence was doing to me, it was just as inevitable now as me giving birth for the witch. “Hmmm, here it comes… oh, I wonder who will realize first…” The cruel magician smirked, delighting in our pain and violation.

Something slipped down. Moving inside me. Firm, smaller than I feared, but larger than I could believe. I gave in, pushing with the pain. I was in labor, and every fiber of my being just needed whatever life I had been growing inside me to get out, as fast as possible. Yet, as I pushed… Something else came. My fingers hurt, throbbing, burning, along with my toes. I fell forward, onto my hands and knees.

Tears blurred my vision, but I still saw it. As I pushed, my fingers twitched of their own accord. Pushing together. Pressing into one another unnaturally hard the more I felt whatever was inside me inching down, toward my damp opening. Then, before my eyes… on my right hand. My middle and index fingers. They just… melded. It hurt so much. The flesh searing, feeling like my hand was melting. The skin glistened with sweat, and yet it was impossible to unsee. There were four fingers on my right hand now.

Another contraction came. I screamed with effort, shaking my head in denial, panic rising in my throat as those four fingers painfully became three. MY feet burned, throbbed inside their shoes and socks, and I could feel the bubbling, popping agony of my left foot losing a toe to whatever was happening to me.

“My nails! God it hurts!” Terra moaned from next to me. Looking over, I saw something similar, but different was happening to her. Her fingernails had turned a deep black, and seemed to have thickened. Even as I watched, another contraction came, and as she pushed it seemed that the dark mass almost seemed to be… expanding. Pushing back into her fingers, further than normal.

Eve let out a squeal of horror. “My back! It’s so bad! Make it stop!” I turned, and saw the poor girl’s jeans starting to bulge. Something else was coming, the strain was too high to be her vagina, the magically created baby starting to crown against her will. No, this was somehow more distressing, something impossible. “It’s pushing! This can’t be happening!”

I felt the need to give birth crash over me once more, resisting it for even a second impossible. I pushed, giving my all to getting this thing out of me, and to my horror my right hand screamed in pain as the rest of my fingers melded, nails clacking to the ground, a formless lump of flesh on the end of my arm. My left foot throbbed, my ankle screaming as it felt like the bone had somehow broken, pressing at the skin from inside, threatening to tear out.

There were mere moments to catch my breath, and then I lost myself to the pain and urgency once more. I watched my mutated hand widen, flatten… my elbow starting to ache… the skin itching, burning, until… Something sprouted. Tiny little wisps pushed out of the skin, growing and unfurling into…

“Feathers!” the witch crowed in delight. “Oh my, can you put together the pieces now? You seem like the smartest of the bunch!” I shook my head, not because I couldn’t figure it out. It was all too obvious. No, I shook my head in denial of the horrifying reality. Not wanting to believe this. Not wanting this to be my inescapable fate. I felt a scream bubbling up my throat. It was so big, so much… I couldn’t hold it back, even though I felt like I had to.

The next squeezing cramp it. I threw my head back, pushed with all my might as I felt my vagina bulge, pressing into my soaking wet panties, my firstborn just behind my lips. I had to let it out. I had to let it happen. I opened my mouth to scream.

“Buh-GAWK!”

A shudder ran through my body. That sound… I had just broken some kind of seal. Given into something I had needed to fight. I had just made this inescapable, I could feel it. There was nothing I could do now, and deep down I knew it was my fault.

By leting that bestial sound free, I knew I had made it so I would live the rest of my life as a chicken.

There would be no cure now. No fixing it. No going back. Ever. It was coming out of me, taking over my body, my life, and I would be trapped forever. I let out a choked sob, feeling what I now knew, beyond any doubt, to be an egg, a chicken egg, pressing into my underwear. The first of many.

My vagina burned as I began to crown. Feathers ran down my transformed arm, pushing painfully out of the skin, my bones cracking painfully as they hollowed, began to bend and twist into new shapes. Becoming a wing. A chicken’s wing.

Terra screamed. She held her hands in front of her face, horrified. Her nails. They had grown more, overcoming her fingertips, eating back into her hands. Her fingers had seemingly begun fusing together, and I could hear the crunches and pops of her bones beaking, being crushed and absorbed by this mass.

“No…” the blonde girl panted, placing her hands on the ground. “Noooo…” she groaned, seemingly bearing down with her next contractions. “N-n-noooooo, please…” she managed, as her feet bust out of her shoes, a mangled dark mass of her former toes being warped into their new, permanent shape. “M… M… MOOOOOO!!!”

I saw the soon-to-be cow’s eyes go wide. She knew now, just as I did. That she was about to give birth to an ugly calf. That her body was about to agonizingly mutate into a cow. That she would never escape this life. The one she had mocked before, said sounded like the worst possible thing.

Likewise, grunting and squealing came from Eve. Her curly tail ripped through her pants. Her hands crunched and snapped as they turned into delicate trotters. Her voice began to change as, slowly, her nose began to curl up, nostrils widening, skull starting to elongate.

My own shoes began to bulge, and on the next contraction, they split. A blood-covered toe extended from my mangled ankle, while only three remained on the front. I couldn’t stop pushing, but to my relief, the first egg slipped out of me, bulging into my panties. I felt it slide down, over my sensitive vagina, nudging my clit as I shuddered. I’d just laid an egg. This was my baby. I felt so wrong, so violated, even as my other hand began to meld together.

Another animalistic bellow from Terra drew my attention, and with a smirk the witch twitched a finger, the poor girl’s shirt tearing away. Her breasts were exposed, and it was easy to see they were sinking lower as another pair began to bulge into existence just above her waistband. “That’s right… You’re growing an udder… and a tail… You’re going to be an ugly cow. I do so love ruining the pretty ones…” the vile farmer grinned, loving the misery she’d caused.

The new breasts fused with the old ones as they reached her groin, engorging into a grotesque pink sack, bulging with milk. “Good girls… mmm,none of you need these silly things, do you?” With a wave of her hand, the witch banished our clothing, leaving our warped, twisting bodies utterly vulnerable. “Just let the changes take you… push out your babies so you can join the others in the barn, I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you…”

I wanted to curse her. I wanted to tell her to go to hell. Instead, another shrill “BAWWWK!” escaped as I threw my head back once more, feeling, to my horror, as my girlhood began to move. It pulled back, further and further, directly between my legs, then further still. It burned, throbbed, as I felt it beginning to merge with my rear. The muscle and skin searing as the two openings became one humiliating, disgusting hole.

I could barely pay attention to the others, as my next egg slid out of me and plopped softly onto the ground, my legs starting to turn scaly and crunch their way up into my abdomen. I saw Terra’s increasingly thick, leathery vagina bulging, little hooves starting to peek out from inside her. I saw Eve’s face extend into the snout of a pig, her ears growing floppy even as mine vanished into my skull.

My eyes became small and beady as Terra’s became large and sad. My teeth itched, and I screamed in horror as they fused, a beak bulging out from the inside of my mouth as my nose fused into the rest of my face, glasses falling into the first alongside the eggs that had been sliding out of my foul, sore opening. One piglet slid from inside my porcine friend, tears running down her face as it nuzzled up to her and latched even as its unwanted sibling began to crown.

With a desperate bellow, the now fully cow felt her first calf slide unceremoniously out of her and onto the ground, head hanging low in shame as it came and suckled at her humiliating udder. The others were done as I shrank, my fleshy comb bubbling up from the feathers… I couldn’t stop, the eggs just kept coming. I couldn’t stop pushing, delivering, each one hurting just as much as the first.

This was going to be my life now. All our lives.

#transformation #tf #egg laying #girl to cow #girl to chicken #girl to pig

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gentle-aesthetic-bby · 2 months

Text

Put The Radio On

Alastor X Reader

**images belong to there rightful owners but!! Enjoy the little mood board I made:))**

Description: You are a hunter of the supernatural who somehow got tied up in a deal that landed you in hell. Current mission? Survive, get information and possibly revenge while you wait for friends up above to pull you out. Well…that was until your fate got entangled with a certain radio demon…

~cause im a very good girl, you’re a very bad guy

we’re a little match made in heaven if i say so,yay-o~

Reader is a lana del rey coded femme fatale :)) who also happened to be an infamous hunter with a huge target on her back. Working with the Winchesters will do that to ya.

~A Hazbin/Supernatural crossover~

AO3

Intro((WARNINGS: death— and its a bit grisly! other than that theres not much!))

Wisps of smoke clouded my vision as the smell of cheap cigarettes and musk further assaulted my senses. A confident step propelled me to the front of the makeshift stage. My body drove forward on autopilot as I stared down the hazy crowd before me.

The place was pretty crowded for a hole in the wall— rundown bar in the middle of nowhere. Not packed— thats for sure. But there were more patrons than I would be able to count on my fingers.

Good. I needed an audience tonight.

I sent my best sultry look into the crowd, slightly tilting myself forward as drunken men leered. I mentally counted to five before standing upright once more and giving my cue. The bartender/makeshift dj took notice and clicked play on the ancient cd player.

With a flip of a switch I became the version of myself that I always dreamed of. It was as if the music were flowing through my veins— reanimating me into it’s very own puppet.

you have to take me right now

from this dark trailer park life now

My daintily painted nails curled softly and slowly against the mic as I readied for the chorus. The lights beneath the stage lit up in many mesmerizing shades of purples and blues, slightly pulsing with the music. Either the crowd completely quieted down or the number I have done countless of times over sent me into my own little world.

put me onto your black motorcycle

50s babydoll dress for my “I do”

It only takes two hours to Nevada

I successfully released the mic from its stand and began my slow steps across the stage. Drunken babbles and wolf whistles sounded as uncoordinated grubby hands reached out to me. I side stepped a particularly dedicated client and used the gaining momentum to turn on my heel. My lose hair whipped against my head as I looked back towards the crowd. The bright glaring clock that stated 11:59 caught and held my attention. Seconds beginning to feel like grueling hours as my attention and act never faltered.

Hello,heaven,you are a tunnel lined with yellow lights

on a dark night

I let myself float to the floor of the stage, not once taking my eyes off of the ticking clock. The hand that didn’t hold the mic up to my lips served as an anchor— one that both hid my trembling and grounded me. Sharp ringing flooded my mind as the clock struck 12. My eyes were released from the spell that glued them to the clock— only for me to search frantically around the room.

My ears strained to pick up any sign of my big finale, and just as I started to sing the final rendition of the chorus—I heard it.

I wear your sparkle

You call me your mama

The bone-chilling sounds of a vicious pack of dogs could be heard growing closer. Most of the customers were either too drunk or hypnotized by their lust to care. A forced smirk spread across my face— like hell i’d let those bastards think they got one over on me.

Not even for a second.

let me put on a show for you,daddy

let me put on a show

Those gnarly howls soon turned into hellish yips— as if they were excited to finally be in the presence of their prey. The hellborn creatures were circling the building no doubt.

let me put on a show for you,tiger

Ahh-ah-ah, let me put on a show

The beautiful fade of the melody was interrupted by the wooden door splintering and bursting inwards. Many of people sat by the door sobered up from both the alcohol and the spell I had under— ready to face whatever burst in like a mad man. Only to find… nothing.

