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nightshade-minho · 4 years

Text

-Embers- (1)

warnings: suggestive, future smut, themes of death

wc: 5.3k

teaser

White specks of paint, scattered across an inky sky - they truly were beautiful. You adjusted yourself on the grassy hill, eyes closing as you tried to calm your nerves. Sighing, you ran your hand over crimson scales, trying to ignore the blinding lights of your village in the distance.

“The stars are beautiful tonight.”

You wished you could stay here forever. Where the only sounds that grace your ears are the deep rumbling snores of the enormous draconian creature you're curled up against. It's a comforting sound, and yet you knew you were going to have to leave soon. Your father would be absolutely enraged if you were late to such an important event- in fact, you were sure he’d have absolutely no qualms killing you in front of the entire village and crowning a broomstick as his heir instead.

Perhaps that's why you delayed the inevitable for a little longer, nuzzling your head against the dragon's hide. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you observed your bustling village from above, frantically getting ready for the festival and the welcoming. People were decorating their houses, painting murals onto their walls and making sure everything was perfect for the guests that would arrive tonight.

The streets were lit up with lanterns, and the people milling about outside their houses were dressed up in their best. The excitement in the atmosphere was palpable, and you could almost feel it from atop the hill.

Sighing, you looked to the side, your eyes meeting enormous yellow ones.

“Aeracus...I know what you’re thinking.” You sighed and curled up your knees to your chest. “And you’re right. I’m nervous, but also excited. I can’t believe we’re going to be seeing him again after all these years. Can you?”

The dragon slowly shook his head from side to side, and you chuckled. “Do you think he’s changed? Or do you think he’s still a feline-obsessed asshole?” You smiled, his laughter ringing in your ears as you reminisced.

Slowly though, the good memories bled into terrible ones. Loss and pain, mingling in your heart and taking over your emotions. The smile disappeared from your face as you remembered what had happened. The reason he left. The reason you weren’t allowed to participate in the championships that were to be a part of the festival’s celebrations...the reason the whole village considered you an outcast, despite being the chief’s daughter.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, pushing your hair back as you slowly stood up, dusting off your tunic. You pressed a kiss to the dragon’s neck, sighing.

“I’m going to go, Aeracus. Honestly, you should be grateful you don’t have to partake in these events.”

The dragon let out a disapproving rumble at that, and your face softened. That was a low blow. After all, it wasn’t his fault that he was forced to to refrain from joining his fellow dragons in the games. No, the blame was to be shared between you and Minho.

The felicity in your heart was intertwined with a faint sense of lingering sorrow. It happened so many years ago, and yet the echoes were still fresh in your mind...

You couldn’t deny that you were desperate to see him again. In fact, saying you were desperate would probably be an understatement. You were thrilled, electrified- and yet, oh so anxious.

You clenched your fists, taking in a deep breath and starting to descend the hill. You’d put it off for long enough.

***

“Children, listen carefully, now.”

The boy next to you didn’t heed the elder’s warning, continuing to draw on the back of his hand.

“Minho! Pay attention, or I will have to call your father.”

Minho looked up, scowling. He placed the chalk down and pursed his lips, directing his attention towards the clay figurines that were laid out in front of the elderly woman. You, as well as the 10 other kids in the cottage, were fascinated by the story being told. The woman was teaching you about your culture, the information you needed to know regarding the upcoming ceremony. It was important, and yet Minho couldn’t bring himself to care. He liked cats more than dragons anyway.

“As I was saying.” She cleared her throat, resuming her lesson.

“Now that you children are 13, you are no longer babies. Certain things are expected of you. You have embarked on your journey to adulthood...and thus, there are certain things you must know. The elements of our village, for one.”

She gestured to the figurines on the dirt floor in front of her. “As you all already know, there are four elements.” She pointed to a spiky pyramid, and then to a smooth sphere. “Ember, Aqua...” Her fingers moved to the next pair- a rough cube and a glassy cone. “...Terra and Aer. These are the symbols of the elements. Of course, you all have already seen the life-sized versions of these in our square.”

Eager nods, making her continue with a pleased smile.

“Every dragon on this planet has a corresponding element that they have control over. They possess immense power, and the ability to command these elements.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Hm, maybe this wasn’t as lame as he’d thought it would be..

“I’m sure you children have seen your parents, older friends and relatives with their dragons.” There was a chorus of agreement, and the woman nodded.

“Well, from next week onwards, you will each have your own dragons. Through the ceremony, you will all be assigned a hatchling, with which you will spend the rest of your life.”

Minho hummed in curiosity as the woman dismissed the class. “Good luck, loves. Remember, there will be a few more classes to brief you further.”

The others started filing out slowly as you turned to Minho. “Isn’t this exciting?” You tilted your head, running your eyes over the figurines. “Since my family are all fire elementals, do you think I’ll get an ember dragon?”

“I don’t think it works that way. My father said it doesn’t matter what family you come from, the dragon you get matched with can be of any element, apparently. Though it hasn’t ever happened yet.” He shrugged.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He yawned. “I already knew everything she said. I could have used this valuable time for something else.” He was lying, to be honest. The only thing he knew about dragons was what he’d just told you.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Do you wanna go to the lake?”

You grinned. “Sure, let’s!” You nodded in agreement as Minho stood up eagerly, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the cottage. You giggled as he dragged you. “Hey, slow down! Also, we can’t be there for long. We’ve got to be home for that joint dinner, or our fathers will be very mad.”

“Eh, they’d barely notice if we’re gone. When discussing village matters, they don’t give a fuck about their own children, even.” He muttered bitterly.

“Well...that is true.” You sighed as Minho pulled you all the way to the lake, weaving past the villagers, even bumping into some of them. A few of them frowned and made shouts of displeasure, while others didn’t seem to mind. Or maybe they did, and was just too afraid to voice their anger towards the chiefs’ children.

The cottages start becoming more sparse, the trees more tightly clustered. Minho held your hand tightly as you made your way through the woods. Finally, the two of you reached the clearing.

Letting go of your hand gently, Minho sat at the edge of the lake, beckoning you over to sit next to him.

“I wish this place wasn’t so far away from the village.” You sighed, legs aching as you flopped down onto the grass.

Minho shook his head slowly, his fingers fiddling with a tiny dandelion he’d pulled out. “The further away, the better.” He grumbled, blowing on it and watching as the seeds floated in the breeze.

You sighed. There it was, again. You knew better than to oppose him, so you hummed, scooting a little closer and placing your hand on top of his. “I know you want to leave this place. I know you want to...to explore the world. I just want you to know that whatever you decide to do, I’ll be by your side.” You said honestly.

Minho looked up at you. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

He felt like there was a lump in his throat. Minho knew how much this village and its culture meant to you. You were really willing to do that for him? Leave, and never come back?

“Listen here, Miss L/n.” He turned to you, inhaling as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips soft as they brushed against your skin. You blushed, staring at him with wide eyes as he spoke.

“I’m the one who’s going to be making the sacrifices here, alright? I’m older than you, remember? I call the shots.” He chuckled, booping your nose.

“I love you so much, star.”

You cringed at the nickname, shoving him away. “Stop calling me that, you sound like a character in one of Mr Yang’s cheesy novels.”

He smirked at that. “I’ll never stop calling you that. You’re my star, cause you light up my world and guide me when everything’s dark.” He reasoned, laughing and throwing his head back as he watched you wrinkle your nose in disgust, looking a little like a bunny.

Humming, Minho lay back on the grass, and you followed suit after a minute of hesitation.

“I don’t mind you calling me that. Just don’t do it in front of people.”

“Okay, I won’t. It’s just us all the time, anyway...”

The two of you stared up at the sky, listening to the calm sounds of frogs ribbiting, birds chirping, and the splashing sounds of the fish in the lake. Above it all though, was the sound of your heart, beating persistently as Minho’s fingers creeped closer to yours, intertwining your hands.

“It’s always us...”

***

Your father had explained to you that since your family consisted entirely of ember elementals, your dragon would be of the same kind as well. This went against what Minho had told you before, and your mind was swimming with all the different information you were receiving.

“But...Minho said it doesn’t work that way.”

He sat on his armchair, chewing on a chicken leg as he raised an eyebrow. “Really? Well, he’s wrong.” He sighed, shaking his head. “It’s never happened in centuries, and it’s not gonna happen now. You’re an Ember, through and through.”

You purse your lips. “Well, you’re always right, Father.”

He nodded, not picking up on the snark your sentence was dripping with. "The bond you share with your dragon is one that can never be replicated. You choose it, and it chooses you. It is truly a beautiful process, a spectacle to behold. Every single villager will be watching, so you better hold your head high. Make me proud."

You were about to reply when you heard a knock on your door. Glancing at your father for permission, you stood up. heading through the long hallway to open the front door.

“Minho?”

You looked at him, tilting your head at his troubled expression. “What’s up?

“I came to give you these.” He said softly, looking around before showing you the fiery petals in his palms. “I borrowed a herbology book from the library a few months ago, and learnt how to grow these. Ignis flowers. They’re symbols of good luck, apparently.”

He took your hand, placing the petals on your palm. “They reminded me of you.”

Your eyes widened slowly. “Wow...Minho, I didn’t get you anything...” You said guiltily, humming when Minho gently pulled you into a hug.

“You don’t have to. I’ve got to go home, now. See you tomorrow!”

You nodded, the petals safe in your hands as he left hurriedly. You watched him head to his house, opposite to yours.

After he left, you were about to head to bed when your father asked you to stay back. Confused, you went over to sit in front of him, tilting your head in confusion.

“Who was at the door?”

“It was just Minho.” You shrugged, eyeing your father as he groaned, massaging his forehead. He looked like he was contemplating something, his wrinkles seeming especially prominent.

"Child, be wary of your...friend."

"Friend...?" You knew he meant Minho. You'd never heard him address him in that manner though - void of affection.

Minho's father and yours were co-chiefs of the village, best friends since birth. He’d always treated Minho like his own son. What had brought on this sudden hostility?

He noticed the expression on your face, sighing and patting your shoulder. "I'm just asking you to be careful, dear. There is talk of the Aer elementals gaining power at an accelerated rate these days. Aer dragons are growing up to be stronger, even more so than our Ember ones. It's truly a strange phenomenon. I do not want to be one of these people who is suspicious of everything and everyone...but both the kid and his father have changed. Even I can't deny that."

You swallowed at his words, watching as his face drifted off, deep in thought. You'd heard of it too- hushed whispers claiming that a single chief would be preferable for the village. And if your father's hunch was right...no, you didn't want to think about it.

Minho wouldn't ever betray you. You'd known him since before you could talk. you’d build up a lot of trust in each other over the years. There was no one else you knew as well. If you couldn’t trust him, who could?

No. He would never hurt you. You were sure of it.

***

The whole village was buzzing for weeks after the ceremony took place. They simply couldn't understand what had happened. It was unprecedented- and the news spread like wildfire.

You were matched with a majestic Aer creature, and Minho a beautiful crimson beast of Ember. Mistakes weren't possible- the process was never questioned- but that didn't mean people weren't bewildered.

For centuries, no one had managed to match with a dragon that controlled an element that differed from theirs.

Neither of you could understand why your fathers and the villagers were so perplexed, though. Was it really as big of a deal as they made it seem?

"I don't get it. Why is it such a humongous problem? They’re just dragons. What’s the need for all this drama?" Minho rolled his eyes as he spoke.

You stroked your dragon's neck slowly as you watched him, huffing and ranting away. ‘Just dragons.’ There was a part of you that understood all the hubbub. The people loved gossip- especially if it involved the chiefs.

"It really isn't. They're both so beautiful, I don't really care what element they control."

You looked at your dragon, curled next to you. You wouldn't admit it, but she looked a little too beautiful- almost to the point where it intimidated you.

Translucent, white scales that reflected rainbows of light...long, beautiful almond shaped eyes that were the color of the ocean. She was larger and brighter than Minho's dragon as well. Your father had been right...the Aer dragons were evolving quicker, somehow.

She was quiet and regal, her sleek body elegant and her demeanor refined. You didn’t really have much in common, to be honest. You’d named her Caeli- a name that wasn’t really all that creative, but it would do. Besides, it seemed to fit.

Minho looked at you, sighing slowly. "Aeracus seems hungry. Father will be expecting me soon anyway, I think I'll go home now, Y/n."

"Bye, Min."

He shot you a dashing grin before standing up, climbing his dragon.

As they left, a great whoosh of wind rustling your hair, you looked up at your dragon. She was staring at the water, her eyes narrowed.

You were starting to feel a little worried. You couldn’t exactly...hear her thoughts. She seemed too closed off, barely even looking at you as she blankly watched the frogs jump from one lilypad to the other. You didn’t feel that special bond everyone had been talking about for years, insisting to you that it would be a connection so profound you wouldn’t be able to live without it.

Did she not like you? You looked so average next to her ethereality, drab and plain as opposed to her stunning beauty.

You couldn’t blame her, really.

***

When Minho stood next to your dragon, the sight somehow made more sense. He was beautiful, and so was the creature next to him. They fit together perfectly.

Aeracus on the other hand, was slightly more average. He was majestic as well, but not on the same level as Caeli. You felt more at home riding him, somehow. Like...he was the one that was meant to be yours.

Of course, you wouldn’t ever tell anyone about this. It could be considered infidelity, even. Your father was disappointed enough in you as it was. Four years of training with Caeli, and you still weren’t able to channel her power into...anything. She just wouldn’t co-operate.

"There you go..." He finished slipping the harness onto Caeli, dusting off his hands as he came back over to you, giggling as Aeracus rubbed his big head against your side.

Minho raised his eyebrows at the display of affection. Aeracus was never that amicable to him. Yes, he listened to him...but that was about it. And yet, to you...he always noticed how the two of you seemed to have some sort of connection. He’d mentioned this to his father once, only to be called ridiculous.

Then again, he couldn’t blame the dragon for having a soft spot for you. Who wouldn’t?

“Hey...” He looked down at you as the dragon pulled away, ambling off to Caeli’s side. You glanced up slowly when Minho cleared his throat, leaning in a little as his fingers ran through your tresses. Your cheeks flushed, eyes widening slightly at his touch.

"A leaf. In your hair." He mumbled, throwing said leaf onto the ground as he stared into your eyes.

Your heart was thudding loudly in your chest as your gaze ran over his features, so close to your face. Fuck, he was so deathly handsome, even more so now that you were both almost adults. Puberty had treated him well.

A little too well.

The girls in the square swooning over Minho became a regular occurrence now. You couldn't even seem to go anywhere with your best friend, without having a mob of fangirls following closely.

When he was this close to you, it became overwhelmingly evident why his fans were so enamored by him. Lee Minho really was beautiful.

"Careful, a fly might make its nest in your mouth." He chuckled. "What's up, kitten? You look on edge."

That was the other thing. His latest habit of calling you pet names- the likes of which included princess and kitten- had come out of nowhere. He really seemed to enjoy making you blush. At times like this, you wished he would have just stuck with ‘star’.

“Nothing.” You stuttered, avoiding his eyes and choosing to focus your stare on the ground. Minho wasn’t in the mood for your shyness, though. He placed his finger under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him.

“You sure about that? Is there a reason you look so flustered right now?” He breathed, leaning in closer until your noses were brushing.

Oh, fuck you, Lee.

You'd always thought Minho was attractive. Of course. You'd be blind not to notice. And yet, at this proximity, you felt like you haven’t ever truly appreciated just how fucking hot the man in front of you was.

And so you did something you never thought you’d have the courage to do.

Leaning in, you closed the distance between the two of you, lips crashing against his. To Minho’s credit, he wasn’t all that shocked. Smirking against you, his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you closer, gluing your body to his.

Backing you up against a tree, Minho was quick to lift your thigh, slotting your hips together as he ran his tongue over your bottom lip.

A groan left you as he slid his hand under your shirt, pulling away to stare at you, the sight of your swollen lips affecting him in ways he couldn’t quite describe.

“What...what did we just-”

He shut you up with another kiss, rougher than the last one. Breathless pecks, desperately claiming you with his lips as he pressed himself against you.

“Just go with the flow, baby.”

And so you did.

***

As you carefully made your way down, your mind was racing with a million thoughts. The thought of seeing your boyfriend again after so many years scared you as much as it excited you. After all...it wasn’t like you parted on good terms.

You still remembered the heartbroken look on his face, the last time you saw him. You couldn’t tell him that you’d tried everything, tried your best to reason with your father who simply refused to budge. He’d expected you to do something more...but what?

It wasn’t his fault. It was a fucking accident, and yet he’d had to take the blame.

Deep down, though, you knew what your father’s real intentions had been when he banished Minho and his father from the village. Of course, Caeli’s death had shaken him- the entire village had been in a state of shock. The death of a dragon was the most tragic event that could possibly befall a village. And when said dragon happened to belong to the chief’s daughter? Shattering.

At the end of the day though, it was a convenient incident...one that happened to take place just as your father’s status was being questioned. A blessing in disguise, for him.

“It’s okay, my child. Yes, you suffered a great loss, but I know you weren’t that close to it. We must move on. On the bright side, you can focus on your studies now! Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted to do?”

You scoffed, his words repeating themselves in your brain. Bullshit. There was no bright side, nor would there ever be one without Minho in your life.

***

“There you are. Where were you?"

"I...was with Aeracus." You didn't see the point in lying. Your brain was too tired to come up with a believable fabrication anyway.

As expected, his face screwed up in anger as he glared, standing up.

"Why?" He hissed. "Let me remind you he is not your dragon. How many times have I told you not to get too close to it?"

"Aeracus and I have a bond." You mumbled.

"No. You don't. A bond is forged between a dragon and its owner by forces beyond our control. This measly 'friendship', if you can even call it that, is trivial. At the end of the day, it doesn't really belong to you. It belongs to the boy who betrayed you."

You couldn't bring yourself to react any more. Your father was old-fashioned, his opinions set in stone. ‘Betrayed’. You wanted to scoff.

You turned around without a word, heading for your room. There was no energy left in your body, yet the exhaustion was overpowered by your emotions.

"Y/n, wait."

You stopped, turning and looking at him. "What?"

"Your maids are waiting to dress you. Don't argue with them. You are to wear the outfit I picked out for you. Today's dinner is extremely important." He paused. "And...what I said before still stands. The dragon won't hesitate to betray you, especially now that his true owner is coming back. Be...be careful." Your father said quietly, his face softening.

You sighed. "I will be."

"Good."

He dismissed you. You heaved a sigh of relief under your breath and headed out, opening the door to your own room.

You would never admit this to your father, but as nervous as you were, you were secretly looking forward to the dinner. To see him again.

If you closed your eyes and immersed yourself deep enough into your imagination, you could still feel his touch ghosting along your thighs. His soft lips, pressing against yours.

You missed his voice, his tight hugs...you missed everything about him. You'd only ever felt safe in his arms.

The loneliness and pain had consumed you when he left. Maybe that's why you latched on to Aeracus, the last remnant of Minho in this village that seemed so much more dreary without his presence.

"Miss Y/n! We have no time to lose." Your head maid scurried about your room with two others, spreading out your dress on your bed. One of the maids- Sylvia, you think her name was- snuck up behind you and began undressing you. Yes, you were used to this, but the layer of urgency in the atmosphere was a lot more profound tonight.

The entire village was on edge, and you couldn’t really blame them. The first Elemental Championships, and they were being hosted at your village. The exhilaration was understandable...you couldn't bring yourself to feel the same way, though. Maybe if you were actually participating, you’d feel different.

You looked at the dress the maid was holding onto, initially without much interest...but your eyes widened when it came into view.

It was beautiful, yet simple...the color of spun gold, with tiny rubies clustered at the bodice. The sleeves fell of the shoulders delicately, and the material was diaphanous, the texture rich.

“Wow....Sylvia, you made this?”

“I did. It took me a year.” She smiled widely, your grin satisfying her. “Do you really like it, Miss Y/n?” There was a hopeful lilt to her voice, and your grin grew wider as they started helping you into it.

“Like it? I love it! You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

She nodded in content, lacing up the back as the other maids began on your makeup. Usually, you didn’t like being treated as a doll, your servants fussing over you and your appearance. Today, though...

You could barely believe the reflection you were seeing in the mirror belonged to you. You'd never felt so glamorous before.

“You look beautiful, Miss.” Sylvia said softly, adjusting your sleeves.

You couldn’t wait for Minho to see you in this dress.

“Ann?” Another servant’s head appeared around the corner. “It’s time. They will arrive any moment now.”

A flurry of anxious noises and exclamations filled the room as they worked on you faster. You took a deep breath in, your mind blank and full of thoughts at the same time.

***

You stood next to your father, hands clasped in front of you. Surreptitiously, you raised your hand to your forehead, wiping away a few drops of perspiration. It was happening, you were finally going to see Minho again. And if your father successfully manages to make amends with his- fuck, you were grinning just thinking about it.

The villagers standing behind you were all dressed in their best as well, and the lanterns shone brightly, washing over everything. The air was sparkling, the atmosphere charged with electricity. Everyone had their eyes trained on the sky, waiting for Minho’s people. The two other villages were to come tomorrow, according to the letters.

Four villages. All competing in the championship yours was hosting. It was nerve-wracking, the amount of people who would be crammed into your village, which was big enough, really- possibly the largest in the country- it still stressed you out, though. Since there weren’t enough guest houses to fit everyone, a lot of the visitors would be staying with your villagers, the chiefs and their families staying at your house. You were keenly aware of the fact that this meant Minho would be in the same living quarters as you. Your heart pounded at the prospect.

Later in the night, you were planning to sneak into his room, since you obviously wouldn’t be allowed to talk to him during the dinner. At least, you wouldn’t be able to communicate the things you so desperately wanted to say to him. Every part of you tingled as you thought about what you’d say to him.

You felt light as a feather as you stared at the starry sky, eyes widening slightly as you spotted the thousands of dots in the distance, flying closer. Anticipation and exhilaration mingled in you as you waited for them to arrive. Just the thought of feeling Minho pressed up against you again, whispering in your ear how much he loved you...it made you want to cry, almost. You’d waited for this moment for too long.

The conch shell was blown as they reached the edge of the forest. More than a thousand dragons, covered in finery, just like their riders.

Hmm. There were a lot more than you expected. You’d only been anticipating about a hundred, since it was only Minho’s village that was coming tonight. Or so you’d thought...

You turned your head to look at your father, letting the confusion show on your face. Noticing your expression, he shrugged. “It looks like all three decided to come tonight.”

You frowned, looking back at the dragons that were at the border now, preparing for landing. That was weird.

You observed the dragons that had landed, your eyebrows furrowing. Huh.

The three dragons at the front were a lot bulkier than the ones in the back. Darker colors, almost hulking muscles and narrow eyes. They looked like no dragon you’d ever seen before. The sight was almost unsettling. You felt a faint sense of dread spreading over you, a feeling you tried to push away as your eyes searched each dragon’s back for Minho.

You recognized Minho’s father right away. He was at the very front, along with two other old men on a green and blue dragon respectively, that you realized were the chiefs of the other two villages. Surprisingly though, Minho wasn’t sat behind him. You’d assumed it to be that way...after all, Minho’s dragon was still here. So where was he? Your eyebrows furrowed, not wanting to assume the worst right away. You wildly looked over them all, craning your neck slightly. You didn’t want to seem too eager, but it’s not like you could help yourself. Could anyone blame you? Here you were, about to meet the first and only person you’d ever fallen in love with, after years of yearning and loneliness.

As your father stepped forward, a smile on his face to greet the chiefs, you finally saw him.

For a minute, it was like you couldn’t breathe. He looked as beautiful as ever, his feline eyes twinkling, his dark hair exposing part of his smooth forehead. His hands gripped the reins so tightly his knuckles were white, and the way he sat on his dragon was regal, his expression confident and filled with determination. He was older, and somehow even more handsome than the last time you saw him. You didn’t even think that was possible.

You swallowed, your breath catching in your throat as his eyes finally met yours.

It was like time had ceased for a minute. You smiled slowly, happy tears pricking at your eyes as you took in his face.

He didn’t smile back.

And that’s when you noticed the pale arms wrapped around his waist. Confused, you watched as the chiefs dismounted the dragons, along with their heirs. Minho alighted from the dragon, helping down the woman who had been holding onto him. He held her hands gently, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead.

You felt like your whole world had collapsed, bile rising in your throat as you watched her giggle. You noticed she was dressed in blue, her clothing that of a heiress. As they approached, your eyes fell on the sparkling ring on her finger...one that matched Minho’s.

When his eyes looked into yours again, they were cold, just like your heart.

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tearsofgrace · 3 years

Text

the final rose: chapter 2

i wrote the next chapter only took me a million years

word count: 5.5k, tags: bachelorette, au, deancas fluff, cowboys

read on archive

Cas didn’t want to be here.

Well, that was a lie.

He wanted to be here… but he wasn’t an obsessed bastard like the rest of the guys here. He wasn’t gonna cheat and fake it to get ahead. He hadn’t even submitted a damn audition tape.

But he was here now, so he was gonna try. And Lisa seemed like a nice enough girl… maybe there was something there. And the guys, regardless of their questionable motives and outlooks on life, were miles beyond easy on the eyes. They were fucking hot.

The first rose ceremony had been a mixture of nerves and hope. He wasn’t exactly sure if he was hopeful of getting sent home or getting to stay, but either way, he was here now. And there was no going back (he could leave… but honestly the free food and nice house made it worth sticking around for just a little longer).

After they toasted, Lisa was whisked away and the producers briefed them on how the different rooms were assigned. Apparently, they weren’t even adult enough to decide their own sleeping arrangements, but he guessed they were probably doing it for the drama anyway.

There were five or six guys in every room. Which was just fine by him. Until it wasn’t.

A producer he didn’t know the name of led them up the stairs into the narrow hallway that led into several other bedrooms. He stood in front of one and called out five names.

“Benny, Harry, Cas, Nick, and, uh,” he glanced down at a clipboard before pointing behind Cas, “Dean. You guys are in this one.”

Cas felt his stomach drop but he kept his face set, there were still cameras on them, after all. Even at night. Even while they slept. Besides, he could deal with Nick, Benny, and even Dean for the short while it would take for them to get sent home. At least Harry wasn’t so bad.

The producer moved on and the rest of the guys followed him while Dean and Benny shuffled into the room, followed by the other three.

Cas walked to the center of the room where their suitcases lay waiting for them and grabbed his, barely sparing a glance at the rest of the guys before climbing onto the top bunk and falling back to stare at the ceiling.

When he forced himself to sit back up, Benny and Harry had claimed the other bunk bed and Nick had sprawled dramatically on the twin in the corner. Dean was just standing in the middle of the room glancing around dumbly.

He glared up at Benny who just shrugged and gestured at his claimed top bunk before jumping off it and rummaging through his suitcase.

“Looks like you’re with me, Winchester,” Cas said, keeping his voice neutral but seething underneath. When Dean looked up at him with barely concealed horror he hid a smile. Time to make the straight boys uncomfortable. “As long as I’m on top,” he added as an afterthought.

Dean just scoffed and grabbed his suitcases before shoving one under the bed and pulling a pair of gray sweats and a loose black t-shirt out.

The other guys moved sluggishly after him, sitting up and rubbing their eyes before getting a change of clothes out. He half expected them to sleep in their tuxes… at least they weren’t that sloppy.

There was only one bathroom on the whole second floor, which was maybe the stupidest part of the whole thing, so Benny, Nick, and Harry all got away to brush their teeth before all the other guys got there.

Cas climbed down from his bed and grabbed his suitcase, resisting the urge to look up at Dean. It was just them in the room now.

He was the exact kind of guy Cas had expected to find here. Arrogant, unfeeling, fuckboy vibes practically rolling off him. He was a dick. But Cas had plenty of experience with dicks.

He changed quickly, and he could almost feel Dean’s eyes burning into him until he looked up and Dean jerked his head away. Cas smirked and climbed back onto the bed, exhaustion seeping in.

Cas took deep breaths as the quiet sound of Dean’s clothes rustling filled the room. Then the bed shifted slightly as Dean settled in below him. With a sigh, he rolled over and pulled the blankets up closer around his neck. It was going to be a long couple of weeks.

He woke up late, looking around blurrily as the sun filtered in through the small window in the corner. He could see Nick, Benny, and Harry all fast asleep in the beds across from him, but when he pulled himself down the ladder (why had he chosen a top bunk again?) Dean’s bed was neatly made and empty.

Cas shrugged and grabbed some clothes from his suitcase before heading to the bathroom. Then he checked his watch, 8:07 am. Okay, so he hadn’t woken up that late.

By the time he was heading down the stairs, the smell of freshly brewed coffee was wafting up from the kitchen. His mouth watered and he rubbed his eyes as he wandered inside, ignoring the camera crew standing to the side and going over a clipboard.

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean said without looking up. “Chris is bringing by the first date card- God, that sounds stupid aloud,” Cas snorted in agreement, “Anyway, he’s bringing it by in an hour or so. I made some food. You hungry?”

Cas squinted, looking at the man in front of him. This isn’t what he’d expected from Dean. Maybe from Mick or even Benny… They seemed like they had their lives together. But Dean?

“What are you doing?” he finally asked.

Dean frowned, looking back to the stove where he was stirring some scrambled eggs. “Making breakfast.”

“Why are you up?” Cas asked, his head tilting further in confusion.

He thought he saw a shadow flit briefly across Dean’s face but before he could be sure, it was gone. “Always get up early. It’s how my dad raised me. Now, c’mon. Get some food.”

“Coffee first,” Cas said dryly, glancing back at the camera focused on them and pushing past Dean to the coffee pot.

The other guys trickled down slowly, clapping Dean on the back and helping themselves to eggs, bacon, and fresh coffee.

Dean took it all well, an easy smile on his face, and Cas felt a stab of jealousy. Pretty, a good cook, charismatic, must be a fun way to go through life.

Some of the guys went out to the pool area, walking around the grounds, but most of them stayed inside, trading meaningless conversation. Before long, one of the producers who had been directing the cameras all morning got the guys from outside and gathered everyone in the living room.

It’s all so fake, Cas thought bitterly, as the producers explained how there would be a knock on the door, Chris was coming to do the date card, blah blah blah. No one actually fell in love on this show. And if they did… then it was pure chance.

He tried to school his face, mindful of the cameras, and looked up expectantly when Chris knocked.

Gordon got up to get it and they watched him go, the forced conversation dying down.

“Gentleman,” Chris said, rubbing his hands together as he walked into the room. “How’s it going? Liking the house?”

Cas smiled and nodded with the rest of the guys, his eyes wandering around, staring pointlessly at the other contestants.

“And what do we think of Lisa?”

That got a bigger reaction, a murmur of conversation running through the room while a few guys got to say their piece.

Good for them, they’ll make it into the episode, even if they don’t get chosen for the date.

“Alright,” Chris said, after congratulating them all again, “Let’s talk about how this works. This week, there’ll be three dates. One group date, two one-on-one dates. If you get a rose on any of the dates, you’re safe. However, if you do not receive a rose on a one-on-one date, you will have to go home. Make the best of those. I have your first date card right here for the one-on-one.”

Most of the guys had been zoning out through Chris’ whole explanation. They knew how it worked. They didn’t need to watch him say the same words he’d said over and over every year. But at the last sentence, they all leaned forward expectantly as he pulled out a white envelope.

“So,” Chris went on, twirling the envelope in his hands, “Have an awesome week. Enjoy your time with Lisa…” he glanced off at the producers for a thumbs up to keep going, “And I hope to see you all at the next rose ceremony.”

He set the envelope on the table and they all stared, transfixed, as he left the room.

Garth, who was sitting closest to it, glanced up at the producers, seeking direction, but got none.

“Open it!” someone called.

After a second, Nick shoved past Garth and grabbed the envelope with a sneer. “I’ll do it.”

He pulled the card from the envelope slowly and Cas felt his hatred for this guy grow. He was looking around at everyone with a slight smirk touching the corners of his mouth, then he cleared his throat.

“Benny,” he started, and everyone turned to look at the lucky winner. “Why don’t you and me have a reel good time?”

Nick snorted and handed the card to Benny, barely bothering to look at him.

“Well, brother, you better go get ready,” Dean said, slapping him on the back.

Benny stood up, looking dazed, and wandered up to his room.

“Benny?” Michael said, voice dripping with scorn as soon as he left the room. “Like, seriously?”

“I know,” Nick agreed.

Everyone else sat in silence, looking uncomfortably at the cameras. Eventually, one of the guys whose name had completely slipped Cas’ mind stood up and followed Benny upstairs. After that, everyone dispersed, looking for something to do in this beautiful mansion with no Wi-Fi, no TV, and no connections to their friends.

Fun.

Dean went to the producers and started making a list of different foods he wanted ordered. Garth went and sat by the pool, dipping his feet in without even rolling up his jeans. And Cas? He went upstairs to find his book, the one form of entertainment allowed in.

He read all morning, already feeling like this was going to be the worst part. The waiting. The boredom. The constant cameras waiting for any sign of drama but mostly capturing the most mundane interactions that had ever happened on the planet.

Benny came downstairs and everyone briefly looked up and wished him luck before he was on his way.

And then they just waited, ate lunch--someone had ordered pizza. Ate dinner--still no sign of Benny. Of course not. These things took all day.

Some of the guys decided to stay up and wait to see if Benny got a rose or not. If they had one more person to worry about or not. But Cas was beat.

He moved towards the stairs and was stopped by a hand on his chest.

“So?”

He turned to see Anna staring at him, a clipboard in one hand and a headset dangling around her neck.

