#Army Female | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cigarettesuga · 9 days ago

Text

— too good at pretending. (myg)

pairing: idol!fwb!yoongi x producer!fem!reader

genre: smut, slow-burn tension, hidden feelings, late-night studio rendezvous, slice of chaotic intimacy, mutual pining masked as indifference

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), fingering, teasing, rough sex, oral tension, light dom!yoongi, semi-public sex, dirty talk, marking, overstimulation, slightly possessive behavior, soft aftercare if you squint, mutual denial of romantic feelings, mention of work-stress/mental fatigue, they’re both bad at feelings but good at sex

word count: 4,5 k | 13 pages

lu's note: hey there i just wanted to pop up and say that requests are open, i'm on a writing spree and hopefully i'll update more regularly now that i'm almost done with the semester. i'd like to know if you want to see something abt any of the guys... just send a whisper ;)

summary: it’s after midnight in a nearly-empty hybe building, and she’s still buried in deadlines and demos, jaw clenched and hands in her hair — until the only person who knows her chaos in silence shows up, just as worn out and just as emotionally unavailable. but when yoongi finds her in studio 3A, looking like she hasn't slept and biting down on her own frustration, the air shifts. and when he pulls her into his lap and tells her to be quiet if she doesn’t want the whole floor hearing — neither of them is thinking about feelings. only about relief. except everyone knows — even if they don’t say it out loud — they’re already each other's. just too damn stubborn to admit it.

m.list | latest

the building's nearly dead.

just the low hum of fluorescent lights and the distant echo of someone vacuuming in another hallway. most people had cleared out hours ago — normal people, anyway. the ones with boundaries. sleep schedules. lives.

but not them.

yoongi stretches his neck as he turns the last corner, a paper cup of half-warm coffee in his hand, and there she is.

exactly where he figured she’d be.

her back’s to him, shoulders tense, hands tangled in her hair like she’s trying to physically pull inspiration from her skull. he watches her for a second before saying anything — mostly because it’s kind of fascinating, the way her frustration makes him want to smile. not in a cruel way. more like... fuck, of course it's her. of course she's making herself crazy over something that probably already sounds better than half the shit on the charts right now.

he leans against the doorframe. takes a sip.

“you know you’re not getting paid overtime for this, right?”

she doesn’t jump. just groans without turning around. “don’t start, yoongi. not tonight.”

he chuckles, low and quiet. walks in.

“been trying to reach you.”

his voice is softer now, casual, like this isn’t the third time he’s walked past her empty studio earlier, pretending he wasn’t checking in. “thought maybe you finally ran off to join that noise-pop cult you keep threatening me with.”

“almost did,” she mutters, fingers flying over her keyboard. “but then this demo started sounding like a crime against humanity and i couldn’t leave it like that.”

he settles into the chair beside hers — not close enough to touch, but close enough to be there.

his usual spot.

“play it.”

she hesitates, chewing her lip, and for a second he thinks she’ll argue. but she presses spacebar and leans back, arms crossed.

the track fills the room — unpolished, raw, still bleeding at the edges. but there’s something real in it, something aching and sharp.

and he knows her well enough to hear the exhaustion between the beats.

the trying too hard.

it ends. silence settles.

he nods once. slow.

“doesn’t suck.”

she scoffs. “great. can’t wait to put that on the album review.”

his smirk twitches. “i mean. it doesn’t suck as much as i expected, considering you’re trying to mix in what sounds like a dying printer.”

her mouth drops open in fake offense, and he can’t help it — the corner of his lip lifts again, amused.

this. this is why he came. not because he needed to hear the track. not because he didn’t trust she’d get it done.

but because she looks like a goddamn hurricane when she’s like this, all untamed and brilliant and so deep in her head that it scares him a little.

and he knows the world doesn’t always get the calmer version of her. the one that leans into the quiet. the one that lets herself just be.

but she gives him that version. even when she’s falling apart. especially then.

“take a break,” he says gently, pushing the coffee toward her. “you’re spiraling.”

she looks at the cup, then at him.

and for just a second — just one — her eyes soften.

but then she rolls them. “you’re annoying.”

“you like it.”

“unfortunately.”

he doesn’t say anything to that. just sits there beside her, letting the silence stretch, letting her know she’s not alone — that even when she forgets how to breathe, he remembers. for both of them.

the moment’s quiet.

too quiet for how fast his pulse is moving.

he watches the way her shoulders rise and fall — clipped, uneven — like she’s trying not to fall apart, like holding herself still is the only thing keeping her from unraveling right there in the middle of waveforms and midi tracks. and that shouldn’t do anything to him. he tells himself that every single time.

but fuck, there’s something about seeing her like this — worn down, raw around the edges, still fighting anyway — that guts him more than he’ll ever admit out loud.

he takes a step closer.

then another.

and when he’s close enough to feel the heat of her back through her hoodie, he bends a little, eyes on the crown of her head.

presses his lips there — soft, brief. a barely-there kiss that shouldn’t mean anything but always does.

her hand twitches on the mouse.

he pretends not to notice.

instead, he lets his hands find her arms, slow and easy, fingers tracing lightly from her elbows to her shoulders and back again. not squeezing, not rushing — just being there. reminding her she’s not in this alone, not tonight. maybe not ever, even if neither of them will dare say it.

his mouth finds her hair again, this time to whisper, low and amused, “you keep this up and you’re not getting anywhere with the song.”

her breath stutters — a soft exhale.

and she leans back the tiniest bit, like her body knows something her pride won’t admit.