My eyes zeroed in on three large canine-like creatures— who were way too large to be your average fido. Their eyes glowed a menacing red as each of them searched through the crowd. Large heads scanning and sniffing the air cautiously before stopping right before me. The one who’s eyes met mine let loose another howl that silenced the drunkards confused murmurs and curses.

The other two immediately stopped what they were doing and met my eyes as well. It’s almost as if they were taunting me before continuing on with what we both knew they were here for. *Sick bastard probably wants them to play with their food*. I rolled my eyes at the thought— taking my eyes off of the hounds for a split second. Which telling by the slamming of furniture— only goaded them into charging me.

For the last time— my human eyes glanced upon the three pairs of deep maroon orbs that held my fate.

Screams sounded in the bar as my senses began to become clouded by the pain of being torn limb from limb.

notes: AHH!! I don’t t have much experience with posting my work on tumblr so go easy on me! But! Let me know if you like it!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #supernatural #lana core #x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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thevoidlands · 2 months

Note

So you see, Fennel.. [get ready to read this all creator😭😭]

All domestic cats belong to a single species – Felis catus. This is in spite of the great variety of modern cat breeds, from the sleek blue-eyed Siamese and beautifully-spotted Ocicat, to the snub-nosed Persian and the tiny Munchkin. They all belong to the Felidae branch of the animal family tree.

The Felidae is made up of two subfamilies – the Felinae, which includes domestic cats, all the smaller wild cats, and some medium sized beasts such as the Puma, Bobcat, Serval and Cheetah. The other branch of the family, the Pantherinae, contains the big scary ones. We’re talking about Lions, Tigers, Leopards, and Jaguars.

The domestic cat’s wild ancestor is the African Wild Cat, also known as the Near Eastern Cat, (Felis silvestris lybica) – not its very close relative the European Wild Cat (Felis silvestris silvestris). This isn’t just guesswork – the evidence is all there in the cat’s DNA (the genetic coding that makes each species, and each individual within a species, unique). Domestic cats split off from their ancestor around 10,000 years ago. That’s a long history for a family pet!

And in case you start thinking your pet puss is a million miles away from all those lions, tigers and leopards, you may be shocked to hear that kitty shares 95% of her DNA with an African Lion. Not quite as close as humans and Chimpanzees (98.8%), but still very close cousins.

And, when you think about it, cats are just a small pounce away from their wild state, no matter how much they cuddle up and purr in your lap. Hunting and self-sufficiency are second nature to them, as the millions of feral cats around the world show us. The most appealing theory of how and when cats came to be domesticated goes like this. At the dawn of history, African wildcats made a choice to move in with humans, enjoying the relative warmth and comfort. And all they had to do in return was the thing that comes most naturally to them – hunting down mice and rats.

But there are other theories too…

The general ballpark figure for the widespread domestication of cats is around 10,000 years ago. The rise in their fortunes coincides with the rise of agriculture. As soon as humans were storing grain, the rodents had a field day, and the cats had their work cut out. This theory would place domestication at about 12,000 years ago in the Middle East’s “Fertile Crescent” – the cradle of western agriculture, in a crescent-shaped area of fertile land around Egypt and Syria.

The earliest evidence we have of cats being kept as pets is a 9,500 year-old Neolithic grave in Cyprus containing a man and his feline friend. So, by the time of the cat’s most celebrated early heydays in Ancient Egypt (4,000 years or so ago), they were not exactly newcomers to the domestic hearth. But the Egyptians made a particular fuss of their pets, mummifying them, and worshipping the cat goddess Bastet amongst their vast reservoir of deities. Domestic cats – all descended from those African Wild Cat ancestors – arrived in Europe with Greek and Phoenician traders about 3,000 years ago. The Romans carried cats in their baggage wherever they marched. -🌑🐮

#rw voidlands #rwvl ask #rwvl fennel #OH MY GOD. ANON. THIS IS BEAUTIFUL #im so sorry she doesnt understand a word you said

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jungle-angel · 10 months

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“Too Hot For This Shit” (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: It’s a hot night, everybody’s crabby and you and Rhett can’t think of anything better to do

Tagging: @crescentangelzwp

You though that summers in Wabang were hot as hell, but nothing could compare to when you and Rhett had moved to Bozeman with Amy. Already it was pushing a hundred, the central air in the house going every hour of every day to keep the house cool while Rhett was throwing meat and fish on the grill for dinner almost every night.

Poor Baby Amy was overheating, her face red and her golden curls clinging against her sweaty forehead, crying from how hot she was. Rhett entered through the front door, a sweaty, gross mess from having worked in the pasture all day with Rip, Kayce and the rest of the miscreants. He peeled off his boots and nasty socks, tossing them down the laundry chute that led to the mudroom downstairs, hoping they’d hit the already growing laundry pile.

“She’s overheatin’ again?” he asked, taking a hiccupping Amy from your arms and into his.

“I think so,” you sighed. “We’re out of ice and I don’t wanna heat up the house. I can run her a cool bath in a minute and see if she cools down.”

Rhett glanced back at Amy, tickling her belly but the two year old hardly even laughed. “Ya know,” he mused. “It’s too hot for this shit, you wanna go for a ride and go to Wal Mart?”

“Why would we go to Wal Mart when there’s shit to do downtown?”

“Because I need shit and the ice cream stand is across the street,” Rhett chuckled. “Besides, I think tonight this one deserves to be kinda spoiled a little.”

You laughed a little and rolled your eyes. Usually in a small town there was nothing better to do and you couldn’t argue with that.”

Rhett ran the cool water in the shower, washing off quickly before you handed Amy off to him. As soon as she was cooled down and washed off, you put her in a fresh change of clothes, a little navy blue shirt and her favorite pair of denim shorts with the lacy trim around the legs. Her sandals were the last thing to go on before you filled her little travel cup with the last of the ice in the freezer and the apple juice you kept in the back of the fridge at all times. Rhett loaded her up in the truck, buckling her into her carseat before he gave Amy her little Tiger Lily ragdoll that Wes and Nora had made for her.

Off on the road you went, the air conditioning in the truck going at full blast while the radio had been cranked up, playing Dierks Bentley’s “What Was I Thinkin” as you sped down the road towards the downtown area. Montana was in its peak wildfire season which left a haze hanging over the land and the mountains in the distance. Even the teachers at Amy’s forest nursery school hadn’t been able to take the children outside since the school year had ended at the beginning of June, but you and Rhett had nonetheless marveled at the sight of the sunset against the haze, a great red eye that seemed to watch over Bozeman until the dark of night had fallen.

You pulled into the Wal Mart parking lot, unloading Amy and placing her into the cart with her ragdoll. You couldn’t get into the air conditioned building fast enough, the pavement nearly burning through your sandals as you stepped inside and immediately headed to get Rhett as many pairs of socks as you could afford. He himself had headed to the tool and garden section to see if he could find any new plants for your beds or for the pollinator while you went to get Amy some new clothes.

Oh did you spoil her with what you had gotten. So far your hoard had included little t-shirts with butterflies, bumblebees, horses and a little cheerleader dress that had the Montana State Bobcat stitched onto the front. Of course you loved making Amy new clothes, but every now and again, you needed to do the clothing runs. You even picked her up plenty of shorts, sandals and little sundresses which would hold over perfectly until you could get more material to make new ones.

“Darlin I think I hit the jackpot,” Rhett chuckled as he came back with a tray full of herbs and vegetables.

“Rhett, c’mon I’ve got enough in the patch already.”

“No you don’t,” he retorted.

You groaned as you headed for the registers. If anything, Rhett would’ve bought out the whole garden section without a second thought.

As soon as everything was loaded into the truck, you and Rhett hurried across the street to the ice cream stand to get something to eat. You gladly would’ve lit the grill and had the Duttons come down for dinner, but tonight, you just didn’t have it in either of you to do that.

Dinner was absolutely perfect, burgers, a pickle wedge and a big, heaping side of fries to go with it. Amy had been especially hungry, eating the entire half of her burger and the whole thing of fries before begging for an ice cream cone. You and Rhett had a few good laughs as her face grew sticky, finishing off what she couldn’t before the sun had set and it was time to head home for bed. You and Rhett lived for days like this, perfectly relaxed and able to go anywhere without a care in the world.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #amy abbott #outer range

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lfghughes · 11 months

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If you're still taking requests could I ask for a John Marino x reader that is really into nature/wildlife or a reader that is in vet school for wildlife. I know it really specific, you could broaden it however :)

Ive been reading all of your stuff and you're a fantastic writer! I hope you get all the recognition you deserve

a/n: this made my heart so incredibly happy. when i was little i actually always said this is exactly what i wanted to do as an adult and right after i graduated high school i got to volunteer at a rescue like this for the summer and so idk i loved writing this

“Will you please tell me what we’re doing?” You begged your boyfriend to let you in on at least a little bit of this surprise for you. But all John had told you was for you to dress in clothes that you were okay with getting dirty and to put your hair up. That meant it could be a whole variety of things. He was a guy and an athletic one at that and you just really hoped this wasn’t some mud run kind of thing. “Funny thing is a surprise only works if the other person is…surprised.”

Yeah, you decided your boyfriend was a jerk. A very sweet but sarcastic jerk. You changed into running shorts (and silently hoped there would be no running today) and a tshirt that you didn’t mind getting dirty. “Look okay?” You asked and he nodded his head and looked at your shoes “I would wear those black running shoes you have.” You tried your best to suppress the groan because he really was going to take you running.

Once he deemed you appropriately dressed you got into the car and watched out the window as he drove to see if you could at least figure out what area you would be in. The city just kept getting further and further and eventually you ended up in a much more open area of land. After a hour you found yourself looking at a building that had the letters wildlife sanctuary across it. You couldn’t believe John.

You were currently going to school to be a wildlife vet but you were in your first year and you hadn’t really done any hands on thing and since school took up most of your time you didn’t get to really work with animals yet. “I called them earlier this month and they have a whole day planned for us to work with their tigers and wolves plus I guess they have some other animals they saved. I stopped paying attention the minute they said we’d get to bottle feed a tiger cub because I knew that alone would be your favorite.”

You took back everything you said earlier about him. He wasn’t a jerk, no he was the sweetest boy on the planet who planned the greatest things for you. It was even better than you expected when you got inside. They showed you around the area, explaining their day to day process and they really did put you to work with cleaning the habitats and preparing food. But John was right, the best part was the both of you getting to bottle feed the babies.

It had truly been a day in paradise for you and as you walked around the little gift shop one of the employees started a conversation with you while John shopped around. “Your boyfriend told us all about you and how this is your passion. We know you’re going to school but if you’re interested in volunteering even if it’s once a month we can email you the information. We love having people here who are passionate about rescuing and the hands on experience can be good for you future.”