“What?” he asked.

“How’s it going?” a smile grew on her face.

“Good,” he said simply.

“Come on, Castiel,” she said, looking around. “You’re doing me a big favor, at least tell me you like it.”

“It’s going well. I’m glad I’m here,” he forced out, which seemed to satisfy her.

“Good,” she said, moving out of the way. He started up the stairs but stopped when she called after him, “And Castiel?”

“What?” he asked, keeping his voice neutral.

Her red hair glowed in the light of the mansion as her face softened. “Thanks for being here.”

“Of course,” he said quietly, before turning and heading up the stairs. “Of course,” he muttered again once she was out of earshot.

The next day came and Benny was still there, rose in hand, dazzling everyone with amazing stories of his night with Lisa. They’d gone to a real film studio and helped on set, then had a magical dinner in downtown LA.

Cas tried to find the part of himself that was jealous, that wanted that time with Lisa, but it wasn’t there yet. It would be… he was sure. Just not yet.

When the producers pulled him aside for an interview and asked him what getting on this groupdate would mean, he shrugged and said, “I don’t know.”

When they pressed for more information he fought the urge to roll his eyes before saying, “Time with Lisa matters to everyone right now. But a group date isn’t a one-on-one.”

Just then, the doorbell rang and they let him go meet the other guys in the living room, a few of them also trickling in from interviews. Garth went to get the card and stood at the front of the room, pulling everyone in with his magnetic yet ridiculous energy. Cas liked Garth. He was one of the only non-crazies in the house.

“Alright, who’s ready?” he asked playfully, greeted by a loud cheer. Once things had quieted down, he pulled the card out and started reading. “Castiel,” Cas smiled, high-fiving the guys around him with enthusiasm he didn’t really feel. “Gabe,” this should be fun, “Asa, Cole, Garth,” he pointed to himself with a broad grin, “Aaron, Michael, Dean,” Cas zoned out after that, staring fixedly into the faces of the guys around him.

All told, 14 guys were going on the date. 14 guys sharing time with Lisa. A recipe for the perfect night.

Cas refocused his attention on Garth, who had finished the list of names and was now flipping the card over to read the date aloud.

“Gentleman,” he started, and Cas wondered briefly if that was on the card or was Garth’s personal flair, “Let’s bare our souls. Love, Lisa.”

Confusion settled over the room and everyone around him chattered excitedly about what it could mean. What secrets they would have to tell. Cas glanced up at Anna who had a smile touching the corners of her mouth.

He’d seen enough seasons of this show to guess what it was. And he was not excited.

They all got ready upstairs, crowding into each other’s space, barely enough room for the cameras to invade their privacy. He hadn’t seen guys like this care this much about their appearance since he was in college. And even then… well, it wasn’t exactly guys like this

It took three limos to get them all there. Which seemed like an extravagant waste of money but hey, it looked good on camera and that was what counted.

No one really said anything on the ride. Made small talk, mostly. Not that there was much small talk left when they had no connection to the outside world. But there was something about the tiny interior of the limo, the cameras so close, that even at the producer’s leading questions the guys stayed quiet.

When they finally stepped out into the bright sunshine, Cas let out a sigh of relief.

Chuck was there waiting for them, and he gestured to a big building at the corner of the busy street they’d gotten off of and waved them forward, the whole time talking rapidly into the mic by his mouth.

All the guys started making their way over and Cas followed, glancing up briefly at the sign on the building. Squinting against the sun, he could make out the word “Nightclub” in big block letters.

Perfect. So it was what he thought.

He looked back toward the building and saw Lisa standing in front of the big double doors, a broad grin fixed to her face. Her smile was infectious, and he couldn’t help a small smile back as all the guys gathered around.

She exchanged a few words with a couple of them and then held her hands out to the building behind them.

“You guys excited?”

“Yeah!” Garth shouted from the back, throwing in a wolf whistle for good measure.

“Alright, alright,” Lisa laughed. “Anyone have a guess as to what we’re doing?”

Yep.

A hush fell over the group and Lisa laughed again. “Well, it’s gonna be super fun. And the best part is, it’s for charity.”

The group cheered and Cas cast a side-eye at the rest of the group, seeing only Michael not clapping. Dick.

“Anyway,” she said dramatically, her voice lowering as she turned toward the doors, “let’s find out what you got yourselves into.”

The room they followed her into was dark and smokey and blue and pink strobe lights lit up the whole space. Loud music was playing through the speakers and Cas had to lean forward to hear Lisa as she led them into the room and directed them into a line.

Then she turned toward a stage near the front and they all followed suit as the music stopped and the lights dimmed.

A new song started and the lights started up again, this time in sync with the song. As they all watched, a line of men in cowboy hats (and heeled boots too, figures) walked out to the front of the stage, matching the steps to the beat.

Yep, Cas thought bitterly. We’re gonna be baring it all.

The strippers on stage started their dance as the contestants started coming to life, realizing what was happening. Cas watched the stage for a minute--cowboys weren’t really his thing--then turned curiously to see the rest of the group’s reactions.

Most of them were looking incredulously at the stage, laughing nervously and cheering while their eyes opened to the fact that they were gonna be the ones up there soon enough.

But something in the back caught Cas’ eye and he peered closer, letting his eyes adjust to the lights and the smoke.

Dean was staring at the floor, color high in his cheeks, one hand raking through his hair as he shifted side-to-side. Cas glanced slowly from him up to the stage and a smirk slipped onto his face. Then Dean glanced up across the room, and for a split second, their eyes met.

Cas cleared his throat and looked away, trying to make it seem like his eyes had been slipping over the crowd of guys. Really saved that one.

Still. It was interesting. In an observationally interesting kind of way.

Cas filed the interaction away for future reference and turned his attention back to the stage, where the stri- dancers had finished their show to a huge cheer from the guys and Lisa.

Lisa walked out to the front of the group and gestured to a guy who’d come from some back room and was now standing next to her. His leather jacket was only done halfway up, showing his bare chest beneath. Cas nodded appreciatively as his eyes involuntarily moved up the guy’s body. This was more his style.

“Boys,” Lisa started, “I’d like you to meet my friend, Scott. He’s gonna be helping us out today.”

Scott nodded at her and turned to more fully face the guys. “Today, we’re going to be exposing you gentleman,” he paused briefly, glancing at the stage and smirking, “To the fine art of male exotic dancing.” Some of the braver guys in the group cheered again, but silence fell quickly. “Each of you will be performing on that stage later this afternoon. You’ll each have your own coach to help you, teach you the art.”

Lisa stepped forward and smiled warmly at them. “If you guys are a little nervous, that’s okay. This is about trust. It’s about showing me why you’re here, and showing me you can have a great time. I don’t expect you guys to be great at it,” the guys all chuckled here and she joined in, “But I expect you to have fun with it.”

“So,” Lisa’s smile widened and her eyes glinted, “Let’s get to some auditions!”

The guys cheered as Chuck stepped forward, clipboard in hand. “Alright,” he shouted over the crowd. “Everyone up on the stage. Get loose, we wanna see some good dancing up there. You have three minutes to show Lisa what you got, and then we’ll decide which routine you’ll be doing.”

The lights on the stage were bright, and Cas squinted up at them, resisting the urge to raise a hand. He could do this. He could do some stupid dance moves. He glanced over at Lisa, her head bent over a clipboard with Scott, a smile fixed to her face so natural she probably didn’t even know it was there. She was enjoying this. He could- he had to.

The audition song went by excruciatingly slowly, everyone busting out their cringey dance moves and making as much eye contact as possible with Lisa. Cas felt the awkwardness seeping through him and his heart rate kicked up. This was just the goddamn beginning part. He could fucking do this.

And then it stopped. Finally.

Lisa and Scott made a few more notes on the clipboard they were holding, glancing up once or twice at the guys and whispering without pointing.

Then Lisa walked forward with the clipboard in her hand. “Ready to find out how you’re stripping tonight?” she said playfully, winking at Michael who was standing in the front of the group.

The guys all clapped, clearly feeling an energy that Cas didn’t. His world was still spinning, the lights and smoke crowding into his brain and leaving little room for thought.

“There’ll be four different acts today,” Lisa went on. “Two groups of four--firemen and some policemen. One group of three, those guys will be robots. One duet for the cowboys. And,” she paused for effect, “One lucky gentleman will get to do a solo act all by himself as a bachelor!”

Another round of cheering and Lisa shushed them all by holding the clipboard high.

“Should I read the solo up to the groups of four, or the other way?” she asked seriously, looking over their heads at Chuck.

Before he could reply, though, Michael shouted, “Tell us who the solo guy is!”

This got a roar of approval from the guys so Lisa shrugged, glancing down at her clipboard as if to double check.

“The solo act… drumroll, please,” the guys all started hitting their hands on their knees and Cas focused on his breathing, looking down at the floor, away from the lights, the noise… “Garth!” Lisa announced triumphantly.

Everyone turned to look at him, slapping him on the back and grinning as he was ushered away but a coach.

“The duet…” everyone started the drumroll again without prompting, “goes to Dean and Castiel!”

Cas heard his name and looked up, trying to ignore the way everything was moving in slow motion around him. He nodded to the other guys mechanically and fixed a smile on his face, following the coach that took his arm and glancing back to see Dean walking behind him, his face flushed again.

Once they were out of the room, Cas’ mind started to clear a little more, and he looked around, blinking. He could do this. He’d be fine. Just a duet… at least he hadn’t gotten the solo act.

“Alright, my name’s Jay,” the coach said, slapping his hands together. He wasn’t bad looking, Cas mused softly, grounding himself more. “We have about an hour before you guys are supposed to get some sort of lunch, and then another two hours after that before call time. Which is plenty of time to learn about a two minute dance.”

Cas gulped and glanced at Dean, who had lost his flustered look and was standing with a cocky grin on his face.

“Let’s do this.”

The guy took them through the steps, and Cas’ mind settled, falling into the routine. The first half wasn’t that bad. Simple stuff, more about owning the move than skill, according to Jay.

But it was still fucking hard. Cas just wasn’t made to move like this. Not in front of a goddamn live audience. Even for charity.

Dean, on the other hand, was a natural. He made all of it look easy, like he’d been doing it his whole life. And he did the whole thing with a swagger in his step that Cas knew for a fact had to be fake… but it sure didn’t look it.

He kept turning to Cas and winking, giving him little pats on the back, hyping him up. And Cas didn’t want to admit it, but it did help… just a little bit.

After an hour, both Dean and Cas were whisked away by crewmembers for a few interview questions.

The questions were boring. How was he feeling? Some retroactive stuff like, what did he think when he walked in? How did Lisa look today?

Cas answered mechanically, trying to seem excited and not terrified out of his mind.

“And just one more,” Naomi said, tapping at her clipboard. “How’s working with Dean going?”

“Good,” Cas said immediately, the word ripped from his mouth. “Dean’s good at this stuff.”

Naomi just nodded distractedly and waved him away. “Right, right. Thanks, Castiel.”

Cas stood and went into the main stage area where a buffet had been set up. He made a beeline for some honey and toast and then left the room, not bothering to chat it up and see how the other guys were doing.

When he walked back into the rehearsal space, Dean was standing alone in the room, lifting up and examining the cowboy costumes layed out in the center.

Cas cleared his throat and Dean started, whipping around to face him. “Hello, Dean.” The costume dropped to the floor.

“Uh, hey, man.”

Cas took a bite of his toast and regarded him thoughtfully. “Cowboys?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean shrugged and looked down at the outfit. “Wild West was fu-” he glanced at the cameraman behind Cas, “Friggin’ awesome, dude. Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a Western?” he added with a lopsided grin.

“Just Brokeback Mountain,” Cas shot back.

Dean gulped and dropped his gaze. “I’ve never- I don’t know what that is.”

Before Cas could answer Ajay walked back in and pointed to the outfits laid out on the floor.

“Get changed. Bathroom’s down the hall to the right,” he sipped from the iced coffee in his hand and cocked his hip. “Then the real fun starts.”

In the bathroom, Cas slipped the thin material over his head, his chest starting to feel tight again. He made sure all the velcro was tight (he didn’t want it to slip before it was supposed to come off) and then walked out to the mirror where Dean stood waiting.

“Looking good, Cas,” Dean said, one eyebrow quirked up as his eyes tracked over Cas- no, over Cas’ clothes.

“What the hell are we doing?” Cas muttered, hoping it was quiet enough that the mic pack wouldn’t pick it up. There were no cameras in here, at least, thank God.

Dean frowned. “What?”

“I can’t- They’re making us strip, Dean,” he said pointedly, still keeping his voice a whisper. “In front of a bunch of strangers. In goddamn cowboy outfits. What the hell are we doing?”

Dean chuckled a little then stepped forward and reached up, straightening the bolo tie around Cas’ neck.

“We’re just having some fun. Remember why you’re here, man,” he added, before dropping a hand on Cas’ shoulder. He stayed there for a minute, their eyes meeting, and then he turned.

“C’mon, let’s go,” he tossed over his shoulder, pushing open the door.

“Let’s go,” Cas repeated, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He couldn’t tell anymore if it was from nerves or-

He shook off the thought and followed Dean through the door. He was fine. They got this.

The rest of the dance was even easier than the first half. Cas was starting to think he wasn’t going to make a total fool of himself when Jay turned off the music and spread his hands wide.

“Right. So now, we just got to learn the stripping part of it.”

Cas gulped, his eyes going wide. Jay pointed out the various releases on their clothing, tips for getting it off easily, and then left them to practice, his trained eyes watching them carefully.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Dean got the hang of it in like two seconds. The shirt came off and he whipped it in the air like a lasso before looking at Cas and blushing. Cas just stared back, eyes wide.

Dean let the shirt fall to his side, his eyes still fixed on Cas, a curious expression on his face. And Cas, he couldn’t help but stare back.

Then, from behind them, Jay cleared his throat.

Cas let his gaze slip slowly away from Dean and looked to Jay. His eyes were drifting back and forth between Dean and Cas, but after a second, his eyes landed permanently on Cas. “We need you to learn this too, Castiel. We only have about an hour until you guys need to be in hair and makeup.”

“Makeup?” They both turned to look at Dean.

“Yeah,” Jay continued, “Just simple stuff, makes you look better on stage. Now, c’mon. Let’s finish up here.”

Eventually, Cas got it. It wasn’t that difficult, the rip-away pants and shirt came right off. Dean’s eyes burned into him the whole time, and he pretended he didn’t notice. Pretended he didn’t see his eyes jerking away as soon as Cas looked up at him.

He could do this. He was never going to make hundreds in tips but maybe it was enough for an audience of Bachelor superfans.

Hair and makeup didn’t take long, the producers pulled them away for another round of interviews, and then they were standing with the other guys backstage waiting for the audience to trickle in.

A few of them were fidgeting nervously, but most of them were peaking past the wall, looking at where Lisa sat in the front row.

They were going second. Right after Garth, who had pulled Naomi to the side and asked to go first. Still, Cas was glad they were getting it over with. Better to go now when his heart was still beating then in about twenty minutes when it had stopped completely.

By the time Garth was waltzing out onto the stage, a grin that could be described nicely as goofy and more accurately as idiotic plastered to his face, Cas could barely think straight.

A song Cas didn’t know started playing and Garth opened the buttons on his bachelor costume ever so slightly as he got into his routine. Next to him, Dean chuckled appreciatively and whispered, “Werewolves in London. Good choice.”

Cas’ could only nod, the song became foggy and distant and the lights danced around him again. He felt his breathing pick up again and he looked down, blurry eyes making out his shaking hands.

Shit.

He didn’t know how much time passed. Didn’t notice himself swaying. Didn’t notice the camera guy getting closer to make sure he had a good shot.

And then he was falling.

The jerk of arms stopping his fall brought him back to the world, everything coming back into focus. Dean gripped his shoulders tightly and stood him up, pulling him away from the cameras, hiding at the back of the group.

“Hey, man,” Dean said urgently, his hands tightening briefly before dropping entirely. “It’s okay.”

Cas gulped and silently cursed. Great. Panic attack on national TV and in front of De- Lisa--check. His Bachelorette Bucket List was going great.

“I’m fine, Dean.”

“No you’re not,” Dean shot back immediately.

“It’s-”

One of the P.A.'s Cas didn’t know tapped the back of his shoulder and he whirled around.

“You guys are on in about thirty you need to-”

“Give us a damn second,” Dean cut in. “Look at me.”

Cas turned back to face him and took a deep breath.

“You sure you’re good? We don’t have to do this.”

Cas inhaled deeply again before letting it out. “Yes. I’m- I’ll be okay.”

Dean met his eyes for what felt like another ten minutes before finally nodding, the concern slipping from his face. “Then let’s fucking do it.”

He ignored the disapproving stare on the P.A.‘s face at his word-choice and led the way through the crowd and up the stairs.

Cas followed him, eyes on Dean’s back, too shaken to look anywhere else.

The music started up and they took the stage, the crowd going wild, Lisa in the front with a soft smile, her hands crossed over her legs as she leaned forward.

He glanced at Dean just one more time, and then turned to face the crowd.

Let’s fucking do this.

#destiel #fics #my fics #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #spn fan fiction #destiel fanfic #deancas fic #destiel fic #destiel ficlet #my writing #adding tag list later

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vegalocity · 3 years

Text

The pieces fall (Red Groom AU)

Basically i said to myself 'I need to finish this before i get too deep with the Animorphs stuff' and then realized this was the final chapter about halfway through lmao

TW: Death, blood, 'To The Pain' is retold in its entirety

Red Son was out of time.

He stalled as long as he could, bought as much time to drag the official ceremony on as possible But it was for naught. He heard the commotion outside, the demons shrieking in fear the booming voice that reminded him of the mercenary in Spider Queen's Employ, Spat the tea forced into his mouth in the Prince's face, and loudly cursed and raved, insisting not only that he did not consent to this, but also that this sham of a marriage would only last for the length of time it would take for his love to arrive.

His Noodle Boy would come for him, he'd crowed and bragged with all his might, and the Prince had insisted the futility of the hope, that his love was dead, and yet more lies, that he'd seen to it himself.

But he couldn't hide the fear behind his eyes and Red Son announced as much. He couldn't move with the cuffs restraining him, his hands throbbing in pain and a solid purple color from the restriction of blood flow, but he raged and rallied anyway, he was tempted to try and ruin the fine robes the servants had forced him into, to scorch them without a care to what injuries would be laid onto himself from it, but he didn't want to be in rags when his love crashed through the doors.

But then the ceremony was finished, despite his protests, and Red Son was out of time.

He struggled against the guards as they shuffled him through the halls, followed by the weak and fading demon king, but one final ditch plan formed in his head as the halls lit with flame and he was brought to the prince's rooms.

“I suppose I should apologize, demon king.” The frail creature turned to Red Son and he felt a strange sort of pity for the man. He seemed no longer aware of what year it was let alone the cruelty of his own offspring.

“What was that young fellow?”

“I'll have to be killing your son tonight, or I'll die instead. And you were probably a kind man before this curse destroyed your body and mind, so I felt I should tell you as much.” he placed a hand on the King's arm and he hummed absently as their paths diverged.

As then the door slammed shut behind him, and Red Son's last gambit had to be played. If he was fast and he burned hot enough he could do it. It would be a struggle to work around afterward, but if he could manage it and he had Xiaotian to help him work around it he could invent something to compensate by the end of the year.

Still, to cut ones own hands off to escape bindings and then murder their fiance was certainly going to be a challenge.

–

She saw him. For just a moment she saw the Macaque, the flash of dark fur, the curl of his tail, those six ears, those cruel amber eyes. She'd said what she'd been waiting to say for ten years, she held her head high and said the phrase that had kept her going for so long.

And he'd fled.

She'd parted form the group the second he'd left, racing through the corridors, breaking through doors, and following the faint sound of fading footsteps. Finally, Finally it was happening. Today was the day. The day she'd been waiting for for ten years. The day she finally walked up to the monster that ruined her life, the bastard that stole her father from her, the macaque that took everything from her before she was even a woman, and she finally made him pay.

She descended a staircase that lead deeper into the halls and a sharp pain pierced through her gut. Xiaojiao yelped and brought a hand to her side, she saw the dark fur for only a brief moment before she stumbled back, hand clasping over the- over the blade-

he'd thrown a knife at her and it had landed in side. She didn't think it pierced anything important, but she couldn't be sure. It felt like she'd been struck by lightning in one very small localized area. Warm blood quickly soaking through her shirt and staining her hand.

It wasn't that her legs weren't working anymore, but they refused to obey her as her back hit the wall and her knees turned to jelly. She slid until her bottom brushed the stairwell behind her.

Ten years.

And she was a sitting duck. The Macaque could kill her in one swipe of that wretched spiked staff of his and she'd die a failure.

“I'm sorry father-” she muttered softly to herself. “I tried.”

“Hang on, I recognize that sword.” The Macaque's smarmy voice broke through her thoughts. “You're that dragon girl aren't you?” He whistled lowly. “It's been what, ten years?” slowly she watched the monster approach. “Have you been tracing me your whole life?” He laughed, a cruel cold thing. “and right on the precipice of victory you die here, bleeding out from a stomach wound. Pathetic.” he leaned against a table, ready to host the banquet for the wedding that would never come now. “Honestly that's hilarious.”

her fist tightened over the handle in her stomach.

–

He needed to be quick, he only had a little time before the Prince came in to end him, and with his hands so useless already he would just need to stop the bleeding which would be a snap once he had his fire back.

But he needed something sharp first. His hands gave dull throbs of pain whenever he tried to force the sluggish digits to move but eventually through his rummaging through the nearby work desk he found a small silver dagger, likely the one the prince was planning on using to kill him later on. He'd have to brace the knife on something to get both of his hands and if he passed out in pain he was as good as dead.

Soon enough he pulled together a brace on the worktable, and went about steadying his left hand first, if he was quick he could pass it right through cleanly and-

“You know there's kind of a shortage on perfect hands, It'd be kind of a shame to waste such beauty as yours.” a voice cut through his thoughts.

A familiar voice. But a kindly one.

His heart leaped into his throat and he felt his face turn red as he turned to find Xiaotian, a little beaten up and still in his False Monkey King garb laying on the bedding as if this were any day back on his mountain. Red Son wondered just how long his love had been there, watching him plotting out and trying to carry out his own dismemberment, and Red Son hadn't noticed. It would have been embarrassing if he bothered to care.

But he didn't, he cared far more about seeing his beloved again and ignored the pain in his hands as he fell on top of Xiaotian in the bed, barely able to get his name out before Red Son was kissing him. The uncertainty that the prince had placed in his mind burning away in and instant as he felt Xiaotian move against him he was kissing him back, he wasn't angry or upset-

But he wasn't returning the embrace.

Red Son pulled himself away from that perfect mouth just long enough to smile and mumble a small teasing comment. “Is this your revenge for leaving you waiting? Must I beg just to get you to hold me?”

“Ah-” Xiaotian sounded pained, but when Red Son let up properly any trace of discomfort was gone. “No, it's just a bit complicated.” But there were other pressing matters.

“I just need a moment my love, no matter if I'd love nothing more than to run off with you, I wasn't able to stop the Prince from forcing things to fall in his way.” It was a rock in his gut to consider, especially how without the use of his hands he'd need to somehow pull a victory against a demon prince in his own mountain but-

“If we want to be together this farce of a marriage needs to be made defunct.”

“Well did you consent to it?” That gave him pause.

“Huh?”

“The marriage, did you give consent to it?”

“Of course not!” his temper flared for a moment only to be immediately quelled by the small adoring grin Xiaotian hadn't stopped looking at him with. “I spent the whole time rejecting the whole thing, loudly. Violently. Buying time for you to break the ceremony up, wonderful timing by the way Noodle Boy, I was just about to chop my own hands off if you hadn't noticed.”

“I did actually. Horrifying. But crafty.”

“But what does my consent have to do with it, that's not how demons work things out-”

“Maybe, but it means more when its demons marrying each other.” His gaze flickered to a place just over Red Son's shoulder. “Wouldn't you agree, your highness?”

a thin blade rested on Red Son's shoulder. “A mistake that shall never be repeated, 'Monkey King'” the Prince hissed, breath hot and far too close to Red Son's ear.

–

“Are- Are you still trying to fight?” Her knees felt like they were about to give in, and her hands were shaking, but she was able to pull the blade from her side and raise her sword again. “Wow you're obsessed!” The macaque crowed, before finally taking out his staff. “That's gonna get you into trouble some day.” he sent the head of the staff for her face, child's play, the flat of her sword hit it right before impact and pushed it to the side, one half of her hair was taken down from its updo, the stone cracked beside her head.

But her skull wasn't smashed in.

The Macaque pulled away and made another lunge. He was rusty. How long had it been since he'd actually fought anyone? She made the next jab skew to the other side, her hair now fully released from its former ties, the wall behind her now a pile of rubble.

It seemed the Macaque realized she wasn't an easy kill because he started to properly wield his staff again.

His form was sloppy. Strikingly easy to counter, even with the fact that she was stumbling forward, free hand buried in her clothes to try and stop the bleeding in her side as she fought.

She opened her mouth, and she wanted to say something witty, but she couldn't think of any words to say at all, her entire mind was turning to white noise, save the one thing she'd been carrying with her for a decade.

“Hello, my name is Long Xiaojiao. You killed my father, prepare to die.”

Her side gave another throb and she caught herself on a nearby table. The Macaque spurred forward to try and capitalize on the opening.

The bench below splintered into pieces and she forced him back a few steps. “Hello, my name is Long Xiaojiao. You killed my father, prepare to die.”

“I heard you the first time!” The macaque grunted as he swung forward again.

Child's play.

Somewhere along the line, she'd surpassed him.

“Hello! My name is Long Xiaojiao! You killed my father! Prepare to die!”

“Stop saying that!” The Macaque growled, he was getting flustered. Good.

He made another jab at her, this time when she parried her blade met flesh and struck a line across his cheek.

“Hello! My name is Long Xiaojiao! You Killed my father! Prepare to die!” She crowed, now she had him on the ropes, when she moved forward and struck he'd have to move back to not risk being hit again. She could corral him. Her blade landed again, this time along the Macaque's knuckles, and his staff clattered to the ground. The tip of the jade blade tore into his shoulder, right in the place her scar was.

She only ever told people the first part of how she would picture this to go. And sure it wasn't perfect, she didn't expect to nearly die right out the gate, but it didn't need to be.

It just needed this.

“Offer me money.” She pointed the blade to his nose. He was without a weapon and if he tried any tricks she could run him through before they were completed.

“Three mountains full, all yours.”

“Power too, offer that.”

“All that I have and more.”

She leaned back just a hair, not enough to give him any room to work, but just enough to gesture. “Offer me anything I want in the world.”

The Macaque seemed to know where this was going, and whether he had a backup plan in mind she didn't care. “Anything.” He made one last lunge forward to try and grab her.

A grip on a sleeve, a jerk forward, the warm blood dripping down her sword.

“I want my father back you son of a bitch.”

When the Macaque's body fell she didn't... feel much relief. A little, the release of tension of a confrontation, the knowledge that she hadn't wasted her life.

But no revelations, no great euphoria or deep happiness at finally avenging her family. Her side was still bleeding, and the scar on her shoulder was never going to fade.

She began to stumble forward through the pain. She'd lost Sandy some hallways back, and they'd left Xiaotian high and dry, she needed to find them or they'd never get out of this damned mountain.

–

“Now beloved, you may want to remove yourself from this charlatan before I'm forced to do something you'll regret.” Red Son glared over his shoulder at the prince, but he gazed impassively back at him, and flicked the tip of his ear. There was a small zing of pain and suddenly the side of his face was very warm. Xiaotian hissed through his teeth at the Prince, but Red Son did as asked.

Once again parting him from his love because he had no choice but to trust a liar to be telling the truth.

“I should have had your body tossed in the forest when I had you killed. I never liked Six Ears' machine.” The Prince huffs. “But nonetheless it'll be more rewarding to kill my husband's lover first and THEN my husband. And hey! I won't even need your parent's army beloved! The Monkey King will be dead and Flower Fruit Mountain ripe for the picking!” The Prince crowed. “So, Qi Xiaotian, to the death?”

“To the pain.” Xiaotian didn't even flinch. Despite the fact that Red Son had never heard of such a duel condition.

Apparently nor had the prince, “I'm not sure if I'm familiar with that one.”

“I'll explain, and I'll use small words so you can understand you slug faced warmongering buffoon.” The tone in his Xiaotian's voice was unlike anything Red Son had ever heard, even when he was still masquerading as the Monkey King. It was severe, cold, yet ruthless. The unrelenting force of a blizzard.

“That may be the first time in my life someone below my status has insulted me.” The Prince turned a very strange shade of violet.

“Well it won't be the last. 'To the pain' means that once I defeat you, which I will, first you lose your feet, just below the ankles.” Xiaotian held direct eye contact with the Prince and Red Son found himself unable to look away. “Then your hands at the wrists, next your nose-”

“Then my tongue I assume? I killed you too quickly the last time, an error I will not be repeating.” The Prince reared back with his sword and Red Son made a grab for the knife he'd had before, but when Xiaotian spoke up again the prince stopped.

“I wasn't finished! The next thing you lose Is your right eye, followed quickly by your left!”

“And then my ears I get the picture! Let's get on with it!” The Prince was losing his temper fast, Red Son needed to act quickly. He couldn't torch the prince and hope it would be enough to break his cuffs, but he could barely hold the knife he'd dived for let alone be able to wield it with any force.

“Wrong!” Xiaotian interrupted, his face still the picture of determined calm. “Your ears you keep! And I'll tell you why!” The Prince was stopped again, and Red Son figured if he could put enough weight into his grip he could probably disarm him on his own at the moment. And another wave of frustration washed over him at the realization that he certainly couldn't put enough weight into his grip.

“-So that every shriek of every child dismayed by your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every maiden that cries out 'Heavens above what is that THING' Will be heard oh-so perfectly, in your untouched ears.” He huffed a small laugh. “That is what 'to the pain' means, it means I leave you in Anguish. Alone in your head with naught but the screams you've long since deserved forever.”

There was a pause as the Prince processed the threat. “You're bluffing.”

“It's possible, worm.” Xiaotian responded. “I could be bluffing. It's conceivable you miserable odious mass.” 'Odious' what kind of vocabulary did his love learn while becoming the false Monkey King? “I could be lying here because I lack the strength to stand. But then again, would you like to take that chance?” slowly, as though he were in great pain, Xiaotian began to sit up, and from there stand. He lifted his staff from its position leaning against the bed frame, and pointed the end to the Prince's nose.

“Drop your sword.”

it clattered to the ground.

“Undo the cuffs on Red Son's wrists.” a quick spell and a gesture and the golden bands clattered to the ground. A fierce pain jolted through either of Red Son's hands as the blood was finally allowed to start traveling back through them.

“Have a seat.” The Prince stumbled into a chair and Xiaotian glanced over at him.

“Can you tie anything?” his fingers curled painfully but he could probably manage, so he nodded and only then noticed the coiled up rope beside Xiaotian's former resting place.

“When did you get that?”

“You never know when you need rope.” All the same he tied the prince up firmly, excepting on the wrists that he tied to the armrests of the chair, those he tied as tightly as possible.

See if he liked watching his hands turn purple.

Just about as Red Son was done restraining the prince the sound of approaching footsteps came near, and with a flash of green (well, green stained red) he recognized the Swordsman mercenary.

She looked around at the lot of them and then her gaze settled on Xiaotian. “Where's Sandy?”

“He took of with you!” Xiaotian countered.

“Yeah but then he said he'd double back!”

“Well-!” Xiaotian cut himself off with a surprised yelp as his body pitched to the side, Red Son of course was there to catch him.

“Quick on the draw Red Boy.” The Swordsman hummed “Was that just reflex?”

He didn't pay her any mind. “Xiaotian what happened are you alright?”

“I'll be fine.”

“He was mostly dead all day, his body's completely zapped of strength.” The Swordsman countered.

“You've been dead?!”

“Mostly dead!” Xiaotian corrected as if that made any difference.

“Ha!” The Prince cackled. “I knew you were bluffing!” The Swordsman had zero patience for him though as that was enough for her to press her sword to his nose. “I knew he was bluffing.” The Prince repeated far more sedate.

“Xiaojiao! Xiaojiao can you hear me?” a voice calling from the window broke up all the near forming arguments, and though ti took Red Son a little finagling to ensure he had a proper grip on Xiaotian despite his hands not wanting to grip much of anything right now, the three made their way to the window peeking out the side of the mountain only for Red Son to see the large mercenary waiting below with a small gaggle of horses.

“Ah! Xiaojiao! There you are! I was trying to make my way back to Xiaotian and I ended up in the Prince's stables! The poor things deserve to have better keepers I think! I figured I'd take four of them, since there would be four of us when we found the Red Prince.” Sandy's eyes flickered to Red Son. “Oh, Hello Red Prince!”

“Nice job Sandy!” the Swordsman (Xiaojiao apparently) cheered. “Think you can catch some projectiles?”

“Of course!”

the large mercenary (Sandy) positioned himself below the mountainside, ready to catch any and all of them, and Red Son could remember, vividly, just how adept he was at such physical performances.

“well, royalty first.” Xiaojiao turned to him and gestured. Which, whatever. Though his hands gave another painful throb, he climbed onto the windowsill and jumped. The air was cool as it whipped against him.

–

“You know, it's funny.”

“What is?”