“maybe,” she says, voice quieter now, “i just need to relax…”

he hums, and it comes out more like a growl than a laugh.

his thumbs drag slow circles into her arms now, a little firmer.

not suggestive — not yet — just intentional.

“yeah?” he murmurs, mouth still ghosting against her hair. “you want help with that?”

there’s a pause. one of those heavy ones, where a whole universe of unsaid things pass between two people who keep pretending they don’t care.

she doesn't say yes.

she doesn't have to.

her body shifts back into him, barely-there contact that might as well be a plea. her eyes stay on the screen, like she’s still pretending this is about the music — like the way her thighs press together slightly isn’t an answer in itself.

he leans closer, lips a whisper away from her ear.

“say the word.”

his voice is lower now. soft, rough, dangerous.

and god, if she says it?

he’ll make her forget what stress even feels like.

her hands on his hips feel deceptively casual — light, teasing — but he feels the tremor beneath her fingertips. the tension riding up her spine even though her voice comes out cool, steady.

"you know i’ll say yes, right?"

he looks down at her, lips quirking into that crooked half-smile — the one that always makes her roll her eyes like she’s not secretly addicted to it.

"yeah," he murmurs, brushing his thumb over the top of her arm. "but consent is sexy. and i’m nothing if not respectful."

her laugh is soft, almost a sigh, but her eyes never leave the screen, like it’s some kind of anchor. or maybe a shield.

he knows how much she hates vulnerability.

knows how much she hides behind work.

but when she leans into him like that — trusting him, choosing him — it undoes something in his chest every single time.

"c’mon," she says, still in that whisper, glancing toward the studio door. "we can’t take too long… we don’t know who’s still on this floor."

and he wants to say, let them fucking hear,

but instead, he lets her guide him — lets her take control the way she always does when she needs to feel like she’s not drowning.

her hand slips into his, fingers cold from hours on the mouse, and he follows as she leads him toward the tiny couch in the corner of the room, worn down from too many late-night naps and occasional power plays like this.

he sits down first, legs open, arms resting on the back of the couch like he’s not already burning for her.

she stands in front of him, hair messy, hoodie half-zipped, pupils dark and pulled — and it takes everything in him not to reach for her right away.

but he doesn’t have to.

because she climbs onto his lap with no hesitation, knees bracketing his thighs, arms sliding around his neck like she’s done it a hundred times — like it’s muscle memory now.

and maybe it is.

he exhales, hands settling low on her waist as she leans in, their foreheads brushing for a moment. a charged pause.

“you good?” he asks, voice barely there.

her mouth tilts into a smirk that doesn’t reach her eyes — not yet — and then she kisses him.

it starts slow, all lips and warmth and quiet desperation. not rushed. not rough.

like they’re trying to remind each other that even in chaos, this is the one place they always come back to.

his fingers press into her back, her hips roll into his without even meaning to, and the tension between them unravels thread by thread.

her hands are in his hair now, tugging, anchoring herself as their mouths move together in sync — and he swears she tastes like frustration and espresso and whatever scent drives him fucking insane every time she walks past him in a hallway.

somewhere in the back of his mind, he hears the vacuum whir down the hall again. a reminder of where they are. who they aren’t supposed to be.

but it doesn’t matter right now.

not when she’s sighing into his mouth like this.

not when she’s melting into his chest like maybe she’s tired of holding the whole world up by herself.

he kisses her deeper — just once — before pulling back just enough to whisper against her lips,

“five minutes.”

she breathes a laugh, breathy and wrecked.

“we’re gonna need at least ten.”

his fingers curl into the waistband of her sweatpants, slow and deliberate — a quiet warning and a promise all in one. the fabric bunches beneath his grip, and he tugs just enough for her to feel it, to know what’s coming next.

but then —

the vacuum hums closer, louder, just outside the door.

they both freeze.

he leans in, lips brushing her ear now, voice low enough to blend with the rumble in the hall.

“you’ll have to be real quiet if you don’t wanna get caught, pretty girl.”

his voice does that thing to her — that husky drop, the weight of intention threading through every syllable. she shifts against him, hips tilting just slightly like her body’s answering before she can think, and that’s all he needs.

he helps her out of the sweatpants — slow and careful, keeping her steady as she steps out of them one leg at a time. it’s practiced, familiar, intimate in a way that makes the air in the room shift.

and then she’s back in his lap, straddling him again, bare thighs brushing denim, skin against skin with only a whisper of lace in between.

her hoodie’s still on. her converse are still on — something about that is stupidly hot, chaotic and casual like everything about her.

his hands trail up her thighs, thumbs skating along the edge of her underwear, a slow tease that makes her bite her bottom lip.

he leans back just enough to take her in — flushed cheeks, messy hair, mouth slightly parted, and that signature don’t fall for me look in her eyes that he knows is all smoke and mirrors.

“lace, huh?” he murmurs, fingertips brushing just under the hem of her panties. “you really didn’t plan on finishing that demo tonight.”

her nails dig into his shoulders in response — not enough to hurt, just enough to say shut up and keep going.

he grins, letting one hand slip up her hoodie, dragging his palm along warm skin, the curve of her waist.