You were seconds away from asking John to pinch you because surely you were dreaming. Very quickly you nodded your head and got their email from them. It was a longish drive but you’d do this in a heartbeat when you had the free time. As you and John walked back to the car he gave you a small smile “I had a feeling you would like it.” He told you and you stopped him to give him a quick kiss. “I didn’t just like it. I loved it and I love you so freaking much John.”

#john marino imagine #john marino blurb #john marino x reader #john marino

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sweetestofchaos · 8 months

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Blackthorn Ch 12 | M.YG

Ginkgo Spirit - The Prince returns to the palace with Namjoon safely but he is missing one person.

a/n: As always thanks to @sailoryooons for being my beta and making the banner. Character asks and the taglist for Blackthorn are always open! Minors do NOT interact with my work, please and thank you.

a/n 2: Shout out to @colormepurplex2 for the wonderful Namjoon edit!! Also, the taglist is still open as well.

Taglist: @thickemadame

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

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Tears had long since stopped rolling down Namjoon’s face as he sat on the forest floor surrounded by dead bodies and blood. His robes were soaked, stained so badly he knew he wouldn’t be able to wash the blood out. Koya flew down from the trees and landed on Namjoon’s shoulders. The bird chirped and nudged at Namjoon’s temple before Namjoon sighed and looked down at the tiny sleeping ginkgo tiger in his lap.

“I’ll be okay, Koya. We’re fated after all. I’ll meet him again in another lifetime.”

The wind picked up and the air around Namjoon vibrated with power. He glanced upwards at the treetops and Koya flew off his shoulder. The bird went up above, high in the air and circled around until the black dragon in the distance roared.

It was enormous, all back with two large matte black horns that sat atop its head, just above its long curved ears. Small, black spiked horns framed large golden eyes and ran down the sides of its jawline. Its nose was long and had two large, slitted nostrils and there were black crystal-like growths on its chin. Rows of sharp teeth poked out from the side of its mouth and showed a glimpse of the terror hiding inside.

Agust’s golden eyes locked onto the familiar bird that belonged to Namjoon and went off in that direction. On his back, doctor Hyungwon clung onto one of the black spikes that ran down the length of the dragon’s body, starting from the base of his long neck. The man’s face was slightly green and he kept his eyes squeezed shut tightly to keep from seeing the world so high above the ground.

Hoseok was perched on Agust’s back as well. His eyes were rolling flames, orange and red that shifted in the light while his skin glowed with a blue-yellow tint. His black hair whipped around his face and steam rose from the very stands. As Agust got closer to Koya, Hoseok stood up and rolled his shoulders. He looked at Hyungwon and called out to the doctor.

“Let’s go. He’s going to shift!” Hoseok picked the man up by his armpits and wrapped his arms around Hyungwon’s chest. “Hold on.”

Agust’s body rippled with a golden glow before it started to shrink and morph into a more human form. Hyungwon shouted as the solid body under his feet disappeared and he hung in the air. Hoseok would have laughed if he wasn’t so worried about Namjoon and Jungkook. Heat surrounded his body and smokey, mist-like wings carried him in the air as he descended towards the ground.

Agust’s giant leathery wings were angular, the inside almost entirely see-through, especially when viewed from a distance. Curved talons grew from each wing, ending like giant scythes. They shrunk in size, but did not disappear as the treetops below got closer and closer. There was nowhere to land and as Agust opened his mouth to burn the trees, they started to sway and shift. Agust and Hoseok hovered in the air, the latter confused as they watched the trees move out of their way. Koya chirped from down below and Hoseok clicked his tongue.

“The God of the forest must be here…”

Agust grunted and continued his descent to the ground with Hoseok and Hyungwon right behind him. As his feet touched the forest floor, Agust felt a powerful presence. It was all around, in the air, under the ground, and protected every single organism in sight. Hyungwon’s legs gave out as he touched the ground and Agust huffed out a thick plume of black smoke.

“Where did the bird go?” Agust scanned the area and found no trace of Koya. A power not his own swirled in the back of his mind like a distant memory and Agust found his feet moving east. He did not care for his lack of clothing nor the eyes of any creatures lurking in the distance.

“You feel it too?” Hoseok questioned as he lifted the doctor up by his armpits once again. He kept an arm around the man’s waist and helped him walk. “There is a very old and very powerful presence here with us.”

Agust inhaled and licked his lips. His forked tongue flicked out quickly before he hummed, “Blood has been split.”

“We need to hurry.” Hoseok tugged on Hyungwon and the doctor picked up his pace. He knew that lives were on the line and he was there to save them.

As they walked farther in the forest, the scent of blood and flowers mingled together thickly. The green grass started to darken, and as Agust took another step forward, the squish of mud under his bare feet made him pause. His eyes zoned in on a gathering of red spider lilies and he growled lowly.

“When did the gardener become a God?”

“What?” Hoseok stood by Agust’s side and looked at the red spider lilies. There was a haze that surrounded the area, something hidden in plain sight with old magic. “Namjoon isn’t a Go-” Hoseok’s word died on his tongue as the haze started to clear and there in the center of red spider lilies sat Namjoon, only his appearance had changed.

His standard robes were replaced with flowing white that had green and blue flowers stitched into the fabric. The white was now soaked a deep red, his hands were tinted from the blood that he wiped off on his chest and his face was flawless. His subtle imperfections were gone, replaced with smooth skin that glowed from within, a soft green color.

“N-Namjoon?” Hoseok’s voice was just above a whisper and carried on the wind.

Namjoon’s head turned and they could see the dried tears on his face, his brown eyes now completely green and Hoseok felt the sorrow seep into his bones.

“I-I couldn’t save him…I was too late,” Namjoon spoke and smiled sadly. “Jungkook had such a beautiful and pure soul. He tried to save a tiger that was being hunted.”

Agust watched as Hoseok and Hyungwon walked over to Namjoon. Hyungwon crouched down and carefully checked Namjoon’s face to make sure he wasn’t hurt.

“Were you injured at all, Namjoon?” Hyungwon stared at the man in front of him, knowing that it wasn’t the Namjoon that he knew. “May I see your hands?”

Namjoon looked down at his blood-tinted hands and swallowed thickly. “Do you know what a ginkgo spirit is, Hyungwon?”

“A ginkgo spirit?” Hyungwon thought over the question and a lesson from his childhood came to the forefront of his mind. “It is when an animal is wrongfully killed and its spirit is led to a ginkgo tree by the wind, correct?”

Namjoon nodded his head and smiled but it was anything but happy. “You are partly correct. The spirit of the animal is led to the tree of rebirth, a ginkgo tree, by the guardian of the forest. Power from the leaves grants the spirit the chance at a new life with the tree’s blessing.”

“I never heard that version before,” Hyungwon admitted and Namjoon looked at him. His green eyes were dark and murky, like the seaweed that washed up on shore. “Namjoon…where is Jungkook?”

“Jungkook?” Namjoon looked down at his lap and carefully unfolded his arms before he placed them at his side. There in Namjoon’s lap, a tiny gingko tiger cub slept peacefully.

Hyungwon stared down at the tiger cub and Hoseok dropped to the ground beside him. Namjoon’s lower lip quivered and Hoseok’s eyes started to burn. Namjoon didn’t have to speak anymore, everyone understood that Jungkook had given his life to protect the tiger and in the end, he was granted rebirth through Namjoon.

“Is-” Hyungwon cleared his throat and took a deep breath before he spoke again. “Is there anyone still alive?”

Namjoon scoffed and shook his head. “Those who clung to life, I snuffed out. Souls with such malice are not given any mercy.”

Hoseok’s hair no longer smoked, his skin no longer glowed, and his eyes were a sparkling amber once more. The adrenaline in his blood no longer ran red-hot, and as he stared at the sleeping tiger cub, he frowned.

“What are you going to do with the cub?”

“I was unsure of what to do with him,” Namjoon sighed and he looked behind Hoseok to Agust, who had watched them silently. “I think the Princess would accept him as my engagement gift, don’t you agree, Agust?”

Agust narrowed his eyes and clicked his tongue. “If you wish to grant the Princess such a little beast as a gift…” Agust glanced at the sleeping cub and crossed his arms over his chest. “I suppose it’s as good a gift as any.”

“You would really have the Princess raise him? Why not keep him yourself?” Hyungwon wondered and Namjoon shook his head.

“Our time together in this world has passed. Jungkook will do well to keep the Princess safe.”

“I fear that the Princess will not accept the cub once she learns that it was born from Jungkook’s soul,” Hoseok voiced and Namjoon picked himself up from the ground.

“No one is to tell the Princess the truth…well the whole truth.”

“You wish to lie?” Hoseok stared at Namjoon with wide eyes.

“Not lie. We will tell a half-truth.”

Hyungwon and Hoseok glanced at the sleeping cub and sighed. “Do you think that is wise?”

“For the sake of the cub and to spare the Princess from any feelings of guilt, yes. It is our best option.”

“Agust?” Agust narrowed his eyes as Namjoon called his name and stared unblinking. “I need to speak to the Prince.”

As gold shifted to black, scales melted away and the wings that sprouted from Agust’s back flattened once more into their correct space like they were never there. Prince Yoongi stood in place of Agust, bare as the day he was born and stared at his friend with watery eyes. He knew Jungkook well. The young man was extremely talented and funny. However, he could not ignore the question that Agust didn’t ask.

“Namjoon.”

“Your Highness.”

“I think we need to have a nice conversation with drinks? Don’t you agree, Hoseok?”

Hoseok wiped at his damp eyes and cleared his throat. “Drinks sound wonderful, Your Highness. Doctor?”

Hyungwon nodded his head with a sigh and looked around at the blood soaked ground. “A drink would be much appreciated.”

“Let’s head to the nearest river to wash. Namjoon I packed new robes for you.” Hoseok motioned to the bag that Hyungwon carried and Namjoon nodded his head in thanks. "Yours are in here as well, Yoongi."

It was early the next morning when Byulyi woke the Princess and hurried her into a thick spearmint green robe and slippers. Wheein quickly wrapped her hair into a neat high bun before they led her to Aga and Mingi, who waited outside of the Prince’s chambers. The Princess was confused but the look on Mingi’s face let her know that something had happened. Their footsteps were quick. Silver started to spill into the Princess’ eyes, and before she could start to worry about what was wrong, she saw Prince Yoongi, Hoseok and Namjoon all standing out in the courtyard. The palace gates had slammed shut behind them and the Princess’ ears rang.

She chirped loudly and all three men’s heads snapped in her direction. Her eyes flooded with tears and she sprinted across the stone pathway. As she slammed into the Prince’s chest, she cried and he held her tightly in his arms. The Prince whispered soft words and squeezed her body tightly to his. Their hearts beat together frantically, and when the Prince pulled away, he smiled.

“Sorry, we kept you waiting.”

The Princess shook her head as the Princes wiped at her tears with his thumbs. Their faces grew closer and closer until their lips touched. Namjoon quickly turned his back while Hoseok sighed and rolled his eyes.

“We weren’t gone that long, Princess.” Hoseok’s voice was teasing with the warmth of understanding laced in. He had felt the same way when he thought Namjoon was hurt.