“I killed the Six Eared Macaque and now... I'm not sure what else to do. I've been in the revenge business so long, I don't know if I have anything else of value to try out.”

“Would you like to try leading? I could use a captain I can trust back on Flower Fruit Mountain.”

Xiaojiao shrugged.

–

“Oh, well you don't wanna hear this. The end I suppose.”

“What? Why are you stopping if it's not the end?”

“Well you were very specific about not wanting to hear about the kissing stuff, I don't want to gross you out or anything little one.”

“Well... Maybe I... won't super mind... if it's the ending. But only because it's the ending!”

–

It took a week's travel for the four to enter truly safe territory. To come into the lands of Flower Fruit Mountain and be greeted by the armies of demon monkeys that Xiaotian called his people.

They were finally safe, and Red Son recalled that he'd promised himself to wait until such a time came before he allowed himself to drown again in the ardor of having his love back, but now that it came, he found he simply wasn't as deliriously giddy as he once was. The stresses that had mounted between Xiaotian's return and now had dampened the mood, though his hands no longer ached and strength had returned to Xiaotian's body, they'd both been through so much stress there simply wasn't the space in either of their heads to be anything but focused on reaching their destination.

Of course Red Son had curled up next to his love every night around the campfire the Swordsman- That Xiaojiao would light and tend to, but there was nothing but relief in his body, bone deep, weary relief.

But now they were safe, and Red Son simply couldn't muster up the energy. He should have been jittery and excited to be alone with his love, but honestly he'd just wanted to bathe and eat something beyond travel rations.

Then the dirt and sweat had been washed away and their bellies were full of fruit and what few savory dishes Xiaotian had taught his monkeys to make, and Sandy and Xiaojiao shared a sly grin before going to explore 'the guest bedrooms' in Xiaotian's iron palace behind the watercurtian, and he was alone with his love.

And he felt like he should do something, yet nothing was coming to mind. They were safe, Xiaotian was alive and right here, and they could finally be together in the open, and Red Son felt such a fool for the fact that he didn't know how to proceed.

Xiaotian scooted closer to him and placed an arm around his shoulders, tugging Red Son to the side until he was leaned up against him.

“Red Son.” His voice was a low rumble that vibrated through Red Son's chest.

“Xiaotian.” he responded simply.

He might not have known what to do, but Xiaotian it seemed did. He reached over to gently cup Red Son's face with a hand, and brought him close.

There have been more love stories on this earth than we have time to ever recount in their entirety, but every story has in it a kiss. A soft, loving kiss, a kiss of relief and thankfulness and passion as the hard part was finally over.

It has been said that in the upper echelons of these kisses, that the one shared between Red Son and Qi Xiaotian in that moment, blew them all out of the water.

Tomorrow would come, and Red Son would sent missive to his parents explaining the situation, and Xiaotian would prepare a message to be sent to his own fathers, and they'd spend the next few days bracing for impact.

But tonight was theirs.

And though struggles were certainly on their way, all in all, their lives were finally on the path to be together.

And to live happily ever after.

–

“-The end. Now I think you should be getting to sleep.”

“Okay....”

“Welp, get better soon little one. So long.”

“....Grandpa Sun?.... Maybe you could come over tomorrow too? I could teach you how to play my game?”

“Heh, As you wish.”

#Spicynoodleshipping #Red Groom AU #Monkie Kid #lmk #Qi Xiaotian #lmk Red Son #Long Xiaojiao #lmk Sandy #Princess Bride AU #lmk Six eared macaque #Yes I know Six Ears went out like a punk shut up thats how Count Rugen dies this is an AU #Vega writes stories too #I said to myself 'no animorphs until Princess Bride is done'#and then Princess Bride got pounded out immediately #....I should hold my fics hostage in my head like that more often talk about results lmao

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uweiy · 3 years

Text

The Mark/Ouwen Sickfic no one asked for pt. 4

(aka Not an Exact Science on ao3)

pt. 1/pt.2/pt. 3

"I kissed Ouwen." Mark tells Hsuan Yu over coffee.

Hsuan Yu is still mixing his own cup, facing away from Mark

"Hmm."

"And it was nice. Really really nice." Mark adds.

"That's great Mark."

Mark simply observes, and catches the exact moment his words arrive at Hsuan Yu's brain.

"Wait. Waaaaaaiiiiiit."

Hsuan turns his upper body towards Mark.

"Dai Ouwen ? You– ?"

"Mh mmhh."

A beat.

"Huh. I guess that makes sense."

Mark frowns.

"What do you mean it makes sense ?? Nothing makes sense."

Hsuan Yu looks at him like he's trying to figure out exactly what Mark is missing.

Mark had hoped Hsuan Yu could enlighten him, but clearly he hadn't understood the depth of the situation, so Mark was not the one missing something.

"He is a great person." Huan Yu simply says.

"Right." Whatever Mark had planned to say, that he has to agree with first. "He's always so cool and calm and dependable. And he tries to pretend like he's not nice but he's really nice. Let me tell you, he has such a soft side to him, I have never seen him refuse anyone anything."

He thinks a bit.

"I don't want him to get taken advantage of because of that. Like what happened with his ex ya know ?'

Huan Yu just nods, a sly smile making its way into his face "Mmhmh." Mark doesn't like it.

"What."

Hsuan Yu settles on the counter, bringing his face closer to Mark's so as to look at him straight into the eyes. His gaze makes Mark uncomfortable and he shifts in his seat.

"What."

"You. Like. him." Hsuan Yu enunciates.

"Ayyy ?? No way." Mark frowns, retreating proportionately to Hsuan Yu's forward movement.

"Seriously." Hsuan Yu starts counting on his fingers.

"1. You want his attention. All the time. Seriously I never see you around as much as when he is here. 2. You want to take care of him. You just said so." He adds when Mark opens his mouth to protest.

"3. You get jealous."

"Jealous ?? I don't get jealous."

"Imagine someone else asks him out. You would be totally fine with it ?"

"Of course." Mark shrugs. "As long as it's not an asshole like his ex. But hey Ouwen would still hang out with me right ? And he has to find someone that makes him eat his vitamins. Oh and did I mention, not an asshole like his ex ? But good men are hard to find... Actually maybe he shouldn't date, it's safer that way."

He nods at his own wise words.

Hsuan Yu looks at him in awe but also like he's questioning what the fuck he's seeing. He gestures with his hands.

"Okay but suppose he does. Would you be totally okay with him kissing someone else ?"

Mark tries to picture it. Ouwen kissing someone, that is not him.

"They shouldn't do it in front of me.' he says finally

"Why ?"

"I don't like it."

"Why ?"

"Because... Because..." He struggles to find an explanation. Two men kissing is weird right ?? Definitely weird.

Why then was it that he didn't mind one bit when it was him kissing Ouwen. Why was it that he had wanted to keep doing it ? Why was it that when he tried to picture Ouwen with someone he very badly wanted the person at Ouwen's side to be hi–'

"Oh."

Huan Yu snaps his fingers at Mark "Aaaaand there we have it."

He gets up and clasps Mark on the shoulder as he walks past him." You'll have to excuse me, I have some clients to take care of. But–" He says into Mark's ear "–seems like you, my friend, have some thinking to do."

And leaves a pretty dumbfounded Mark behind.

___

Ouwen sits up slowly, looking away from Mark so as to conceal his eyes which are frantically darting from side to side.

What. What. What what what–

For all the thinking that he does. He hadn't envisioned that. At all.

His heart is now beating way too loudly and he feels a complicated mix of emotions rising, among which something that resembles hope.

It could be a joke. But Mark is not that cruel.

The only option left was that Mark truly believed that–

I think I like you.

Ah.

Ouwen remembers then, that it's Mark. and suddenly his stomach weighs a thousand pounds.

"Ouwen ?" Mark says from behind him.

Ouwen tries gather his thoughts. He turns towards Mark and smiles sadly.

"I'm flattered." Ouwen hears himself say, and it sounds wrong, even to his own ears. "but maybe you would like to think about it again ?

"It's something that is quite common among our clients, actually. It's easy to have a passing infatuation with someone that is both new in your life, and you consistently encounter. However, objectively, we are very different people. You can understand how this doesn't give a solid basis for a relationship. Ehm. If that is. What you want."

Briefly lost himself there. And pulls himself together. He can do this. It's his job after all.

"A few weeks ago you were I quote 'obsessed' with Joanna. And before Joanna, it was someone else. One of the reasons for that could be that you are still unsure of searching what you are looking for in a partner ?

"In any case, you're probably going to change your mind in a few weeks–"

Because if when he changes his mind, Mark would be able to just go on with his life while Ouwen's heart would shatter in a million pieces and he'd be left alone to pick them up. Ouwen would like to spare himself some trauma thank you very much and just wait for whatever Mark thinks he feels to go away.

"–And I don't want it to be awkward between us when you do." That would suck, for lack of a better term.

Mark listens with wide eyes a and slightly bewildered expression as he seems to take in what Ouwen is saying.

So Ouwen adds, as gently as he possibly can, even if he doesn't really want to, even if it twists some part of his gut

"You're. You are special to me so, we can just pretend this never happened. I would really like for us to keep being friends."

Mark's brow furrow lightly and he lowers his eyes. Ouwen thinks he might have gotten through to him when Marks looks up at Ouwen again.

"You didn't say you didn't like me."

Ouwen huffs in frustration. "Did you hear what I just said ? That's not what it is about. And whether I like you or not has only little to do with the situation."

"Of course it does ! If you don't like me... I learned my lesson you know. There's nothing I can do."

He looks somewhat like a kicked puppy and Ouwen has to resist the overwhelming urge to comfort him.

"But if you do like me at least a little, I'll definitely make you give me a chance."

Suddenly Ouwen doesn't know what to say anymore.

"How sure are you ?" He asks before he can stop himself.

"Eh ?"

"That you like me. You said you 'think' you like me. I can't... I can't.... if you're not sure."

"Oh come on." Mark whines. "It just sounded less pathetic than 'I really like you and I really don't know what I'm going to do if you don't like me back'. Do you know how hard that was to say by the way ? 'Flattered' this, 'Passing infatuation' that. I know I date easily, but I haven't told anyone that before."

Ouwen does feel a bit like an asshole then.

"You haven't ?"

"Except maybe one girl in like second grade but that doesn't count. Anyway, haven't said it to anyone, y'know, seriously. I–" He pauses. blushes. Then seems to come to a decision.

"I had never fallen for a man before so maybe that's why I didn't– Or maybe I had but y'know... couldn't accept it or whatever. Hsuan Yu helped and yeah...well. In any case, I'm glad it's you." He runs his hand through his hair.

"Whatever, what I'm trying to say is... Yeah I'm sure."

Even though Ouwen has had a bit of trouble following the jumble of Mark's sentences, he said the latter part with a certainty that leaves Ouwen speechless.

Mark presses. "So, just tell me. Do you like me or not ?"

Ouwen can tell for sure that it's sincere. Mark likes him, and he's fine with it. Even comfortable with it, in a way Ouwen would not have thought possible.

"Dai Ouwen. If you're asking, that means you do right ? I think you do."

Finally, it bursts out of Ouwen.

"Yes. Yes okay ?? I like you. "

"Really ??"

"I just said so didn't I." Ouwen sighs. "You can stop asking now." Mark laid his heart open on the table there. Ouwen figures the least he can do is be honest.

Mark exhales

"Oh thank god."

And kisses him. He withdraws pretty quickly.

It's not much of a kiss, compared to the one they've shared before. Just a brief press of lips, as if to reassure himself, to make it tangible. Ouwen's stomach still does a backflip.

"We can figure out the rest together, right ?"

Mark sounds hopeful and bit cautious and when has Ouwen ever been able to refuse him anything ?

"Okay."

He must be crazy. This makes no sense. This is not safe, unpredictable and definitely not a match that their company would have suggested. He's not sure he wants to know what their compatibility tests would say but frankly, in that precise moment, he doesn't care.

"I really, really want to kiss you again right now." Mark says, still looking a bit dazed. He didn't move out of Ouwen's space, hovering inches away from Ouwen's lips.

Ouwen half heartedly tries to push him away

"I'm still sick."

Mark barely seems to register it.

"Eh. At worst I'll take a sick leave too." He answers absent mindedly before he moves forward and just like last time they instantly click– and Ouwen's mind goes blank. His fingers curl on Mark's biceps.

Mark pushes further into him until he has him lying on the couch, and all further protests –and reservations and doubts Ouwen might have had– just scatter away.

Maybe this is not such a terrible decision afterall.

___

"Mark" Ouwen hums against Mark's clavicle, as they are both comfortably sprawled on the couch, one of Mark's hands running up and down Ouwen's back.

"Mmh ?"

"Thank you."

"Eh ? What for ?"

"Just... For being there. And for the soup."

"Ah, it's nothing."

Mark thinks for a bit "You know I didn't do it just so would agree to date me right ? I just wanted you to get well."

"I know, I know." Ouwen quickly assures him. Mark really just is that kind of person. He probably would have done the same for like, Hsuan Yu. "Do you have the recipe ?"

"Oh... You know it's just... chicken... Some onions... Whatever, making soup is not an exact science. If it's nice that's what counts right ?"

Ouwen blinks. He might be stretching but somehow Mark's words hit a deeper topic than just... soup.

Ouwen smiles, feeling a lot lighter. "Who knows. Maybe you're right."

Mark looks at him quizzically.

"That is one uncharacteristic answer? Anyway, Just ask me when you want some I'll make another one for you."

"Wow. You really just winged it."

"Yep."

Mark is silent for a few seconds. Then he says, quietly.

"It is what I want, by the way."

"What ?"

"A relationship."

Ouwen props his chin up and smiles. His cheeks will hurt if he keeps smiling like this but he can't help it.

"Okay."

Then after a few seconds. "Still. Give me a recipe for the soup. What if we break up ?"

"Dai Ouwen. You finally agreed to be with me and you're talking about a break up already ?" Ouwen hears how whiny Mark's voice is and can't help but chuckle. Messing with Mark is guaranteed to work.

Ouwen nuzzles against Mark's neck again. "Mhh. You never know."

Marks hand is still stroking his back.

"Nonsense. Just go to sleep."

Ouwen does.

___

Previous/Epilogue

A.N : IDK why writing this was so hard. I tried to finish and wrap up nicely all the insecurities that came up in previous parts and such... And maybe it makes more sense with the little changes I made/I added on ao3, though I tried to make it so it tied nicely with the versions here as well. And for some reason Mark and Ouwen's inner voices are really hard to find for me. Anyway, there will be a teeny tiny epilogue :)

I'll upload it on ao3 tomorrow –since I haven't caught up there yet– so I hope it won't seem as long there...

#you can also read part 1 to 3 on ao3 if you prefer #love is science?#mark/ou wen #taiwanese drama #twdrama #taiwan drama #戀愛是科學 #lian ai shi ke xue #laskx #a brief summary could be #mark needed to think and ouwen needs to think less lol #holy shit I hadn't noticed how much longer than the others this one was #the others are like nice bit sized parts while this one is like a devil-spawn's word scribble lol

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intotherumiverse · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: I’m still on my fae bull shit so yee have fun with this ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: blood, violence, pov changes ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ: @lilsparkyswife, a brief mention of @katsumiiii ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.9k

Yvonne’s Pov

The Summer Court was known for a lot of things. Yes, we did the dirty work for people who didn’t want to be seen doing it. We lied for liars, stole for stealers, and cheated cheaters. But we were big on loyalty. I mean if we couldn’t trust one of our own, who could we trust? But driving back home, knowing what we had to tell Bakugou….

Maybe it was better if we lied.

We found him training. Sweat dripped down his face as more and more holograms blur around him. His muscles tighten in frustration as the holograms look like they are about to win. Power training was something I always hated. We were already fast and strong, why work yourself to the bone to gain some other ability. But some people did it, Like (Y/n), but others have tried every day to improve themselves to no avail. All of us has given up at some point, Bakugou was just a matter of time.

The hologram knocked his sword out o his hand, and he glances at it as if something miraculous was going to happen. When he realizes nothing is happening, he lets out a grunt of anger.

“He’s rarely happy anymore,” I think to myself. “ Well, it wasn’t unusual, well for Bakugou at least, but his obsession was going a bit too far”

“Good luck with him,” Mina says while Mira walks away.

“If you live we’ll see you in the meeting room. You know where, so don’t die.”

“Gee, Such wonderful friends,” I say back.

. Turning back towards the entrance of the training room, I walk, cleared my throat, and spoke up

“Bakugou?”

All I get is another grunt as a reply, knowing he was somewhat listening. He continued his workout, concentrating on summoning a weapon in his hand.

“Bakubitch!”

He gives me a glare. Well, that got his attention.

“Whatdoyouwant?”

I hated when he was like this, not wanting to listen to anyone else even his friends. Steeling myself, I spit out the ugly truth to him

“(Y/n)gotkidnappedanditwasn’tourfault.”

“What? You said that too fast for me to even hear.”

“(Y/n) got kidnapped-”

“HUH?? HOW’D YOU IDIOTS LET THAT-”

“Will you shut up and let me explain?”

Rolling my eyes I wanted until Bakugou was calm, well calm enough, to begin.

“We had a mission. One assigned to us by the King. Someone from Spring Court wanted someone from Autumn off their back and they had enough money to pay for it. Shit went sideways and long story short, (Y/n) got taken… by Izuku Midoriya.”

I barely had time to doge before the knife was embedded into the target behind me. Such primal behavior, attacking me without warning.

“So you’re telling me… Izuku Midoriya took (Y/n) and you and the rest of the team, just fucking stood there?”

Another knife dodged. He’s making it harder and harder for me not to hit him

“Will you stop using me as target practice long enough so we can get her back?”

“It’s the Autumn Court. Who knows where they took her? She could be halfway to the gates of hell and back before we figure it out.”

Walking over to the target and prying the daggers off of it, I threw them back in rapid succession. He dodged the first one, but the second one scratched his face, leaving a thin line of blood in its wake.

“Next time you throw a knife at me make sure it hit its intended mark”

And with that, I leave the training room.

(Y/n)‘s POV

Being interrogated by the Autumn Court was… It’s an experience, let's just say. They had a lot of ways of making you talk, and once you open your mouth there is no stopping them.

Due to their power, vocals are the thing that they focus heavily on. It’s easy to fall into their trap but easy to evade it if you know what you’re doing. Just don’t say anything. I’ve been doing that for three hours now.

Granted it was hard. They tried everything short of laying hands on me. Ripping my dress, threatening my family and friends, you know the usual. But they couldn’t get me to talk. Then they called the motherfucking prince, who also happens to be the person I wanted dead.

“Just answer the question, doll, and you can go home.” Stupid motherfucker, staring down at me with that condescending smile I think. The haze of his power swirling around me, deep and smoky. Izuku was powerful, yes. But against me, he was nothing.

Smiling at him, I think to myself ‘You’ll get me to talk when I’m dead and gone’

Tracing his hand on my jawline slowly, like I was glass, brittle and ready to break. He stares deep into my eyes and for a moment, a hint of a second, I see the pain in his eyes. Something indescribable, intangible, but somehow there. And the moment is over. Harshly grabbing my chin, the pain is covered with feral, oddly flat green eyes.

“Tell me. Or else we’ll have to resort to… uglier methods of gaining information from you. And trust me, darling, you won’t like those methods.”

I took the saliva from my own mouth, aimed carefully, and spit on him. It landed directly on his eye.

“You fucking cunt!” He recoils in disgust, wiping his eye fervently. I smile in pride, knowing I got under his skin.

He backs up away from the cell I was in, taking one more look at my triumphant face, before saying to the guards, “Make sure she doesn’t escape.”

I heard his angry footsteps echo, and finally, the silence came.

The guards snicker at the recent events, before one of them saying,

“You’re going to regret that, you know? No one messes with Prince Midoriya and lives to tell the tale.”

“Guess I’ll be the first,” I replied back.

And then I broke the chains.

Izuku’s Pov

Fuck I missed her. She was the part of me that I never knew I needed. She was my blood, my bones, framing me into what I am now. And seeing her now, it made my bones ache, my blood sing. An agonizing, beautiful song. Placing my head into my hands, I bite the insole of my palms.

‘Where did it all go wrong?’ I thought to myself.

Sorting myself out, I walk through the quiet corridors of the Autumnal Palace. The sun shining through the high glass windows, mocking me with its beauty. It seems fit, having such a wonderful day go on outside as I suffer internally. With hastened pace, I make my way towards my personal team.

Stopping in front of the common room, I fix myself, running my hairs through my hair before walking in.

“Oh hey man,” Sero was the first one who saw me, giving a toothy smile “How’d the interrogation go…” he trails off, seeing the scowl on my face.

“So not well” One of Shoji’s many arms pops up and says.

Choosing my words carefully I say “It didn’t go as expected. (Y/n)’s a difficult one.”

Difficult wasn’t even the basis to cover it. She was infuriating, complex, and every time I see her it spurs my heart on erratically. But how could I say that in words?

My team was a good one, personally trained by myself, but sometimes they were a little too bit much.

Ochako pipes up from where she was sitting “Izu, don’t worry. We finally caught (Y/n)! After two and half years no less. All your hard work won’t be for nothing.”

“Yeah, man! This is cause for celebration! We finally caught (Y/n), Summer Court’s deadliest assassin. It’s time to kick back and celebrate-” At that moment, Ojirio storms in, face in pain as blood soaks his normally white clothes. The look on his face said that something was clearly wrong.

“(Y/n) escaped)”

Cocking my eyebrow I stare at Sero.

“Celebration huh?”

(Y/n)’s Pov

I hated being chased. Everyone talks about the exhilarating feeling of almost not making it but does anyway, but all I feel is annoyed. Turning another corner I hear in the distance. Luckily the guards tattered the ends of my dress, so it was easier to run in it

“Don’t let her escape! We need her alive!”

‘Autumn Court’ I thought to myself ‘One person escapes and they go bat shit crazy. Well, it is me.”

I look around looking for a place to hide out until the guards’ pass. Then looking up I spot...

“A vent. Perfect.” I whisper to myself. Working quickly, I made my way into the ventilation system. I keep myself there, holding my breath until I hear footsteps. It was two of the workers there.

“It’s such a shame,” one says to another. “King Toshinori has never done anything helpful since the Prince had been announced.” The other one shakes their head shamefully.

“I know right? Even since Izuku became prince, he’s nowhere to be seen or heard. It’s like he just placed all the burden on Prince Izuku and moved on with his life.”

Oh? Izuku’s being packed with the burden. I guess Von will find that information useful. Waiting until I couldn’t hear the voices of anyone, I get down from the vents.

“Easy as pie.” I smile at my genius.

“Spread out and find her! She couldn’t have gone far!” I see one the second in command, Ochako Uraraka yells. My smile turns into a grimace at her figure. I’ve never liked her but after the incident three years ago…

I didn’t let myself think of it, rather waited until I couldn’t hear footsteps anymore before dropping out of the vent.

Corridor after corridor, I run the palace. The orange-gold of the palace becoming a blur as I see the doors towards my freedom.

“THERE SHE IS. AFTER HER!” Fuck they found me. I was almost there, just a little more… Then I feel a large object knock into my back.

Giving a little as I went down, I turn quickly. Seeing the familiar hair of…

“(Y/n) don’t do this,” His soft voice rings out, power laced in it even now. “Just come back and we can get you home safely” Gritting my teeth at Izuku, I clench my fist and throw a punch. All the while my other hand summons a small dagger before dipping it in some poison and stabbing Izuku in the thigh.

How dare he. How dare he pretend that he cares, after all, he did to me, to my Court.

“Fuck!” Izuku screams.

Pulling him up by his collar I spit it out.

“Rot in hell.”

In the back, the rest of his team runs, seeing their leader hurt.

Not sticking around, I take off running, getting the doors of the front of the castle.

The night was dark as I fumbled slightly down the stairs of the castle.

‘Shit, shit, shit. I need a place to hide’ I think.

Running towards the car area of the courtyard, I see a black party bus sitting fairly near the gates. Sneaking into the back doors, I sit in the darkness.

“She couldn’t have gone far, split up and search.” I hear the voices agree before splitting off in different directions.

“Well, Well, WELL.” I’m suddenly knocked off my feet, and without another chance to regain my balance, my chin is grabbed. Sharp nails meet my flesh, threatening to make me bleed.

“What should we do with her Dabi?” a feminine voice reaches my ears.

“Drug ‘er. We’ll deal with her when the others come back. Shiggy will know what to do with ‘er”

“Sure.” Something stabbed into my neck and everything goes dark.

onto the next chapter? | the last chapter

Taglist: @xetou @kunikida-kun @asaincy @ryuvanaka @katsumiiii @lilsparkyswife @katsumox @silkylious @inkwicke @myhoodacademia @mypimpademia @readergurl20 @angiebug101 @artof-apollo @namjoonswifeyy @moonlit-xio

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emptysatellite · 3 years

Text

breaking and entering according to hy + gar-bear

Ao3

one.

“This is a horrible idea.”

“No, it’s genius.”

Hyacinth was skipping ahead in the moonlit field while Gareth just mopped in amazement. It was midnight and they were at the one place they shouldn’t be; Clair House.

They were only there because of that stupid journal Hyacinth was translating. Gareth’s grandmother, Isabella, had written it throughout her entire marriage, when she moved to England with her new husband. The journal was written in Italian, a language Gareth couldn’t understand in the slightest, leaving Hyacinth to translate for him (although, as she made clear, she was not fluent). Most of the entries centered around Isabella’s daily life, but Hyacinth discovered a secret; a little while before her death, Isabella hid diamond jewelry in the house so her money hungry and gambling-obsessed son couldn’t sell them.

Once Hyacinth found this out, she rushed to Gareth’s, demanding they go to his father’s property at once. Lucky for them, Mr. St. Clair was out of town on a hunting trip, leaving the house completely empty.

“Hyacinth,” he attempted to reason with her, “we could get in trouble for this. Like real, legal trouble. Trespassing and breaking and entering are crimes.”

“Good thing my brother’s a lawyer. Anthony would defend us, no questions asked,” she retorted, hiding behind a tree to get a good look at the dark house.

“I think there would be lots of questions asked, Hyacinth. Lots of questions asked,” he leaned against a nearby tree, although completely in sight of any passerbys.

“I don’t think so. I’m Anthony’s favorite sister.”

“I don’t think that matters in the court of law… Aren’t you studying law? Shouldn’t you know this?”

“I’m studying politics and international relations, actually,” she tore herself away from the tree, strolling closer to the house. “Do you have a key to this place?”

“No.”

“What? Why not?” she froze in place.

“I don’t live here, why would I have a key?”

“I don’t know, you used to live here so I just assumed,” Hyacinth whisper-yelled, turning back to him. She gave Gareth a pointed look, “how are we supposed to break in if we don’t have a key?”

“We could break a window like they do in all those karate movies.”

“This isn’t a karate movie, Gareth! Besides, we can’t break a window; the neighbors might hear something and call the cops!”

“Like the neighbors wouldn’t call the police if they saw two suspicious individuals go through the front door when they know my dad lives alone and is out of town.”

Groaning, she said, “well, do you know anyone we could get a key from?”

“My grandmother, maybe?” he suggested, his calm exterior crumbling upon meeting her angry gaze.

“Professor D?” she demanded.

“I’m sure. She has a collection of keys from homes and apartments she doesn’t live in.”

“Perfect,” Hyacinth gave him a wide smile of pearly white teeth. “I’ll call her tomorrow morning and get the keys by lunch so that we can both come back at nightfall.”

“Aren’t we going on a date tomorrow night?” asked Gareth.

“Oh right! Well, we’ll come here after our date, then.”

There was no point arguing; when Hyacinth’s mind was made up there was no use debating it. They’d be back tomorrow, no doubt in Gareth’s mind.

two.

“God, I love your grandmother.”

“More than me, apparently.”

“Oh, knock it off,” Hyacinth gave Gareth a light shove, playing with Professor Danbury’s key to Clair House in her free hand.

“I wore the cologne you like to dinner and you still wanted to come here to find some stupid diamonds instead of back to my apartment,” he replied.

“Okay, well, three things. First, diamonds are not stupid, they’re my best friends. Second, I love the cologne you wore to dinner, it smells so Gar-bear St. Clair. And third, I still want to go back to your apartment, but when we get the diamonds,” she explained, taking a tangle of manila rope out of her bookbag, with a (seemingly) heavy rock tied to an end.

Her whole statement was questionable. Gareth barely knew how to respond. “Gar-bear?” is what he finally managed. “What is that ?”

Hyacinth laughed, covering her mouth with her hand in order not to wake the neighbors. “It’s your nickname,” she said at last. “Isn’t it cute? I think so. I came up with it last night, when I was making this!”

She pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of the pocket of her leather jacket. “Read it and weep,” she thrust it into his hands.

“ Breaking and entering according to Hy and Gar-bear? ” he demanded. “What the fuck , Hyacinth?”

“I’ve done loads of research on breaking into houses. I’m practically an expert,” Hyacinth replied, throwing the rope up onto the balcony with a huff. “I just thought I should add your name too, even though you didn’t contribute because we’re partners. Get it? We’re partners in crime .”

“Har-har,” his response was much more sarcastic than intended, “disrupting the peace is so funny.”

“We’re not disrupting the peace,” Hyacinth rolled her eyes. She added, “I can’t believe I’m stuck with you.”

“For better or worse.”

“Little early to be saying that, don’t you think, Bud?”

“Nope, your face is adorable.”

“Damn, you know flattery gets you everywhere with me.”

“I know.”

“Climb up the rope.”

“Wait, what?” he was shaken out of the blind flirtation. “You want me to climb that?”

“Of course,” said Hyacinth. “That’s why I brought it. I thought you’d be too wuss to scale the building, so I thought the rope might help.”

“Is it even secure?” Gareth asked, glancing upwards, for any sign (or omen) he should not pull himself up the rope because it was a risk to his health. “Like, will that rock support our weight?”

“Yes; I wouldn’t tell you to do something if I didn’t think it was safe. And the rock should support us… I tried like five other rocks before picking this one.”

“You’ve… already tried this?”

“Obviously.”

“How heavy is the rock?”

“Not sure.”

“Why are we climbing up to the balcony, anyway?”

“To go through the balcony door. Duh.”

“Why can’t we just go through the side door. No one would see us.”

“No one would see us go through the balcony door, either.”

“But going through the balcony door seems more complicated.”

“You know, we’re spending all this time arguing when you could just climb the damn rope and we could find the damn diamonds.”

“No.”

“Do you want me to go first?”

“Yes, that would make me feel better.”

Without another word, Hyacinth caught the rope, pulling herself up in a way that vividly reminded Gareth of secondary school physical education class. Still, she made it to the balcony.

“See, it’s totally safe!” she called down. “Now, come on.”

“I don’t know, I’m still nervous, Hy!” he replied.

“I’m holding the rope tight,” promised Hyacinth, “I won’t drop it!”

“If you drop it, we’re breaking up and I’m suing you.”

“Noted. I won’t drop you.”

And she didn’t. Gareth was able to scamper up the rope safely to see Hyacinth’s wide grin at the top.

“I told you that’d you’d be fine,” she said.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved a hand dismissively. “You wanna do the honors?”

Hyacinth nodded, taking the key out of her pocket. Carefully, she put it in the deadbolt, twisting it unlocked, then doing the same with the door lever. “Aha!” she exclaimed, opening the windowed door. “It worked!”

three.

“Old Dicky may be an arsehole, but he has good taste in books.”

“Never once in my whole childhood did I ever see Richard in the library.”

“Well, then Grandpa St. Clair had good taste in books.”

“Right-o.”

“Hm,” Hyacinth ran her fingers along the book spines. “So much Shakespeare.”

“God, I hate Shakespeare,” said Gareth, fumbling with his flashlight.

“Literally stop. We’re breaking up. Right now,” she replied, turning her nose up. She sneezed.

“Bless you.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“I have dust allergies, just so you know.”

“Good to know.”

“Now, Isabella wrote that the diamonds ―or another set of clues that will lead us to the diamonds―should be in the place where the imagination can run wild,” Hyacinth said, “so I assumed it was the library. What do you think?”

“It could also be the nursery,” suggested Gareth, “because my brother and I would play there all the time; I assume Dick and Uncle Ed would have done the same.”

“That’s true,” she scribbled a note on her arm. “We’ll check the nursery after we finish here.”

“Hyacinth?”

“Yes?”

“It’s going to take us forever to go through here,” Gareth said, spreading his arms for dramatic effect.

Hyacinth seemed to think on this for a brief moment, tapping her marker against her chin. “Hm,” she finally replied, “it won’t take forever if we get started now.”

“Capital plan,” he commented, rolling his eyes.

“I know right,” she retorted. “Besides, even if we tear this room up, we can just leave it; we’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, too?”

“Of course. We’re not resting until we find these damn diamonds.”

“Dick is coming home in less than a week.”

“We’ll just have to be very thorough and efficient then,” she replied. “Now, do we want to start by ripping the books off of their shelves? Or go through all the drawers and cabinets by the desk?”

“I’ll do the desk and you do the shelves.”

“Works with me.”

They went to work, flashlights glowing in the dark library. They didn’t talk, concentration ruling their motions.

“I think I found something!” Hyacinth called, after less than an hour of searching.

“What?” Gareth replied, looking up from the stack of dust-covered papers he was flipping through.

“Hold on, I’m translating,” she paused. She looked up at him, saying, “basically, the hint is that the diamonds are in a washroom.”

“There are five washrooms in this house!” he groaned, collapsing onto the nearest chair.

and four.