“we’re on a clock, baby,” he whispers, thumb circling higher now, just barely grazing. “think you can stay quiet for me?”

and yeah, he says it like a challenge.

like he already knows she’s not gonna make it easy.

her breath catches — barely audible but unmistakable — as his thumb draws slow, lazy circles over lace. there’s nothing rushed about him, no urgency in the way he touches her. just quiet control. patience that only makes it worse.

or better.

depending on how you look at it.

she shivers under his hand, biting her lip so hard it might leave a mark, trying to keep it together even though her thighs are already trembling around his.

he smirks against the crook of her jaw, amused and maddeningly calm, as if they aren’t one thin wall away from getting caught, as if she isn’t already this undone and he’s barely even touched her.

“you’re shaking,” he whispers, breath hot against her skin. “and i haven’t even done anything yet.”

then his fingers slip under the lace — slow, deliberate — and she gasps, soft and sharp, her hands grabbing at his shoulders like they’re the only solid thing in the room.

he grins, lips brushing her cheek.

“uh-uh,” he murmurs, nudging his nose along her jaw. “remember what i said.”

she nods, swallowing hard, eyes glassy and unfocused.

and that’s when he guides her hand.

takes her wrist gently and brings it down, pressing her palm over his own hand, over the fingers teasing slow, torturous circles just where she needs them most.

“use my fingers,” he whispers, low and rough. “you know what you like.”

and she does.

her hand trembles as she starts to move — guiding him, hips rocking in quiet desperation. it’s messy, it's intimate, and so fucking real.

he lets her take control, but never lets go — his other hand pressing firm at the base of her spine, grounding her, holding her there, reminding her that she’s safe, she’s seen, she’s his — even if they’ll never say it.

every breath she exhales into his neck sounds like a confession.

every roll of her hips says i need you louder than words ever could.

and yoongi, voice barely audible, lips pressed to the shell of her ear, breathes out the one thing he knows will wreck her:

“that’s it, pretty girl. just like that.”

his breath is hot against her skin — ragged now, catching with every sound she makes, every tiny gasp she tries to swallow back like it’s not unraveling him completely.

his fingers move slower, deeper. stretching her gently, curling just enough to make her spine arch into him. he knows her body by now — every twitch, every soft curse under her breath, every time she presses her mouth to his shoulder to keep from moaning too loud.

she’s trying to be good. to be quiet.

and he’s not making it easy.

“so fuckin’ wet for me already,” he murmurs into her ear, voice low and dark and laced with a smile she can feel. “this what you needed, huh? not a break. just my fingers inside you while the whole building’s still awake.”

his lips trail down her neck, open-mouthed kisses that go from soft to claiming real quick — he sucks just under her jaw, enough pressure to leave a mark that won’t fade by morning. something she’ll complain about later with a smirk, trying to act like she’s mad, like she doesn’t love it.

she whimpers — the sound small and stifled, but there — and his teeth graze her skin right after.

“shh…” he soothes, lips brushing the red bloom he just left behind. “you’re doing so good, baby. so fuckin’ pretty like this, falling apart on my lap, hoodie on, shoes still on — god, you’re such a mess for me.”

his fingers stretch deeper now, his rhythm steady but ruthless — working her open while his free hand tightens on her hip, pulling her flush against him, letting her feel just how hard he is under her.

“you feel that?” he breathes out, grinding her down a little. “feel what you do to me?”

she nods, desperate, mouth parted and gasping — but he doesn’t stop.

he can’t.

not when she’s trembling like this, thighs twitching, hands clawing at his shoulders, his name falling off her lips in broken whispers she probably doesn’t even realize she’s saying.

not when she’s losing herself and still trying to hold it together, still trying to not moan loud enough to echo down the hall.

he kisses her collarbone, trailing down with slow reverence before whispering against her skin — filth laced in affection:

“come for me, pretty girl. be quiet if you can… but fuck, don’t hold back on my account.”

she’s trembling in his lap now — her entire body shivering with the aftermath of it, hips stuttering as she rides it out against his hand, making a mess all over his fingers, on his jeans, like she’s got nothing left to give.

but the way she’s gasping his name, barely even trying to be quiet anymore, the way her hands are still gripping his shirt like she’s starving — that’s when he knows.

she’s not done.

not even close.

"yoongi," she breathes, voice wrecked, pleading, pulling at his shirt now like she’ll unravel if he doesn’t do something now.

he kisses her jaw, quick, and helps her up without a word, hands strong and steady under her thighs as she finds her footing again, legs shaky, lips kiss-bitten and slightly parted.

“c’mon,” he says, voice low, firm, laced with need so thick it’s almost a growl. he turns her gently, guides her to lean over the back of the couch, her knees sinking into the worn cushions — and fuck, the sight of her like that?

it nearly undoes him.

she pulls off the hoodie in one smooth motion, tossing it somewhere behind her, hair falling wild and messy down her back. the black lace underwear’s still clinging to her thighs, barely pushed down, an afterthought now — and something about it makes his brain short-circuit.

he stands behind her, hands trailing down her spine, over the soft slope of her hips.

he could tease. he wants to tease.

but not now.

not when she’s already shaking for him, not when she’s arching her back just right, looking over her shoulder with that desperate, wrecked little expression that makes his cock twitch against his zipper.

he leans in, one hand sliding up her back, pressing down between her shoulder blades.