"Sa ase," Aga spoke up and the Princess pulled away. She bit her lip as heat warmed her face while the Prince simply licked his lips and smiled.

“I believe Namjoon has something to tell you.” He stepped out of the way and Namjoon stood before the Princess with his hands and arms tucked away in his sleeves.

“Are you well, Namjoon?” The Princess searched his eyes and then slowly counted the men in front of her, there were only three. “Where is Jungkook?”

Namjoon frowned and shook his head. “You will have to forgive him, Princess. Jungkook is a free spirit. Good, warm and pure…”

The Princess saw the way Namjoon’s brows pulled together, the way his eyes misted and his face flushed. She reached out and placed a gentle hand on his bicep.

“Jungkook will not be joining us. He um-” Namjoon cleared his throat and blinked his eyes quickly. “He stumbled upon a group of poachers that were hunting a tiger. He fought well but there were too many of them.”

“Oh, Joon…”

Namjoon slowly pulled his arms from his sleeves and held a tiny tiger cub in his hands. “This is a ginkgo tiger. He is what came of Jungkook’s sacrifice and I wish for you to have him.”

The Princess stared at the tiny cub. The cub had green and yellow ombre fur, starting from the head and going all the way down to its tail. It had pale yellow whiskers and its tail fanned out at the end like a large ginkgo leaf. The Princess found herself smiling sadly. She knew how ginkgo spirits were created and she sent a silent prayer to Jungkook for his valiant sacrifice.

“I-I think you should keep him..her?”

Namjoon smiled and stretched out his arms. “Jungkook would have wanted you to have him. He knows I’m not the best with animals.”

As the Princess started to disagree, the tiger cub opened its eyes and stared right at her. She was surprised to see that the cub had heterochromia; one eye was pale yellow and the other was a deep brown. The cub whined as it wiggled in Namjoon’s arms and before it could fall to the ground, it leaped into the Princess’ arms.

“Oh!” She hugged the cub to her chest and giggled as it licked at her chin. "Ki jan ou dous, ti bebe a." She cooed at the cub and nuzzled into the fur at the top of its head. Prince Yoongi stepped beside Namjoon and patted his shoulder before he walked over to the Princess’ side.

“I will talk with the head builder and have an outdoor-”

“You will do no such thing!” The Princess hugged the cub closer to her chest and glared at the Prince. “He will stay in my room. There is ample space for him.”

“My gem.” The Prince placed a hand on the Princess’ lower back and kissed her temple. The Princess stared up at him through her lashes and he sighed. “As you wish, Princess.”

She turned her attention to Namjoon who watched them with a fond smile on his face. Princess Keena stepped up to him and rested her forehead against his chest. Namjoon chuckled and wrapped his arms around her lightly.

"Si ou se yon bon moun menm apre lanmò ou renmen tonm."

“What does that mean?” Namjoon questioned as the Princess pulled away and stared up at him. The cub started to purr as she stroked the top of its head and Namjoon watched.

"If you're a good person, even after death your grave is loved."

Namjoon closed his eyes and tears silently streamed down his face. “He was one of the best people…he is very loved, even now.” Namjoon whispered as he thought about the rock and flower grave he made in Jungkook’s honor in the middle of the red spider lilies where his and the tiger’s body were reborn. Namjoon scratched under the cub’s chin and sniffled before he opened his eyes. “What will you name him?”

“I’m sure he will tell me in due time.”

“Tell you?” Namjoon raised an eyebrow and the Princess grinned.

“As the guardian of the forest, you should know that everything in the world has its proper name. Animals are no different and this cub will tell me his, in time.”

Namjoon looked at the cub and he saw that teasing fire behind the multicolored eyes. Namjoon laughed- he knew that look anywhere. “Take good care of him, Princess.”

“You can visit him whenever you would like, Namjoon.”

“We should head inside, Princess,” Aga cut into the conversation as attendants started to mill around the outside. The Princess wasn’t dressed properly and he refused to have anyone stare at her. The Prince removed his outer robe and placed it on top of the Princess, even though she wore a robe already.

She bowed her head as the Prince tucked her underneath his arm and they headed back to his chambers. Hoseok crossed his arms over his chest as he watched the young royals leave and he sighed.

“Do you get the feeling that she knows?”

Namjoon looked after the Princess and shrugged his shoulders. “The impundulu is old and holds a lot of power. She may only understand birds but animals talk to each other regardless of species. Jungkook’s spirit is a part of the tiger, so I wouldn’t put it past him to show his true self every now and again.”

“What are you going to do about the butterfly house?” Hoseok dared to ask and Namjoon tugged at his ear lobe in thought.

“Hyunjin is a skilled painter.”

“The carpenter’s son?”

“Mmmhmm. He hides it from his father but I’ve seen his work. I had planned on having him help Jungkook…but I’m sure Hyunjin will be fine on his own.”

“Very well. I support your decision. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help out.”

In the Prince’s chambers, Princess Keena sat on a plush rug while the cub scampered around, sniffing at everything. The Prince disappeared into the bathing water to wash the grime from his body and Aga sat on the settee with his elbows resting on his knees as he watched the cub.

“When will you leave His Highness’ chambers? You cannot stay here forever.”

“I am aware of that Aga, thank you.” The Princess giggled as the cub found the tie of her robe and started to swat at it. She waved it around for him to play with and glanced over her shoulder at Aga who sat with a frown on his face. “I will speak with the builder today and inquire about a bed and playpen for the cub. I would think that such a project would not take too long. I will resume my lessons tomorrow, now that Yoongi is back.”

Aga stared at the Princess as she played with the cub. He had not missed the way she called the Prince by his first name. “And the cub?” Aga inquired, choosing not to comment on the Princess’ familiarity with the Prince.

The Princess thought about what to do with the cub and she grinned. “He will join me!”

Aga grunted and rubbed a hand down his face. "Poukisa ou teste m konsa?"

The Princess’ laughter filled the air and Aga fought the smile that wanted to settle on his lips, “All the best guards are tested daily.”

As the day went on, the Princess spent her hours with the head builder to discuss a proper living habitat for the cub. While the Prince had the time, he sent Hoseok away under the guise of needing something from the Emperor and the stable hands. He had not forgotten what he had worked on before he left to help Namjoon and he wanted to bring his focus back to his surprise. While Hoseok was away, the Prince left a message for him with the guards at his door. He found his way to the butterfly house with no issues. Kai and Wonho bowed low at the sight of him.

“Where is the kitsune?” Prince Yoongi questioned and Kai informed him that San was stationed at the main entrance of the butterfly house inside. The Prince turned his attention to Wonho, who had yet to speak. “If anyone asks, this one went to relieve himself.” Before Wonho could respond, the Prince grabbed Kai’s arm and pulled him inside of the main gate. He walked briskly to the main entrance of the home and San bowed low.

“The both of you will come with myself and the Princess at sundown in a fortnight.”

“Your Highness-”

“Tell no one and make sure you both fall ill.” Prince Yoongi looked between the two guards. “Do I make myself clear?” His eyes flashed golden and they both nodded. “Splendid. Now, here is a list of items that you need to get before then.” The Prince shoved a folded paper into Kai's hand and took a step back. He smoothed out his robes and looked around.

The green haired guard unfolded the paper and read over it quietly with the kitsune beside him. Kai’s eyes widened and he looked at the Prince. “Y-Your Highness-”

“We’re going over the wall?” San was excited and a little worried. How did the Prince know that they often snuck out before they became the Princess’ guards?

“If there is anything that I missed, do not hesitate to acquire it.” Prince Yoongi pulled a blue, black and gold duru-jumeoni from his robes and handed it to San.

The two guards shared a look before the kitsune spoke up, “Your Highness…if I may?” The Prince nodded his head and San continued. “I may know how to pass through unnoticed but I know nothing of the town.”

“Likewise, Your Highness.”

Prince Yoongi frowned. “Where do you go when you leave the palace walls?” Both San and Kai’s faces heated up at the question and the Prince sighed. “The Vine…” Prince Yoongi was at a loss, he should have known. He remembered visiting the town when he was younger but quite some time had passed since then. He didn’t want to take the Princess out and risk getting lost. If Kai and San could not help him in town then who could?

“I have seen Minho in town,” Kai spoke up and the kitsune nodded his head in agreement.

Minho? The Prince didn’t recall ever hearing that the older man left the palace.

“I have never seen him in-” San cleared his throat and Prince Yoongi rolled his eyes. “The Vine, but it seems like he knows his way around the town.”

“Three is more than I would like to have,” Prince Yoongi muttered to himself and Kai handed the paper to San.

“I will stay back and make sure that no one suspects a thing while San and Minho act as escorts.”

“Very well.” The Prince nodded his head in agreement. “Have Minho enter the fifth garden, there will be instructions for him to follow. He will know what to look for once he is there.”

“Yes, Your Highness!” The guards both bowed and Prince Yoongi walked away with his head held high. Kai followed behind him, five steps back and the Prince bit his tongue. He was excited for his engagement announcement now, since some time together at the night market would be his gift to the Princess.

As the Prince entered his chambers, he found the Princess on the settee fast asleep with the cub curled into her side. He smiled and dragged the back of his knuckles down the Princess’ cheek before he leaned down and kissed her temple. As he pulled away he noticed that the cub had woken up and watched his every move. Not wanting to have the Princess wake up from her nap, he scooped the cub into his arm and walked over to his desk. He placed the small fur ball on the desk and sat down. “What will she call you, hmm?”

A knock at the door made the Prince frown and the door opened shortly after. A maid entered with a covered tray. When they noticed the Prince, they bowed low and he motioned for them to place the tray on his desk. The maid bowed once more as they set the tray down and hurried out of the room. Prince Yoongi glanced at the Princess’ sleeping form and sighed. It seemed she always requested snacks. He lifted the lid and small butter cookies were stacked neatly on a plate along with two dragon fruit jelly mooncakes and a nice selection of flavored croissants.

Beside him, the cub whined as it looked at the food and the Prince scratched his nose between his thumb and index finger. He picked up a butter cookie and held it out for the cub. The cub sniffed at the sweet treat and nibbled at it quickly.

“Slow down, little one. You will give yourself a stomach ache,” he warned with a fond smile on his face. The cub gobbled down three more cookies before the Prince covered them back up. “If you eat anymore, you will turn into a cookie and my gem will be very irate with me.”

The cub looked at the Prince with wide, wet eyes and nuzzled into his hand. “Hummm…cookie? That’s not a bad name. What do you think?” The cub was a nice shade of green that reminded the Prince of matcha cookies and it just so happened to be one of Jungkook’s favorite snacks. He picked the cub up and held it up to his face. “Cookie?” The Prince tried the name on the cub and it looked right at him. He smiled and nodded his head. “Very well, from here on out you will be called Cookie.”

When the Princess woke up, it was to voices whispering and when she sat up, the Prince was sitting with a woman that she had never seen before. The woman was older, with a wrinkled face framed in thick, grey ringlet curls. She wore a simple pleated grey skirt with a bright green ruffle blouse tucked in at the waist. The Prince caught the Princess’ eyes and he smiled before he motioned for the woman to pause the conversation.