“We’re literally going to jail. We’re going to spend the night ―and probably quite a few nights―in jail! ”

“It’s okay, Anthony will defend us in court. Simon will too, I’m sure; I’m his favorite sister-in-law. He got me a miniature pony for my sixteenth birthday, you know.”

“Hyacinth, I’m glad you and Simon and Anthony have good relationships, but we’re still going to jail! ”

“Lower your voice, you’ll upset the cop,” Hyacinth shushed Gareth, placing a finger on his lips.

“I think the cop is already upset,” he replied, grumpily, “because he just arrested us for breaking into my father’s mansion and we didn’t even find the diamonds.”

“Okay, to start, Richard is not your father ―” she started, waving her hand dismissively.

“Believe me, he’s made that clear―” Gareth interrupted.

“But Edward is.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Edward is your dad.”

“Edward? As in my uncle Edward ?” demanded Gareth.

“No, as in your dad Edward,” Hyacinth replied.

“Are you serious?”

“Of course I am.”

“Uncle Ed was my dad?”

“Yes, didn’t you hear what I said?”

“I did,” he breathed in amazement, “I just―it’s hard to believe.”

“You can come to therapy with me, if you want,” Hyacinth suggested. “I have my weekly sessions on Wednesdays.”

“Honestly, I might have to take you up on that offer…”

“There’s no shame in it. My therapist is the best, I’ve been working with her for years.”

“Nice, nice.”

“Oh! I forgot to add,” she reached into her jacket, pulling a trinket ―no not a trinket, a necklace, bracelet, and set of earrings―out of her pocket, “we did find the diamonds.”

“Holy shit!” exclaimed Gareth.

“Shh, the cop will hear,” she mumbled, untangling the jewelry from one another.

“I just… Hy, you’re amazing!”

“I know,” she flipped her hair with her free hand, “I’m told all the time.”

“Where did you find it?”

“In Clair House. Duh.”

“No, I meant , where in Clair House?”

“Under a floorboard in the nursery washroom. When we split up and you were in the master washroom.”

“We’re here, hooligans,” the policeman peered at the couple through the rearview mirror.

Hyacinth locked eyes with Gareth, slowly putting the diamond jewelry back into her jacket. She smiled at him and he returned a favor.

Still, they spent the night in jail.

#hyacinth bridgerton #gareth st clair #bridgerton #bridgerton fic

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makeste · 4 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 279: Here Comes the Airplane

Previously on BnHA: Gigantomachia gathered up the rest of the League and headed off to go help Tomura. Also he is now 80 feet tall. The heroes were all, “whoa this guy is really big, we should probably stop him and maybe even devote an entire chapter or two just to that,” and so they sent three whole people after him, which sadly is pretty much the exact sort of strategy I’ve come to expect from them by this point. Anyway so Mt. Lady tried to hold Machia off but kept getting flung aside, and Kamui Woods tried to catch him but was set on fire by Dabi who is just having way too good of a time setting all of the flammable heroes on fire today, and Midnight tried to put him to sleep but Compress threw a bunch of debris at her and so she fell like 80 feet. The chapter ended with Midnight being all “fuck this” and calling Momo, who ordered the rest of the child soldier squad into action as Machia approached. I’m not really sure what they’re gonna do, but I honestly don’t really care, because it’s Momo, and so, YES.

Today on BnHA: U.A.’s first-year hero students, who apparently had nine hours to prepare their battleground instead of the fifteen seconds we had all assumed, launch a complex multi-staged assault which is actually really fucking impressive because these kids are actually awesome. First they pin Machia down in one of Honenuki’s mud pits, and then they take turns making impassioned attempts to take out the other League members chilling out on Machia’s back. Unfortunately none of these attempts work because of Dabi, who’s working overtime while the rest of the League sits around shooting down each other’s escape plans. Basically a lot of stuff gets set on fire, and then the chapter ends with Mt. Lady pinning Machia to the ground while MINA, YES, MINA, charges at him covered in acid like some sort of video game boss that you need some kind of specific item to defeat. DID YOU KNOW YESTERDAY WAS MINA’S BIRTHDAY YOU GUYS. Anyway so this chapter is basically pandemonium from start to finish, and it’s great. It is a RUMPUS, y'all. A STRAIGHT UP HULLABALOO.

IS IT MOMO LOVIN’ HOURS I THINK IT IS, YOU GUYS. ARE YOU EXCITED. I AM EXCITED

but first, the color page we were promised, in celebration of Six Whole Years Of This Bullshit!!

oh god oh god so much to love so little time

some of the rowdier characters are making MULTIPLE APPEARANCES IN THIS SHITSHOW, including Kaminari who appears to be in a record-setting THREE of these! who exactly was taking all of these pictures, and why are they so obsessed with him. also how many of these are going to be used as evidence in the latest Kami Traitor Theory posts and is it too early for me to get mad about it

“WE INVITED ENDEAVOR AND HAWKS TO OUR ‘BEING FANCY ON THE COLOR PAGE’ PARTY, EVEN THOUGH THEY’RE NOT U.A. STUDENTS OR FACULTY. WE JUST FELT LIKE IT.” listen that is fine, y’all don’t have to explain yourselves to me

Mirko however is not here, I assume because if she was, Horikoshi would have forgotten to draw all the rest of the characters again. she’s too powerful

Midnight is so sexy I don’t even ksdfnkl

ALL MIGHT LOOKING HAPPY GIVES ME THE STRENGTH I NEED TO MAKE IT THROUGH THE REST OF THIS WEEK. YOUR SMILE IS THE MVP

Cementoss’s face is the runner-up MVP and one of the greatest things I’ve seen in my life

half the people here seem to be attempting to flirt with whoever is taking the pictures. I am starting to suspect that the culprit is Momo. change my mind

for some reason I am really shocked to see Endeavor getting his drink on. and he’s literally the only one, too

Bakugou’s half-assed I SAID NO PAPARAZZI skills are no match for Tamaki’s legendary “I WILL LITERALLY DIE IF YOU CAPTURE ME ON FILM” abilities

I literally didn’t notice Deku until like three quarters of the page in. he sure does blend right in there

Tokoyami is approximately 97.3% done and ticking EVER CLOSER to full 100% doneness, and when that happens even I can’t tell you what is going to go down

do I even need to mention how sexy Aizawa’s hair is. apparently I do

SERIOUSLY THOUGH CEMENTOSS’S FACE

anyway, so that was nice! NOW ON TO THE MOMOLOVIN’

and we begin with FIRST YEAR CLASS B HONENUKI “MUDMAN” JUZOU just LAYIN’ SOME TRAPS IN THE WOODS, as one does

oh my freaking god Tokage

somehow her quirk didn’t freak me out quite this much the last time we saw her. she is really something. has she always had shark teeth

also WHERE IS MONOMA’S GROUP. I immediately want to know!! is he with the Shouto group? or is there yet ANOTHER student group we don’t know about? what would they even be doing

or did Horikoshi actually get three quarters of the way through writing this arc and then suddenly slap his forehead as he realized that if Monoma just casually copied Machia’s powers he would either DIE IMMEDIATELY or else become SUPER STRONG and also grow 80 feet tall and this would suddenly be a very different battle with the scales tipping decidedly in the heroes’ favor. and so he had to quickly write him out of the battle in this very half-assed way

anyway, so while I ponder that, Tokage is peeking the top of her head out over the trees and staring at Machia who is, you guessed it, still heading right their way! just like he’s been doing pretty much this entire time

and now there’s a whole page of reaction panels you guys. this is why Horikoshi tries to avoid these massive Endgame-style battles with every single hero known to man participating. hopefully we won’t have too many of these. like I mean thank you for the roll call and all but I’d like to get to the action now

Mineta of all people is stealing this entire page with that expression though. he is not fucking around. this is twice in as many chapters that he’s been a page-stealing face-making champ. dare I hope this could be the start of a new niche for him? lord knows it would be so much better than the old niche

also this page is just sweatdrops galore. these kids are so nervous. MANGA GODS PLEASE KEEP THEM SAFE, although I’m honestly not too worried about them compared to the adults. I’m sure I should be, but I just am not

all right so now Momo is explaining what those little canisters are!

okay but someone please explain to me how it is that they had time to stop and lay all of these traps?? not just Honenuki’s, but Mineta’s and what looks like some of Shiozaki’s work as well?? did Machia just STOP MOVING for like five whole minutes all of a sudden for no reason at all? while they were all sitting out here saying things like “with that speed...”? ????? ????????

also lol wtf. “we’re gonna have to make him eat it.” I still have no idea what their plan is, but it’s getting more entertaining by the minute I’ll say that much

okay so Momo says that if they can get him to swallow just one of these, then that should be enough to put him to sleep. oh my god this chapter is going to be AMAZING isn’t it

meanwhile Mineta is worrying about Midnight. I swear to god if they turn this into something where he’s only worried because she’s hot, I will take one of these canisters and shove it right up his...

okay good, Mina’s reassuring him that it’s gonna be okay, and then we’re just cutting to Machia stampeding in with Mt. Lady and Kamui still clinging to him

WHAT THE HELL ARE THESE GUYS EVEN DOING

“we’ll just stand here adjacent to him and just kind of watch as he rushes straight at the children.” someone help me, I’m having difficulty finding a synonym for “useless” that carries the full amount of emphasis I want to place on it right now. this requires a degree of language the human race is not yet capable of

OH SNAP

THEY GOT HIM YEAHHHHH

OH DANG, FOR REAL THOUGH!!

ngl, for a brief spiteful moment I was disappointed he hadn’t actually fallen on them :/

and they’re still JUST STANDING THERE, I CAN'T EVEN?? we’re getting to the point where I honestly think actual civilians might have been of more use in this situation

YESSSSS

TIME TO FIND OUT HOW MANY TENTH GRADERS GIGANTOMACHIA CAN TAKE IN A FIGHT

also, sorry to keep harping on this, but the juxtaposition of that earlier panel with all of the fully grown and experienced pros just standing in dumb awe, immediately followed by this panel of BRAVE BUT DETERMINED CHILDREN CHARGING IN AND YELLING “GO GO GO”, is just... it really is something. shit. if I was the HPSC and this was what I had to work with, I too might have seriously considered fudging a few age requirements in hopes of finding someone who could actually get the fucking job done

also what the hell is going on down there with Shishida and Satou and that third person? what are those Blackwhip-looking things?? I’m confused

ohhhhh no

Shiozaki is about to be sent flying through the air courtesy of her own hair vines omg

OH NO WAIT THE THREE TOUGH GUYS ARE STOPPING HIM. AHHH THE LAST ONE WAS KENDOU AHHHH

I still can’t figure out what the hell those are though lol. did Momo make some steel cables?? I feel like Machia would be able to break just about any kind of rope or chain they could concoct just by sheer brute strength alone

ah fuck

DON’T YOU GUYS GO RUINING THIS FOR ME!! THEY’VE GOT A GOOD THING GOING HERE, LET THEM HAVE THEIR FUN!!

although I do appreciate how they’re all “U.A.!!” in kind of this “oh shit, these guys we actually have to worry about” sort of tone lol

this look on Toga’s face is a bit concerning! well but Deku and Ochako aren’t here though, so I wonder who she’s gonna fight if it comes to that. huh

(ETA: seriously, does anyone have any idea what Toga is planning cuz I sure don’t.)

Shouji and Ojiro, who I might remind you are normal people with no enhanced physical abilities aside from extra appendages, appear to have somehow circled all the way around to Machia’s back and are now climbing up oh shit

oh and Aoyama’s there too! -- is Shouji carrying him omg

he’s using him as a human ray gun omggg. this is the most delightful thing I’ve ever witnessed

NOW SOMETHING IS BEING SHOT AT THE LEAGUE AND DABI’S STARING AT IT ALL “>:(” AND I’M PRETTY SURE THIS THING, WHATEVER IT IS, IS ABOUT TO BE SET ON FIRE, LET’S SEE

lds;afksjdl;fkj WERE THOSE JIROU’S EARJACKS??!!

okay you know what fuck you Dabi. you think it’s funny to set a little girl’s ears on fire?! don’t expect any sympathy from me when Aoyama lasers you in the face

WELL I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING BUT THEY’RE SHOOTING WHAT LOOK LIKE A BUNCH OF LITTLE TAMBOURINES AT HIM NOW

I ASSUME THEY ARE NOT ACTUALLY TAMBOURINES, BUT I REALLY DON’T KNOW, IT’S NOT LIKE THEY HANDED OUT THE RULE BOOK TO THIS THING AHEAD OF TIME

[HUGE EXAGGERATED GASPING SOUNDS]

oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my

OH MY GOD AND YANAGI THREW THEM WITH HER POLTERGEIST QUIRK!??

I DON’T KNOW WHAT THIS “ACK?!!” IS AND IT’S REALLY BUMMING ME OUT, BECAUSE THIS CAME WITHIN INCHES OF BEING THE COOLEST FUCKING COMBINATION I’VE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!?!?

(ETA: it would have laid them all flat in seconds. Kaminari is to be feared you guys.)

NO!!!!!

it is sincerely frustrating to me watching the League carelessly toss aside all of their painstakingly accumulated goodwill from the MVA arc in the span of just a few short pages. hey Compress, you think it’s cool to hurl a bunch of rocks at my six-and-a-half-year-old son?? I hope someone rips that cool robot arm off and uses it to punch you in the dick

here comes Sero!! and how are you going to die, Sero

what in the

did he just... sneeze them all into space

okay but hear me out, what if Shouda absorbed that impact. SHOUDA YOUR TIME HAS FINALLY COME. CLASS 1-B’S ASCENT TO GLORY

(ETA: watch this space!! Shouda is here for a reason mark my words.)

meanwhile on Machia’s back, Dabi is soliloquying about Machia’s quirk while his arm is doing... something

please forgive me for not being able to drum up any sympathy for poor Dabi’s arms right about now. quit trying to set all my kids on fire

wait whaaaaat lol

so I scrolled back up to the previous page, and... that was fire?? lord help me why am I still so terrible at being able to tell when Horikoshi is drawing fire as opposed to just air randomly whooshing through trees. I have really got to memorize that foossh sound effect

so can Gigantomachia just BREATHE FIRE now?? or was ALL OF THAT Dabi??? if it was the latter then at least he had the decency to wait until all of the kids got blown out of range before setting the whole forest aflame to keep them back. I’ll admit it, that was thoughtful of him as far as villain power moves go

OHO BUT YOU CAN’T COUNT MOMO OUT JUST LIKE THAT!!

AND NOW EVERYTHING AROUND THEM IS EXPLODING AHHHHHH DID YOU GUYS SET LANDMINES, BAKUGOU WOULD BE SO PROUD

once again I have to ask myself exactly how much prep time they had here. Horikoshi would have you think it was mere seconds, but that clearly cannot be the case?? maybe they set some of these up beforehand to catch any stray villains trying to flee the area?

lmao Spinner’s all “wait why doesn’t he just dig his way out”, because apparently Machia can tunnel himself under the ground. but Compress is all “um because we would die” and Spinner is all “oh right”

though I gotta say, it’s not like they’re that much better off as things are now, either. pinned down in the woods surrounded by fire and explosives. definitely a conundrum

oh snap Compress has realized that their presence is holding Machia back. don’t tell me Machia is gonna head off on his own and leave the rest of the League to square off with the kids

YOOOOOO HOLY SHIT THE HEROES ACTUALLY DID SOMETHING

there you go, League! free cannon fodder to get you all pumped and confident again!

DKFJLSDKJ

PLEASE LET THIS BE THE ACTUAL TRANSLATION OH MY GOD. THIS IS MY NEW FAVORITE LINE IN ANYTHING AHHHH

“I’m leaving it to you, U.A.’s youngsters!” yeah, you and everyone else. ah well, can’t deny they get the job done

OH MMKJKYYYY GODDDDDDJJK

MINA COATED HERSELF IN ACID AND IS RUNNING AT GIGANTOMACHIA AND IS SHE ALSO ON FIRE??!?! SHE’S JUST RUNNING AT HIM LIKE A BIG OL’ FIERY BLOB???! QUEEN MINA???!! FIRE IS NOT HER WEAKNESS???! MINA??!! IS AIRPLANE?!??!!?!? MINAAAAAAA

holy fucking shit this whole arc is just one big Arc Of Ladies Getting To Do Stuff and I am 1000% living for it. THIS ARC IS MY FAMILY. I WOULD DIE FOR IT AND LEAVE EVERYTHING TO IT IN MY WILL. ahhhhhhhhhh

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dangerousstrawberryshark · 3 years

Text

Yandere Teacher Dream x Student George.

This is the only exception I'll give. The rest will have to be Male x male readers.

This was requested from Pokadeathpony

Disclaimer: I do not encourage anyone to do this sort of thing.

Word count: 3679

Warning: There be violence, smut, an age-gap of 4 years, and I guess forced? George is 18 and Dream will be 22.

George POV

I heard my alarm go off and my mom calling me. “Honey! Time to get up, It’s going to be your first day at school!”

‘Oh yeah, It’s going to be my first day at school!’ I got up from my bed and went to the bathroom to empty my bladder, wash my face, and brush my teeth. After I was done and went to my school uniform, I looked at myself in the mirror to see if I look good. ‘I look good today!’

I went downstairs to greet my mom and say goodbye to her.

“Hey, mom!”

“Hi sweetie ready for your first day at school?” “Yeah, I am.” “Oh, my baby is all grown up! I remember when you were just a baby! Can I take a picture of you?”

“Mom!” “Oh please, sweetie? I wanna show all of my Facebook friends that you’re all grown and to show Karen that I’m good and raise you well as a single mom!”

“Fine… But make it quick! I have school in a few minutes!” “Alright! Give me a pose!”

After a few minutes of trying to take the picture, she finally got the picture and posted it on Facebook and show Karen that she raised her son well.

After a few tries, she finally got what she wanted and kissed me on the cheek, and told me to have a good day at school. “Have a great day at school sweetie.” “Okay, mom! I’ll see you at 4:30!”

I walked out of my house and made my way to Windlesham School Brighton. (Random high school I looked up)

After a few minutes of walking, I finally made it. I saw there were still kids walking in and talking with each other about what they over the break and bragging about where they went.

I was hoping to make friends cause I was always lonely. (Y’all know when you don’t have friends and you would eat alone at lunch?)

As I walked into the school it was loud, mostly from the girls screaming and talking at 300 dB. And they walk in these big packs taking up the whole hallway. (It was like this at my school)

I bumped into someone while walking through the halls and I heard a thump. The other person who got up helped me.

“Hey, you alright?” “Yeah, I am.” “What’s your name?” “Oh uhh, George. George Davidson. Uhh, what’s your name?”

“Thomas. Thomas Simon. Or you can call me Tommy!” “Oh okay, nice to meet you, Tommy!”

“What class do you have next?” “I have… uh… Economics?... Yeah.” I said looking at my schedule. Just then we heard the bell ring signaling that class has just started.

“Aww, we don’t have to be in the same class. But we have most classes together after that though.”

“Oh, I was hoping you could lead me to my class?” “Sure I can still help you. I can just say I was lost as an excuse.”

Time skip (only 3 minutes)

After Tommy helped me get to my class, he went on his way to his class. I walked in and everyone’s attention was on me and the teacher looked at me with an unreadable face. ‘Great! They all were just talking but when I walked in they just stopped to look at me!’

“Are you in my class?”

(Has that ever happened to you?)

Dream’s POV

I was just in class ready to start class, show the expectation, behavior, and give the class syllabus. But these damn kids won’t stop talking.

“I hate my job,” I said underneath my breath, I was thinking of just quitting until the class door opened. And everyone stopped talking and directed their attention to the door, so did I. And I saw the most captivating boy in my life.

He was triggering something inside me. I noticed he looked embarrassed by all the eyes on him. I decided to ask him, “Are you in my class?” I was hoping he was.

“Yes… here take a look.” He handed me his schedule and I felt his soft milky white hand graze mine, but it was only a moment before he snatched his arm away.

“Let’s see…… Okay, you are in my class! Since you’re up here would you like to introduce yourself?” I see him shake his head no.

“It’s okay now you can go sit anywhere but you will be given assigned seats, so don't be comfortable.” I heard the class groan cause they wanted to stay next to their friends. I’m going to put him upfront.

Whatever he is doing, is growing. I feel like I want to protect him, I want to keep him, and let no one else get him.

My other self was telling me that he is ours, while my other is telling me this is wrong and that I shouldn’t have a feeling for one of my students. But in the end, it was my other side telling me he is ours to have and to keep forever, and hurt or even kill anyone who dares to get between us.

George’s POV

I was standing there just embarrassed by the way everybody is looking at me, Then I heard him say, “Are you in my class?” Took me a few seconds to comprehend what he said and I gave him my schedule to show that I was in his class.

“Yes… here take a look.” I handed him my schedule and he looked through it to confirm that I was definitely in his class.

For a brief moment, I felt his big strong hand touch mine as I handed it in. ‘I wonder how it would feel to be manhandled by those hands?’ My gay thought was appearing, ‘Wait… What?! Why am I thinking about that?!?! He’s my teacher for crying out loud!’

After a few moments, he confirmed that I was in his class. “Let’s see…… Okay, you are in my class! Since you’re up here would you like to introduce yourself?” he asked me if I wanted to introduce myself in front of the whole class. I shake my head, no, I didn’t want to present myself.

“It’s okay now you can go sit anywhere but you will be given assigned seats, so don’t get comfortable.” When he said that I was finally able to sit down.

I choose the sit right by the window. I feel like one of those main characters in anime where they have that scene where they look out the window, outside, looking at the peasants.

Nothing was happening, the teacher was preparing and he seemed to daze off. I then felt a tap on my shoulder and looked behind me to see a boy.

“Hi, my name is Wilbur. Wilbur Soot! What’s your name?”

“Hi, my name is George. George Davidson. Nice to meet you!”

I and Wilbur talked until we were interrupted by the teacher apparently, we talked so for too long. And we were about to begin class.

Dream’s POV

I was trying to get things ready but my mind kept going back to that kid. Maybe I’ll get to know his name when I do a roll call.

In the corner of my eye, I could see MY lover… ‘Wait? What I’m I thinking?! You know what, who cares! Yeah, he is my lover even though he looks 18 or 19. He is old enough I’m only 22!’

anyways I could see him talking to a random kid. Seeing that made me feel jealous, I looked at them with envy, I wanted to be the one that made him laugh. I decide to interrupt them and start the roll call.

As I was calling the names of my students and paid more attention to finding out who that kid was. “George Davidson?”

“Here!” I see my angel raise his hand. Now I know his name. Few names later. “Wilbur? Wilbur Soot?”

“Present!” I see the kid who was talking to MY George. Now I know who he is. Now I got to deal with him.

Time skip (end of class)

I told everyone my expectations, how they should behave, gave out the syllabus, and did assigned seats. I of course placed George at the front and Wilbur at the back.

“Goodbye everyone, have a great day and review your syllabus, and have it signed to get your first grade!”

Everyone had left, leaving me alone in the room and the only thing I could think about was George. ‘Don’t worry darling, Daddy will have you’

George’s POV

It turns out that Wilbur and Tommy were friends and they introduced me to the rest of the group. Their names, Dave, Zak, Darry, Floris, Nicholas, Karl, and Caroline. Caroline was the only girl in the group but I finally made friends! I’m no longer alone!!

Time skip to the end of the day.

All classes were over and I could finally go and sleep. ‘I miss my bed.’

I said goodbye to my new friends and I began to walk home.

As I was walking home, I felt someone watching or following. I turned around and looked around to see if anyone was following. No one.

But I’m going to take that chance. I remember watching something like this on TV. You should go or run in different directions so who is following would get lost by all the different routines you take. And I did that.

I went in different directions hoping to lose them. I finally arrived home. What I didn’t is that they still followed me and now they know where I live.

“So that’s where he lives”

(But for real though, does that work?)

Time skip to 2 months later

Still George’s POV

The first month was great, I had friends with Wilbur and Tommy being my best friends. But things changed

At the beginning of November (School starts in September in the UK. That’s what I got), Some of my friends began to go missing. First, it was Caroline, then it was Karl, Darryl, Zak, Nicholas, and Dave in that order.

(To lazy to write their deaths)

The atmosphere at school was dark. The once cheerful school full of normal kids became dark and everyone was scared, thinking they may be the next person. But all of the missing kids are related to me.

The only ones that are left, Tommy and Wilbur.

Dreams POV

As the days, turn into weeks, and weeks turned into months my obsession over George had grown. I began to deal with the “bad people.”

I also learned some things about George. He is 18 years old, meaning that there is a 4-year difference, He was born in London, etc.

I just have to deal with Wilbur. I know he likes George, It's so obvious. Tommy? Nah, I don't have to worry about him, He's going to move to a different school tomorrow, so he won't be a problem.

But now it's just Wilbur. I forgot too much George and Wilbur are in my last period class so I could just keep Wilbur behind. Time skip to the end of class

"Alright remember to turn in your work, tomorrow is the last to turn it in. Also, Wilbur, will you stay behind, I have to talk to you about something?" "Sure Dream." (I don't know his last name so yeah)

The bell rings signaling that the day is over and everyone can go home. Everybody rushed out of classes and walked outside while Wilbur stayed behind to "chat" with dream about something.

"Hey how about we go outside? To the rooftop?" I said with a wicked intention but he still accepts it.

"Sure." he was unaware of what was going to happen to him. We both walked up there and I told him to go stand by the rail. He complied and went to the rail, and I stood right next to him.

"You know what I got to say?" I said. "What? What do you need to say?" He questions with suspicion.

"George is mine." I pushed him over the rail and he spat when he hit the ground, killing him instantly. 'I'll let the police find him. They won't know it's me. I'll put the body in the dumpster.'

I went to drag the body into the dumpster where nobody can find it.

Friday

The next day came and I could finally claim George for myself. I would just stare at him lovingly, knowing that he will be mine soon.

George's POV

It was the last day of the week until the weekend came. Wilbur didn't show up today, I wondered why.

Throughout the day, Dream would give me weird stares, it was creepy. I was cautious of him. I don't know he seems suspicious if he is the one behind all this, I don't have evidence against him.

This suspicion went on for the entire day until it was the end of my classes. 'Finally, it's the weekend!' I thought to myself cheerful but that ended when I heard my name called.

"Hey, George could you stay behind? I need to talk to you about your grades." What about my grades? He said the same thing with Wilbur. Uhh, he's my teacher, he won't do something bad right?

"Okay, sir."

Timeskip to the end of the day. (Plot purposes)

It was the end of the day and I had to stay behind to talk about my "grades."

The bell rang and everybody ran out the door while I sat there in the front. "So, you know there is nothing wrong with grades," he said. "Then why am I here if my grades are good?" I replied

"But I need you to come over to my house and study for the upcoming test," he said with no emotion and with a straight face (gay face).

"I can study at home," I replied. "You can but I feel like it would be better if you study with me since I am your teacher and it would be easier." He replied.

"And if you don't then I'll drop your grade to a 40." He whispered in my ear. "Okay fine! Let me just text my mom."

"No, no need to worry I already called her and she is okay with that." He said nervously. "Okay."

"Fantastic let's get going."

No one's POV

George and dream both went out into the parking lot where George would go "study" at Dream's house. They went off and the car ride was awkward and nobody talked during the ride.

When they arrived, Dream got out and opened the door for George. And George thanked him for that. They both went and that's when dream struck.

He pulled out a syringe and ejected whatever was in the thing into George's neck, knocking him out. Dream smiled wickedly as he looked upon the now sleeping corpse of George. 'He is finally mine.'

A few hours later George woke up in the basement tied to the bed that was in there.

SMUT WARNING!!!!!!!!

"What, where am I?!?!" He said frantically as he was trying to comprehend and remember the last that happened then he remembered, 'it was dream! I knew it!' he thought to himself.

Just then a naked dream walked down the stairs with nothing on but his boxers.

(oH lOrD HavE MerCy. Ignore the surfboard. I think this is dream cause when I looked it up, this was one of the results.)

"Hey, there sweetie." dream said seductively. "It was you! I knew it was! You despicable monster!" George yelled at the top of his lungs. Dream was anger by what George just said.

So he grabbed George on the thigh and turned him over to where his asscheeks were showing and he gave them smacked. He smirked when he saw them jiggle. George let out a squeal.

"Don't talk to Daddy like that sweetie or you'll get punished." Dream said while giving a smack on George's ass. "You molester!" George replied. Dream of course was not happy about this and gave 20 smacks.

After the 20 smacks on the ass. Dream began to plant small kisses on George's neck and nibble on his neck. That for sure will leave hickey's showing that George now belongs to Dream.

George was groaning and moaning at this. George was now rock hard. "I see you're hard for daddy now, mmm?" Dream in George's ear as he bits and George whimpering. George was now a moaning mess.

"You want daddy to continue? Mmm, baby?" Dream said seductively and George is now under Dreams enchantment. "Yes, Daddy! Please I need you!" George screamed while moaning.

"Mmm... I didn't hear you, baby you're gonna have to speak louder." Dream teased George. "Please I need you! I want your big fat cock to fill me up! I want your cum to flood my insides! Please I want you, I need you!" George said needy as he was still on his stomach shaking his ass. That provoked dream.

(Oh lord have mercy!)

"Yeah, you want daddy to continue?" Dream said and George rapidly nodded his head. "That's what I like to hear. Now take Daddy's boxers off," Dream said and George complied.

George slowly took off Dream's boxers while his other was touching his rock-hard abs, and his tongue playing with his nipples. All of this left dream groaning under his touch.

George was done teasing and he finally took off Dream's boxers, and Dream's large cock popped out. 'Damn he was packing down there! It's like 9 inches long (or 22.86 cm long.) and thick as a coke can!’ "What's wrong? Too big for you?" Dream said teasing George thinking he can't take him.

"Yes, I can! I'll try to!" George replied with determination in his voice. Dream just smirk and let him do his thing.

George began to give kitten licks on his massive member. Dream was groaning, "Stop teasing baby boy... And take it all in that little warm and tight mouth of yours." George nodded his and tried to take him whole. Keyword: tried.

George got his mouth around the head and slowly started to take him more. George only got halfway before choking. "You're doing well-baby!" Dream said while moaning as George's tongue was getting all of the sides. "Shit I'm to cum! Stop baby I wanna release inside you."

George got on his knees on the bed. Dream got behind George and began to lick the rim around George's ass. "AHHHH!" George moaned. "You taste delicious." Dream said while continuing. George was about to cum, Dream stopped.

"You're not cumming just yet baby, we gotta cum together." Dream said while trailing his tongue on the back of George's and licking his ear.

Dream grabbed the lube and squeezed some on his three fingers. He pushed his three lubed fingers inside of George. "Mmm... ahh!" George moaned as the fingers penetrated his tight hole.

Dream was trying to find George's prostate, meaning that he was going to have to go deeper. After trying to find his prostate, George felt a massive amount of pleasure going through his whole body. "AHHHHHH!" George moaned loudly as his prostate was being abused by Dream's fingers.

"Looks like I found it." Dream said while taking his fingers out. George whimpered at the feeling of being empty. "Don't worry baby, you'll get something way bigger than my fingers." Dream said reassuring George that he'll receive much more pleasure.

Dream took his fingers out. Dream began to tease the rim of George's ass with the head of the massive thing. George whimpered. Dream then thrust in George's tight hole. "AHHH!" George moaned at his hole was being shaped to fit dream's whole cock inside him.

Dream slowly thrusted in. "Please go faster..." George whimpered as he was moving backward to meet his thrusts. With dream thrusted faster hitting George's prostates immediately. "AHHHdchfbfcedrjcbu." George was on cloud nine as his prostate was being abused by a massive cock. It felt like he could see the stars.

"You like that huh? Do you like how my cock is pounding this tight hole of yours? Shit, you're milking my cock if you keep squeezing around me!" Dream as he was inching closer to his climax.

"Answer me!" Dream said while slapping his ass causing George to moan louder. "Yes, I like it! Wait no, I love it! I love your cock daddy, the way it stretches me out! Please give your milk!" George said he was closer to his climax as well.

"Fuck I'm going to cum! You better cum with me!" Dream as he was now aggressively pounding George faster than he was. George began to get tighter around Dream. "Here it comes!" Dream screamed. "Yes, please give it to me!" George said while moaning and groaning.

Dream came inside of George filling him up with his milk. Dream then but down on George's shoulder official marking George, with that George came as well. They both laid down as they both were exhausted.

George went to sleep and the last thing he heard before darkness consumed him was, "You're finally mine. I will never let you go. DEATH is the only thing that will separate us."

THE END.

#dreamwastaken #dreamnotfound #yandere dream #smut #violence

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atinybitofau · 4 years

Text

S E O N G H W A ⥈ mafia au series

RECAP: southside’s little devil brings you home to his boss and you both spend the night together for the first time. the next day is filled with eventful surprises. serves purpose, it’s about time you meet your future husband.

word count: 2600+ , tags: angst fluff

characters: ateez (ensemble), reader

⤩ CHAPTER 1 ⤩

prologue . character list

It started with childish attraction and before he knew it, obsession. Seonghwa wanted to know where you were, what you were doing, who you were with— he wanted you on his mind 24/7. If not his mind, in his peripheral. And like San says, he’s a petulant man. If he was offered the oppurtunity to not move a finger, he’ll take it. And though getting you was easy, learning to have you was proving itself difficult already.