“you want it like this?” he whispers against her ear, hot and low.

she nods, frantic.

he barely tugs the underwear any further, just enough to expose her, to have her. he likes the way it looks bunched on her thighs, messy and rushed, like they never really had the patience to undress properly.

like they never do.

then he undoes his belt, the quiet clink loud in the stillness of the studio.

and just before he sinks into her, he leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of her spine, and mutters — low and reverent — like she’s the only thing he believes in,

“let me take care of you.”

his hands are rough now, no more of that slow build-up — it’s fast, all heat and urgency, all of it fueled by the risk, by how easy it would be for someone to walk by and hear the unmistakable sounds slipping out from under the door.

his fingers dig into the swell of her ass, spreading her open, thumbs pressing into skin like he owns it. he squeezes, slaps once — quick and sharp — just to watch her jolt forward on instinct, breath catching as she reaches for something to bite down on.

she grabs the old throw blanket folded lazily on the armrest — some gifted merch no one ever uses — and she sinks her teeth into it, moaning into the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping her from getting caught.

yoongi’s head falls back for a second at the sight of her like this — needy and wrecked and his, half-naked with her shoes still on, knees digging into a couch they’ve both crashed on too many times.

and he’s fast now. fucking into her like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality, low groans escaping his throat every time she clenches around him, every time her hips grind back like she’s just as desperate.

“look at you,” he pants, leaning in close, chest to her back. his hand tangles in her hair, not too hard, just enough to pull her head back so he can get to her ear, mouth brushing the shell of it. “biting that blanket like you don’t want the whole damn building to know how good i’m fucking you.”

she moans louder at that — muffled but loud — like the filth in his voice is winding her tighter.

“so fuckin’ needy,” he whispers, hips snapping into her, rhythm relentless. “you were practically begging for it, weren’t you? making a mess all over my hand, whining in my lap like a pretty little slut…”

he kisses the corner of her jaw, slow and messy.

"you think they’d still respect you if they saw you like this? bent over, drooling into a blanket while i fuck you stupid?"

her whole body shudders at that — hips twitching, back arching — and he grins, breathless.

“didn’t think so,” he murmurs, voice like velvet and smoke. “now be good, baby. stay quiet, take it all — and don’t you dare cum until i say so.”

yoongi swears under his breath, voice low and ragged, eyes locked on the slick, messy glide of her body swallowing him whole — over and over again. the mess she’s making of him, of herself, of the damn couch cushions. it’s obscene. it’s art.

he can’t look away.

the way her thighs tremble.

the slick sounds echoing in the tiny studio.

the blanket still caught between her teeth, now damp with spit and moans she’s too scared to let out.

it’s almost too much — almost.

he slows suddenly, pulls out with a slow drag that makes her gasp and arch back instinctively, trying to chase the friction.

but he’s already palming himself, thick and flushed and dripping — dragging the head of his cock right against her swollen clit.

“yoongi—” she breathes, voice high and strung out, hips bucking back, needing more — needing anything.

he grins, lazily, running himself along her, smearing her wetness in tight little circles. messy, filthy pressure, just enough to make her legs shake.

“fuck, look at this,” he groans, thumbing her open again just to see the way she twitches. “you’re so wet for me, pretty girl. making a goddamn mess all over my cock, and i haven’t even finished with you yet.”

he pushes in just the tip — enough to make her cry out into the blanket — and pulls back again to rub slow circles against her clit, dragging the head across her like he’s trying to brand her with it.

“you like that?” he murmurs, watching her hips try to press back into him. “like how it feels when i tease you like this? you want more?”

she nods desperately, a muffled please slipping out around the fabric in her mouth, and it’s so sweet, so fucking perfect, it makes his grip on her hair tighten just a little.

“you’re gonna lose your mind if i don’t give it to you, huh?” he growls, circling her clit again, wet and hot and just enough to make her shake. “but i like watching you fall apart like this. so messy, so loud without even saying a word.”

he leans in close again, lips ghosting over her ear, voice lower than before — dangerous.

“keep that blanket right there, baby. ‘cause when i finally fuck you again… you’re gonna need something to scream into.”

he can feel it building — low in his spine, thick in his blood, the kind of tension that’s impossible to slow down once it starts burning through his veins. she’s soaked, her thighs trembling against his, back arching every time he drags himself over that perfect spot, and he’s dangerously close to losing it.

he pulls her up gently, not because he wants to be sweet — though he is, in his own way — but because he needs a better angle. needs to see her face, her wrecked little expressions. needs to feel her falling apart with him.

“come here,” he mutters, helping her shift, guiding her down onto her side, her legs curling slightly as he lays behind her. he hooks one arm under her knee, holding it up to keep her open, the other snaking around her waist to pull her flush against him.

and then he’s back inside her — deeper like this, slower for a second, but heavier, more intense.

“fuck, baby,” he grits, mouth pressed to the back of her neck, teeth grazing skin. “you’re so tight like this… you were made for this.”

she lets out a breathy, muffled moan — lips parted, eyes fluttering — and it’s so much, the intimacy, the sweat, the quiet gasps between them. the danger of getting caught still sharp in the background, echoing with every thrust.

he’s close — too close — and when she reaches behind her, fingers barely brushing his hip like she’s trying to pull him even deeper, that’s what does it.

“shit—” he groans, deep and rough, burying his face in her shoulder as he pulls out quickly, hand wrapping around himself.

in just a few rough strokes, he’s coming hard — hot and messy, thick spurts landing right across the black lace of her underwear still tangled around her thighs. he pants against her, forehead pressed to her back, hand steadying himself against her hip as the tremors run through him.