“My gem, come. Join us.”

Princess Keena stood from the settee and smoothed down the skirt of her cognac colored boubou before she walked over to the desk. The woman bowed low in her seat and the Princess bowed her head.

“This is Duttu. She has worked with the royal family for generations.”

“It is an honor to work on your request, Your Highness.”

The Princess was confused. What request had she made? The Prince rested his hand on the back of Princess’ upper thighs as she stood by his side and she noticed that the cub was sound asleep in the Prince’s lap.

“I called for Duttu to design a collar and name plate for your little one.”

“Oh, thank you, Duttu.” Princess Keena bowed her head once more and Duttu smiled as she nodded her head. “But, I have not figured out a name-”

“Ah,” the Prince chimed in as he pointed to the tray on his desk. “It would seem that the cub is quite fond of cookies. He nearly ate them all and would have left only crumbs had I not stopped him.”

The Princess giggled and noticed that the cub had tiny cookie crumbs on his mouth and some had fallen into the Prince’s lap.

“I thought it was only right to name him, Cookie.”

“Cookie?” The Princess repeated the name and the cub in the Prince’s lap peeked its eyes open. “I think that is a very handsome name for such a grand being.”

“Would you like to see the design?” Duttu asked and the Princess shook her head.

“I will leave this matter in your hands, Duttu. I trust His Highness’ judgment.” Princess Keena picked Cookie up from the Prince’s lap and brushed off the crumbs from his snout. She bit her lip when the Prince squeezed the back of her upper thigh. “I will take Cookie outside for some air. Please, excuse me.” She walked away from the Prince quickly and once outside of the chambers, she smiled at Chan and Jooheon.

“You seem happy, Princess,” Chan raised an eyebrow at the cub in her arms.

“He has a name! Would you like to guess?”

“Matcha?” Jooheon offered and Chan stared at him confused. “What? It’s a ginkgo tiger, he’s green!”

“No, but you are close.”

“Jade?”

The Princess laughed and shook her head. “He wasn’t named for his color.” Chan and Jooheon shrugged their shoulders and the Princess smiled. “Cookie! His name is Cookie.”

“Cookie?”

Jooheon reached out and scratched under Cookie’s chin making the small cub purr in delight.

“It’s a fine name, Princess.”

“Are you going out?” Chan wondered and the Princess nodded her head. “We will escort you.”

She nodded her head and started to walk off. Two guards that the Princess didn’t know took up the post in front of the Prince’s doors and she wondered where they had been before. Once outside, she placed Cookie on the ground and the little cub ran and leaped from place to place as he chased butterflies and got lost in the tall flowers.

“Chan?”

“Yes, Princess?”

“Where is Aga?”

“He is with Lieutenant Jung at another war council.”

“And my maids?”

“At the butterfly house preparing for Hyunjin to paint.”

“Hyunjin?”

“Yes, Princess. He is the royal carpenter’s eldest son.”

Princess Keena nodded her head and squatted down as Cookie ran back to her. The little cub climbed into her arms and she stood up right with a smile on her face.

“I want to show Cookie my garden. I think he will like the flowers.”

Chan and Jooheon followed the Princess to the seventh garden and they stood guard while the Princess sat underneath one of the blackthorn trees and Cookie ran around. It was a peaceful lull in their busy day of training and standing guard. It was a break that they always enjoyed when in charge of the Princess’ wellbeing, and with Cookie now by her side, the two of them were sure that their days as the Princess’ guards would become filled with a lot more excitement.

In the morning, it was announced that Lady Zarrin was out for the time being due to a sudden emergency that needed to be handled. With that news, the Princess’ lessons were put on hold for the day. The lessons were to be taken over by another tutor and the Princess was curious as to who would stand in Lady Zarrin’s place.

The lesson schedule was altered since the new instructor was a teacher for younger noble women and the school was unable to find a suitable replacement. The Empress understood and the other tutors were flexible with their time. The schedule for the following month was to be followed in order: species studies with Kenigo, language arts with Wen and civics with Saina before the Princess had her lunch with the Prince. Afterwards, the lessons would resume with history taught by Tempus, etiquette with the new tutor and the day would end with Kwangseon and Ellarian who taught music and dance.

The morning of the lessons, the Princess was dressed in a kaba for the day, which was made of an orange blouse with a carmen neckline that hung slightly off the shoulders. The blouse was patterned with pale yellow and green diamond shapes with two-inch white lace that hung from the bottom of the blouse. A matching mermaid skirt that had four inch slits up the side with white lace stitched inside completed the outfit. The Princess didn’t want her hair styled much today, so Hyejin kept it simple as she pulled the Princess’ braids back into a large bun that sat at the base of her neck and attached diamond encrusted gold clips to the braids that were spaced out neatly and evenly.

The lesson room was filled with fresh flowers from the garden and Cookie napped on a blue cushion in the warmth of a sun spot on the floor. The Princess waited for Kenigo, the naga, to enter the room. Kenigo was from a smaller tribe that sat on the border of two neighboring towns and he was a proud creature. The naga were known for their strength and quick reflexes as well as their ever present snake bodies.

Kenigo was not like most of his kind from what he had told the Princess. He was soft spoken and had the kindest yellow eyes with rounded pupils instead of slits with thick black and blocky eyebrows. Red scales under his eyes and on his cheek bones framed his face along with his short wavy black hair that always seemed to be in his eyes.

Kenigo had four black antennae with teal tips at the back of his head, that laid down but rose when angered or threatened. He was over six feet in length. From the top of his head to the tip of his tail, he was ten feet long. He had wide upper shoulders, four muscular arms (two came out on either side of his ribs) and a red underbelly that complemented his black and teal tail that had red scales going down its length in large circles. Kenigo’s lower body was beautiful in the Princess’ eyes. She liked that when Kenigo wore his open kimono, she could see the black and teal scales that went along the side of his ribs; plus his abs were hard to ignore.

The Princess had thought that Kenigo would be strict and stern but he was easy going and answered all her questions without any trace of judgment. The door of the room slid open and Kenigo slithered into the room with a smile on his face. He bowed and Princess Keena bowed her head in greeting.

“Good morning, Princess.”

“Good morning, Kenigo.”

“I have spoken with Wen and we would like to have our lesson together today, outside.”

Kenigo’s black and grey kimono swished around as he motioned to the door and the Princess rose to her feet. The weather was inviting enough and she had been itching to spend the day outdoors. “Since Wen is an Oni and we are discussing the demon species, he offered to give a more personal insist on the topic.”

“That is very kind of him. I wish not to keep Wen waiting much longer…will you both be okay if Cookie joins us?” The Princess motioned towards the sleeping tiger cub and Kenigo’s laugh was soft as he nodded his head. She lifted the cub carefully into her arms and kissed the top of his head before she followed Jooheon out the room with Kenigo behind her.

The three stepped outside and Kenigo kept to the Princess’ side as they made their way to where Wen was waiting in the bamboo rock garden that was a mid way point between the butterfly house and the palace. Wen was dressed in his usually flamboyant and colorful hanfu. Bright greens, red and pinks made the Princess smile because Wen resembled a rose bush. Kenigo lowered himself closer to the ground which made his normally eight foot height drop to seven and again the Princess smiled.

She watched how Wen’s hazy orange-red eyes brightened at the sight of Kenigo and he tucked his hair behind his ear before he took a step closer. Kenigo was no better in the Princess’ eyes as the half serpent inched his way in front of Wen and lowered himself to the ground even farther so that he was only about half a foot taller.

“These colors suit you, Wen.”

Wen’s eyes darted to the Princess and he was quick to bow before he offered a smile. “Princess, Good morning. Oh! We have a new guest with us today?”

“Good morning, Wen, this is Cookie!” The Princess handed the sleeping cub to Jooheon and turned her attention back to the Oni. “I didn’t know you and Kenigo were close.”

Kenigo crossed his lower arms across his chest while one of his upper arms scratched the back of his neck, “We’re not t-that close,” Kenigo stumbled over his words and Wen just smiled.

“Shall we get started on today's lesson, Princess?” Wen moved the conversation to a more important topic and the Princess let it go.

The Princess’ lessons moved quickly one by one and soon it was time for lunch. Jooheon led the Princess to the seventh garden with Cookie, where she had started to have lunch with the Prince daily. Today was no different, however. The Prince was dressed in a black cross collared robe that had gold beadwork stitched along the thick collar. A black leather belt was wrapped around his waist with gold buckles and he wore a black silk robe over top with wide sleeves that had a gold dragon on the ends of the sleeves with red ink clouds. His hair was pulled away from his face in a half updo that had the top half twisted into a single neat braid with a golden clip attached to the end.

He stood upon the Princess’ arrival and watched as Jooheon pulled the seat closest to him away from the table. Once the Princess was seated, Prince Yoongi dismissed Jooheon along with ordering him to take Cookie away and sat in his seat with a smile on his face.

The table was filled with seafood today, since at their last meal the Princess had expressed how she missed the fresh fish from her homeland. Garlic lemon shrimp with broccoli, blackened salmon with avocado salsa and a spinach salad topped with fresh strawberries, raspberries and blueberries, feta cheese crumbles and a sweet poppy seed dressing acted as the main course. To round out the meal, medium rare steak bites with roasted potatoes and baby carrots were on the side in case the Prince wasn’t satisfied with the seafood.

“I hope you enjoy today’s meal. I spoke with Aga to find out a few of your favorite dishes.”

The smile on the Princess’ face was worth it. Before she could decide what to start with, the Prince grabbed her empty plate and put an equal amount of the salmon and shrimp in the center before he filled the sides with broccoli and salad. The plate was set before her and she watched as the Prince zoned in on the steak and potatoes. Other dishes such as rice, enoki mushrooms with garlic and scallion sauce, beef noodle soup and jukkumi bokkeum were within the Princess’ sight and her eyes flashed silver. The Princess wanted the stir fried octopus more than anything on a bed of rice with the enoki mushrooms on the side.

The plate before her was removed and replaced with the jukkumi bokkeum. She looked over and saw that the Prince had her original plate in front of him and he was already digging into the salmon. Princess Keena picked up her chopsticks and carefully pinched a piece of steak between them before she held her hand out to the blonde beside her. The Prince said nothing as his face heated and he took the offered food. He chewed slowly, savoring the flavor of the meat that was suddenly doused in deep affection from the Princess. As he swallowed, he licked his lips and smiled as the warmth in his stomach slowly spread towards his heart.

“Gamsahabnida.”

“Cheonman-eyo."

The Princess responded, knowing that the Prince had thanked her in old Laibic language. Prince Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly. He knew that the Princess was learning proper Laibic, but he hadn’t thought Wen would teach her the old language as well. He was impressed and proud of her.

“Are you enjoying your lessons today?”

“I always enjoy my lessons.”

The Prince rolled his eyes and the Princess narrowed hers as she popped an octopus into her mouth.

“Mother tells me you will have a new tutor for etiquette. Are you excited?”

Princess Keena shook her head softly. “I fear that Lady Zarrin went easy on me. I have heard that the new tutor is older.”