Hongjoong had his own desires and call it jealousy but Seonghwa didn’t like the fact Hongjoong had the most beautiful woman wrapped around his finger. Knowing you were already somehow bound to city side, Seonghwa wanted to take you out of it as soon as possible. To him, you were a prize that he wanted. A prize that he couldn’t lose to Hongjoong. He’s already lost enough to the city scum.

You woke up remembering the bed dipped a little late at night. San was very hospitable in your arrival and you weren’t exactly mourning your father’s death— moreso exhausted that it took so long.

The moment you arrived, you were content on taking a nice cold shower and heading to bed. After settling down a little, inhaling this new scent you were forced to familiar with, you laxed in solemn lonesome and buried yourself in a bed that wasn’t yours. At first, it were strange to you the string of events that happened in no less than 24 hours now. You came to accept it as easily as you did to your fathers gruesome history. While you slept however, the scent you lulled to strengthened and a presence you’ve never felt was suddenly there.

Seonghwa was quiet; relaxed and seeming stressed enough not to care that you were already sleeping on the other half of his bed. He fell asleep beside you that night and you only glanced at his back for a brief minute before closing your eyes again. You woke up to the same silence Seonghwa arrived in and his scent lingered away.

On Seonghwa’s mind, he can feel you staring. He can feel your curiosity and it feeds his desires more. He can’t explain how hard it is not to turn around and face you. Tell you what he’s feeling, how he feels, how he sees you. A beautiful woman rightfully his. And in no means was Seonghwa an insolent man, albeit a little sinister when he needs to be, but he respects you. He see’s you fit to share his position and he’d have it no other way with you sleeping at his bedside.

He fucking deserves it.

He wakes up and brushes his finger softly against the bone of your cheek before getting up to leave not even 4 hours later. He’s got enough sleep and no doubt it’s because of you. He has a lot of things to do before he gets to marry you the day after today.

“Good morning, hot stuff.” San flirtatiously licks at his lips, finger pushing his glass frames when he catches Seonghwa strut through the door. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“I’m an engaged man, San.” The elder pairs with an eye roll.

“Boohoo, cry me a fucking river.” Still annoyed at most, San slips him a plate of food at 4 o’clock in the morning. “And what’s our lucky future bride-to-be doing?”

The always furrowed Seonghwa smiles at the mention of you. “Sleeping. What else is there to do?”

“Mhm. Yet here you are bright and early ready to do what again? Hyung, you just got back from overseas. I’m sure Yunho and I can handle y/n’s endeavors for the day. After all, it’s just a dress fitting. How hard can it be?”

Seonghwa whips a glare at satan’s little assistant, teeth gritting at the thought of leaving you with a bunch of imbeciles.

“Being with y/n may be very tedious. Which is why I’ve called Jongho from his activities in Gangnam to join you. And I didn’t get up this early to save grace, Sannie. I got up to meet with the big city’s big man to win y/n’s hand a little more.” Seonghwa pokes his fork at San’s direction. “Don’t sulk at me. I don’t want my fiancé running for the hills before I can even marry her.”

The hitman bellows before sulking anyway. “Remind me again why you’re marrying a woman this soon? For fucksake, Hwa, you’re 22. We haven’t even tried covering Gangwon’s territory and you’re already celebrating our loss.”

Seonghwa rubs at his temples remembering what his bigger tasks at hand were. Why he was often traveling than resting as he should. He thinks a woman can fix his mental issues, his stresses. He may be wrong but for what it’s worth, trying to beat out another gang of territory can be exhausting. Remembering that you slept in his bed, under his roof, with his name? Is rest assured enough. He doesn’t need much more than that.

“Hongjoong has a lot to offer.” Seonghwa reminds San of why he may lose in the first place. “Getting Gangwon under my power is not an easy thing for me to do, San. I have to go through many lengths to get it. And Hongjoong gets too many privelages as the city’s big man.”

“And by privelages you mean the president’s fucking cock of a son. That spoiled little—“

“Yeosang may be spoiled but he’s still wrapped around Jongho’s finger; Jongho still working for me.” He recalls having the upper hand and even if San must remind him of reality, he must remind San who’s stronger. “My main concern as of right now still stands by the woman wearing my engagement ring. And if Hongjoong got to her first I might as well have lost Gangwon all together.”

San feels defeated at the statement. Both indefinitely and so. He just wants Seonghwa to be happy. Most of the time, the things he does.. he works for Seonghwa for that reason. When San was looking for a way out, southside’s own prodigy gave him the little hope he needed. Hongjoong was a pawn in this game he was willing to toss out. San didn’t like enemies. He didn’t like losing. And he sure as hell didn’t like new roles, new things.

Not that he didn’t like you. He just didn’t like the reason why you were here.

“So you marry her. Yeah sure.” The younger of the duo shakes in pure distaste. “You marry the poor girl and that makes it easier for you or easier for the situation you have?”

Seonghwa knows of San’s concerns and he hears them loud and clear. “Y/n serves an important purpose in my success. I’m as greedy and heartless as they come but sometimes I still am a human being, San. Though I prosper at evils, I deserve some type of compensation. I deserve her.”

“Talk to Yunho about that and we’ll see if you still feel the same.”

Seonghwa leaves San that morning to ease the tension between them. He knows sharing a house with a man who cares for him too much and a woman who doesn’t is going to start domestic problems. He was still adjusting to the new set up and so was San. The black haired devil may be a little conniving but San will come around to you eventually. He just needs time.

The way you do with Seonghwa.

Speaking of time, it moves and you’ve dress fit and meet the new people of your life with not much response. In fact, you assumed that the fitting would draw you closer to amends with your circumstances. Unfortunately you fell short of that. You felt a little left out and you also felt uncertain with your place as Seonghwa’s new wife.

You were dying to meet your future husband personally. And you can tell, though you fond San’s company, he may not exactly be fond of you. In terms of: living with him and marrying his best friend at least. You give him some credit though since you’re normally a patient woman. Yunho on the other hand seemed quiet and never outspoken. Jongho too. You wonder if time will give them some respects towards you and you hope they don’t make your life a living hell. It’s already pretty bad and you don’t want it to be worse.

You wait in Seonghwa’s bedroom, the hands of the clock being the only side to drown your thoughts. Your wedding dress hangs mockingly over the closet door and you blink with every second that passes. You even count to make time go faster. San’s doing something with Yunho downstairs in the basement and Jongho’s somewhere making noise in the kitchen. It was hard to hear if Seonghwa was home. But the eerie silence that grew in the house, that weird tension that was there when you woke up this morning. It’s there again.

You don’t know why your heart bounces at the sound of footsteps.

You want to meet him.

This was going to be your husband for fucksake.

“Oh.” You only see his silhouette over the bright lights in the hall when he breaks the silence. “You’re still awake.”

You don’t say a word as he shuts the door and strips out of his suit jacket. He runs a tongue over his lips and the light in the bedroom hovers his features now. He’s just as gorgeous as San describes. Actually you think you’ve seen him before. He’s got protruding cheekbones, prominent lips, dark eyebrows and dark eyes that scream heaven in hell. You know that face. That’s Park Seonghwa of course. But you know that face because you’ve seen it many times before.

Your father used to owe him too much. Obviously, he’s the man your father sold you out to.

“You aren’t tired?” He questions breaking your condescending thoughts.

“Hardly.” Your voice is hoarse when you finally speak after countless hours of not saying anything at all. “I wouldn’t consider dress hunting to be much of a tiresome activity.”

“The boys would argue otherwise. They tell me you’re a picky woman.” His chuckle vibrates even in your chest.

You start to realize you want to like him but you can’t. He’s just so nice. He talks like he’s known you for years. He smiles like this settlement doesn’t hurt you. Like being sold and arranged to marry him isn’t heart clenching. You hate him and it’s going to be hard to change that.

The adjustment period might take longer than you initially thought.

“I-I’m y/n.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He turns to you with a soft glare and smiles. He reminds you of somebody. He reminds you of someone you used to love. “I’ve known you longer than you’ve known me.”

You highly doubt that.

“I met with Hongjoong today.” He tangents with pure consideration. “He asks if you’re still mourning.”

Not really paying attention at first, you ask for him to reiterate. “What?”

“Your father.”

You’re not sure how Seonghwa sees you out of this set up. You’d think a person might be a little peeved by your immoral senses considering you put a hit out on your own father. Although, this person was someone who killed meaningless lives on a daily. Provokes the evils in people, maybe. And you indirectly ask your future husband you’ve never met before to kill a man who worked for the enemy: your dad. You don’t want to assume he’s egging you on but you somehow think he’s just being courteous.

“Why would I be mourning my father when I asked someone to kill him for me?”

Seonghwa’s smile is as dark as hell’s deepest point. “So you’re happy.”

“I’m ecstatic.” Your tongue seethes against your tightened teeth and Seonghwa’s flustered in the attraction he has for you.

He overanalyzes the way your eyes gleam and how your lips drool through someone else’s blood shed. You were a cold hearted bitch. And damn does he live for it. He loves to see it. And he wants all of it.

Yeah, he definitely wants you.

“Well I’m glad I had the pleasure of making your wishes come true.”

He stands up again while looking at the white dress hanging from his wall. He seems a little struck, pauses to look at it a little longer. Like at you, when he walked through his bedroom door a couple minutes ago.

You want to like him, you do. But it’s already proving itself difficult and you haven’t even married him yet. His answers were to simple. His questions felt half assed and far from curious. He’s a hard devil to trust and from your pasts, you don’t like dishonesty.

“You met with Hongjoong. Which means you went into the city today.” You urge a response from the frozen man who blatantly gazes at the dress you chose to marry him with. “Are you two still fighting for the territory up north? Where my father was initially going to be transferred to.”

Seonghwa’s back tenses at what you ask and you can see it even through his thick materialed shirt. “Questions get you in trouble, y/n. Keep that in mind the next time you want to get brave enough to pry.”

“As your fiancée, I think I get the right to pry. So deal with it.”

“We leave for the venue tomorrow at 10.” He unwraps the leather of his watch and turns off the red blinking light in the corner of the room. “I know he’s your old friend so Hongjoong has been cordially invited and with the rest of his fools. So I suggest you don’t make me look bad and our partnership will start on light feet.”

“Partnership?” You scoff wanting to stand. Though you shouldn’t, you definitely want to. “Is that what you’re calling this? What you forced me into?”

“An arrangement of sorts. A partnership that leads to both our success.” He turns to you and shows you his other side. A side you have to adjust to already. “This is no longer your choice and you either are gonna stay with me or stay without me. I’m gonna give you the option to leave right now if you want.”

He’s halfassing you and you don’t need binoculuars to see past his bullshit. The devil in him is just begging to be let out.

“I wasn’t blessed with the right to choose nor was I blessed with the right to care. If it’s me you want, it’s me you’ll have. I was never happy and I’m sure that’s not gonna change even if I stay or go.”

His smirk deepens at your tenacity. He likes it. He likes it a lot.

“Good.” His tongue rubs across his already wet lips. “I’m glad we’ve come to an agreement.”

“Fucking bite me.”

You don’t plan to ever say that again. Cause you sleep in the same goddamn bed with him. And let’s just say they were right when they said Seonghwa doesn’t like when people answer back.

“Well isn’t he nice.” You hoarsely mumble to yourself while rubbing at your swollen eyes.

Your fingers play with a note left on his side’s pillow and you open it to read that you were set to prepare for the wedding. You bathe and change as if the house was already yours and meet with San who was prepping breakfast in the kitchen. You remind yourself in the halls to explore a little more when the time’s given.

“Good morning.” You greet sitting by the counter, eyes chasing his rushing figure.

“Yup. Sure.” He hums while sliding you a plate, all in the while fixing his suit and tie. “—This damn shirt. I told that asshole I wasn’t going to wear this shit.”

“What?” You chuckle before reaching over to fix his collar. “A suit?”

He absentmindedly groans while glaring at you help him. “I’m a turtle neck enthusiast. Buttons are my worst enemy and we’re clearly past formal appointments with our line of work. Since I can’t, please do me the solid favor of choking your husband in his sleep.”

“Duly noted.” You pat his shirt when you’re done and fix your his disheveled hair. “Speaking of the groom, he left this morning and didn’t say a word. He left a note though saying I was to prepare for the wedding. Care to elaborate?”

San threads his fingers back through his hair, glaring his eyes at you an a casual manner. As if his eyes were meant to stare that way.

“You’re getting married in the next 3 hours. What else is there to elaborate?”

@atinybitofau

a/n: rough edit

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 3 years

Note

Domestic fluff, with mechanic, silver fox, soft Tony married to professor Peter. Throw in any other trope we're both obsessed with lol

The Way You Hold Me

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature Notes: Holy. It has been a hot minute since I’ve put fingers to keyboard. I’m so stoked that S’s prompt is the one to pull me out of my slump. I’m a sucker for silver fox Tony & finally couldn’t resist. This is pure, tooth-rotting fluff, so I hope you’re up for some sweetness! Word Count: ~5K Warnings: There’s a bit of smexy in there, but it’s not that detailed. The rest is just indulgence of the love-dovey kind.

Read on AO3 here

To say that Tony was hooked from the very start would’ve been a huge understatement.

Despite never laying eyes on Professor Peter Parker, Tony found himself completely overwhelmed with that obsessive sort of feeling he got when things sparked his interest. The words in their email exchanges were more than enough to draw him in – he could openly admit that strong character and a whip smart brain totally got him going. If his witty words and bright ideas weren’t enough, a quick Google search put the final nail in the coffin. Big brains and immense beauty – who was he to deny the attractiveness in that situation?

When the opportunity presented itself, Tony navigated his way around NYU’s campus, practically jumping on the chance to finally meet the notorious Professor Parker in person. He made his way leisurely through throngs of students until he found the not so surprisingly crowded lecture hall. If professors were as attractive as Professor Parker during his school days, he might’ve paid a bit more attention. Unlike most classes, each student seemed to be completely entranced by the information – or the man at the front of the room presenting it.

Tony rarely got the chance to observe someone else while working – most people that knew about his shop knew about his impeccable brains and talent; which meant a lot of the spectating happened while he worked. Flipping the norm on its head proved to be incredibly delightful – Peter Parker could hold the entire room’s attention without even trying. And man did he know his shit! He spoke about mechanics and fluid dynamics like they were extended pieces of himself, not convoluted theories riddled with mathematical explanations. If he weren’t already taking giant leaps towards infatuation, the time spent watching the professor lecture surely would send him spiraling in that direction.

For a brief instant toward the end of his lecture, Tony caught Professor Parker looking at him. Their eyes met and held for what felt like eons, the other man’s cocoa colored irises were stunning and seemed to become more so the longer Tony looked. A moment of recognition flashed in those deep eyes before he turned back to the class and continued to talk about fluid pumps like nothing happened.

By the end of the lecture, Tony knew a couple of things with absolute certainty – Peter Parker was the most gorgeous person (in every single way) on the planet, and he would do absolutely anything necessary to find a place for him in his life. Though he was getting ahead of himself, Tony could feel the rightness of the situation down to his very core – there weren’t many people who could spark a reaction in him, let alone one that moved him to action. He forced himself to calm down as a flood of students started to pile out of the room, each one looking at him with a mix of suspicion and appreciation – he forewent the hat that morning, so his longer salt and pepper hair stood proudly on display. Even he knew the appeal of that silver fox look.

A soft throat clearing brought Tony back from his contemplative state – he blinked a few times to orient himself before turning towards the noise.

Bright eyes on him had him once again stopping in his tracks; Peter Parker the man looked totally different than the lecturer standing in front of him only moments before. The owlish, almost nerdy look was replaced with a soft smirk and clear, knowing eyes. “Tony Stark, as I live and breathe. I would’ve happily met you at my office.” Peter didn’t seem to blink as he spoke, those eyes following every one of Tony’s minuet movements.

Tony knew in that instant – he wasn’t the only genius predator in that room.

Running a hand through long strands, Tony shifted his feet just enough to lean against one of the chairs closest to him. “I thought I’d catch you in your natural habitat. Even I know professors are never in their offices,” Tony remarked, his words light and just the slightest bit flirty. “Seeing you in action is much more informative than any meeting in your office would’ve been, anyway.”

Peter’s answer came in the form of a face splitting smile, the whites of his teeth showing through the stretch of soft lips. “You’re an actions speak louder than words guy – I like that.”

Grinning, Tony closed the distance between them, his feet carrying him in a manner that he never experienced before. It was as if the inches that separated them were causing physical pain, like if he didn’t get within touching distance that instant, Tony might actually combust. Now toe to toe, Tony stuck his hand out to shake, a daring look on his face. “Actions are the only thing that count in this muddled world, Professor Parker.”

And just like that, a bond developed between them. Aside from working on the research they cultivated over the past few months, Tony found himself seeking Peter’s company out as much as possible. For a little while, he made up lame work-related excuses – Peter was insanely dedicated to their joint academic pursuits and gladly came whenever Tony posed a question. As time trickled on, the questions and requests became increasingly less academic and much more personal. Instead of meeting at the campus library, Tony brought Peter to the big office he kept in the shop or the sanctuary of his kitchen. Slowly but surely, topics moved from engine parts to hobbies and ambitions. Much like the rebuild of a classic car, their steps towards something else were filled with anticipation and an overall feeling of contentment.

Instead of infatuation, Tony started to recognize the floaty feeling as love – the active process of falling into it much less frightening than he initially figured. Despite what the forty-nine-year-old knew about his previous “loves”, Tony found himself learning something new about the topic on a daily basis. Never before did he find someone’s coffee making ritual as endearing as the repetitional process that Peter went through. For the first time in his life, Tony understood what it meant to love every part of a person, not just a few individual pieces that made up the whole.

When they finally took the step towards realizing their love for each other, Tony jumped in headfirst. Being the ridiculously professional academic that he was, Peter didn’t want to mix any sort of business with pleasure, so they waited what felt like several long months to even think about anything other than friendship. Throughout those months, Tony wore out fantasy after delicious fantasy about what having Peter next to him would be like – how his ink-stained hands would feel on bare skin, how plush lips would press against his own. In all the ways, Tony tried to picture Peter as his.

Yet, nothing he pictured even came close.

The first time Peter kissed him, Tony was utterly unprepared for it. Upon their article being published, Tony and Peter planned to celebrate with a home cooked meal in Tony’s surprisingly well stocked kitchen. Throughout their time together, cooking dinner and hanging around the kitchen’s island with a glass of wine in hand became second nature to them – the whole ritual like a deep breath of fresh air after the long days both men waded through on a constant basis. Yet, this time, Tony could feel a crackle in the air – whether it was wishful thinking or fact, he wasn’t quite sure.

As they moved around each other seamlessly, Tony felt himself relaxing in a way that only happened when Peter was around. Instead of anxiety and a never-ending slew of thoughts, a clear head and empty spaces opened up around him. The comfort in Peter’s presence lulled him into a state that, until meeting the man, Tony didn’t know he could achieve. Which is why he was thrown off guard when a firm hand wrapped around his upper arm. Setting down the knife he’d been masterfully chopping vegetables with, he turned his body in Peter’s direction, the touch on his bare skin producing a sensation that sent tingles down to the very tips of his toes.

“What’s up – “ Tony started to say before the softest lips were pressing against his own. Whatever question he wanted to ask flew from his mind, the pressure of warmth and the delicate feeling of getting what he wanted, finally, overtook him. Leaning into the kiss, Tony tilted his head and returned it to the best of his ability – chances like this didn’t come by often and he sure as hell wasn’t one to let them pass him by. His own hand moved restlessly until it found the curve of Peter’s hip; the fingers there dug into jean and fabric and the slightest hint of what could only be warm, smooth skin.

Though it felt like just a second, Tony’s chest was heaving when they finally pulled away from each other. Without much thought, he renewed the grip on Peter’s hip and brought him back in for another kiss, the pressing issue of a lack of oxygen not even registering. Behind closed eyelids, he only saw, felt, and wanted the divine press of lip against lip – if he could live in this singular moment, all would be right in the world.

It was Peter who finally broke away, the redness in his cheeks sending a rush of some unnamed feeling down the length of Tony’s limbs. It felt electric, like shockwaves traveling across the surface of his skin. Sucking in a breath, Tony forced himself to look up and take in the melted chocolate of Peter’s stunning eyes. The black of his pupil practically overran the rich, dark brown, yet the color stood out even more because of that. The compulsion to reach out and touch Peter’s face rushed through him – the thought of more of that warm skin under his hands completely entrancing. Instead, he dug his fingers further into Peter’s hip, the bottom of his shirt riding up with ever clenching gesture.

“I’ve wanted to do that for months. Months, Tony,” Peter mumbled, his words still colored by the slightest pant of breath. The touch of his hand shifted up his arm, those long fingers settling on the naked skin on the back of Tony’s neck like they belonged there (they did). Slight callouses on the palm of Peter’s hand reminded him of the depth of the professor’s knowledge and experience – the roughness there spoke of words written with restless hands and technical brilliance brought about by steady, knowledgeable limbs. Unable to resist, Tony leaned into the touch, his entire being tuned in to the warm caress.

Leaning forward slightly, Tony brushed the tip of his nose against Peter’s, a soft sigh leaving his lips. So many times, he thought about this very moment and the reality of it couldn’t possibly be predicted – everything about Peter seemed like a surprise; every second they spent together another adventure, another excitement added to the list of things to LOVE about Professor Parker. The answering gasp of air against his lips had Tony pressing forward again, their lips meeting in a barely there caress.

“Now you don’t ever have to stop,” Tony finally managed to drag his lips away from Peter’s to mumble. “In fact – I hope you don’t. I really, really, really hope.”

Luckily, Peter hadn’t planned to. For weeks after that night, they flirted through shared time in the kitchen, and teased each other throughout tv show binges and candlelit dinners. No matter what they did, Tony ended the night with a writhing Peter Parker on his lap. With every second spent together, Tony tried to absorb everything he could about the man – how his hands felt gripping around his neck, the way his thighs flexed and clenched with the subtle roll of his hips – hell, even the way the taste in his mouth changed when things went from gentle and tame to overtly arousing. Many times, he wished he were a better writer – the ache Tony felt to document his findings was entirely too overwhelming.

Little by little, they crept towards what could only be considered to be something serious. There was no longer the pretense of academic pursuits to stop them from stepping out into the New York night life together – their dates took on a whole new nature when Tony realized just how well Professor Parker could clean up. It only took one night of Peter’s well-tailored ass dancing against him to know that demanding outings exactly like that one was absolutely necessary for his survival – and ever growing libido

Said libido spent a long time in self-induced isolation and took the magic of Peter Parker to reignite whatever passion seemed to be lacking earlier in his life. Up until the supple curves of his favorite professor sat in the palms of his hands, Tony struggled with the ease of intimacy – his brain ran a mile a minute and couldn’t often slow down enough to thoroughly enjoy the greatness of human contact. Yet, when Peter held him, touched him – something happened; the rest of the world sort of faded away, everything narrowed down to the lightest stroke and talented caress.

And despite the wild flame that seared between them, it still took four months of heavy petting and sleepovers on the couch after too much making out to finally fall into bed together. Tony knew – with every piece of himself – that the second he gave himself to Peter, there was no going back. Whatever addiction he willingly cultivated during their time together teetered on a precarious edge between not enough and too much. Physical intimacy would smash that cliff in half, leaving Tony with an inability to separate himself from the overwhelming feelings Peter made him feel.

Yet, when the moment finally came, every second of it felt righter than Tony thought possible. They didn’t tumble into the room in a tattered state of “can’t wait” and “right now”. Instead, Tony slowly unwrapped the present that a jean-clad Peter Parker presented. His lips mapped the route from a delightfully long neck to cut shoulders, then down from nipple to nipple, and lower – the soft hair leading down to lean hips and a gorgeous cock got more attention than either of them anticipated.

Between the dizzy effect of Peter’s moans and the effort to remember each of Peter’s moans, Tony almost forgot how he found himself two fingers deep in the tightest ass he could recall feeling. His cock, which brushed teasingly against Peter’s thigh, twitched with anticipation with every thrust – the tight clench around them was going to feel spectacular around his incredibly touch starved dick.

Clearing his mind of the more heady thoughts, Tony worked a third finger into Peter’s tight heat – the ability to control himself was slowly crumbling, each second that passed felt like one too many – the need to satiate his overwhelming craving hit him in the chest from one touch to the next.

Long fingers gripped his forearm, forcing his attention away from the pulse and stretch of the warm tightness around him. Tony looked up, his eyes seeking Peter’s without thought.

“I’m ready, Tony. I need you to fuck me. I can’t wait – don’t make me.” Peter’s grip tightened as each word slipped from his lips.

Sucking in much needed air, Tony moved until he could comply – his entire body thrummed with anticipation, his ability to wait seemed to fly out the window in that moment, too. He shifted to pull the bedside table drawer open, but he was stopped again by the hand still clutching his forearm.

“Just you, Tony.”

They locked eyes again, a silent conversation happening between them before Tony nodded, the outstretched hand finding Peter’s hip, instead. With the other, he uncapped the lube and poured a good amount straight on his heat-flushed cock, the cold of it pulling a pulse from him, a small bead of precum forming at the tip. Tony forced himself to take in a deep breath, the touch of his hand as he spread the sticky substance over sensitive skin reminding him how close he actually was. It wouldn’t do to finally be getting what he wanted and not last – he wanted, craved, desired the best of the best for Peter – with him, even.

Another quick shift had him pinning Peter on the bed below him, the forearm of his right arm pressed tightly against Peter’s shoulder – there wasn’t any space between them. When he finally pushed in, Tony let out a noise he never heard before – especially from himself. The moan radiated around the room, wrapping both him and Peter up in the delicacy of pure pleasure and steady connection. “Fuck, Pete – “ Tony couldn’t help but babble, his entire core clenching as he finally, finally bottomed out.

For all the time spent anticipating, Tony didn’t have any sort of word or feeling to describe what being connected to Peter was like. His strong thighs wrapped tightly around Tony’s waist, the muscles squeezing with every thrust – almost like he dreaded the slide out just as much as Tony. The tip of his cock nailed Peter’s prostate with every cleverly angled shift of his hips, the feeling on both ends bringing a new sense of bliss to the situation.

Though he tried to keep his shit together, Tony felt the coil in his stomach spin up uncontrollably, the inevitable end racing towards him without any of his permission. Picking up his pace, Tony untangled their joint limbs just enough to slip his hand between them, his work roughened fingers wrapped tightly around Peter’s cock to time his tight strokes with the movement of his hips.

The wet feeling of Peter’s release splashing against his fingers pulled Tony over the edge, the loud breaths and drawn out moans of the other’s orgasm a tantalizing soundtrack to his overwhelming peak.

He couldn’t remember losing the ability to hold himself up, but moments later, he resurfaced to find his chest pressed tightly against Peter’s with sweaty fingers brushing through his long, graying locks.

“Wow.” Tony whispered after a while, his nose finding its way to the crook of Peter’s neck. He pressed soft kisses and took in long, deep breaths – Peter’s normal scent was something more now, the undertones of it carrying the slightest hint of the cinnamon Tony himself carried around. A slow smile pulled across his lips at the thought – they were both forever changed now, each one another integral piece of the other.

Instead of answering, Peter tightened his grip around Tony, his soft lips pressing kiss after kiss against skin still slicked with sweat.

A while later, they tumbled out of bed and cleaned up in the shower, both men unwilling to put more space between them than necessary after such a powerful experience. Tony reveled in his ability to touch and caress as he washed hot water warmed skin, and then later when Peter crawled into his arms and settled against his chest under the plushness of soft sheets. He let the contentment of it carry him to the cusp of sleep.

Right before he let his eyes close, Tony felt a kiss pressed to the side of his neck and Peter moving impossibly closer. “I love you, Tony,” Peter mumbled against his skin, the sleepiness in his voice making the words sound so fucking special.

Blinking, Tony tightened his hold, his fingers running in smooth patterns up and then back down the length of Peter’s back. “I love you, too. So much.”

----

Eight months later, Tony found himself right back where things started; his eyes took in the entirety of the lecture hall with fond affection. He got to campus a little earlier than usual, his excitement at getting to see Peter too much for him to handle back at the shop. Instead of fretting in the car, he stretched his long legs in a walk across campus. By instinct, or maybe nostalgic intervention, Tony got to Peter’s building without thought – he shook his head at himself, but walked through the doors, anyway. Sucking in the familiar smell that Peter brought back to the apartment every day, Tony kept walking until he was able to take a seat at the back of the overfull amphitheater.

Despite not making any noise as he walked in, Peter glanced up at him, the softest smile slipping across his lips as their eyes connected. A warm feeling sat in the bottom of his stomach – the all too familiar burn of love flaring up inside him at the look.

Never missing a beat, Peter continued through the last part of his lecture like Tony wasn’t even there. Bright whiskey colored eyes watched with fascination, the smile on his face growing with each passing minute. For a long time, Tony’s own intelligence made him feel like a social outcast – there weren’t too many of his peers that could even come close to his level of understanding. Peter, though – his brain worked in a way that Tony not only found interesting, but also wanted to know and explore in the same way he did his own. The rare treat of getting to see it in work made his heart slam in his chest – Peter was damn sexy when flawlessly controlling the classroom.

Unlike most of the students around him, Tony let out the slightest sigh of disappointment at the end of Peter’s presentation – he would’ve gladly skipped their dinner plans to hear Peter wax poetic about diesel; despite the oddity of it, Tony found Peter’s display of knowledge distractingly intriguing.

Tony went against the flow of students leaving the lecture hall to get to his boyfriend at the front of the room, a happy smile on his face as he did. When close enough to reach out and touch, Tony grabbed Peter’s hand, using his leverage to pull him into his arms. Planting a fleeting kiss on soft lips, Tony held Peter tightly to him, his eyes closing from the sensation. He would’ve gotten lost in it if it weren’t for a soft chorus of ‘awes’ that sounded from the back of the room.

“Ms. Pesto, class is over.” Peter leaned back into Tony’s hands on his back to speak to the culprit, a smirk pulling across his face. “Shut the door behind you when you go.”

Grinning, Tony leaned in to press a longer, more intense kiss on already swollen lips. “Have I ever told you how sexy you are when you’re teaching?” The question was broken up by soft kisses to Peter’s lips, cheek, and chin.

Peter shook his head in answer, a slight giggle falling from his lips. “You neglected to share that interesting piece of information.” Then, “what’s your favorite part? The way my brain works, or how good I look in these pants?”

Tony let his hands run more firmly over Peter’s ass at the comment, his pupils dilating with a sudden rush of arousal. “Most definitely all of the above,” Tony whispered, his fingers digging into the meat of a delightfully thick glute. “You’re my favorite part.”

There weren’t any more words shared between them for a few minutes, the solid weight and press of lip against lip the only thing existing in those moments. Peter forced them apart when the door opened again and a colleague started to descend the stairs. Reading the room, Tony forced himself to calm down and grabbed Peter’s bag from the desk, shouldering it before reaching out to grab Peter’s hand.

Throughout the rest of the night, Tony couldn’t stop the thoughts of how right and perfect things were – Peter drove him crazy with want, but even more importantly, love and adoring affection. For the first time in his entire life, Tony understood what it was like looking at the rest of forever. Popping the question entered his mind a few months ago, just the idea of it made him absolutely weak at the knees. Though he hadn’t given much thought to marriage before, Tony could picture it clearly with Peter – they already did so much give and take with each other, the next step just made sense.

He started to seriously think about it a couple of weeks later when Happy, one of his senior mechanics, brought up a jeweler he frequently bought things from for his own wife. “He does the best work,” Happy said, his hands already busy digging into his coveralls to snag a card from his wallet. “Tell him I sent you – he’ll hook you up.”

The card sat in his grease-covered hands reverently, the small piece of cardstock another piece to the next step with his most favorite human.

Horace, who turned out to be a gifted jeweler and a joy to be around, got him settled with a gorgeous damascus steel ring, the contrasting light and dark metals melding together to tangibly personify Tony and Peter. It was strong, yet delicate – the stunning beauty of it mellow and completely overwhelming. Walking out of the store with it made Tony feel fulfilled – with it soon, he hoped to make Peter his for the rest of his life.

Of course, things never went the way Tony initially planned them to go. He carried the black velvet box with him for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment to pop the question. Tony knew, despite the pulsing nerves, that Peter would say yes – they were meant to be, he couldn’t be the only one that felt that way. Not when, only after a little more than a year of being together, Peter felt like home. More than anything else in his entire life, Peter felt right.

After a string of long days in the shop, Tony was finishing up his last car of the day when Peter came storming through the side door. The slightly worrying tone of Peter’s voice when he uttered Tony’s name had him standing up too quickly, the hood he was working under smacking him in the back of the head with a dull thud. A slight whimper left his lips, his anxiousness not enough to stop the slight throb of pain.

“Pete, what’s up?” Tony asked, his voice only a little tight in his attempt to keep his slowly building panic to a minimum. They left the house that morning with a stolen make out session and a slight unwillingness to say goodbye – what could’ve possibly gone wrong between then and now? Rubbing the back of his head, Tony finally straightened himself completely, his attention totally on Peter.

His jaw dropped a second later when Peter thrust the very box he’d been worrying over between them, his eyebrow raised. “Want to tell me about this? I left some research on the passenger seat of my car and when I went to grab it, I found this suspicious black box on the seat. What is it, Tony?”

Peter’s eyes were wide, the look on his face telling Tony that Peter didn’t look, despite knowing exactly what resided within the box without the need to peek. Sucking in a quick breath, Tony snatched the box out of Peter’s hands, his knee hitting the floor a second later. That very instant was as good a time as any, he figured.