“fuck,” he whispers, breathless. “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

they’re still tangled like that — her on her side, flushed and slick, his cum cooling on her thighs and lace — when a knock slices through the air.

sharp.

loud.

too real.

they both freeze.

she shoots him a wide-eyed look over her shoulder, and yoongi curses under his breath as he scrambles for her hoodie, tossing it over her bare chest while trying to zip himself up with one hand.

“(y/n)-ssi?” a voice calls politely from the hallway. a young male staffer, probably an intern. “i was told to remind you about the morning meeting. they asked if you could check your email before you leave.”

yoongi presses a finger to his lips, mouthing don’t laugh when she lets out a wheeze and nearly chokes on it, face buried in the blanket again.

“thanks!” she croaks out after a second, voice not nearly as steady as she wants it to be. “i’ll check in a bit!”

silence. footsteps retreat. door remains mercifully shut.

yoongi leans down, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, voice smug and low and just as wrecked as she is.

“you owe me a new pair of jeans,” he murmurs.

“and maybe a warning next time you decide to look that fuckable in sweatpants.”

-quietly always, cigarettesuga.

514 notes · View notes

koofleurs · 1 month ago

Text

shameless thirst : m.list

summary : you wanted the bad boy jeon jungkook even if he had a long term hot girlfriend. So you beg him to make you his secret.

pairing : bad boy jungkook x yn

warning : cheating / asshole jungkook ( he can Change or maybe not) , slut/body shaming / desperate yn / smut / morally bad

Status : series [drabble]

You stood behind the old gym building, fingers trembling as you held the small folded note in your hand, the one you had slipped into Jungkook’s locker just an hour ago. You had written your heart into those few lines, begging him to meet you here.

And he did.

Jungkook leaned against his black bike, leather jacket stretched across his broad shoulders, dark tattoos peeking from the edge of his sleeves. A lollipop in his mouth and that same careless smirk on his lips. His presence sucked the air out of your lungs.

"You wrote me that desperate little love note?" he asked, flicking the paper between his fingers mockingly. “Didn’t take you for the type.”

You gulped. “I... I know you have a girlfriend, but I don’t care. I-I’m not asking for much. Just—just give me a chance. We don’t have to tell anyone. I’ll be your secret. Please, I just want a piece of you.”

He blinked, and for a second you thought maybe he would consider it.

Then he laughed. Loud and cruel.

“A piece of me?” he smirk, eyes glinting like razors. “You think I’d throw my girl away for some lonely, pathetic chubby nerd who probably moans my name into her pillow at night?”

Your stomach dropped. The words were bullets.

“I won’t ruin anything, I swear,” you whispered. “She doesn’t have to know. No one has to. I’ll do whatever you want, just let me have you, even just a little...”

He stepped closer, towering over you, his breath minty and sharp. “You’re really that desperate, huh?”

You nodded, ashamed. You couldn't look up. Your voice cracked. “I’m sorry. I just... I think about you all the time.”

Jungkook scoffed. “Get a grip. This ain’t a movie, sweetheart. You're not the type of girl I even look at, especially not when I've already got a real woman.”

Then he walked past you, shoving your shoulder as he went. “Don’t ever embarrass yourself like this again.”

And just like that, you were left there.

Heart crushed. Dignity shattered.

But even through the tears that burned your eyes, a twisted part of you still longed for just one more glance from him.

Just a piece of him.

Index : coming soon

456 notes · View notes

jintaka-hane · 6 months ago

Text

Sit Down

Masterlist

Summary: Benn Beckman carries too much on his shoulders. The situation on board is a mess, and the weight of the stress is making it harder for him to sleep at night. As your first mate and friend, it pains you to see him so exhausted. So, when things become unbearable, you offer a drastic solution—something he’ll hesitantly end up accepting. Word count: 4900 Notes: MDNI, + 18, NSFW, xf!reader, smut, oral (Beck receiving), fingering (f!reader receiving), friends to lovers, let me take care of you thing, fluffy end, needy Beck, a lot of pet names used (darlin', doll, princess, pretty) Self indulgent? This? Nah Warning: All my stories are written entirely in Spanish and then translated into English, so I apologize for any mistakes I might make.

Clink-Crassssh!!

The coffee pot smashed to pieces onto the wooden floor, spraying shards of glass and coffee across the mess hall. You jumped from the loud noise, almost falling off the stool, and after sharing confused looks with Roux and Hongo, your heads snapped to the side where the crash came from.

Before you stood the sad figure of Benn Beckman crouched on the floor, muttering curses as his trembling hands hurried to clean up the mess. His hair looked more disheveled than usual, his lips pursed in a tight line beneath an unshaped beard, and his usually bright eyes seemed dull, framed by deep, dark shadows.

"Becks?" You immediately set your drink down and stood up from your seat, rushing to help him.

“Ain’t gotta, darlin'...” he said in a rough, worn-out voice. "I got this."

Shaking your head, you knelt beside him and poured a clean rag into the spilled coffe. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched his fingers clumsily gather pieces of the shattered pot, his movements so slow and unsteady that you worried he might hurt himself. You tried to push the glass shards away from his hands, but when he stubbornly kept picking them up, you placed your hand over his.

"Becks, Stop. I’ll handle it..."

"No," the bulky man muttered, giving a small tug to free his hand in such a rushed and clumsy way that it struck the edge of a sharp shard, causing him to wince as his skin split open with a jagged cut.