Prince Yoongi huffed, “I doubt Lady Zarrin went easy on you. She points out mistakes and works with you to correct them. There is no need to berate or belittle someone if they make a mistake. As a royal, it is our duty to move with grace and show no flaws before the people that we lead.” The Prince took a sip of his wine and cleared his throat lightly. “However, the only thing that separates us from the masses is the title our blood grants us. Outside of that, we are the same and we make mistakes.”

“You are full of wisdom today, my Prince.”

A smile tugged at the Prince’s lips and his gaze dropped down to the plate in front of him. He picked at the shrimp and lifted one to his mouth before he glanced at the Princess beside him. “I do share the soul of a very, very old dragon.”

The Princess giggled and nodded in agreement. “Should I give thanks to him?”

The Princess’ words were teasing but Agust stirred deep within the Prince’s being. His eyes melted into golden orbs and Yoongi clicked his tongue.

“Be careful Treasure…”

The words were low and rumbled like a storm at sea, it made goosebumps cover the Princess’ skin and hair rise on her arms. A warning within such a jest was a warning still and the Princess took a slow sip of water from her cup.

“My thanks would have you-”

“The food is going to waste,” the Princess had interrupted Agust’s words and the blond beside her narrowed his eyes. “Have some, steak. You seemed to like that just fine.” Again, she pinched a piece with her chopsticks and held her hand outward towards the man who had started to lose the battle with his dragon inside. “Come now my Prince, it’s getting cold.”

Golden eyes glanced down at the meat and when he licked his lips, the Princess noticed that the tip of his tongue had become a deep indigo color. The man before her wasn’t just the Prince but Agust and she knew to take the warnings that surrounded him seriously even if he acted softer in her presence.

“Ahhhh.” She smiled and twisted her wrist around, the steak at the end of her chopsticks moved this way and that.

A plume of smoke fell from Agust’s nose as he huffed and he was quick to snap his teeth around the end of the chopsticks and close his lips. Golden eyes locked with brown and as he pulled back, his tongue flicked the ends of the chopsticks. He sat back in his seat, crossed his arms over his chest and chewed silently. Slowly, gold gave way to inky black and the Prince was once again before the Princess.

“Did he cause distress?”

The Princess shook her head and smiled once again. “It seems he was more interested in me than the meal.”

The rest of the lunch went by without further incident and the two royals walked back to the butterfly house, arm in arm while Cookie darted around their feet. At the gate, Chan and Minho both bowed before the royals and opened the doors. Cookie scampered off ahead and as the Princess had started to walk away, the blond reached out and grabbed her wrist. His hand fell to her palm and their fingers laced together. The Princess turned to face him and smiled as she squeezed his hand lightly.

“Don’t fret, Princess. Have faith in your abilities and everything will go smoothly.”

“Was that your dragon or-”

Prince Yoongi growled and pulled the Princess into his arms, their entwined fingers pressed between their chests. “You enjoy stoking the flames, Princess?”

She stared at the man before her, wide eyed and quiet before she tilted her face upwards and pressed her lips to the underside of his jaw. Black scales, firm and slightly cool, caught the warmth that seeped from her lips. Before the Prince could respond, the Princess pulled away, slipping through his fingers like sand and disappeared behind her gates like smoke in the wind. He stood outside of the butterfly house, frozen. Jooheon cleared his throat from behind the Prince and that pulled him back to Earth.

“K-Keep up the good work,” Prince Yoongi grumbled and walked off in the direction of the palace. He had a meeting with Duttu about Cookie’s collar and he planned to surprise the Princess with the finished product.

In the late night when the moon was at its highest and smothered by clouds, two figures cloaked in darkness sat in the farthest corner of the Marmota tavern. It was a hole in the wall, filled with unknown patrons that made deals with devils and sold their souls for a moment of happiness at the expense of someone else’s life. Smoke hung in the air like a veil while drinks slushed and spilled onto the floors from careless cheers and fists slammed against table tops.

A barmaid carried over to pints of eastern blaze mead and set them on the table as she smiled at the two cloaked figures. The taller of the two nodded his head and the barmaid dashed off to deal with another table.

“W-Why did you ask me to come here?”

“You chose to come here.”

“There was a note folded in with my belongings with no signature…”

The man grabbed his cup and raised it to his mouth before he took a long sip and set it down. “You were wrongfully dismissed. Banished from the palace for what? Trying to save that woman’s reputation.”

The woman across the table pulled the hood of her cloak down. Brown eyes were bloodshot, dark bags sat under eyes and a deep frown rested on her face. Thick white bandages were wrapped around her throat and tightened as she talked. “I did everything Her Majesty asked of me and she threw me aside like common waste!”

“You served Her Majesty well.”

“It’s the Prince’s fault! He…he’s a monster!” The woman touched her neck tenderly and flinched as she remembered the way the Prince’s nails dug into her skin.

“And that is the future ruler of the Empire, how horrid.”

The man pulled a small scroll of paper from his robes and slid it to the middle of the table. The woman looked at the scroll and reached out, her fingers touched the man’s and she gulped. As the man pulled his hand away, the woman wrapped her fingers around the scroll and tucked it into her own robes.

“What is this?”

“The young Prince wishes to sneak out of the palace to the night market…do what you will with that information.” He downed the rest of his drink and stood. “The future of the empire is in your hands…Yongsun.”

Before the man could walk away, Yongsun grabbed his robes. “Who are you? Why are you helping me?” She tried to see under the hood of the man’s cloak but all she saw was the start of a mask that covered the man’s nose and upper face.

“I am no one. Just following orders.” As he spoke, the man pushed Yongsun’s hands off his robes and disappeared from sight.

#yoongi smut #yoongi fic #dragon yoongi #yoongi x oc #bts fantasy au #bts soulmate au #daechwita yoongi #blackthorn ch 12

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pantoneyoongi · 10 months

Text

the sun & the stars | 03 | kth

title ; the sun & the stars pairing ; taehyung x you

word count ; 5.6k

description ;

taehyung’s known you almost his whole life - his sister’s best friend, the girl who invades his home and his life on the daily. you’re the one who gave his sister the nickname ‘sky’ to begin with - and also the one who relented when he whined about it at age five and said okay, you can be the stars, then.

it’s funny, because to him, you’re just the petty, mischievous neighbor from across the street with a penchant for stealing his snacks. but over the years, you’ve somehow landed yourself a reputation that stretches beyond the 1.5 year age gap he has with you - for someone who generally likes to keep things low key, you sure have a way of drawing attention.

sky’s friendly, teasing best friend is known for being cold, impassive, and immovable. which is weird, because when he’s around you, all he sees are unabashed grins and terrible jokes. until he realizes maybe he doesn’t know you like he thought he did. maybe they’re right - it just so happens that the walls you throw up around him look a little different from the walls you throw up around everyone else.

tracklist ; willow - taylor swift, give me your forever - zack tabudlo ft. billkin, limbo - keshi

tags ; college!au, best friend’s little brother!au, childhood friends to lovers, angst, fluff, mentions of absent parents and financial instability, bestie jinyoung!, brief mentions of infidelity, there is tiny tiger!tae support in this but let it be known i am team bear ok

you’re not sleeping well.

you hate to admit it, but it’s true. you’d think after working yourself into the goddamn ground you would knock out as soon as you hit the bed, but no. your brain has other plans for you, including ensuring you get no rest even when you do fall asleep. the nightmares don’t even make any sense, they just make you tired by the time your alarm goes off in the morning.

you know your friends worry about you. they always do. but you can usually keep them at bay, distracted by a grin and a well placed, overly chaotic story told entirely out of proportion to what actually happened. but you must sincerely be starting to look like shit, considering the number of times taehyung has both texted you and told you to your face that people need eight hours of sleep to function, sun.

yeah, yeah, yeah. hours, shmours. sleep is for the financially stable.

“jesus christ, y/n!” jinyoung smacks your hand away before you can burn yourself on the boiler. you haven’t been paying attention and you startle at his voice. “are you kidding me?”

jinyoung’s worry usually comes out as mild aggression. it starts off with sass and ends with frustration, so if he’s halfway to yelling at you, then you’ve already gone too far and will be inevitably subject to jinyoung’s line of questioning. for now, he just stares you down with a pinched expression, like you’ve annoyed him for being too obviously distracted.

“sorry,” you mutter, rubbing your forehead. you really don’t have much to say for yourself.

he gives you a long look before tossing you a towel. “we’re talking about this later. finish cleaning up, closing’s in twenty.”

you don’t argue. with a sigh, you lower your head and start to clean up, wiping down counters and restocking sauces. when you’re done, you find jinyoung leaning against the wall outside the back door, waiting for you.

in a lot of ways, jinyoung’s a lot like you. not just in the live-to-work, work-to-live sort of way. he’s resilient, from years of having to fend for himself. reclusive, from learning to put his own wants on the backburner just so he can survive. like you, jinyoung puts everyone around him first, and himself last.

while your childhood friends know that you work probably one job too many, you don’t tell them much about what that really means for you. you don’t tell them about the empty house you went home to as a kid, or the way it feels to look out into a crowd during school events and know your parents won’t be there. you don’t tell them the stress that weighs on you when it comes to managing your finances, how nothing ever feels like it’ll be enough. that the degree you’re studying isn’t because you enjoy it, but because you need it. you need the security it’ll offer you once you have the diploma in your hands.

sky, taehyung, and jimin’s lives feel so pretty. they glitter, like something out of a movie. you don’t want to disturb the waters. you like the way the light reflects off them. if they know how deep you’re drowning, the glass will shatter, and you think maybe you will, too.

jinyoung’s different. like you, jinyoung doesn’t live in a romantic movie montage. he’s as cynical as you pretend not to be, but while you live your life in constant states of escapism, jinyoung faces reality head-on. for him, it is what it is. and because he’s a good friend, he forces you to face it too.

“i heard a rumor,” jinyoung interrupts the silence the two of you have been walking in. you stiffen. jinyoung presses forward. “sounds like namjoon and sky have been getting close these days.”

jinyoung is one of few people you’ve ever let your guard down around. he knows about your parents, he knows about seokjin, he knows almost everything, and vice versa. it’s easy to rely on each other when the foundation feels like common ground.

you shrug. “that doesn’t have anything to do with me, jinyoung. i’m her friend, not her keeper.”