Pulling the lid of the box open, Tony used his free hand to grab Peter’s, his fingers gripping tightly. “It’s kind of fitting that I find the perfect moment in one of my fuck ups. You make all of the weird pieces of me feel so normal – like they fit, despite being totally obscure. No one, in my entire life, ever made me feel as complete as you do. I should have known that asking you to be mine forever would be as unconventional as I am. Will you be my husband, Pete? I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Instead of answering, Peter grabbed the grimy edges of his coveralls and pulled him up from the floor. His arms wound tightly around Tony’s neck, the space between their bodies getting narrowed down to nothing, the ring box stuck between them. Their lips met in a fierce kiss, spit-sticky tongues sliding together in an instant. Peter kissed Tony’s breath away, the two only pulling back when the risk of passing out ran too high.

“Yeah, I’ll be your husband,” Peter mumbled breathlessly, the pants of his breath making the words even more impactful.

A face splitting grin lit up Tony’s face, his cheeks straining with the effort. He wordlessly put a bit of distance between them, the space just enough to grab Peter’s left hand and slip the ring down his third finger. The juxtaposition of grease and pale skin and shiny metal stood out as he admired the perfect fit of forever’s promise, both on Peter’s finger and in the bond between them.

Leaning back into his new fiancé, Tony pulled Peter into him, their lips finding each other without fail. The perfectly imperfect thing that existed between them thrummed with new life. As they kissed, Tony succumbed to the pleasant ache of being completely consumed by Peter and all of the feelings that always threatened to overcome him. Peter had his back – and would for the rest of their lives. Their love deserved every overwhelming feeling Peter played muse to.

#goindownshipping #starker #peter parker/tony stark #bobbie writes #the way you hold me

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mint-yooxgi · 4 years

Text

All Consuming - Yandere!Powers!Jimin X Powers!Reader

Yandere!AU - Part of the Yandere!BTS X Reader Series

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Semi-Smut (Mentions of Masturbation)

Pairing: Jimin X Reader

Words: 12,780

Warning: Minor assault. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Damn this turned out way longer than expected, but it’s finally here! Yay! After how many months of me saying it’ll be posted soon over and over again lmaoo. My apologies about that, life got crazy and I was severely demotivated to write this story for the longest time. Anyways, I'm glad it’s done now, though I think the first half is a bit slow to start. Hopefully it lives up to everyone’s expectations! Loosely inspired by X-Men. As always, I do not believe Jimin, nor any member of BTS would act like this. This is just my interpretation of the archetype. Feedback is greatly appreciated, enjoy!

Another day, another summer that has come and gone within the blink of an eye. This year in particular has gone by quicker than all the rest, and you’re not sure why. You’re just glad to be back at the academy and away from your brother.

A sigh slips past your lips as you stare up at the large stone building, standing almost castle-like in appearance. You watch as hundreds of students mill around you, some returning for another year, while others take in the grand sight before them for the first time. You can hear all their thoughts in your mind, jumbled over one another as their emotions over power you for the time being.

The first day is always the hardest.

Closing your eyes for a brief moment, you focus on casting out all the unwanted voices from your head, something which you learned to do last year, and worked hard to perfect over the summer. Breathing out a sigh of relief, you manage to find peace and quiet within your mind once more.

Being able to read minds can be tough, especially when some thoughts others have just simply demand to be heard. The whole reason you came to this school in the first place is to better understand yourself and your powers. So far, it’s been pretty helpful, and you’ve made some good friends along the way. You can’t help but think of the academy as a second home.

“It’s good to be back,” a small smile tugs at your lips as you begin to make your way inside the building.

Turning a few corners, you allow your feet to take you to the room you’ve been staying in during all your previous years here at the academy. You can faintly hear shouts coming from other rooms as people move in, or see their friends for the first time in what feels like ages.

Opening the door to your room, you take a quick look around. Everything appears to have been left exactly in the same spot as before, only now, a thin layer of dust resides on all the shelves. Your father will be by later to drop off all your other things that you’ll need for the year, like spare sheets, towels, and most importantly, your clothes.

Moving over to the shared bathroom, you give a soft knock before opening the door. Giving a quick look around as you flick on the lights, you notice the door to the adjacent room closed. However, in the next moment, it’s flinging open to reveal Jihyo, your roommate for the past two years.

“Oh my goodness, (Y/n)! Is that you?” She squeals, tackling you in a hug and nearly sending the both of you crashing to the floor.

“Hey, Jihyo,” you chuckle, hugging her back as you steady yourself on your feet.

“Oops, sorry,” she giggles, “I must have got too excited to see you again.”

“It’s been, what? Three or four months?” You smile, quirking a brow as you pull away from her to look into her eyes.

“Seems like forever ago!” She smiles back, eyes crinkling at the sides. “How’ve you been? How was your summer?”

“Not too bad. Though, I wish I didn’t have to spend so much time with Harold,” you roll your eyes slightly, noticing that she shoots a sympathetic look in your direction. “I swear he can do no wrong by our parents.”

“Hey, well, at least you don’t have to see him now for a couple of months,” she says, you nodding along with her statement.

“Yeah, at least,” you sigh, lip quirking slightly. “Anyways, how was your summer? Any big splashes?”

“Will you stop with the water puns?” She rolls hers eyes, exasperated as you simply grin in response. “No, not really, though I did make a wave crash into my cousin at the beach cause she called me a tramp.”

The casual shrug of her shoulders as she says this sends you into a fit of laughter, “remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“Hun, it’s been how many years and I still put up with your water-based puns,” she nudges your shoulder. “You couldn’t get on my bad side even if you tried.”

“You put too much faith in me,” you grin, shaking your head slightly as you cross your arms in front of your chest. “One day you’ll get sick of my puns and leave me for someone more fluid with their words.”

“(Y/n), I swear to god,” a look flashes through Jihyo’s eyes and you jump back into your room before she can smack you. A large smile is on your face as a few giggles slip out, watching her shake her head at you. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know,” your voice singsongs, a slight tilt to your head. “Love you, too.”

Before you two can continue your conversation, a knock sounds at your door. Moving over to see who it is, Jihyo casually leans against the side of the bathroom doorframe with her arms crossed. Opening your room door, you’re greeted by your father and brother, both holding two of your bags.

“Hi sweetie! Guess who wanted to tag along to say goodbye one last time!” Your father cheerfully greets you, stepping past you and into your room.

“Oh, hi there, Jihyo,” Harold greets her with a smile, noticing her presence as he steps into your room after your father.

“Hello,” she greets back politely, shooting you a look once both their backs are turned. Your eyes plead for her to stay, but she only sends you an apologetic look. “I’ll leave you all to it then, since you’ll probably want to talk with (Y/n).”

With a final polite smile, she closes the bathroom door in order to retreat into her room, leaving you alone with your dad and brother. You nearly sigh at her thoughts of good luck aimed towards you.

“I think this was everything you wanted me to bring for you,” you father smiles, placing your bags near your bed.

“It should be,” you smile back. “Thanks for bringing this stuff.”

“Of course! If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to phone,” you dad says.

“Well, we won’t keep you for too long then,” Harold says.

“That’s okay,” you reassure him. “Did you want to stay? We could grab dinner and I could show you guys the new west wing of the school if you wanted?”

“Maybe another time, we should probably get back home soon, before the traffic gets really bad,” Harold frowns slightly, along with your father.

“Your brother’s right,” you father sighs. “Maybe we can all come visit you soon though, and stay for the whole day. I do have to drive him back to his university early tomorrow morning anyways.”

“Alright,” you smile, somewhat sadly. “Thanks for bringing my stuff.”

“Of course, sweetie,” your father smiles, pulling you in for a hug. “We’ll talk with you later, okay?”

“Okay, dad,” you mumble into his chest before pulling away.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Harold jokes, pulling you into a hug of his own.

“No promises,” you tease, hugging him back briefly.

Waving a final goodbye, you close your door behind them as they leave. Once the door is closed, you find yourself letting out a sigh.

“You okay?” Jihyo’s voice manages to pull you out of your thoughts.

You turn to look at her, a hint of sadness in your eyes, “yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m used to them not spending time with me anyways. Harold’s more important than I am. Always.”

“(Y/n), you know that’s not true,” she crosses her arms while sending you a firm look. You can practically feel her sympathy radiating off of her before her thoughts even reach you.

“You��re thinking too loudly,” you state, turning around to pull one of your suitcases onto your bed to start unpacking.

You hear her sigh before her mood is shifting to become her usual cheerful self, “well, why don’t we grab food after you’re done unpacking then?”

“Sounds good,” you shoot a smile at her from over your shoulder. “Feel free to keep me company in the mean time.”

“Sure!” She chirps. “Here, why don’t I dust your room while you unpack?”

“That’d be a big help, thanks,” you reply, already opening the drawers to your dresser to start placing your clothes into.

The two of you move around your room soon after, working around each other as you talk about your summers. It feels nice catching up with one of your closest friends, and having her help you clean your room makes the time fly by.

Soon enough, the two of you have finished, and are ready to make your way down to the mess hall in order to grab some dinner. You’re excited to see if any of your other friends have made it back today, or if they’ll be here tomorrow.

Stepping into the mess hall, it seems a little busier than normal at this time of year. Usually, most people move back to the dorms in the upcoming days, but it looks like more moved back early this year. That, and there seems to be a new guy sitting with the most popular group of students.

Your eyes narrow slightly as you walk past, hearing the curious thoughts of the students surrounding the mystery new guy. You manage to catch his eye briefly before turning your attention back to Jihyo. However, a new thought sticks out among the rest - cute.

Seeing as how Jihyo is standing right next to you, you’re assuming she’s caught this new guy’s attention. A subtle smirk pulls at your lips.

“Hey, sounds like the new guy thinks you’re cute,” you nudge her as you step in line to place your orders.

“Shut up, he was totally staring at you,” she responds, nudging you back.

“Who is he, anyways?” You inquire, interest peaked considering the amount of fuss he’s created so far.

“I’m not sure, but give me ten minutes and I’ll let you know,” she answers, looking around the mess hall to see if she can spot anyone else she might know to tell her what’s going on. “Order my usual from last year, I’ll meet you at our spot in a few.”

With that, she leaves you standing in line, off to talk with a few of her friends to update her on the new guy. You watch her walk up to Eric, your friend that you both made last year from your history of mutations class. A slight chuckle escapes your lips as you see them greet each other, almost immediately jumping into a conversation as they not so subtly eye the new guy.

Turning your attention back to the front, you realize that you’re next to order. Placing your orders, you patiently wait for your food to be made, standing off to the side as you quickly check your phone.

Scrolling through your notifications, you’re currently zoned out to the world around you. What you don’t expect though, is to feel a slight bump on your back, followed by a small ‘oof’.

Turning around, you’re met with the apologetic face of the new guy.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” he says, a nervous look crossing his features.

“No worries,” you smile at him, “no harm done.”

“I’m Jimin, by the way,” he introduces himself, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “The new guy. Or at least one of them.”

“There’s more than one of you?” You quirk a brow questioningly, curious to know of the other new students that have joined the academy this year.

“Well, I’m actually not so sure, but I’d assume so,” he begins to say. “I mean, big school, there are bound to be a few new students every year, right? Unless I’m the only one, then that’d be weird, too, right? Oh god, I’m rambling again, I’m so sorry, I need to stop, oh my god.”

You let out a small chuckle, “it’s alright. I get it, don’t worry. We were all in your shoes at some point or other, being the new kid and all.”

You can practically hear his thoughts running wild just by looking at his face, but at your words, he seems to calm down slightly, even going so far as to breathe a small sigh of relief.

“Thanks,” the corners of his lips twitch upwards. “Anyways, I should probably get going, still got a lot to explore and everything.”

“Well, if you need a tour guide-“

He cuts you off before you can continue, eyes widening slightly, “oh, no, that’s okay, I wouldn’t want to trouble you! Thanks though. I’ll see you around.”

With a final smile and a small wave, he’s heading off to join the group of people you saw him with when you walked into the mess hall. You simply smile to yourself, shaking your head slightly as you turn around, hearing your name get called to alert you that your food is ready. You weren’t even going to offer yourself as a tour guide, just wanting to point him in the direction of the campus lead tours they host every year for new students. You let out a small chuckle.

Grabbing the two containers, you make your way over to your usual spot where Jihyo and Eric are already sitting and waiting for you. Placing the two containers down, Jihyo grabs hers, thanking you shortly after.

“So, we saw you talking to the new guy,” she wiggles her brows suggestively at you.

“Yeah, he seems nice,” comes your reply, taking a bite of your food shortly afterwards.

“I was just telling Jihyo here that apparently he comes from the prestigious Park family that practically sits at the head of every governmental council powers are involved in,” Eric tells you, causing you to tilt your head slightly in curiosity. “Apparently, he comes from a family of powerful powers.”

“Has he expressed his gene yet?” You ask, turning to catch one final look at Jimin as he exits the mess hall.

“Apparently not,” Jihyo replies. “That’s why his parents sent him to this academy, in order to assess his skills and find out what kind of mutation he has.”

“So, you’re telling me, he could be just a regular human?” Your brow furrows in confusion, momentarily halting your eating.

“I mean, it’s possible,” Eric replies. “Mutation of a mutation, in some twisted way.”

“Woah,” Jihyo gasps.

“That’s pretty cool though, if you think about it,” you say, continuing to eat in the next moment. “Human or not, that’s still pretty neat.”

“Poor guy, though,” Jihyo adds, causing you and Eric to both look at her. “To have that kind of family, the expectations are probably really high, and considering he hasn’t expressed his gene yet… I can’t even begin to imagine the kind of pressure he must be under.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” Eric nods.

“You never know, maybe he has expressed it, but just no one knows yet,” you shrug, finishing off your dinner.

“That’s true,” Jihyo nods. “Either way, he’s cute and from what (Y/n) says, he seems nice enough. Considering he’s already in with the popular crowd must mean something.”

“Yeah, that he’s part of a major family,” Eric grumbles.

“Careful, Ric, your jealousy is showing,” you tease, watching as he crosses his arms in the next moment.

“I’m not jealous,” he pouts, though his thoughts suggest otherwise.

“Uh-huh, sure you’re not,” Jihyo gets in on the teasing. “It’s okay, we still love you.”

“Yeah,” you nod along reassuringly. “Besides, who else would be able to put up with you.”

“Hey!” He whines, causing both you and Jihyo to burst out laughing.

“We’re only kidding,” she grins, you nodding along with her.

“Yeah, yeah,” he huffs. “You guys would be lost without me.”

At this point, the three of you stand up, seeing as you and Jihyo are finished eating, and make your way out of the mess hall after throwing away your trash. The three of you continue to bicker and tease each other back and forth all the way back to the dorms, smiles never leaving your faces. You’re glad to be back, and glad to see your friends once more.

The next few days are spent with Jihyo and Eric, talking about the upcoming school year, getting resettled into the dorms, as well as catching up with some of your other friends. You’ve just gotten your schedule for the year, and it looks like you have half your classes with Jihyo, and the other half with Eric. Luckily, you all have the same lunch period and free time.

You haven’t run into the new guy, Jimin, lately, so you’re assuming he’s been hanging around with the popular kids all this time. They usually don’t reappear or show up until the first day of classes anyways.

The night before classes start, you’re just heading back to your room with Jihyo when you notice the room across from you still vacant. You send her a questioning look, since it’d odd to not have all the dorm rooms filled, especially the once across from yours considering it’s one of the biggest on this floor.

“Maybe whoever is moving in is late this year cause they’re on vacation?” Jihyo suggests.

“Maybe,” you shrug. “Or maybe there’s an actual empty room for once.”

“That’s true,” she nods.

The two of you enter your room at this, letting the door fall shut behind you. With a sigh, you plop onto your bed while Jihyo sits in your desk chair, spinning around to face you.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to tell you something!” She says, an excited look crossing her face, of which you nod for her to continue. “Apparently, that new kid, Jimin or whatever, has been asking about you.”

“Really now?” You quirk a brow. “Why the hell would he be doing that, it’s not like we talked for longer than a few minutes.”

“He probably thinks you’re cute!” Jihyo winks. “I told you he was staring at you that night in the mess hall.”

“Doesn’t mean he thinks I’m cute,” you joke with a slight roll of your eyes.

“Still, don’t be surprised if he finds you to ask you out sometime soon,” she wiggles her brows suggestively.

“Jihyo, it’s only the beginning of the year, I doubt anything like that is going to happen so soon,” you huff.

“So, you’d like it if he asked you out?” She smirks, and you can hear her raunchy thoughts teasing you.

“Well, maybe, but I hardly know him,” you reply, throwing one of your pillows at her since she’s started chuckling at you. “Oh, shut up, it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” She teases.

You let out a sigh, “Jihyo.”

“(Y/n),” she mirrors the exasperation in your tone, looking at you expectantly.

“I talked to him for five minutes, it means nothing!” You defend yourself.

“Mmhmm,” she hums, “sure it doesn’t.”

“It’s not like I like him like that, I don’t know him,” you repeat. “The semester hasn’t even begun, so all I can do is just take it day by day.”

“Fair enough,” she nods at you, leaning back deeper into your chair.

With that, the two of you move on to another topic, talking late into the night until Jihyo retreats to her room to sleep. You bid her a goodnight and that you’ll see her tomorrow for class. Once you’ve finished getting ready for bed, you climb under the covers, thinking about what tomorrow will bring. You can’t wait to see who else is in your classes, and you hope that the semester goes by quickly.

The next morning, you groggily pull yourself out of bed. You silently curse yourself for staying up so late last night as you get ready for the day. A soft knock on your door manages to pull you from your thoughts. Opening your door reveals both Eric and Jihyo standing in the hallway with smiles on their faces.

“Ready for breakfast?” Eric asks.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you reply with a smile, stepping into the hallway with your bag and shutting the door behind you.

The three of you make your way to the mess hall, talking amongst yourselves. Once you’ve all grabbed food, you’re sitting in your usual spot.

“Don’t look now, but it looks like someone is staring at you,” Jihyo nudges your arm while motioning across the hall with her head.

Your brow furrows as you look up from your food and over to where Jihyo has directed your attention. You do your best to drown out the voices of all the students in the hall, both in your head and not, as your gaze zeroes in on Jimin. Once he notices he’s been caught staring, he looks away quickly, and you swear you hear a loud ‘shit’ in your head as he looks away, embarrassed.

“I told you he’s interested in you!” Jihyo squeals.

“Wait, what?” This time it’s Eric’s brow that furrows in confusion. “Who are you talking about?”

With that, he turns around to see if he can catch a glimpse of whoever was staring at you.

“Jihyo insists that the new guy, Jimin, has a thing for me,” you huff, clearly amused as you lean back in your chair.

“Maybe he does,” Eric shrugs, turning back around to face you. “You never know. You could always do some snooping you know.”

“You know I would never willingly read someone’s thoughts, that’s an invasion of privacy,” you respond, eyes narrowing slightly at him for even suggesting that.

“Okay, okay,” he raises his hands in defence. “My bad.”

“Anyways, we should get to class,” Jihyo says, collecting her things and standing up.

You simply nod your head in agreement, standing up with her and gathering your own things, “see you later, Ric.”

He sends the two of you a final wave goodbye as you make your way out of the mess hall and towards your first class of the day. The whole time, you can feel a pair of eyes burning into the back of your head, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You wonder if it was Jimin who returned to staring at you. You shake your head in order to clear your thoughts. You have more important things to worry about right now.

The first few classes you have pass by fairly quickly for you, and before you know it, it’s lunchtime. Both you and Jihyo meet Eric in the mess hall once more to eat. The three of you joke around, and you double check your bag to make sure you have everything you need for your next class. With a loud sigh, you realize you forgot your textbook.

“I forgot the fucking textbook,” you voice your thoughts to your friends. “I have to run back to my room to grab it quickly, but I’ll meet you in class, okay Ric?”

“Yeah, for sure,” he nods at you as you stand up.

“Save me a seat, will you?” You grin, tossing your bag over your shoulder and seeing him nod out of the corner of your eyes.

“See you soon,” he calls before turning back to talk with Jihyo.

Walking quickly, you weave your way through the halls of the school and back to your dorm room. Once you unlock your door, you grab the textbook you forgot earlier and head off to class. Checking your phone for the time, you see you still have a few minutes to spare, so you no longer have to rush as much as you were before.

Just as you reach the classroom, you manage to bump into someone coming out from the class. You let out a small ‘oof’ before apologizing for not watching where you’re going.

A chuckle reaches your ears, “it’s alright, I wasn’t watching where I was walking either.”

“Oh, Jimin,” you shoot him a polite smile, hearing his thoughts of amusement run through his head, “are you in this class, too?”

“Yep,” he returns your smile, eyes forming little crescents. You can’t help but let out a small chuckle at his happy thoughts of actually knowing another person in his class.

“Anyways, I’m going to head inside now,” you say, stepping around him without another word. You notice his eyes following you even after you walk over to Eric who has so graciously saved you a seat.

“Damn, looks like you have a thing for literally running into guys who like you,” Eric teases once you sit down.

“Shut up, I wasn’t paying attention,” you nudge his arm slightly before pulling out your supplies for the class.

Eric only hums in response, eyes twinkling in amusement, to which you roll your own. You barely know Jimin, it’s not like that at all.

Meanwhile, Jimin stands outside in the hallway for a few more moments, thinking over the past two interactions he’s had with you. You’ve definitely caught his eye, especially since you didn’t throw yourself at him the first chance you saw him, or talked to him for that matter. You actually treated him like a person, not some prodigal son from the Park family.

He begins to make his way to the snack area to grab the drink he originally came out to get, thinking over what he felt when he touched you. He could feel the slight guilt and annoyance that comes with bumping into someone, but once you saw it was him, your feelings shifted. He could sense the curiosity and slight nervousness in you, as well as intrigue. Just like the first time he bumped into you, though this time, you got shy.

Entering the classroom once more after he’s gotten his drink, a smile tugs at his lips. Maybe you like him like he’s starting to like you. He doesn’t know much about you, and you don’t know much about him, but you don’t seem to hold any high expectations of him. He doesn’t even know what kind of powers you possess, and he doesn’t want to be rude and just straight up ask you. He hates it when people do that to him, and he hates it even more that he has to lie every time.

Jimin, although coming from a powerful family of Powers, has what his parents consider a ‘weak’ power. He’s able to feel and understand a person’s emotions when touching them. Everything they feel, he feels, if he’s touching them, that is. However, his family doesn’t consider being an empath anything extraordinary, so he’s been told to hide what he is, to be ashamed.

This is why he hates when people expect so much of him, or are only friends with him cause of his name. His family is nothing special, just a bunch of entitled Powers who think they’re better than everyone else. He only really has one real friend, and that’s Taehyung, who luckily, also goes to this academy. This is also why he likes you so much already. He knows you won’t treat him any different than anyone else just because of his family name.

He’s used to it by now, though, so he’s able to play along with the people who only give him attention due to his name. It does get tiring, pretending all the time, but that’s why he’s so intrigued with you. He feels as if he’ll never need to pretend with you, as crazy as that sounds. What he does know, is that he wants to get closer to you, and maybe, just maybe, take you out sometime. The first step, is becoming your friend.

“Took you long enough,” Taehyung jokes once Jimin returns to his seat before the start of class, successfully pulling the aforementioned boy out of his thoughts. “Saw you ran into that girl that’s caught your eye, how’d that go?”

Jimin lets out a small sigh at the suggestive wiggle of Taehyung’s eyebrows, “I’ve only just met her, Tae. We just happened to bump into each other again.”

“Right, and that’s the reason you haven’t taken your eyes off of her since you’ve sat down,” Taehyung nudges him with his elbow.

At this, Jimin’s eyes widen. He hadn’t noticed he’d been staring at you, for his gaze naturally drifted towards where you’re sitting with your one guy friend. Well, he only hopes he’s just a friend.

“Do you know anything about her?” Jimin inquires, sitting up straighter as he watches you laugh at something the boy beside you has said.

“Just the same as you, that her name is (Y/n), and she’s been going to this academy for a few years,” Taehyung shrugs. “I know the guy that’s sitting beside her is Eric, he’s in one of my morning classes.”

Jimin simply hums in response, attention now being drawn to the front at the arrival of the professor. His mind begins to wander again as the professor introduces their course content for the semester. He has one more class after this, and he hopes that it’s also with you, so he can get another chance to talk with you, and try and become closer with you. He’s just in the middle of wondering what powers you possess when the prof’s words manage to pull him out of his thoughts.

“There will be a final assignment this term, of which you will work in pairs and give a presentation on what you’ve researched at the end of the semester,” at the shifting and murmurs starting up in the room, the professor continues, “I will be picking your partners, so you should all look forward to working with someone new. The sooner you know your partner and your topic, the better, hence why I will be assigning the groups before the end of class. I expect a topic to be chosen by Monday next week, that way you have the weekend to discuss with your partner what you’d like to work on from the approved topics. Have two backups ready incase you don’t get your first choice.”

You let out a sigh as you jot down ‘Monday, topic due’ for this class. You wonder who your partner will be, and unfortunately, you don’t think you’ll be lucky enough to get partnered with Eric.

Since the start of class, you’ve been zoning out everyone’s thoughts, wanting to not only practice this skill, but also not have to listen to everyone thinking at once. You’re glad you learned this technique last year, now, you only need to perfect it.

Soon enough, it nears the end of class and the prof starts calling out the partners for the final assignment. They explained that the final is worth eighty percent of your entire grade, the other twenty percent on attendance and participation. This only causes your anxiety to skyrocket, hating that your mark weighs heavily on one thing only. You just hope you get paired with someone decent and who doesn’t slack off.

“Eric and Taehyung,” they call, followed by, “(Y/n) and Jimin.”

At this, some heads turn to face you while some turn to face Jimin. You glance over to see he’s already staring at you with a smile on his face, so you send him one back. At least it’s someone you’ve actually met before, albeit briefly.

Class ends shortly after the last names are called, and you notice Jimin and his friend heading towards you and Eric.

“Hey,” Jimin greets you once they’re close enough.

“Hey, fancy seeing you here,” you joke, and you notice his friend grinning at your response.

“I’m Taehyung, by the way, and I believe you’re my partner,” he says, turning to look at Eric beside you.

“I’m Eric, nice to meet you,” Eric nods in greeting.

The two of them start to talk about class and the project, Eric calling an ‘I’ll see you next class’ over his shoulder as he walks down the hall with Taehyung.

“Damn, they really hit it off,” you laugh, gathering the last of your things and slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“No kidding,” Jimin replies, letting out a huff of amusement. “So, partners?”

“Well, yeah,” you grin, “we kind of have to be.”

“True, true,” he hums as the two of you make your way out into the hall. “What’s your next class?”

“I’ve got practical training with Eric, what about you?” You reply, glancing at him from the corner of your eyes.

“History of mutations, upper year one,” he tells you, to which you nod.

“I have that in the mornings with Jihyo,” you say.

“Here, how about we exchange numbers so we can talk about this assignment more when we’re both free,” he suggests, and you don’t need to hear his thoughts to see the hope shining in his eyes.

You giggle, “sure.”

Stepping to the side of the hallway, you both input your numbers into the other’s phone. Checking the time on your phone once you get it back, your eyes widen slightly. You’ve only got three minutes to get to class now, so you wave goodbye to Jimin and head on your way.

Jimin watches your form disappear around the corner with a sigh. He was hoping that you two would have the last class of the day together as well, but it looks like luck isn’t on his side. Oh well, at least he has your number now.

That night, you receive a text from Jimin asking you if you’re free Saturday to possibly discuss the project in full. You agree without question, letting him know that the sooner you get this done, the better.

Saturday comes and you end up meeting Jimin in the little café by the school gardens. It’s a beautiful day so you both decide to sit outside and enjoy the sunshine before the weather takes a turn for the worse.

Luckily, the two of you manage to decide on a topic pretty quickly, and choosing your two backups is a breeze. So far, the two of you have been sitting by the rose bushes for almost two hours now, falling into a natural conversation after deciding on what you’ll do for your project.

The whole time, Jimin watches you speak with a twinkle in his eyes. He can tell you’re not afraid of being honest with him and actually talking to him instead of trying to impress him like so many others. He enjoys getting to know you, and he likes how you listen to what he has to say, and actually respond to it instead of just agreeing with everything like so many others.

While you’ve been talking, you’ve also been working hard to maintain your silence in your head, making sure not to allow any stray thoughts from anyone into your mind. You’re pretty proud of yourself, so far, you’ve been able to maintain it and not give yourself a headache. Granted, there aren’t too many people around thinking loudly, which you couldn’t be more grateful for.

From what you’ve observed of Jimin so far, you can tell he’s a bit more reserved than he wants people to think. This only makes you think he’s hiding something, but his business is his own and he seems like a decent guy, so it can’t be anything bad. Maybe he’s just a shy person underneath everything. Either way, you enjoy spending time with him.

Currently, he’s nodding along intently to everything you have to say, eyes trailing over your face occasionally. He enjoys watching you, noting all the little quirks you have when you tell a story. He can’t even help himself when his eyes begin to drift towards your lips, wondering how they’d feel against his own, and if it’d be too early to make a move. Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t register the small shift in your voice.

“Oh, hi Jimin!” A voice interrupts you mid-sentence as you’re telling Jimin about your first year at the academy.

He turns his head, and you notice his eyes droop slightly in recognition, though his fake smile fools the girl easily enough, “oh, hi Sharen.”

“I saw you sitting by the roses and I just knew I had to come say hello,” she giggles, twirling a strand of her hair with her finger.

Checking your phone for the time, you shift uncomfortably. Sharen is one of the most popular Powers of the school. She has the ability to control plants, of which you were envious of in first year, before you got to know how rude she is to everyone who doesn’t have an elemental power.

“Oh shit, it’s getting late,” you say, your chair making a small scraping noise as you push it back to stand up. “I better get going.”

“No, wait, (Y/n),” Jimin goes to stop you, but Sharen gets in his way.

“It was nice talking with you, let me know when you’re free to work more on the project,” you shoot him a tight smile before rushing off, not wanting to remain under her scrutinizing gaze any longer.

Jimin hardly gets to watch you leave as Sharen steps into his line of vision once more, going on and on about something he really doesn’t care about. He sits back in his chair, defeated, but also irritated at Sharen for interrupting such a nice time he was having with you. Now, he zones her out, thinking about you, and how this evening could have went instead.

Maybe he could have invited you back to his dorm to watch a movie, getting to know each other more. He was hoping to at least graze your arm and get a sense of how you feel around him, but it looks like that will have to wait for a while longer. Even though he’s only known you for about a week, he can tell he’s starting to fall, and fall hard.

Instead, in order to keep up the appearance he’s created for himself, he watches Sharen, now in your spot ramble on about how powerful and in control of her powers she is. He nearly rolls his eyes at this, for he couldn’t care less. He hears enough of this shit at home.

Using the same strategy you just did, he checks his phone, but instead, he acts like he’s gotten a text from his parents. He goes to leave, but Sharen grabs his arm and he hates how he can suddenly feel her emotions. She’s disappointed, but also curious, not to mention interested in him. That much is clear even without him being an empath.

“You know, I’m here for you Jimin,” she says, attempting to be sincere but coming across as fake as she is to everyone else. “If you ever need somebody, for any reason, anything at all, I’m here.”

He nearly shivers in disgust at the shift in emotions he feels come from her, as well as the double meaning of her words. He’d rather stick a thorn in palm of his hand, and then set it on fire.

Still, he politely thanks her before taking off back to his dorm room for the evening. Appearances are everything, or so he’s been conditioned to believe. If you can’t make friends of your enemies, you’ll never be able to get far in this life.

The next month passes by fairly quickly, and before you know it, midterms have arrived. Luckily for you, both you and Jimin managed to get your first topic choice for your project, so you’re grateful for that. You’ve been meeting every Saturday for an hour or two to discuss the project and do some research on your topic, and you’ve both grown closer during this time.

You’ve caught some of his stray thoughts around you when he begins to think too loudly, and even though you do your best to block him out, it doesn’t work. Some thoughts just want to be heard, not to mention the ones that people want you to hear. Though, you doubt he wants you to hear him thinking about kissing you, or even giving you a lingering hug. It’s just a simple crush, at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

He hasn’t made any type of move yet, so you can safely say you’re not leading him on. Nor have you given him false hope, for you’ve never really talked about relationships before, and you’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible. Besides, you can tell Sharen has the hots for him, and the last thing you need is to become the target for her incessant bullying by ‘getting in her way.’

Speaking of Sharen, she seems to always appear wherever you and Jimin are working. Whether it be the garden café on the last few nicer days of the season, the library, or even the mess hall, she has a habit of showing up either in the middle of your research sessions, or near the end. One time she even turned up right at the beginning and you couldn’t even get any work done.

She always has a way of getting into your head, and every time, you can hear her spewing insults and laughing at you. It’s getting quite tiresome, honestly, having to deal with her throwing herself at Jimin, and acting like a child. It doesn’t take a telepath like you to know how uncomfortable he is when she shows up. Unfortunately, she cannot take a hint.

Jimin, for one, could not be happier about spending more time with you. He knows all this time spent with one another is only making what he feels for you stronger. He really wants to ask you what your power is, since he still doesn’t know, but he holds off ever time. He’ll wait until you’re ready, he doesn’t want to push your trust.

However, every time Sharen comes along he gets closer and closer to blowing his facade. She makes him so irritable, and he hates being able to feel her attraction to him grow every time she touches him. He swears that she’s become obsessed.