"Becks!" You grabbed his wrist firmly. "Would you just stop?!"

Beckman sighed heavily and, for once, complied. As blood began to bead along the cut, Hongo rushed to assist him, crouching down to help you lift him to his feet.

“It’s not bad,” the doctor said, focusing on the wound and pressing gently around the edges to ensure no glass remained. “Just needs cleaning and a bandage.”

"I got it," you said immediately.

Hongo raised an eyebrow at your quick response and ran a hand over his shaved neck to asses the situation.

For once, someone from the crew was offering to help, and he wouldn’t be the one to refuse. He gave you a short nod, and that gesture was all you needed to grab the big, wall-of-a-man first mate by the arm, and practically drag him out of the mess hall, marching down the corridor as he grumbled the whole way.

“Darlin’, I’ve got plenty of things to do…”

You grunted. Of course he had things to do. He always had things to do. And that was exactly the problem.

"... and if you're taking me to bed," he continued stubbornly, "it's not gonna work..."

You huffed and without replying, kept striding down the corridor, your fingers digging into his forearm like claws.

We'll see about that …

**********

You weren't exactly having the best time on the Red Force.

The captain was confined to his cabin, bedridden and unable to make decisions. He had caught something nasty on the last island and was under strict orders to rest, spending his days grumbling and complaining like the terrible patient he was.

Roux and Hongo weren’t faring much better. With food and medical supplies running dangerously low, the cook was growing increasingly dramatic, threatening to serve boiled underwear soup. The doctor prowled the ship’s corners, muttering to everyone that he’d soon be operating without anesthesia.

The ship herself was in no condition to help. The sails were in desperate need of patching, the masts needed reinforcement, and the cannons kept jamming at the worst moments. And to make matters worse, you were trapped in a dead calm. With the ship completely immobilized in the open sea, resupplying or seeking help was impossible, and the weather forecast offered no hope of change anytime soon.

Everything was a mess and completely out of control. And naturally, all the responsibility, worry, and pressure landed squarely on the shoulders of the ever-capable and vigilant co-captain.

But the weight of it all was beginning to take its toll.

His body rebelled, depriving him of the restorative sleep he so desperately needed. And with each passing night, the insomnia only worsened, making the once steadfast first mate slowly turn into a tired, miserable shadow of his former self.

**********

"Go inside," you opened the door to Beckman’s cabin and gave the sturdy man a gentle nudge on his back.

The moment you stepped inside, a sharp smell of tobacco assaulted your nose. Your eyes darted around the room, quickly taking in its sorry state.

The bed was unmade, with rumpled sheets and clothes scattered across the mattress. In front of a worn, cushioned armchair, his desk looked disheveled, cluttered with a mountain of papers, maps and an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. On the nightstand, a half-empty glass of whiskey sat next to a small box of sleeping pills.

A sigh slipped from your lips.

You’d always heard that a person’s cabin was a window into their mind. The sight before you was more revealing than any words could be.

Your attention shifted back to Beckman, who stood frozen in the center of the room. His injured hand was raised and curled into a fist.

"Sit down," you ordered, stepping closer and looking up at him, voice steady as you motioned toward the armchair.

Beckman opened his mouth to protest, but before he could articulate a word you placed your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back and guiding him toward the chair.

"Sit down," you repeated in the most authoritative tone you could muster.

Becks chuckled but complied, sinking into the cushioned armchair with his full weight.

“Bandages and antiseptic?” You crouched down to meet his eye level, a finger raised in a questioning gesture.

“Top drawer,” he grumbled.

Without another word, you turned to the nightstand and rummaged through the drawer. Your fingers brushed past rolling papers, lighters, and razor blades before finally finding alcohol and some bandages. Supplies in hand, you perched sideways on the armrest of his chair, extending your hand to take his.

The bulky man allowed you to tend to his wound, silent as you carefully cleaned the bleeding cut. His drowsy eyes followed every move of your delicate fingers. He couldn’t help but notice how small and soft your hands looked against the roughness of his calloused skin.

"Becks..." your voice came out like a sigh. "You can't keep going like this. You need to sleep."

His fingers didn’t flinch as you applied the alcohol to disinfect the wound.

"I know, darlin’," he said quietly, his gaze now fixed on your face as your brows furrowed in concentration while you cut the bandage. "And I’m tryin’, but-"

"It’s too much stress and weight on your shoulders, I know..." You carefully wrapped the bandage around his hand, tracing small circles in the air.

You liked that grumpy, big-hearted first mate more than you were willing to admit. He was your friend, your confidant, your favorite person on the crew. You wanted to help him. And after all the traditional remedies your crewmates had tried had failed miserably, your mind had begun drifting toward more... drastic options.

Benn Beckman was a reserved man. But despite his discretion, you knew he had his needs. Whenever you reached port, you knew he sought comfort in the arms of willing, affectionate women, eager to spend a few hours in his company. You’d seen him share drinks with them, whisper who-knows-what in their ears while they sat on his lap, hands sensually tracing the lines of his chest in some secluded corner of the tavern.

And every time you saw him the next morning, a cigarette between his lips, that casual smile of his, and a trail of bruises on his neck disappearing into his shirt, something twisted in your gut.

Something you couldn’t quite define.

Maybe it was curiosity… curiosity about what he did with them all night, tangled in the sheets of an inn bed.

But it had been weeks since you’d seen the first mate blow off any steam. With no wind to fill the sails, the ship had no chance of docking at any nearby port, leaving everyone deprived of the opportunity to unwind and relax with some good company on the shore.