“sure,” jinyoung says agreeably. “but you haven’t said anything about it yet, which means sky didn’t tell you, did she?”

you really hate that jinyoung knows you so well.

you purse your lips. “she has every right not to.”

jinyoung pauses, making you stop beside him. you make the mistake of looking at him, when he says, “you know seokjin wasn’t your fault, right?”

of course you know. you know, but also, you very much don’t. every logical part of you agrees that seokjin wasn’t your fault, but the guilt caving in on you says otherwise.

sky didn’t tell you about namjoon. she didn’t tell you, and you get why. it stings a little - it stings a lot - but you understand. you’d want to keep namjoon a secret from yourself too, if you were sky.

all things considered, you think you got the better end of the seokjin shitshow. which is kind of a pathetic sentence, but it’s also the truth. if two best friends were going to fall for the same dirtbag anyway, you’d argue that the one who got to hold his hand and call him her boyfriend for at least a short stint probably got the lesser of two evils. especially if the other option was having your feelings played perfectly like a puppet on strings.

seokjin was unfair. unfair to you, but truly, devastatingly unfair to sky. you know he left her with insecurities and you resent that you played a part in it. you hate that he made her feel like she was less than you, somehow. as if sky isn’t the best part of you.

he made her feel special, just not special enough. he made her feel seen, just not worth being seen with. and he made her feel like the worst kind of friend, for helplessly falling for someone that belonged to somebody else.

you have no interest in namjoon. it’s not about that. but because of seokjin, some part of sky is still hiding, still scared that she’s not interesting enough. that she’s not worth holding onto, that no one will choose her.

that they’ll always choose you instead.

you don’t consider yourself all that special. you’re not nearly as interesting as the rumors make you out to be. and you would never interfere in sky’s relationship, not if he’s good to her. but there’s a reason sky chose not to tell you, and you feel like you can only blame yourself.

“she’ll tell you,” jinyoung’s gentle, for once. can see the way you’re shaking, scared of losing your best friend because you played a part in making her feel like she wasn’t enough. “hey. she will, sun. on her own time. she’ll tell you everything.”

you try to smile back. you do. but you really don’t want to fuck this up. sky likes namjoon, and you’re terrified of getting in the way again.

worse, something more selfish tries to push through the cracks. something that looks a lot like the empty house you used to return to, with all the lights off, and no one to greet you.

whoever invents teleportation can have your firstborn child. trudging around campus in this weather is starting to get real old, real fast.

you’re tired. tired enough that your head hangs a little as you walk, dragging your feet down the sidewalk. you should’ve stayed home, skipped lecture. but this professor takes attendance, so you unfortunately don’t have much of a choice.

you come abruptly to a stop when someone steps in front of you, halting yourself just in time before you can bump into them. you’re about to mouth off at whoever walked directly into your path, but the glare on your face melts right off as soon as you see taehyung’s familiar face before you.

“oh,” your shoulders lower back down. “tae.”

he stares at you, long enough that you start to fidget a little under his gaze. taehyung’s always been on the quieter side, preferring to sit on the sidelines and watch rather than be in the midst of it all. so you’ve always filled the space, but the longer he stares at you, the less you seem to know what to say.

he can tell you’re hesitating. struggling to find something to say to him, looking uncomfortable in your own skin. like you feel bad about something. his gaze softens, and he unwinds his scarf from around his neck, which prompts you back into action.

“what are you doing?” you ask, taken aback when he wraps the scarf around you instead, fluffing it up so it covers your ears, too. “taehyung?” your voice gets muffled from behind his scarf, and he smiles at that while you blink back at him.

“keeping you warm,” he says simply, and he can’t see your mouth behind the scarf, but he knows you’re frowning, can tell by the crease you get in your forehead.

“what about you?”

he shrugs. “heat rises up.”

immediately, the tension breaks. you straighten up at his nonsensical answer, “you calling me short?”

he smirks, and you forget anything that just came out of your mouth. what? what were you yelling at him about? when he bends down to meet your height, you also forget how to breathe.

“am i wrong?”

he’s so close that you lose all functioning thought. which is odd, because this is taehyung. but your heart is pounding in your chest and you swallow hard, but you refuse to back down, even when you can feel your cheeks heat up from the way he’s looking at you.

taehyung doesn’t get like this often. but sometimes he’s cheeky, invades your personal space, reciprocates your affection for him with more than just acknowledging grunts and soft smiles. you might be fine laying your head in his lap, but taehyung usually keeps his hands to himself. on the rare occasions that he doesn’t, you entirely forget how to act.

sometimes, you forget that taehyung is twenty, and not three anymore.

a grin escapes him when you have nothing to retort, rendered silent by the quick pace of your heart. he likes that your cheeks are pink and you still look a little defensive but you’re too flustered to say anything.

he rises back to height, patting you on the head. “you looked cold. keep the scarf, sun. i’ll see you later.”

he wanders off like nothing’s happened, while you try to re-regulate your heart rate. you try to convince yourself that you like the typical taehyung more, the one you can bounce around and annoy and he’ll just stand there, fondly exasperated.

but the occasional confidence that emerges out of taehyung is the only one that makes your heart stumble in your chest, inexplicably. it’s the taehyung that you’re scared of, but can’t help wanting more of.

head buzzing with thoughts that never quite take full form in your head, you make your way to class, dazed.

a faint smile lingers on your face the whole way.

jinyoung is a good friend. a good guy, in general, which you typically find far and few between. he’s loyal, he’s honest, and he’s genuine.

“you should just talk to her.”

he’s also really annoying.

“i do talk to her.” you move to the next table, setting down the plates and napkins. jinyoung trails after you, setting down utensils.

“your group chat doesn’t count, sun.”

you fix him with an unamused look. “i’m just busy. finals are coming up.”

“and yet somehow, you can still find time to eat with her little brother. how interesting,” jinyoung deadpans, and the nerves run up your spine so fast you don’t have time to hide the flush that goes up your neck to the tip of your ears.

“that’s different. he’s just a kid,” you argue, and decidedly don’t look at jinyoung, who you’re sure is giving you the don’t bullshit me look. taehyung is just a kid. he’s sky’s kid. kid brother. who is twenty years old.

exactly. a kid.

a kid with a really warm scarf that smells nice. like him. like home.

jinyoung sighs, waving you off. “you know what? we’ll unpack that later. one thing at a time.”

you try not to feel too relieved that he’s dropping it. feeling relieved means there is something there to think about, and you’d rather literally anything else.

jinyoung stops you at the next table, dropping his handful of utensils onto its surface. “i’m serious, sun. you know sky. she’s not gonna approach you first, and she’s probably feeling just as bad as you do. do you really wanna drag this out?”

you chew on your lip. he raises his eyebrows. “sun,” he looks at you pointedly. “exactly how well did that go over for the both of you, last time?”

(spoiler: poorly. it went very poorly.)

you slowly narrow your eyes at him. you hand him the plates you’re carrying, and he takes them silently, still waiting for your answer.

then you throw your hands in the air, stomping your feet away and throwing your head back, grumbling loudly, “fine! i’ll talk to her! i’ll communicate, like the grown adult you keep telling me i have to be!”

he smiles.

jinyoung is so annoying.

you resent jinyoung for having perfectly sound logic. you hate confrontation.

does it still count as confrontation if you and sky are just laying on the floor, side by side, staring at the ceiling saying nothing?

for hardwood, your floor is surprisingly comfortable to lay on. both you and sky have pillows tucked under your heads, feet propped up against your bed. you’re both lost deep in your own thoughts, neither of you having said a word since sky got here.

you wonder which of you will cave first. usually, it’s you. but you feel tongue tied, and no order of words that you rearrange in your head sound right when you think about asking her about namjoon. they all feel accusatory, even when they’re not meant to be.

but then, as if hearing your thoughts, sky breaks the silence.

“he’s a good guy, sun.”

you try not to visibly react. “namjoon?”

“namjoon,” she confirms. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you about him.”

this makes you turn your head towards her. she’s still looking up at the ceiling, lower lip drawn into her mouth. she looks nervous, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

“you’re not obligated to tell me everything, sky.”

“i know,” she says, finally turning to look at you. “but i do. i tell you everything. but it… it felt good for a little bit. that he was my secret.”

you stare back at her, trying to understand her. sky’s your every exception. everyone knows it. she’s your best friend. you would give up the world for her, let her get away with anything and everything. because no one’s been there for you like sky has. no one lets you escape the world the way she does, lets you slip into her life and offer everything she has out to you.

you met sky when you were five. five’s too young an age for your parents not to be home, but that was simply your reality. it was scary to be home alone, but you got used to it eventually. it’s less scary to come home to an empty house if you know you can always walk over to sky’s.

you never explicitly told her that your parents weren’t ever really home. that they were too busy working, which meant you were often left at sky’s place with your house key slung around your neck. but sky could fit the pieces together eventually, or maybe her parents explained it to her. that sometimes some kids just live life a little differently. some houses don’t glow with the same lights.

you don’t know. you didn’t ask. it was just mutually understood between the two of you that you were never going to have dinner on the table with both your parents the way sky always did.

her home was always lit up. warm. there was always life in it, her mom bustling around the house, or her dad grilling something in the backyard. or there was taehyung, trailing after his sister, begging to be a part of your games and play-pretends.

sky’s never minded sharing. she shared her toys, her stories, her home, her family. with you. you could forget how lonely it was to say good night by yourself because in the mornings you went running over to sky’s. they say you would do anything for sky, but it’s really sky who would give anything for you. without question.

in high school, that meant hiding how she felt about seokjin because you were too enamored with him to notice. but you’re not in high school anymore. years have passed since seokjin happened, but even healed wounds can still leave scars.

you and sky are still best friends, but it’s still you who is the reason she has scars to begin with.

you turn away from her, facing back to the ceiling. “he seems nice, sky.”

she gives a wry smile. “you met him for two seconds.”

you make a noise that admittedly sounds uncannily like a wince. “he had good vibes.”

sky hums. “he does have good vibes.”

“and he’s very tall.”

“very tall.”

“could probably throw me.”

she laughs. “and me. at the same time.”

you both burst into laughter at that, sky turning her head back to you again. “i think i like him, sun.”

you glance at her, see the sincerity in her eyes when she says it. the mix of hope and excitement, the slightest touch of hesitance that comes with a crush, overwhelmed by the exhilaration. she likes him, a lot. it makes you smile. “yeah?”

she smiles back. “yeah.”

it’s not something you say out loud, but it is something that’s always been obvious to you: you owe sky everything. you could only get this close to a normal childhood because you had sky. the least you can do is protect her so she doesn’t get hurt.

the rumors say you’re overprotective, that you don’t let anyone near her, but it’s not true. you know sky lives her own life, that you can’t shield her from everything, but what you can do is keep the persistent, unwanted ones away. you can give your opinion on whether you think the people in sky’s life are genuinely there for her, or to abuse her kindness. but sky’s always made the final decision. whether she keeps someone around or gives you free reign to get creative in keeping someone out of her life, it’s her choice.

you know what it is you’re really afraid of. of course you want sky and namjoon to work out, to be happy. her entire demeanor shifts when she talks about him, when she so much as thinks of him. it speaks a lot to how safe he makes her feel, how kind he is to her.

what you’re afraid of anymore isn’t that namjoon will hurt her. what you’re afraid of honestly isn’t even that you’ll cause problems, because you would sooner remove yourself from sky’s life than ruin her happiness.

which is exactly the issue, isn’t it?

your mind thunders.

selfish, selfish, selfish.

your heart aches.

lonely, lonely, lonely.

with finals rolling in, your days somehow simultaneously get longer and shorter. you’re up later, you wake earlier, and there’s still not nearly enough hours in the day.