The final straw for him is when she follows him back to his dorm room one evening despite the fact that he’s told her he has an important call with his parents. He sent a text to Taehyung while heading back to his room just in case, using the pretence of texting his parents to make sure Sharen didn’t suspect anything.

Once he gets to his room, he tells her, somewhat through gritted teeth, that he needs to be alone now. He opens his door only to be pushed into his room by her, and he shudders at the lust he feels seeping through her skin.

“Okay, I’m going to be level with you,” she begins, holding his wrists in her hands as she pins him to the wall, “I’ve had my eyes on you since the minute you walked into this goddamn academy, and for some reason, you’ve ignored every single fucking advance I’ve made. I want you, but you don’t want me. Why is that?”

He figures it’s a rhetorical question, but he answers anyways, “I’m sorry, Sharen, I don’t like you in that way. I think you’re a nice girl, but-“

“But what?” She nearly shrieks, grip tightening on his wrists. “Am I not good enough for you? For the mighty Park,” the way she spits his family’s name makes him cringe.

“No, that’s not it,” he shakes his head, counting the seconds that tick by the longer she has him in her hold.

“Then what is it? Huh?” She tilts her head, eyes wide. “Don’t tell me someone else has caught your eye, I’m the hottest piece of ass in this place.” He remains quiet, and he can feel her anger and jealousy before they flash in her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for that bitch, what was her name again…” she takes a moment to think, which only causes Jimin’s own anger to flare, “oh yeah, (Y/n). That good for nothing, bitch.”

“She’s better than you,” he snaps, eyes narrow as he glares at her.

“Excuse me,” she seethes, face contorting in anger.

“You heard me,” he spits back. “Now, get off of me.”

“I don’t think so,” she smirks, stepping closer to his body and pushing him further into the wall.

“You’re going to loosen your grip and let go of him slowly while backing away,” a deep voice breaks through the tension in the room.

Turning his head, Jimin nods in thanks to Taehyung as he uses his hypnotic voice on Sharen. Her eyes glaze over and she does what she’s been told.

“Thanks man,” Jimin says, rubbing his now red wrists to ease some of the pain in them. “I had a feeling she was going to try something.”

“Come on, let’s go tell the dean,” Taehyung motions down the hallway with his head, turning to Sharen in the next moment to instruct her what to do next while he still has her in a trance. “You’re going to come with us and tell the dean what you’ve done, and what you’ve said here tonight.”

Almost robotically, she nods her head, slowly walking out of the room and leading the way to the dean’s office. The two boys follow behind her, silently conversing with each other the whole way about what they’re going to do once they reach the office. Jimin already has a plan in mind, and he just hopes he can pull it off.

About a week ago, he remembers you saying something about the room across from yours remaining vacant for the school year. If he plays his cards right, he’s hoping to be able to move rooms. That way, he can be closer to you.

The next morning, you’re awoken to the sounds of something being moved outside your dorm room. Groggily getting out of bed to see what the commotion is all about, you open your door. It takes a moment to register that the door to the room across from yours is open, and a figure can be seen moving stuff around on the inside while some suitcases still reside in the hallway.

“Oh, good morning (Y/n),” Jimin says, shooting you a smile once he sees you standing in your doorway looking at him through sleepy eyes.

“Jimin? Is that you? What’s going on?” You rub your eyes, thinking you’re still dreaming, considering you swear you’ve heard Jimin’s voice in your head echoing the word beautiful a few times.

“You would not believe the night I’ve had,” he chuckles, grabbing his last few suitcases and rolling them into his new room.

“I really can’t even try and guess what could have possibly happened,” you say through a yawn. “What made you change rooms?”

“Well,” he pauses, taking a moment to look down the hallway to make sure no one is eavesdropping. “Sharen assaulted me last night.”

At his words, your eyes fling open, “oh my god, are you okay?”

“Fine, now, thank you,” he smiles faintly at your concern. “Luckily, it was only her grabbing my wrists and acting intimidating. Also lucky I sent a text to my friend Taehyung that she was giving me bad vibes and to come rescue me.”

“Lucky indeed,” you nod. “Still, why the sudden change of rooms?”

“Well, I felt uncomfortable staying in a room where she knows is located, considering what she did last night,” he says, and you nod once more in understanding.

“Yeah, that’s true,” you agree, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you lean against the doorframe. “Do you need any help unpacking?”

“Oh, no! I couldn’t possibly bother you any more than I have,” he replies, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind keeping you some company,” you smile reassuringly at him. “Especially after the night you’ve had.”

“Only if you want to,” he replies, a blush rising to his cheeks as he thinks about you finally being in his room, even if it’s one he hasn’t even slept in himself yet.

“Sure, let me put on a sweater first,” you send him another smile before retreating back into your room to grab the aforementioned item of clothing. Not even a minute later, you’re exiting your dorm room and crossing the threshold into his. “Did you want me to close the door?”

“It’s up to you,” he replies, placing books on his desk. He wants you to decide what you’re most comfortable with, though he’d prefer it if you closed the door.

It’s like you read his thoughts, for he hears the soft click of the door closing in the next moment. He smirks to himself. Finally, he’s alone with you in his room.

You opted to close the door to give him some privacy from anyone who could walk down the hallway. You figure he probably doesn’t want people snooping in his business, considering the night he’s had. You also make sure to put your mind barrier up before anything else, just in case he has some stray thoughts. You don’t want to invade his privacy.

“Well, at least this’ll make it easier for when we want to work on our assignment,” you joke, successfully lightening the mood as you hear him let out a laugh.

“For sure,” he smiles. “Just so you know, you’re welcome in my room anytime.”

“Thanks,” you reply with a smile of your own. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With that you offer to help him unpack once more, but he insists you simply keep him company. Sighing while shaking your head, you climb onto his unmade bed and sit against the wall. The two of you continue to make conversation with each other as he unpacks, and before you know it, it’s lunchtime.

Jimin suggests getting lunch together, but you politely decline. After all, you have some assignments you need to get done for tomorrow, plus you want to take a nap. You’re still tired from being woken up so early this morning. However, you fail to see the small pout that resides on his lips as you exit his room to retreat back into your own.

The next month flies by just as the previous one did, during which time the whole school found out about Sharen assaulting Jimin. Needless to say, she’s no longer in with the popular crowd. You’ve grown closer to Jimin still, but you’ve noticed his thoughts have become more prominent every time you’re with him, and they always seem to concern you. You do your best to block them out, but it’s as if he wants everyone to hear them. There’s no way he knows about your powers, at least, you don’t think so. However, you can never know for sure.

It’s currently Friday afternoon, and you’re sitting in your class which you share with both Eric and Jimin. You, as usual, sit beside Eric for the class, and the two of you are discussing plans for next weekend, seeing as it will be Jihyo’s birthday.

Jimin cannot help but glare at Eric as he makes you laugh once more, gripping his pencil so hard that it snaps. He’s been finding that he grows jealous easily over you lately, and he knows he should ask you out soon, before it gets out of hand. He can’t help the dark thoughts that crawl into his mind, especially at night, whispering that only he should be able to have you to himself. Nobody else deserves you, and no one else understands him like you do. You’re the only one for him, the only person he can envision a happy future with.

“Woah, dude, are you okay?” Taehyung’s voice manages to pull Jimin out of his ever consuming thoughts about you.

“Fine,” Jimin clears his throat, grabbing a new pencil out of his bag as he tosses the now broken one away.

“You don’t seem fine,” his best friend quirks a brow, gaze drifting in the direction Jimin’s is in to see what has his attention. “Ah, I see. Trouble in paradise?”

“I’m not in the mood to be teased right now, Taehyung,” Jimin says, clearly irritated.

“What? She reject you?” Taehyung muses, and that thought alone nearly sets Jimin off, yet he manages to remain calm. His emotions are all over the place lately, and he has a feeling he knows why.

You’ve been subtly pulling away from Jimin since the beginning of the week. He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong, and he can’t figure out why you’ve been avoiding him. It doesn��t help that you’ve been hanging around with your friends more than usual. Only he deserves your attention, and now that you’re barely giving him any, he wants it all.

You’re scheduled to finish up the final touches on your project tomorrow with him, and he just hopes you don’t rush out. He wants to know what he did so he can fix it. He wants you.

The next twenty-four hours feel like absolute agony to him, for they pass by extremely slow. You’re supposed to come to his room around six to finish up the project, and he can hardly wait. He grabbed some food earlier just incase you’re hungry when you come over. Even if it’s in the smallest ways, he wants you to know that he’s thinking of you, that he can provide for you and take care of you.

At long last, a knock sounds at his door at six o’clock, and he practically springs off of his bed to let you into his room. Just like the first time he saw you, you manage to take his breath away. You’re so beautiful, and soon, you’ll be all his.

“Hey, you ready to finish this monster?” You smirk, stepping into his room with your laptop held in your arms.

“More than you could ever believe,” he responds, and he smiles as he hears you laugh.

“Oh, come on, I can’t be that horrible to work with, can I?” You tease, and he tenses slightly as the door falls shut.

Is that what you think? Is that the reason you’ve been avoiding him? Do you think he’ll want nothing to do with you once you’ve finished this assignment? To him, the idea is preposterous, but doubt starts to cloud his mind. He would never let you go again if he got the option, but he needs to make you his first, and let you know that he’ll always want you. You, and only you.

“Of course not!” He replies, eyes wide. “You’ve been the best partner I could have hoped for!”

“Phew,” you wipe imaginary sweat off of your forehead in mock relief, “and here I was, worried for nothing.”

The two of you share a laugh, smiles on both your faces until Jimin breaks the small silence that’s settled over the two of you.

“Hey, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to stay and watch a movie or something after we’re finished?” he asks, suddenly nervous you’ll say no. “You know, as a sort of celebration for completing the assignment?”

“Yeah, sure,” you nod, a soft smile gracing your features. “Sounds good to me.”

“Great!” Comes out a little bit too enthusiastically, which has him clearing his throat in the next moment, “shall we, then?”

“We shall,” you reply with a nod, and in the next moment, the two of you are sitting around his desk finishing off the final touches of your presentation.

About an hour passes by and you lean back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head as you let out a groan. Jimin can’t help but glance down at the small piece of skin that gets revealed to him near your stomach when you do this. He licks his lips and swallows hard.

“Well, that should do it!” You grin, letting your hands fall to your lap as you turn your gaze to him.

“I’m so glad we’re done!” He mirrors your grin.

“Ugh, an I ever tired,” you groan, standing up from your chair only to flop on top of his bed.

“Me too,” he says, joining you on the bed.

He lays on his side, staring at your figure as your chest rises and falls with every breath you take. So badly he wants to reach over and cup your cheek with his hand, leaning over to kiss you to celebrate a job well done. He settles on memorizing your features for now.

“You got any snacks, I’m starving,” you say, sitting up in order to shift your position to leaning against the wall.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” he shakes his head, seemingly distracted.

Standing up, he pops open his mini-fridge as well as a small cupboard filled with various foods and drinks. He notices your expression of awe and can’t help but smile. A warmth fills his chest at knowing he’s made you speechless, in a good way. Of which he hopes to do many times tonight, and throughout the rest of your lives.

“Are those what I think they are?” You gasp, hopping off the bed to pull out a familiar red package which contains your favourite snacks from when you were a kid. Your eyes sparkle with nostalgia as you rip open the package, “gosh, I haven’t had these since I was a kid. My parents would always take me and my brother to the cottage in the summer and would buy these for us for the car ride.”

“You have a brother?” He inquires, face reflecting the surprise he feels. In all the weeks you’ve been getting to know each other, you’ve not once mentioned having a brother.

Immediately, your expression falls, “yeah.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I guess that might be a tender subject for you, given that you haven’t mentioned him before,” Jimin says, face showing clear concern for you at how sad you look all of a sudden. He lets the door to the fridge fall shut.

“No, it’s okay,” you shake your head, lips twitching upwards briefly. “It’s not like he’s dead.”

You take a seat on the edge of his bed, snacks still held in your hand. You lean forwards slightly, staring at the floor.

“What happened?” He sits beside you, close, but not too close. “If you’re okay with telling me, of course.”

“I haven’t heard from him or my parents since they dropped my off here at school,” you begin, biting your lower lip. “Ever since they found out I had powers, they’ve treated me differently. They’re nice enough to my face and for appearances sake, but they always treat him better. He’s the normal one in a normal family. He got into a good school, kept good grades, always did what they wanted him to. They always cared more about him than me, and he knows it. He knows he’s better than me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you know that’s not true,” he places a gentle hand on your shoulder in comfort, and he’s hit with a wave of emotions. Sadness, anger, bitterness, resentment.

“It is, though. He’s told me so himself,” you chuckle humourlessly as tears dot your vision. You don’t know why you’re getting so worked up over your family all of a sudden. Maybe it’s because you’ve kept it all bottled up inside since you’ve been dropped off at school this year. You continue, “my parents thought I was crazy when I was a child. So much so that they shamed me for the power I developed, and I don’t like having it. I’m not normal to them, I’m a mistake.”

“You are not a mistake,” his voice is soft, comforting, as his hand draws small circles on your back. He can feel your sadness growing with each passing second, and he’ll do anything to cheer you up, but he doesn’t know how. “You’re one of the smartest people I know. You’re beautiful and caring, both inside and out. I’m glad I met you, for I feel like you’re the only one who truly knows me, and sees me for who I am. You’re special, and you shouldn’t let anyone take that away from you.”

You send him a weak smile, “thanks Jimin, thats very sweet of you.”

“And hey, I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he takes a deep breath, “I’ve known my power since I was eight, but my parents were so ashamed it wasn’t a power like theirs that they shamed me into hiding it from others. People expect so much from me because of my family, but I’m just me. Just like you’re just you, and you shouldn’t change a goddamn thing about yourself because to me, you’re perfect.”

“Jimin, I’m so sorry,” you meet his gaze, and he can sense the slight shift in your emotions at his words. “Your parents are wrong. I’m sure your power is wonderful no matter what it is.”

“Empathy,” a small smile tugs at his lips. “I’m an empath.”

“That’s perfect,” you smile at him, and his heart soars. “How does it-“

“Work?” He finishes for you, and at seeing your curious nod, he continues, “through touch. When I touch someone, I can feel exactly what they’re feeling.”

“Oh,” you say, glancing at where his hand is, now touching your shoulder.

“Don’t worry, it was more for comfort than wanting to know what you were feeling,” he assures you, and you nod slowly.

You meet his gaze once more, “thank you for sharing that with me.”

“Thank you for telling me about your brother,” he replies, staring deeply into your eyes.

He can feel your emotions changing, the sadness becoming drowned out by a feeling of comfort and calm, but also, nervousness. He wants to pry deeper, to know everything you’re feeling in this moment, but he dwells at the surface, not wanting to overstep his boundaries at the moment. The two of you have just shared an intimate, emotional experience with each other, and he doesn’t want to ruin it.

His heart nearly beats out of his chest when he notices you glance down at his lips. He can feel the curiosity growing in you, the spark of interest, and he cannot let this opportunity go to waste. This is his chance, and he takes it.

Slowly, so as not to scare you away, he trails his hand to your lower back, shifting closer to you ever so slightly. He begins to lean in, and he can feel the anticipation building within you. Your eyes flutter closed.

The moment his lips meet yours, it feels as if fireworks are igniting within his entire body. The feeling of your lips against his feels so natural, so right, that he never wants it to end. He pulls you closer, bringing his other hand up to cup your cheek gently, stroking his thumb over your skin. This is all he’s ever dreamed of, and more.

Deepening the kiss, he hears the snack bag in your hands fall to the floor, pushing you back onto his bed as he settles on top of you. His heart races in his chest and he has to pull away to catch his breath. Staring deeply into your eyes, he smiles, diving in for another kiss, much more heated this time around.

The two of you lay there for a few minutes, simply letting your lips explore the other. He can’t help but smirk at the gasp you let out when you feel him bite down on your neck, nibbling softly on the skin. He wants to mark you all over tonight, and make sure that when everyone sees the marks he’s left on you, they know that you’re his.

He pulls away, and he can sense some hesitance on your part, reluctance swirling beneath the surface of your skin that’s come on so suddenly. He parts from your body when he feels your hands on his chest pushing him off of you, confusion evident on his face.

Rolling onto his side, concern crosses his features as he watches you get up from his bed. Immediately, he sits up, thinking he’s done something to upset you when all he wants is for you to be back in his arms.

“(Y/n), I-“

“I should really go,” you cut him off before he can say anything else. “It’s late. Goodnight.”

With that, you’re grabbing your laptop and exiting his room without a single glance back at him.

To say Jimin is stunned would be an understatement. He thought things were going well between the two of you and that opening up to each other was a sign you trusted one another. He thought you were making progress, he thought you were finally becoming his.

A groan of frustration escapes his lips as he falls back onto his pillow. For a fleeting minute, you were his, laying beneath him, letting out the cutest sounds for him, and only him. Yet something, something scared you away.

Maybe he moved too fast at first, or was expecting too much from you. God, he’d never force you into anything like that. Never in a million years; he’d hate himself if that ever happened. He just hopes that you know that.

Letting out a sigh, he stares at his ceiling. Sleep won’t come easily to him tonight, not with these thoughts of you racing through his head, and most certainly not when only minutes ago he had you in his bed, beneath him, kissing you.

He closes his eyes, recalling the soft feel of your lips against his, the way you tasted. How he wishes it could have lasted longer, that he could have shown you exactly how he feels for you. So badly he wants you to know that you’re the only one for him, the only one he loves, the only one he’ll ever love.

He lets his mind wander, allowing for images of how the night could have went to fill his mind and take over his senses until the only thing he can think of, is you.

Meanwhile, you quickly get ready for bed once you’re back in your own room, making sure to double check the lock on your door before sliding underneath the covers. Your eyes are wide open as you stare at your ceiling, recalling exactly the moment that made you hightail and book it out of Jimin’s room.

Your mental block was up, but it began to slip the longer Jimin kissed you, causing you to lose your grip on reality. Just as you were getting ready to let the barricade drop, seeing as you trusted him, a wave of possessive thoughts entered your mind.

To say you were shocked would be an understatement. The darkness you felt surrounding his thoughts scared you. Never have you heard, or felt, anything like it before. You worried for yourself and what he might have done once he actually got you to himself. You’re not even dating, and he’s having these kinds of thoughts where just a glimpse at them has you running away.

Now, you’re pulled out of your own thoughts about the matter when you hear your name being whispered in your mind. It sounds like Jimin, and you have no idea how he’s managed to penetrate your walls.

You concentrate, focussing on strengthening your mental blockade, and it works for a few minutes until another call of your name breaks through. Furrowing your brow, you wonder how he’s managing to do such a thing, for you know he’s not a telepath, and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t know that you’re one.

With each passing moment, you can feel his thoughts getting louder, getting stronger, and you are horrified all the same. Your eyes are wide open as you can hear his thoughts clear as day, ringing through your head, painting a vivid portrait of what he’s imagining.

Doing you best to block out the images, your heart pounds. One second you see yourself beneath him with your arms around his shoulders and your legs wrapped around his waist as he rolls his hips into yours. The next, your hands are bound to the bed frame as he eats you out, a blindfold covering your eyes. Soon, another image of you riding him slowly, sensually, fills your mind, his praises following shortly after.

You can hear each and every thought he has during these moments, overcome with the need to make you his. To show the world that you belong to him, and only him. A shudder of disgust runs down your spine as you hear him think about how he’ll be able to feel your pleasure through touching you during these times, only increasing his own pleasure at the same time.

His thoughts demand to be heard, to be seen, and no matter how hard you try to block them out, you can’t.

You can tell he’s come after a few minutes, for the vivid images have finally stopped, and now he’s thinking about basking in your afterglow. Luckily, you’re able to block him out now, but the damage has been done.

His thoughts screamed his love for you, but what you felt was not love. It is obsession, a need to possess you and keep you all to himself. You need to keep away from him, before this situation becomes worse than it already is. And to think, all of this was just because you were nice to him and treated him like a regular person.

Finally, you manage to get some sleep, but your dreams are filled with nightmares of Jimin always chasing you and never being able to let you go. To say you don’t sleep well would be an understatement.

For the entire week, you manage to avoid him. Rushing off when you see him approaching you in the hallways, and ignoring his calls. Even the students have started whispering about it, wondering why anyone could ever ignore Park Jimin, the nicest guy in school. However, you know the truth, that beneath that facade is a dark monster lurking beneath the surface, waiting to strike.

To Jimin, that week feels like an eternity of agony. He doesn’t understand why you’re avoiding him, and it drives him crazy. Every time he sees you giving your attention to someone who is not him, someone undeserving of you, it causes his blood to boil. That should be him you’re giving all your attention to, not anyone else.

Your presentation is in a few days’ time, which worries you. You know you have to practice in order to get a good mark, and you’ll have to make sure you both have your facts down. At least after this, you can avoid him for good.

The whole time you practise the presentation with him in the library the night before the presentation, you expect him to confront you about what happened in his room the last time the two of you saw each other. As much as it pains him though, he’s decided to let you approach the subject first. He doesn’t want to push you away, nor make you run away from him again. If you go back to ignoring him after your presentation, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

Soon enough, your presentation comes and goes, and the two of you end up getting the best mark in the class, of which you could not be happier about. You notice Jimin still looking gloomy, and he scowls when he sees you hug Eric out of happiness. He’s getting tired of waiting for you to go to him. No matter, he has a plan in mind, and in order to set it in motion, he’ll need to make a few calls.

That evening, a knock on your door pulls you out of the notes you’re currently reviewing. Standing up, you stretch briefly before moving over to see who could be at your door at this time of night. Opening your door reveals Jimin standing there with his jaw clenched, clearly not happy.

“I need to talk to you,” he says, not even giving you a chance to respond before barging into your room.

“Jimin, what the hell, you can’t just barge into my room like this,” you say, crossing your arms in front of your chest as the door falls shut.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” He cuts straight to the point, turning around to face you, eyes dark as he meets your gaze.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” comes your reply, but your voice is a little too tense for your statement to be true.

“Yes, you have,” he counters, mirroring your stance. “I was worried about you, so I did some digging. Normally I don’t like using my status to do these things but you left me no choice.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Your brow furrows.

“You’re a telepath,” he states, and you’re caught off guard.

“Excuse me?”

“I looked into you, found out everything I could,” he says, taking a step towards you to close the distance between your bodies, only for you to take a step back yourself. “I know where you were born, where you grew up, everything about your family, even your power which you hide from everyone. But now? Now I understand why you’ve been avoiding me. Well, partially. While doing my research I happened to find out that you’ve been practicing mental blocks, so I looked into it. Turns out, if you experience high emotions, or if another person in close range experiences high emotions, it can penetrate that defence occasionally.”

“What are you implying here?” You frown, taking another step back as he takes another forwards.

“You know exactly what I’m getting at,” he smirks as your back hits the wall. “Obviously, despite your mental block, you’ve overheard some of my thoughts about you, though I don’t know why you don’t like them. I don’t like playing this card, but I’m a fairly desirable man with a powerful family, and I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I only want for you to become mine.”

“What makes you think I’ll agree,” you reply, eyes narrowed slightly at him. “I don’t care about any of that.”

“That’s exactly why I love you,” he hums, amused. “I knew you were going to say that, and I also knew you wouldn’t agree willingly. So, I made some more calls. Turns out I’m getting to that age where my parents think it’s best for me to get engaged, and who better to have as a daughter-in-law to my parents than a simple girl who came from a regular family. Humbles the Park family in the public eye while simultaneously keeping up appearances. Shows we’re not so narrow-minded about Powers. Besides, it’s the least they can do for me after the hell they’ve subjected me to.”

“I will never marry you, you’re delusional,” you say, leaning your head as far away from him as you can as he presses himself against you, successfully pinning you to the wall.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart,” his grin turns sinister. “Your parents have already agreed to the arrangement, and there’s going to be an announcement in the morning about our engagement. Who’s going to believe you, anyways? Everyone knows me as the kind son and heir of the Park family. You’re mine, whether you like it or not.”

“I can’t believe you,” you swallow the lump that’s in your throat.

“No, no, don’t be scared, baby,” he coos, bringing his hand up to stroke your cheek. “I would never hurt you, I love you too much.”

“You really expect me to love you after all of this? Forcing me into a marriage I don’t want?” You seethe, pushing him off of you and causing him to stumble back a few paces.

“You’ll warm up to it eventually,” he chuckles, “and in time, you’ll be consumed by my love just as I’ve been consumed by you. Now, let’s go to bed, we’ve got a big day tomorrow. After all, soon the whole world is going to know that you’re going to be my wife.”

#part of the BTS dark & wild series #yandere bts #yandere jimin #yandere kpop #yandere au #yandere #bts au #bts scenario #kpop #kpop au #jimin scenario #park jimin

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cyn-00 · 4 years

Text

Moreid one shot, 22 - "strings"

Another one inspired by season 5, episode 10 "The slave of duty", though with an entirely different focus compared to my other fic based on that same episode (which btw was my FIRST can u believe that)

I'm gonna remind you of a couple things that are important to understand this work (the plot of the episode/case aren't tbh): this is that period in the show where Morgan is taking Hotch's place in leading the team; plus Reid's been recently shot in the knee so he has his cane and everything. The first dialogue is word by word reported from the show and then I go from there ;)

@upsetti0spaghettiii and @rollcreditsyall asked me to tag 'em <3 hope u like it

Read it on AO3

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"We need fresh eyes..." Rossi mumbled, more as if telling himself than the rest of the team.

Morgan acknowledged the older man's hint and sighed deeply, sinking further in his swivel chair. "A'ight, listen up,"

He continued once everyone's eyes darted up to him almost as quickly as they'd dart up to Hotch - which always lit Spencer up with pride, somehow.

"I want everybody to go back to the hotel and try to get some rest. We're gonna have to pick this up again in the morning."

Prentiss poorly contained a taken aback expression. "Wha- we're giving up?"

Reid was this close to piercing her skull with a laser-glare, because Morgan was RIGHT - how could she not see that they were getting nowhere? But then again: would've looked like he was playing the part of the blindly supportive boyfriend. Which, he never did.

"No." Morgan shot his head up to glance at her; albeit with anything but malice in his eyes. "We're gonna take a break. We have to give the profile at morning roll and none of us has slept since the funeral."

Realization; painted on Emily's features. Now do you see? Reid wanted to ask - he didn't, of course.

"Once Garcia can get us a paper trail, then we can expand our canvas. 'Till then there's really not a lot we can do." Morgan concluded, and silence fell in the room like a heavy blanket, smothering whatever other retort his teammates may raise.

Reid waited for the others to exit the room before standing up and making his way around the desk, straining against the searing pang that shot up from his healing knee at the motion.

He settled behind Morgan's chair and let his free arm loosely encircle him from behind, resting his palm on the man's broad, tense chest.

After unnecessarily checking once again that there weren't any nosy officers peeking from outside, he carefully bent down to reach Derek's temple and place a lingering kiss there.

"You did the right thing." he murmured, and immediately felt the other man releasing a breath at his words.

"I know." Derek responded shortly, finally moving from that concerningly petrified position to place his palm over Spencer's hand, pressing more firmly to discourage him from breaking contact.

Spencer allowed his tired eyes to flutter close for a few seconds as he rested his cheek on his boyfriend's head, relying on his trusted cane not to let him fall headlong on the moquette - "who's the idiot that decided putting moquette in a police station conference room was a good idea?", he recalled the comment Derek had whispered to his ear a few hours before, and he recalled thinking that only someone as obsessed with everything furniture-wise as Derek Morgan could notice and care about such a thing as a police station flooring. "Pfft... good luck with washing that if someone spills coffee".

The thought awakened him before it could bring a stupid, unbidden smile to his lips.

Washing. Soap, warm water, shampoo... he needed a well deserved-

"Shower." Derek's voice and the noise of lips briefly smacking on his palm resonated in the genius' half-asleep ears. "Need a shower."

Spencer smiled now. "Me too."

"I know. Could hear you thinkin' about it." Derek left another kiss on Spencer's wrist before gripping on the armrests to stand up, needing him to lift his warm cheek seemingly melting on the top of his head to do so.

"C'mon," he encouraged, turning around to finally take a look at the man's sleepy face.

"Gotta help Goldilocks here shampoo up." he grinned warmly, tilting his head.

Spencer only snorted, because with that damn smile what the hell could he say to the man.

Reid sighed deeply as he slumped onto the toilet lid, resting his cane against the tiled wall of the bathroom.

He took off his jacket and pulled his sweater vest over his head, and the second he began maneuvering with his tie, a pair of hands landed over his.

He glanced up slightly annoyed, but gave in to let those hands do the work nonetheless.

"It's the pants I struggle with, not the upper part of my body." he specified for the millionth time - the millionth time he'd found Derek helping him get out of his tie and shirt even though he could do that by himself just fine.

Morgan arched a brow and scoffed, keeping his gaze leveled with the collar of the other man's button-up. "What's in it for me if I don't at least get to undress my boy, uh?"

Spencer contained a smile, ducking his head to look at Derek's hands proceeding to undo the buttons once he'd slid the tie away.

"Not exactly the type of undressing you'd wished for, I'm guessing..." he mumbled sheepishly after a couple seconds.

Derek's eyebrows furrowed now. He said more with those eyebrows of his than he did with his words.

"Any type of undressing you is the type of undressing I wish for..." he trailed off, and Spencer noticed his shirt had magically slid off of his shoulders and was being untucked from his slacks.

Derek's smile grew as his pupils traced from the skinny man's hips up to his chest and laced with his eyes at last.

"It's that I enjoy the view regardless, pretty boy." he added winking, before placing a kiss right over the man's heart.

Spencer didn't say anything. His usual "whatever you say" or the like would only supply him with Derek's eye-roll and another cascade of cheesy praising followed by Spencer's impulse to kiss him and then a few other things which he didn't have the physical strength to engage in, in that moment.

So he settled for thinking those things, lost in his own head while his eyes followed each one of Derek's careful motions that only resulted in layers and layers of clothing peeling off of his body, unable to pinpoint when exactly he had propped up to let the man pull his pants down to his ankles.

The only thing he managed to feel, right after the piercing cold ceramic under his thighs once his slacks were no longer cladding them, was the noise of the brace straps and the sensation of it freeing his leg and then-

"Ouch- Waitwaitwait, Der- wait" he pleaded through gritted teeth, as a twinge of pain awakened him from his pleasant reverie.

"I'm sorry baby, I know this part always hurts like hell" Derek said, and they both knew the 'part' he was referring to was the one where Spencer had to stretch his leg, numb and strained from having it caged in that hellish plastic brace for hours straight.

Spencer nodded and let his boyfriend do the rest - the first couple times he had tried to protest and get through everything on his own, feeling nothing short of a burden and decidedly embarrassed. Now, though, he knew there was no point in arguing, not simply because arguing with Derek when it came to taking care of Spencer was pointless to say the very least; but mostly because Derek was inexplicably good at taking care of him. Doctor Reid could surely brag about his PhDs, but Derek seemed to own every medical training in the world when he had to care for Spencer's pain.

The other man rose to his feet for a few seconds, taking the forgotten plastic stool in the corner of the room and placing it in the shower, before starting the water to get it as warm as Spencer liked it. Which meant, 3rd-degree-burn warm.

He returned to kneel in front of the naked genius in his briefs and mismatched socks only, smiling fondly at the sight.

He gently grabbed Spencer's ankles to slip off his socks - it made his toes curl and Derek adored it - and wrapped his strong arms around his boyfriend's skinny torso to pull him up to his bare feet.

Spencer only slightly hissed and grasped onto Derek's shoulders like his life depended on it - which, it kinda did, seeing how the worryingly sharp edge of the marble bathroom counter seemed to be waiting just for the man to wobble under the weight of his recently wounded knee.

Derek hooked his fingers in the elastic band of his boyfriend's underwear and let it fall to the floor so the other could step out of it - just a week ago that same, easy action almost cost Spencer to trip over and smash his skull straight into the sliding glass door of his shower; but Derek pushed that memory away because acting like the overly protective boyfriend wasn't gonna make things any better or easier, anyway.

It's just. Spencer was so fragile. There was no denying that. His brain was worth all their brains added together if not more, but dammit could a bruise stain his fair skin for weeks on end; reason why they'd given up on hickeys a long time ago - at least visible ones - in light of the fact that ever-lasting purple marks weren't exactly a good idea in their line of work.

"Derek, uhm, I'm taking a wild guess your fully clothed self doesn't know how cold it is in this bathroom, but, it's cold." Spencer's complaint brought him out of his head.

He looked down at himself and, indeed, he was fully clothed still.

"Wanna bet that I won't be as cold as you? You just like to whine a lot don't you?" Derek teased, pulling his henley off.

"It would be decidedly stupid of me to bet on such obviousness ? It's granted that you won't feel as cold as me considering that I'm skinnier; muscle heats up the body through metabolism as well as fat which works as an insulating-"

Reid's babbling was cut off by the man's laughter.

"...what? What's so funny?"

"I finally got naked for you and that's still not enough to stop your fact-spewing?"

Derek saw Spencer gulping and scanning him from head to toe.

"...right" he murmured, biting the inside of his cheek.

Morgan brought the other's pink-tinted face back up with his hands, lifting his gaze from where it was lingering on some undefined area very much below his usual approximately 5'8-something horizon line, and placed a kiss between his eyebrows.

"Come on. I ain't gonna risk you getting a cold on top of everything else." he said softly, securing Spencer's waist with two hands from behind to lead him first into the shower.