So one idea had started to form in your mind.

At first, you had dismissed it, thinking it was crazy and inappropriate. But as you watched Beckman worsen day by day, you reconsidered. It might be exactly what he needed to forget, if only for a moment, the weight of his responsibilities. And hopefully, get the rest he so desperately needed.

The only problem? Suggesting the idea felt harder than carrying out the remedy itself.

“You’re lost in thought…” His rough voice pulled you back, his hand gently holding yours after you finished tying off the bandage.

You cleared your throat and stood up, pulling your hand away from his to return the first-aid kit to the nightstand drawer. His gaze weighed on your back, and just before closing the drawer, you clenched your eyes shut, took a deep breath and decided to take the plunge.

“I think I can help you,” you said.

You heard a low chuckle behind you, laced with disbelief rather than malice.

"Darlin’," he said, rubbing his eyes, "Hongo's tried everything. He even gave me pills to—"

“I can give you something Hongo hasn’t,” you cut him off, your voice coming out more confident than you’d imagined it would when you’d rehearsed the words in your head. When you turned to face him, though, you felt your heart pounding in your chest.

“And what’s that?” He stopped massaging his eyes, revealing his tired gaze again as he looked at you.

“My mouth.”

The two words hung in the air, finally freed after days of being locked in your mind.

Beckman stayed silent, his gray eyes locked with yours. With your heart in your throat, you approached the armchair and placed a hand on each armrest, leaning your torso toward the wordless man. He lifted his chin to look at you, and you tried to remain stoic and unwavering as his eyes flickered between yours, studying your features as if he were trying to see beyond your skin.

"Doll," he finally said, voice deep and soft. "If you're implying what I think..."

"I am."

His lips twitched into a wry grin.

"Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not." Your fingers unconsciously dug into the fabric of the armrest.

His smile faded, and this time, his gaze held an animal-like intensity. Frowning, and with his lips pressed tightly together, he seemed to be trying to control an internal battle inside him.

"No," he finally said, his chin still lifted so he could look you straight in the eye.

His refusal struck you like a bucket of cold water, though, in some way, you knew that’s exactly what he would say. He always treated you with a respect and care befitting a goddess. Making you lower yourself to the dirt in such a worldly way would probably be unthinkable for him.

“Becks,” you sighed, removing one of your hands from the armrest to trail it up to his stubbled chin. “You’re barely on your feet. We’re all worried about you…”

Beckman closed his eyes at the feel of your touch, his chin leaning into your hand as he allowed himself a moment of rest.

“I can help you if you let me…” you continued, “We’re adults, it’d be an agreement between the two of us… an agreement between… friends.”

His jaw tensed in your hand.

“As flattered as I am that someone like you would be offerin’ somethin’ like that to a guy like me," he said, "my answer’s still no."

This time his refusal genuinely hurted you. You pulled your hand away, and his tired eyes opened again, disoriented without your touch.

"Your stubbornness is reckless," you tried to sound composed, but the pain in your voice betrayed you. "You can't work like this. A-a crew without a first mate at his best is a crew in danger. We all need you, Beck... I-I..." Your lips trembled nervously as you spoke, "I need you."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you bit your lip. The last thing you wanted was to add even more weight to the already burdened first mate. And that was exactly what you'd just done.

Embarrassed, you straightened up and began to turn away to leave, but he stopped you, grabbing your wrist firmly and pulling you back toward him. He spread his legs to make space for your body to move closer to his.

"Girl," he said in a rough voice, locking his eyes with yours in a way that sent a spark flickering in the pit of your stomach. He frowned, and for a moment, you thought he was going to scold you, but his expression softened. "You can back out anytime. Got it?"

You nodded.

Before you realized it, his hands were around your waist, lifting your shirt and exposing the skin of your abdomen. He pressed his nose playfully against your navel, and his fingers traced the waistband of your pants.

“Becks,” you giggled as the ticklish sensation sent goosebumps racing across your body. “What are you doing?”

“I never let my partner pleasure me without takin’ care of her first,” he said, his voice muffled as he buried his face further into your belly.

Oh.

Of course.

Benn Beckman, competent first mate and finest gentleman.

Smiling, you placed your hands on his cheeks, guiding his gaze back to yours. As tempting as the situation was, you weren’t going to let him take this turn. You were here to help him, not the other way around.

"Becks, stop... you don’t have to. I’m not asking for anything in return, understand?"

He looked at you, his hands still resting on your waist. From the expression on his face, you could tell he wasn’t convinced.

"Besides," you added, trying to find something that would make him give in, "if that ever happens, I deserve it to be with all your strength. Not like the tired wreck you are right now."

A raspy laugh rumbled in his chest, and you smiled. How you loved that rough, husky laugh.

"Alright, Darlin’," he said, still chuckling.

Your smile lingered as you slowly lowered yourself to kneel between his legs, never breaking eye contact with him. Before your knees could touch the floor, he leaned over to the bed, snatching up his pillow.

"Here," he said, placing it on the floor beneath you, "don’t go hurtin’ those pretty knees of yours."

Why was he always like this? You thought as you made yourself comfortable on the pillow, placing your hands gently on his thighs for support.

"Thank you".

Your eyes lingered on the prominent bulge at his crotch, and without thinking, you wet your lips with the tip of your tongue. Beckman’s jaw tightened, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a rare display of vulnerability for a man with his reputation.