if the exhaustion was obvious before, you are now currently the definition of it. you feel like you almost constantly have a headache, and you’re so fucking tired you could probably fall asleep walking if you didn’t make enough of an effort to stay awake.

you haven’t seen any of your friends in days. not sky, not taehyung, not even jimin has popped in to check in in person, and he’s the most likely to actually leave his apartment. everyone is too busy drowning in their own educational misfortunes, though the group chat does ping every so often:

jimin: do u think i could make it as a stripper

tae: is that not ur current occupation

tae: do u know how many people have told me about seeing your ass

jimin: omg u think im pretty enough to be a stripper?

tae: campus does

you: don’t encourage him

jimin: it’s good money

you: when you develop the coordination to sit in a chair without falling over, lmk

sky: jimin you can be a stripper on the side. how good are you at biochemistry

jimin: are u srsly asking the business major how good i am at biochemistry

but for the most part, it’s silent. maybe distantly you can hear the aggrieved sound jimin makes whenever he opens a textbook, although it’s more likely it’s just the same sound that comes out of your mouth as you trudge out from your closing shift, wishing someone would just carry you home so at least you could take a nap on the trip back.

your wishes manifest in the shape of one kim taehyung, who has apparently developed the habit of quietly appearing in front of you, without any form of announcement. you’re too tired to care that he seems to be insistent on letting you walk straight into him instead of just informing you of his presence, mumbling a vague apology before you look up and realize that it’s him. “star?”

you don’t often use the old nickname, but sometimes it just slips out. you do think it suits him. taehyung isn’t really the type to be described as ‘bright’, but you’ve seen the way his eyes light up, and you’ve felt the warmth of his care. he shines in the dark, gentle and comforting.

you have his scarf wrapped around your neck, and he smiles at the sight. you never gave it back - using the excuse that you didn’t have time to, or that you forgot to bring it every time you saw him - but now that he’s in front of you, you just don’t want to. you like having it with you.

“hi y/n,” he says, voice a little deeper than usual. it is relatively late at night, and the later it gets, the lower taehyung’s voice seems to get, too. you’ve heard his voice gravely in the mornings, dropping octaves whenever he’s tired, and it startles you every time, especially when it’s your name coming out of his mouth.

“since when do you use my government name?” you scrunch your nose.

he raises an eyebrow. he looks amused. “am i not supposed to?”

you deflect, because you don’t actually have a good answer to that. it’s just weird that he didn’t call you sun, and you’re not entirely sure how you feel about the way your name sounds on his lips all of a sudden. “what are you doing here?”

he shrugs. “was just passing by.”

you forget the whole your-name-in-his-deep-voice thing. “passing by? here? at 11:30? taehyung, you literally only leave your apartment for class, the library, and if jimin threatens you.”

he makes a noncommittal noise. “i also leave for food.”

you wave him off. “whatever.”

“i can’t just be a good friend and come see you?”

“not in this weather,” you mutter, shoving your hands into your pockets. the deeper into finals seasons you get, the colder the wind picks up.

“you do it all the time for sky. i’m just picking up some good habits.”

you snort. “sky’s my best friend.”

“what am i?”

your steps pause. you look at him, and he stops with you, head tilted as he stares back at you. you don’t know what game taehyung’s playing at, but it makes your heart squeeze in your chest. taehyung’s always looked kinda harmless - unruly hair, innocent eyes, open expression. even if he doesn’t smile altogether that often, he doesn’t come off as particularly intimidating. although maybe that has more to do with the fact that you’ve known him your entire life and have witnessed taehyung in a tiger onesie before.

there’s really nothing less intimidating than a teenaged kim taehyung in a onesie that he trips over because it’s slightly too big.

but you look at him now, and you give yourself a chance to wonder. wonder when things started to change, when he got taller, broader, more handsome. you’ve noticed it before, of course - the way taehyung can reach the things you can’t, how he hovers over you, how he always feels safe and warm whenever you go in for the occasional hug.

then there’s the moments when sometimes he leans in a little extra close, the times when his smiles get playful in a way that makes your heart stutter. how he tends to drop by when you’re working, or just before or after so he can walk with you, and you’ve never told him to stop, because you like his company. you like having him nearby, the back of his hand brushing yours.

but it felt weird to admit it. so you didn’t. you don’t.

it’s not like you don’t know. taehyung thinks he’s secretive, but you’ve caught the small smiles, the lifted corners of his lips, the way his eyes linger on you a little longer. you know, you just don’t want to. knowing is dangerous. getting close like that is dangerous. letting yourself entertain the thought is dangerous.

it’s not just that he’s sky’s little brother. that in and of itself is playing with fire; the fallout if things don’t work out between you and taehyung is probably the only thing you want even less to think about than just the idea of falling into him in the first place.

but you don’t do well with the concept. half of you is too used to relying on yourself; the other half of you knows that you’ve spent a lifetime relying on him. his family. you’ve wormed your way in with the kims, pretending to play house with a family that isn’t yours. no matter how the kims welcome you in as one of their own, you know it isn’t real. it’s all illusion. smoke and mirrors.

taehyung takes care of you quietly, and the comfort is so relieving you feel like you could sink right into it, safe and sound. the weight on your shoulders lightens so much, you could cry from the lack of pressure. then you return to your world, and reality rips you right out of that safety net. suddenly his constant warmth is a threat, and he’s no longer a hearth, he’s a wildfire, uncontrollable and destructive.

well, no. taehyung isn’t the destructive one.

you are.

so you try your best not to fall into him. not to slip, let him carry you. to not rely on him more than you already have, to not do more than what you can reason off as acceptable.

you look away from him. “you’re taehyung,” you say lamely, after a too-long pause. you redirect instead. “what are you doing here, for real?”

he keeps his hands in his coat pockets as the two of you start walking again. he shrugs a little. “you said you were closing today.” he glances around. “it’s dark out.”

“i can walk myself home, you know.”

he hums in return.

the two of you lapse into silence. you find yourself quiet around taehyung more and more often these days, failing to fill the space with aimless stories and light jokes. but you’re tired from work and it’s cold and somehow taehyung makes it feel comfortable. like the silence doesn’t imply loneliness.

but the thoughts that have been knocking around your head for the past few weeks get louder now that your surroundings are at peace. you don’t know what wills you to say it out loud, but you do. “sky didn’t tell me about namjoon.”

if taehyung’s surprised you’re telling him this, he does a good job not showing it. he’s quiet for a minute. then, “i know.”

you stare at the ground. you feel like you should explain yourself, as if there’s something you need to defend. “well, she told me eventually. just not at first.”

taehyung pauses. you stop with him, a little nervous, though you’re not sure what for. he’s not looking at you at first, but then his gaze slides over to you, unreadable. but his eyes soften, and gently, he repeats, “i know.”

you hold his gaze. you mull over your thoughts, at the idea of letting him in. letting him hear what it is you want to say.

you don’t usually tell anyone what you’re thinking. honestly, you don’t even usually let yourself get far enough to have the kind of thoughts worth spilling out to someone like this. maybe if you had a therapist they’d unpack that for you, but you don’t exactly have time for therapy in between the jobs and the not-failing-out-of-college thing.

taehyung waits patiently. like his sister, he’s always listened to you, no matter how outrageous your commentary gets. but while sky tends to laugh at your excessive monologues, taehyung either stays silent or offers up quick, witty remarks, or quiet, supportive commentary. even when he says nothing, he seems to understand you, just from the way he looks at you.

you wonder. when, in all the years taehyung has been beside you, did he learn to understand you?

and when, in all the years you’ve been beside him, did you start to want to let him?

letting yourself mold and blend into taehyung and sky’s world was one thing. but letting taehyung seep into yours, where the colors dull and gray out, and the lights dim and flicker, is something else entirely. you keep him and all your childhood friends on the other side of the fence. where it’s safe. where things are good.

but it’s hard to climb back to the side with the weeds, the overgrowth, alone. you get splinters every time, and you peer between the pickets wondering when the fence will be taken down. when you’ll be able to sweep away the imaginary lines you’ve drawn for yourself, when you’ll allow yourself to stand on the side where the grass is greener.

but even if it’s hard to be alone, it’s harder still to let taehyung step into your world. it’s terrifying. you open your mouth to speak but you keep coming up empty, the words dying on your tongue whenever you exhale. how can you let him carry your burdens? how can you let him see what it’s like on this side of the fence, when he’s always lived across the street?

everything you want to say keeps fizzling out. you can’t do it. you’ve conditioned yourself to keep quiet.

but taehyung sees the lost look on your face and softens. he sees the panic start to creep in, your defensive instincts rising back up, and he leans down towards you. “should we follow them around?”

you blink at him once. twice. then splutter, shoving him back by the shoulder. “what?”

the amused twinkle in his eyes doesn’t slip by you, or your rapidly weakening heart. “yeah,” he shrugs, dark eyes lit with humor. “hide in the bushes, all that. figure out if he’s a good guy.”

you scoff, helpless grin spreading across your face. the tension melts off your shoulders just like that. “didn’t take you for that kind of brother, kim taehyung.”

he glances at you, observes the way you’ve relaxed again, stress erased from your features, if temporarily. he makes a sound in the back of his throat, swaying from side to side. “she’s still my sister,” he says airily, and you bump against his side, smiling affectionately up at him.

“you’re a good kid, taehyung.”

he frowns at that. after a half-minute of contemplation, he finally mumbles out, “i’m not a kid,” knowing full well that it makes him sound exactly like a kid. you snort.

“how long have you been holding that in for?”

he gives you a sour look. you chuckle, deciding to let him off easy. “you’re a good brother, tae,” you correct. he seems satisfied with your amendment, and you bite your cheek to try and dampen your smile.

when he drops you off outside your building, you lean up to ruffle his hair and thank him for taking you back. he leans down a little to make it easier for you to reach, but his eyes remain on you, and for a second, your breath escapes you. slowly, you lower your hand back down to your side, fingers curling in shyly. you hold his gaze, unable to look away.

he doesn’t straighten back up even though you’ve pulled away, just letting the silence sit between you. you’re supposed to say something, anything, but taehyung’s mesmerizing, and you forget all of the supposed-to’s in favor of simply staring back at him, time coming to a momentary standstill.

distantly, you think it’s odd, but you don’t mind it. you don’t mind staying in this moment, where it’s quiet and peaceful and you don’t have to think about much of anything at all, all your worries winding down when taehyung is around. he smiles at you and your brain kinda just shuts off, focusing only on the pretty curve of his lips.

“call me whenever you’re working late,” he says, bringing you out of your reverie. “i’ll always walk you home, sun.”

the words fit into your chest like missing pieces of a puzzle. that’s what being around taehyung feels like, like he’s patching all the holes inside you, slowly building back up the things you thought had worn down beyond repair after years of pressure on your back. he fixes up the lights, repaints the walls, redecorates the shelves.

that’s why he’s your star, you think. even in the dark, he makes it easy to find your way home.

#taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung x yn #taehyung x y/n #taehyung #series: tsns #series: kths #so this did not in fact turn out to be three parts oops #maybe four to five??#i have no idea tbh

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