And thank God that one was an actual shower, instead of that bathtub the two of them barely fit in with a half-unhooked plastic curtain from that crappy motel the team found themselves having to spend a whole 6 days in, just a couple weeks before. And thank God for the stool, also, because helping Spencer through a shower while either standing or sitting on the floor were provenly exhausting techniques for both of them.

Derek eased his boyfriend into said stool and could immediately see him relaxing under the warm water. He dropped on his knees and started untangling the man's matted curls with his fingers - Spencer had confessed that, before Derek, he only used to untangle the knots with a comb after having showered because he didn't have the time or patience to do otherwise, but Morgan had rightfully reminded him that he had not one but two sisters, hence he was so used to observe how carefully their mom routinely brushed and braided their hair when they were little he could repeat the process by heart - so at the end of the day, "I might be bald but I sure know more about curls than you do, pretty boy".

After having managed to loosen maybe a couple of major tangles at most - nothing out of the ordinary - he reached for the shampoo and squeezed a generous amount on his palm, smearing it on both hands before spreading it onto Spencer's mop of hair.

Morgan had always wondered how the hell the kid always smelt so good; the rare times he could perceive something other than the cozy smell of coffee that almost perpetually imbued Spencer's aura. For some unfounded reason, his first guess had been that the source of such sweet smell must've been Spencer's cologne. After a month at most of knowing him, though, the hypothesis that the lanky genius with the crooked tie and that cardigan Morgan couldn't picture as anyone else's but his grandfather's actually wore cologne, was thrown out of the window. So he'd quite confidently settled for option B, which entailed that the scent had to have something to do with the detergent he used for his clothes. Little did he know he would find himself in Reid's bathroom some night after a case, and his eyes would be caught by a plastic, peach-pink bottle of shampoo that, to his "surprise", smelled like...like Spencer. Like something sweet and fruity with a spicy hint of cinnamon. And it's not like Morgan wasn't aware of the notorious, rom-com cliché that the aphrodisiac smell of the person you're hopelessly pining over is more likely due to their shampoo than anything else; it's more that he didn't want to give in the realization that not only Spencer's hair looked good - and, much later on, felt good twirled around his fingers - but on top of that it smelt good. Oh, dammit, my crush's hair smells like heaven which only adds to the fact that he probably fell from there, seeing how it makes him look like a downright ANGEL. Come on. Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan would've preferred without a smidge of doubt to remain unbeknownst of that, for the sake of his poor heart.

Poor heart, indeed, when Spencer started literally purring close-eyed under the soothingly kneading motions of Derek's digits through his hair. There was really no reason to keep on massaging the shampoo on Spencer's scalp for 5 minutes straight, if not that sight.

"Spencer?" he called, failing to contain the urge to lean in and peck at his lips.

"Hmm ?" the dopey man hummed in response.

"Sweetie, don't fall asleep on me here, yeah?"

" 'm trying. But you're not helping." Spencer mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his fingers from the water streaming down his face to open them in slits.

"Ah, so now it's my fault that you get all dreamy when I play with your hair?"

Spencer frowned. "Uhm, yes ?"

The other man chuckled. "Alright. Got the message." he claimed before standing briefly to his feet to grab the sprayer.

"Mmh' no this is even worse..." Spencer mewled when his boyfriend started rinsing his hair with warm water, running his fingers through it to be as thorough as possible.

Derek burst out laughing. "You're unbelievable, I swear to God." he said, making quick work of the rinsing process or else he would've undoubtedly have to drag a passed out, naked Spencer out of the shower.

He put the sprayer back in place and took the shower gel - he had to use the unscented, cheap, exceedingly liquid sample from the hotel - and poured it on his palm.

Spencer held out his hands in a cup-like shape as if waiting for Derek to give him a share of the gel. He looked up at him and arched a brow.

The genius rolled his eyes. "If you don't provide me with something to do I'm gonna seriously fall asleep in here."

Derek nodded and complied. "Lame excuse."

"For what?" the other asked like he didn't know when actually he knew.

"For laying your hands on me?" Derek teased with his 'you can't fool me' tone. "But I ain't complaining, just so we're clear..." he smirked.

After that, Spencer gave up on countering further but his expression didn't waver much; and Derek couldn't even relish in the satisfaction of holding that comment 100% accountable for the flush dyeing Spencer's chest and neck, because it could've very well been mostly due to the steam and hot water.

Both started spreading the gel onto each other's shoulders and necks and torsos, and Morgan wouldn't have managed to tear his gaze away from the skinny man sat in front of him even if he'd purposely tried. Spencer's concentrated expression was the same whether he was solving Schrödinger's equation or he was stirring his coffee with a spoon.

Hazel eyes locked with Derek's after a while, only for a split second before their owner launched himself into his arms; a soapy hand cupping the back of his neck and a warm muzzle burying in his slippery shoulder.

Derek didn't question and simply indulged in the hug, tracing circles with his thumbs on the nubs of Spencer's spine as he let his cheek lean against the top of his head.

"Thank you." a muffled whisper breached through the continuous noise of water thrumming on ceramic and glass and steel surfaces.

"Stop thanking me, kid. I love you." how many times had Morgan found himself saying those exact words, if maybe arranged in different fashions, throughout 5 years of working with Reid? Only difference was that the last bit hadn't always born the meaning it bore now. Almost, though.

After one or two minutes more - Derek couldn't quite gauge, and the fact that Spencer most definitely could brought a slight smile to his lips - Reid let go of the hug; and it was only because being soaked from head to toe blurred out things a little that Morgan couldn't swear the man was a second away from crying.

Reid looked down at his wrinkly finger pads.

"We're wasting an unnecessary amount of water." he said with a small grin curling one edge of his mouth. If Spencer's previous expression rendered almost unreadable by that soaked-head-to-toe situation hadn't been enough to go by, his current tone and the look that went along with it surely were.

However, Morgan didn't mention it, and the couple spent the rest of the shower rinsing the bubbles off of their bodies in soothing quiet.

The comfortable quiet kept going unhindered as Derek helped Spencer up and out of the shower, as he wrapped a towel around his bony hips, as Spencer brushed his dripping hair with a wooden comb while watching the standing man put on his sweats and t-shirt. Their exchanges merely fond glances here and hands caressing cheeks there and fingers bumping on skins like silent reminders that they were together in this just as much as in everything else that might come in their way and break them, whether inside or out or both it didn't matter as long as they were Spencer and Derek and Derek and Spencer.

And so together they walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, both pleasantly surprised by how they managed to not let Spencer slip on the steam-coated floor.

In a matter of minutes he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, which wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as sitting on the crappy stool or the toilet lid, much to Spencer's relief.

And Spencer Reid was notoriously not one to count his chickens before they'd hatched, but this time...

"Oh baby...does it still hurt so bad?" Morgan asked with full-on worry creasing his handsome features, at the sight of his boyfriend screwing his eyes shut and clenching his jaw while his leg bounced up and down - the leg not injured, that is. He'd caught Spencer doing that sometimes during work and he'd quickly figured it was his way to cope with pangs.

Spencer simply nodded his head frantically and grabbed both the man's hands to squeeze them in a knuckle-whitening clutch.

His boyfriend's sigh was so deep Spencer didn't need to actually see to picture the rising and falling of his chest as visible to the naked eye.

"I'm gonna get the pills the doctor prescribed you and I don't wanna hear you complain." the man asserted.

The second Reid felt him on the verge of standing up, he squeezed his hands even tighter and made an effort to open his eyes.

"No, nonono I- I took it 2 and a half hours ago I can't take anymore for another hour and a half at least." he protested, shaking his head vigorously and staring pleadingly at him.

Morgan sighed again, and this time Reid could see it.

"Ok, alright, then...did you bring that ointment he gave you?"

Spencer's pupils fidgeted around in thought.

"Yeah. Y- yeah, I- I have that in my bag." he replied, stuttering with the abruptness of his realization.

Derek stood up for real now, fetching said ointment.

He came back a minute later and resumed his kneeling position, squeezing some of the balm on his fingers and warming it up by rubbing his hands. He started massaging it onto his boyfriend's knee, and the heavy mass weighing on his chest was lifted like magic when Spencer's muscles relaxed and his deadly grip on the blankets loosened.

Another 'thank you' was about to escape Spencer's mouth, but then he opted to swallow it and instead relish in the sensation of Derek's thumbs rubbing the slick balm in circles at either side of his wounded kneecap; watching him as though if he didn't keep an eye on him he would disappear.

He didn't know how much time had passed, because that was one of those few occasions he'd allowed himself not to keep count of things - most of those occasions were the ones he spent with Derek - but it must have been quite a while because by the time Derek spoke up again, the pain had melted away and his knee was glistening and warm and his heart was fuzzy and vibrating inside his ribcage.

"Better?" the man asked.

Spencer waited a second for him to raise his gaze from the task at hand and direct it toward his, and for the smile that he knew was coming to actually come, before answering.

When that happened, he said: "Definitely."

And if Derek's grin didn't widen it was just because it couldn't get bigger than half of his face, and because it had to be a crime to smile more brightly than that.

"Alright then. Gonna get cleaned up and then I'll help you with pj's."

Spencer opened his mouth to dismiss his offer but was immediately cut off by a finger raised threateningly at him.

"Nope. I don't wanna hear it, I told you." Derek reprimanded before heading to the bathroom.

The few minutes Morgan spent washing his hands and pacing around the room to get the other's t-shirt and flannel pants were enough for the warm and fuzzy feeling to seep out of Reid's skin and be replaced by unsettling thoughts he never enjoyed wallowing in, but especially not in that moment.

It was exactly that same feeling from earlier reoccurring to him, the feeling that if he let Derek out of his sight for a second he would lose him - more specifically Derek would leave him. And of course during work the time they spent apart was much more than the one they spent together, but in a working context it was simply...different. Different in a way Spencer couldn't name. It was when they were alone that the feeling came back to choke him with its evil claws; and it was such a foreign one considering that Reid had spent most of his childhood AND adulthood alone, so one would simply guess he was used to it. Maybe it was exactly that: that he'd got so used to being alone he couldn't help but cling onto the first thing that made him not alone, and if in the beginning that thing had been his team and later on the team stopped being enough and it became Dilaudid, now that thing was Derek, and Derek was more than enough for the time being - Spencer was pretty confident he would be enough for the rest of his life, but what if it weren't mutual ? What if Spencer wasn't enough for Derek - for that matter, how could Spencer be enough for anyone? What if Derek left ?

"-encer? Baby you good in there?"

Then what would the next thing be and would a 'next thing' even exist or should he just settle for being alone all over again, only this time he would know the feeling of NOT being alone - would he ever recover from that?

"Hey, kid, c'mon now,"

Could he forget what it had felt like not being alone and learn to suffice for himself?

"Spencer seriously, talk to me ?"

Could Spencer Reid learn to finally FORGET if forgetting meant surviving?

"Spencer, come on baby you're starting to scare me here."

Reid ultimately managed to snap out of his head and realize Morgan had been trying to pull him out of it all along. He felt a hand cradling his jaw and words reaching his eardrums and his name being called in endless sequence.

He shook his head and gaped for a few seconds.

"Yeah, I'm- I'm here, sorry I- just, I was...thinking, I'm sorry..." he swallowed and jerked his eyes away from Derek's because the look he was giving him was a bit too much.

Morgan released a heavy exhale, as his hand shifted to rest on the back of Reid's head, massaging his nape to ground him again.

"Sorry."

"Don't start. Just tell me what you were thinking."

A grimace of reluctance crinkled Spencer's sweet face. "...do I have to?"

"Yes." Derek asserted. "Puppy-eyes won't work this time."

Spencer bit his lip to contain a lopsided, amused smile.

"Well," he shrugged. "it was worth the shot."

Derek snorted in response, visibly relaxing at having managed to reclaim their usual playful banter.

The other man was grateful that Morgan hadn't pried, instead reaching a hand out beside the spot where Spencer was sitting to grab his fresh pair of briefs. The warm-fuzzy feeling partially found its way back through Spencer's bloodstream at the thought that Derek probably knew by now how he was more likely to talk brake-free and open heartedly when he wasn't being overtly pressured to do so.

Derek carefully untucked the towel from around Spencer's hips and rose to a half-standing position to prop him up a few inches from the bed and slide it away from underneath him. He helped the man's long legs inside his underwear and lifted him once again to pull it up; he took the slightly moist towel and used it to ruffle Spencer's hair in the attempt to wipe it dry a little - again: a cold wasn't the greatest idea at the moment - gaining his signature nose scrunch and finally, Spencer started spilling.

"I was thinking about this whole...situation." Reid murmured with a sigh.

Morgan considered his words for a few seconds - uncaring of having probably given the man the impression that he wasn't listening - while minutely un-messing the strands of brunette, damp hair he'd messed up with the towel and adjusting them behind Spencer's ears.

"Meaning?" he asked at last; more to give the man the liberty of elaborating how he wanted than because he hadn't picked up on the 'situation' he was referring to.

"Meaning...you taking on Hotch's role temporarily ?" Spencer supplied, raising his pitch at the end as though it were a question.

"What about it, sweetie?" he urged on gently, stopping his ministrations to rub his hands up and down Spencer's sides affectionately.

"I, uh..." Reid cleared his voice. "I just realized that- well, m- maybe it's that I didn't want to think about it so that's why I'm realizing it only now but, anyway; I realized that if...if Hotch isn't coming back..." he trailed off, looking down at his knees.

Derek took the hint and started moving again, picking Spencer's flannel pants and guiding his feet inside them.

Spencer waited for the lift-and-pull-up part to be over - because it was too draining to do that AND talk simultaneously - before conjuring his train of thought again.

"If Hotch doesn't come back, you'll be the new Unit Chief." Reid said, once he was sitting down.

Morgan hesitated, furrowing his brows in confusion as to why Reid would feel the need to state the obvious.

"Yeah." he simply confirmed.

Spencer visibly refrained from explaining, choosing to spend the next few seconds picking at the worn fabric of his pajama pants - now that he wasn't naked anymore and finally had something to fiddle with - sticking uncomfortably to the layer of ointment covering his knee.

As per usual, Morgan's brain was struggling to keep up with his boyfriend's pondering.

But then it hit him.

"Oh..." Derek dropped his gaze; his confused and apprehensive expression fading away to make space for a melancholic and apologetic one.

"...yeah" Spencer murmured. But then decided that a monosyllabic answer wasn't enough, and opted to unfold his thoughts more clearly.

"It means that...that you'll be our superior- my superior, hence we couldn't...you and I, we, we won't be allowed to..." he gulped. He knew his bottom lip was trembling. He could feel it. But he had to say it, or else the concept would eat him alive.

"...to be together anymore. Right?" Spencer concluded with a quivering voice.

Derek wanted to get back to doing what he was supposed to be doing to give them both some more seconds to digest that, but for some reason he feared that if he'd proceeded to help Spencer in his last piece of clothing, the man would've looked even more vulnerable and small in that saggy t-shirt than he did now that he was bare in any sense of the word in front of him.

So he slowly brushed his hands down Spencer's lap to entangle them with his.

"...unless I choose not to." he mumbled.

The genius' scowling glance shot up.

"What?? No. No, I won't let you do that."

Morgan sighed, tilting his head. "Spencer-"

"No, Derek. I couldn't live with myself knowing that you turned down the greatest job opportunity of your life to stay with me."

And that much was the truest statement Spencer had ever made, even if the only thought of breaking up with Derek made every cell in his body ache and his heart bleed out and his bones shatter like a china cup dropping on a granite floor.

Derek stared at him for a while with flat-out disbelief pasted on his face.

"Spencer," he started, and immediately shook his head, unable to contain a snort. Spencer's frown didn't but intensify at that.

"Kid, look. I know that you'd respect my decision to accept the job. I know it because you're one of the most ambitious and over-achieving people I know and I feel nothing but blessed to have someone like you by my side." he paused. "You inspire me in that sense, you know?"

Spencer didn't answer, but his gaze softened instinctively.

"But it's because I know you respect everything I do that I'd be disappointed to know that you made the exception to NOT support me if I decided to turn down the offer."

The words hit Spencer in a certain spot at the base of his skull, but he couldn't bring himself to be ungrateful for Derek being so honest and blunt about the matter.

So he nodded.

Derek continued, because he wasn't convinced at all that the man had got the message.

"And believe me when I say that the reason why I wouldn't accept it isn't because I pity you or I don't wanna leave 'poor Spencer' alone or whatever." he made the air-quote gesture and untangled a hand from Spencer's to bring it to his cheek.

"It's because to me accepting a title that by the way, I'm not even 100% sure that I want, it's not worth leaving the person I'm in love with."

With that last bit, Derek didn't need to forcibly bring his boyfriend's chin up to meet his eyes - Spencer had instantly done that on his own initiative.

"I would NOT be able to leave you, Spencer. For my sake, not out of pity. I know myself." he whispered, stroking his thumb on the other's cheek.

Spencer kept returning the other's stare for what they both perceived like 30 minutes, in search for the slightest hint of lie in Derek's eyes. Which, obviously, he gladly failed to summon.

So he inched closer and pressed their lips together, because kissing Derek seemed like the easier way to both reply to his confession and stop his bottom lip from trembling with the force of emotion welling up in his eyes.

Derek's mouth went along as his arms encircled his boyfriend's dainty frame to carefully shift him closer, until his body was the only thing keeping him from falling off the mattress. He captured every silky motion of Spencer's tongue with unmatched slowness; as if the more thorough the kiss, the better he could savor the man's unspoken words and enshrine them forever in his mind, only fueling his already unarguable conviction that no, he couldn't let this man slip away like it wasn't him that kept Derek's lungs breathing and his heart pounding and his limbs working.

With one last smack of lips Spencer gasped out of the kiss, keeping their foreheads glued together and his eyes shuttered because it was clear now that he didn't need to see the man to know he wouldn't leave, but his skin couldn't do without the feeling of Derek's against it nonetheless.

Slowly, he opened his lids and noticed the pair of pitch-black eyes in front of his were staring at him.

He smiled when he spotted a bright glimmer deep inside them, and was returned with a smile of Derek's own.

"Plus," Morgan's hoarse voice gently poked through the silence, as both his hands rose to cup the other's face.

"I know we shouldn't profile each other and all that, but dad really doesn't know what to do with himself when he's not with us, so my money's on him coming back." he joked.

Spencer burst in the prettiest giggle Derek had ever heard and let his head fall onto the other's shoulder.

"Y-yeah, mine too." he agreed once he'd recomposed himself enough to straighten in his seat again.

"Let's put this t-shirt on and go to sleep, uh?" Derek offered.

The genius nodded, and in a matter of 5 minutes at most, the two were a mess of entangled limbs - both injured and not - instants away from falling asleep; with a few less doubts stinging their hearts and just as many newfound strings keeping them together.

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novantinuum · 4 years

Text

Intake (SUF one-shot)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences (TW: brief discussion of mental illness related topics like suicide ideation and intrusive thoughts.)

Words: 2800

Summary: Steven fills out an important form.

This is set multiple months pre The Future, and is a small glimpse into Steven’s journey to find a therapist.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. AO3 link will be provided in the reblogs. Thank you! <3

____

His leg bounces with a restless fervor as he slumps in the waiting room chair, clutching the clipboard and pencil the receptionist gave him with a white knuckled grip. Gaze hardened, he takes a good long look at the other patients spread across the room, a few of them appearing equally as spent and fidgety as him, and hunches over the intake form so his answers will be conclusively obscured from their view.

He grimaces. Ugh. Why would a place like this lay out their chairs so close, anyways? Why even give people the option of being nosey? He may be stuck seeing this therapist Connie’s mom recommended because he’s all messed up in the head, but it’s not like he wants the whole planet to know about it. Goodness knows all of Beach City and Little Homeworld already does thanks to his little ‘incident’ a month back. That’s bad enough.

His chest almost feeling hollow as he sighs, he scrawls in his name, his birthday, his cell number, address, and an emergency contact (Dad, who left for the car to give him privacy after signing a few forms he can’t fill out as a minor) on the lines indicated. He leaves out his many middle names for once, all of them leaving a bitter taste in his mouth at this present moment. Briefly, he wonders if this will be a problem, as these past few weeks Dr. Maheswaran assisted his dad in finally acquiring legal documentation and health insurance for him, and per those records he’s officially ‘Steven Quartz Universe’ in the eyes of the law.

Eventually he shrugs, figuring the likelihood of there being another sixteen-year-old ‘Steven Universe’ here today to confuse him with is nearing zero.

Okay, what’s next?

He briefly skims over the next few passages— a bunch of legalese about the terms of counselor-patient confidentiality and when they might have to breach that for safety reasons— and signs where indicated so they know he looked over it.

Someone sitting two chairs away coughs. He can’t help but flinch at the sudden noise, and folds himself tighter in his own seat as he flips over the first page of the form and continues to read.

In a few words, explain why you’ve chosen to reach out to us today. How can we help you?

Steven frowns, fingers twitching around the shaft of the pencil as he contemplates how to respond. For whatever reason, the question “explain why you’re here” feels very blunt and antagonistic to him in a way he can’t quite ascertain. Like... in a “give the wrong answer, get booted right out the door” sorta way. He lifts his head, peering at all the humans spread across the room, each and every one with their own story, the central character of their own worlds. Some are texting on their phones as they wait for the receptionist to call their names, others are filling out forms as well. What brought these people here, he wonders? Surely there’s plenty of people having a worse time than him right now. Surely there’s people with real problems, people who are literally struggling just to stay alive from day-to-day. He’s not like that, right? Besides that one little wobble a month back, he’s been handling his problems on his own fairly okay. Hasn’t he? So what makes him selfish enough to think that he’s worth anyone’s time?

In his pocket his phone vibrates, knocking him back into reality. He yanks it out and switches it on to look at the new text splashed across the lock screen:

Dad: Hey Schtu-ball, just wanna let you know that I’m proud of you and love you very much. You’ve got this!

He stares at these words for a good minute, the kind sentiment— despite reading as a little hopelessly over-encouraging— filling the hollow space in his chest partway. Even if his dad’s been a bit overbearing in his affections this past month, it’s clear he means well.

So. Why am I here today, he thinks, reading the question over again. He folds his fingers up into a stiff fist, pulling his thumb across his knuckles. After licking his chapped lips and shoving his phone back in his pocket, he scribbles a hasty reply.

I feel really angry and empty and tense and just want to be better.

The teen pauses, allowing those words to echo over and over in his mind, to truly sink in. It’s such a succinct and to-the-point admission that he suddenly wonders why he ever doubted he was less deserving of aid than anyone else in this waiting room.

His countenance a little lighter now and his shoulders growing less stiff, he moves on to the next section.

To aid our counselors in providing you the best possible care, please rate the following statements on a scale from zero to four, zero meaning “not at all like me,” and four meaning “extremely like me.”

Steven’s eyes dart across the length of the massive table below these instructions, his previous anxiety rushing back into his brittle bones as if it’d never left. Each row is host to a short sentence and five blank boxes, numbered zero to four. Read it and rate yourself, right? Should be simple enough. But as his glance flits over these statements and he understands the sort of personal, probing questions they’re asking through them, he begins to mistrust his previous burst of optimism. Dread floods his system, making his cheeks flush bright pink. Heart pounding at the mere thought of people staring, he drops his head lower, successfully hiding most of his face behind the clipboard until he can coax that betraying glow into fading away.

In the end, this goes to prove that it doesn’t matter if everyone says therapy will be ‘helpful’ for him; reflecting on all this junk is still gonna suck.

Quietly, he takes a steadying breath and forces himself to read on, to crack open the hornet’s nest that is the depths of his crap brain.

1. I am shy around others.

He considers this for a moment. Shy. Historically, this has never been a word people would use to describe him. For years he reveled in the thrill of meeting new people, new Gems. His childhood eagerness to engage in fellowship with those around is half the reason Era 3 even exists. And he’s fine around people he knows. Like, on a rare good day he has no problem playing board games or watching cheesy soap operas with his friends. But to be fair... as of late, his eagerness to meet anyone new feels like it’s all but vanished. Is that being shy? Or is that just him failing to care for anyone beyond his inner circle?

With a small shrug he checks the box for one, and moves on.

2. I don’t enjoy being around people as much as I used to.

Hmm. Probably a three. People are unintentionally exhausting these days. He used to be energized by social interaction, and now it just leaves him sucked dry. Most days he’d rather stick to his room.

3. I feel isolated and alone.

The weight of the diamond embedded in his belly— something he normally barely notices— grows ever more apparent as he marks off a four.

4. My heart often races for no good reason.

Uh, yeah. What happened just a minute ago is a pretty good tell. Four.

5. I have spells of terror or panic.

Another four.

6. I am anxious that I might have a panic attack while in public.

Four once more. He holds his pencil tighter, squirming in his seat as he tries (and fails) not to think about the pale scars spread across his back, hidden in his hairline, and on the underside of his arms, indentations that once marked the base of the crystalline spines that jut out from between his scales.

7. I think about food more than I’d like to.

Steven pauses at this one. For once, he’s not sure he can say this statement applies to him. Truth be told, he only started caring about what he put in his mouth earlier this year, when he cut meat and fish out of his diet. And that’s not... a bad thing? It’s not bad to want to consider the impact your food choices have on the environment? He definitely didn’t choose to do so for self-denying reasons, and that’s probably what they’re asking about. He checks zero, and moves on.

8. I feel out of control when I eat.

He almost checks another zero, but then he remembers that day after the proposal... and the week after his incident. And he decides that even if he doesn’t consciously obsess over the food he eats, there’s still a few occasions where once he starts snacking he finds it difficult to stop. A one it is, then.

9. I have sleep difficulties.

This statement nearly makes him laugh. Does he have sleep difficulties. Hah. He doesn’t think he’s gotten a truly restful night of sleep since he sacrificed himself to Homeworld at fourteen.

A solid four. No question.

10. My thoughts are racing.

Four.

11. I feel uncomfortable around people I don’t know.

Hmm. Two.

12. I drink alcohol frequently.

The only alcohol he’s ever had is a tiny sip of his dad’s with permission at Garnet’s wedding reception, and it tasted terrible. He has no interest in drinking again. Zero.

13. When I drink alcohol I can’t remember what happened.

Zero.

14. I drink more than I should.

Zero again.

15. I have done something I have regretted because of drinking.

Another zero. It almost makes him feel better, just knowing there’s a decent number of lines on this paper that aren’t a carbon copy of his lived experience.

16. I feel sad all the time.

Aaaand back to “the story of his life.” Briefly, he wonders if ‘feeling sad’ is the same thing as feeling nothing at all. But then again, does the difference really matter? He checks the box for three.

17. I am concerned that other people don’t like me.

Three. Although honestly, he’s even more concerned that people continue to like him after everything he’s done.

18. I feel worthless.

Steven nibbles at the inside of his cheek as he reads this statement, memories automatically flashing through the pathetic events of the last few weeks, through all the days he barely crawled out from under his covers, all the days he didn’t even manage to brush his teeth or run his fingers through his greasy, knotted hair, all those awful days he couldn’t so much as play one of his video games without growing tired of it in minutes and taking a restless nap for the rest of the afternoon instead.

Four.

19. I feel helpless.

Two. Everyday affairs are a drag, but at the very least he knows he can fight his way out of danger in a pinch. He wouldn’t call that helpless.

20. I have thoughts of ending my life.

He freezes. Goes back, reads this line again. Reads it a third time to make sure he’s not horrendously misconstruing the prompt he’s been given.

(Tries not to think too deeply about the graphic images that flood his imagination some nights. It’s just stray thoughts, though. He’s fine.)

One, he marks, although his muscles can’t help but twitch as he shifts his wrist, as if deep down he knows he’s underplaying his answer.

21. I feel tense.

Steven gives a small snort under his breath. Yeah, he outright admitted as much earlier in this form. Four.

22. I get angry easily.

His grip tightens.

Four.

23. I have difficulty controlling my temper.

He swallows hard, his mouth feeling abnormally dry. He’s not sure he likes how blunt and probing this questionnaire is becoming.

Four...

24. I sometimes feel like breaking or smashing things.

His knuckles go white around his pencil, and he only barely resists the temptation to snap it in half as he feels a rush of hard light flow the distance from his gem through the veins of his arm. Geeze, it’s not like he means to break things! It’s just that all of his stupid powers are linked with his emotions, and whenever he gets even marginally upset now things start to splinter, crack in half, and inevitably end up broken. Just another sign he’s fated to ruin everything around him forever, and that his intent doesn’t matter. Why do they have to pry into this? He already feels terrible enough for thinking these things.

Three, he checks, his eyes damp, but mostly because he’s too scared what their response will be otherwise.

25. I am not able to concentrate as well as usual.

He takes a deep breath, coaxing his body to return to a baseline state. Eh. He’ll give this a two.

26. I feel self-conscious around others.

His glance skirts over the edge of the clipboard to monitor the four others currently spread out across the room. One’s rhythmically swinging their legs, another is still filling out a form like him, but sitting criss-cross on the chair, and the other two are quietly typing on their phones. Thankfully none of them are pressing an ounce of attention his way, (at least, not right now), but that doesn’t stop him from feeling like an exposed nerve. Three.

27. I am afraid I may lose control and act violently.

The raw memories hit like lightning before he can even think to prepare.

Flashes of Pink. Orange fragments, cold and slick in his palms. Thunder splits the skies overhead, each cacophonous sound manifesting in perfect synchronicity with his erratic heartbeat, with each tidal wave of thoughts gushing like a maelstrom through his head: SHATTERER, I’m a shatterer, I’m—

Feeling almost dizzy from the intensity of his heart’s pulse, he knows with full certainty that his cheeks are glowing bright pink again. All he can do is clench his fists, suck down whatever amount of fresh air his lungs will allow, and pray to the very stars themselves that it’ll fade away before it garners the attention of every last human in this place.

He checks the box for four, pencil marking so hard that slivers of graphite splinter off onto the page, and moves on before he can be cowardly enough to change his answer.

28. I have thoughts of hurting others.

His fingernails claw into the thin denim at his knee, limbs outright quivering as he stews in his seat, as he’s forced to reflect upon all the ugly, ugly thoughts that have flit across his awareness over the past weeks. Thoughts about one Gem specifically. He’s... always been angry, always harbored deep resentment... but ever since his most recent trip to visit Her, he hasn’t been able to shake this awful idea: a vision of him standing over the remnants of her gemstone, shattered, fragments spilled across the otherwise pristine floors of Homeworld. He... he didn’t do it when he had the chance. He wouldn’t do it, would he?

(Orange fragments, cold and slick...)

Would he??

And yet nevertheless, the thought tortures him with its frequency, makes him feel downright nauseous at every turn. He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to feel this way at all.

Four.

29. I am unable to keep up with my schoolwork.

Stop. Sharp inhale. Staccato, shaky exhale. Repeat, deeper this time. Repeat.

(He can no longer see neon pink reflecting in the smooth metal clasp at the top of his clipboard.)

Okay. Schoolwork.

N/A, he writes in one of the boxes, arm still trembling from the last two questions despite his attempt at cool-down exercises. Not applicable. He hasn’t even been to school, and dreads the inevitability of this therapist asking about that mess.

30. It’s hard to stay motivated for my classes.

N/A.

31. I feel confident that I can succeed academically.

N/A, once more.

And like that, the questionnaire is over. Steven is quick to hide his answers behind the front page, and slides the pencil through the length of the metal clip. He glances around him, drinking in his surroundings with pinpoint precision. Despite his earlier concerns, no one is maliciously staring. No one’s whispering. He internally wrestled with a few challenging subjects and what do you know, it didn’t end in an embarrassingly public meltdown. He— he wipes a stray tear from his eye with the butt of his palm— he took a solid step forward today.

Coercing his body to move, he pulls himself out of the cushioned chair and crosses the room.

“I finished,” he says softly, proudly, as he hands the clipboard and pencil to the receptionist. She smiles and accepts his hard-fought offering.

For the first time in a while, the smile he instinctively flashes back almost feels genuine.

I want to be better, he thinks. I will be better.

____

Notes:

This fic is loosely based on my own experience of the intake process, and the questionnaire I had to fill out. No two intake experiences are the same though, of course. This is merely one possibility. I also take personal liberties on the way I depict Steven’s struggle with mental health, and acknowledge and respect that no two fans’ interpretation will be the same.

Additional notes: -Steven’s still a minor, so he can’t actually sign contracts. I figure Greg signed a handful of forms beforehand as his guardian, and then left to allow his son a bit of privacy with filling out the questionnaire stuff. Since he's a teen, they're still giving him the full confidentiality clauses to look over so he's wholly aware how that works, though.

-To expand on a brief comment made in the midst of this, I headcanon that Steven cut both meat and fish out of his diet, and thus actually slipped up on his vegetarian diet when he was training with Jasper. I interpret this as further showcasing how the poor kid— due to being mentally vulnerable at the time and thus liable to coercion/unwise decisions— began to take actions that went against much of his established morality. He ended up sacrificing his dietary choices during those days, just like he briefly sacrificed his pacifistic views to fight Jasper.

-I also headcanon that the therapist Steven is going in to see after this isn’t the one he eventually sticks with and mentions as “my new therapist” in The Future. It’s totally normal and okay to try a few different people to find someone who you click with, after all.

Thank you for reading!

#su #su future #steven universe #su fanfiction #my writing stuff #okay the official crosspost #here you go #i keep switching how i post fics here hhh #i LIKE having the ao3 link in the post itself #but when i do that the fic almost never shows up in tags so *shrugs*

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