“Hey, big guy,” you gave his thigh a comforting squeeze, "it’s just me. Relax, okay? Just let yourself go…”

The tent in his pants seemed to complain within its prison, and you didn’t want to make him wait any longer. Slidding your hands down his knees, you spread his legs just enough to create space for your head.

"Who’s undoing the belt?" you asked tilting your head and looking up at him from beneath your long doe-eyed lashes.

"You." His tone struck you as the same one he used when handing out tasks on deck.

Your hands gripped the buckle of his belt and unfastened it, your fingers decisively pulling aside the layers of fabric that stood between you, lowering the waistband of his pants and finally freeing his painfully swollen cock.

Benn Beckman was a big man. And his dick matched him well. With a large, pinkish-red head and a prominent vein running up and down a thick shaft. Your mouth watered at the sight, lips parted as you took a moment to prepare yourself.

"Darlin’,” Beckman said, taking the moment of silence as doubt on your part, “you can back out if—Hah~"

His words dissolved into a sharp gasp as you captured his swollen, mushroomed knob between your eager lips.

His taste was salty and strong in your mouth.

You, on the other hand, felt incredibly sweet on his cock.

Opening your mouth as wide as your jaw would allow, you slowly took him in, giving yourself a moment to breathe and adjust to him. You swallowed gradually more of his cock, eyes closed in concentration, hands anchored on his base for support, until you managed about two-thirds of his length.

He held his breath above you. His abdomen tightened with restraint when you looked up at him, your tongue pressing against the pulsing vein on his shaft, feeling the wild rush of blood running through it. Then his hand cupped your cheek, his lips curling into a smile as he traced with his thumb his own bulge inside you.

With your cheeks flushed by that smile, you began applying more pressure with your lips, rising back up to his large head, giving it a quick lick before taking him all the way down again.

"That's it... “ he sighed.

His hand slid to the nape of your neck, his fingers brushing your hair aside with care before settling there. You continued bobbing your head against his cock, making him groan with your upward and downward movements, trying to take as much of him as you could.

“Yeah, nice and slow princess…, just like that," he whispered, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles against your skin.

Encouraged by his sweet gesture, you decided to use your hands as well. One moved carefully up and down his hard cock, while the other dared to venture deeper into his pants. His balls felt heavy and tight between your fingers. The balls of a man who hadn’t known a partner' s warmth in a long time.

"So, so good, princess," the bulky man praised breathlessly, his eyes full of devotion as he watched your head bob sweetly between his legs.

His length twitched inside your mouth and you tasted a salty drop of precum as you ran your tongue through his slit. You smiled proudly on his cock, continuing to suck and bob, feeling sparks ignite between your thighs as your own arousal began to smolder in your core.

“Look at you... hah… so perfect… and takin’ me so damn well,” he groaned, his voice a little deeper and raspier than usual.

His sweet praises, coupled with the slow, sensual glide of his fingers along the nape of your neck, sent a sharp jolt of desire coursing through you. Your mouth continued working up and down his shaft, increasing the pressure and speed as you felt the weight of his darkened, dilated pupils staring at you.

“Princess, open your shirt for me," he uttered with an unsteady breath.

Arching your brow, you looked at him, holding his gaze with an alluring intensity as you slowly obeyed. Your fingers fumbled with your buttons as you undid them slowly, one by one. As soon as you finished, he tugged your shirt down, baring one of your shoulders.

“So goddamn beautiful…” he whispered, the back of his fingers grazing your soft, vulnerable skin, tracing an invisible line from your collarbone to the curve of your cleavage.

His touch sent a shiver racing down your spine, and you frowned, fighting to control the raw, insistent desire building between your thighs. You continued to sweetly embrace his cock with your swollen lips, sucking him hard up and down, focused on how with each movement, his breaths grew more and more uneven.

"Ah~” he tilted his head back, and his fingers pressed more tightly into your head, drawing you closer to his crotch. "Let's go deeper, a'right, Doll? Show me what that pretty throat can do…"

You nodded obediently, exhaling through your nose as you took his cock further, slowly swallowing his entire length inch by inch.

“That’s it, such a good girl…” He praised you as his hands gently grabbed your head to guide you deeper into him.

His sweet words pushed you to swallow more than your throat could handle, and when his blunt head hit the back of your mouth, you couldn’t stop yourself from choking.

"Hey, n-no," He huskily chastised you, giving you a little tap on the nose. Though he couldn’t stop himself from closing his eyes and rolling them back. "No gagging, okay? Good girls don’t gag”.

You nodded again, knitting your brows together in concentration, and let him guide you to take the rest of his cock.

“That’s it… breathe and relax for me, okay?”

You had to squeeze your eyes shut as the large tip pressed against your uvula, but once you managed the last few inches, you smiled proudly on his cock.

“That’s my good girl,” he cooed at you, letting out a heavy sigh, unable to avoid twitching over your tongue. “I knew you could take all of me…”

You continued moving your head, up and down, then down and up, always watching his reactions and listening to his breath to match the right pace. His throbs inside you became more frequent and desperate, and you began to fantasize about how his massive cock would stretch you to your limit.

The thought did little to ease the growing, unbearable thirst inside you. The damp fabric of your underwear clung uncomfortably to your swollen folds, and you pressed your thighs together, seeking any form of relief.

Burning with desire, you increased the pace. Obscene sucking sounds filled the air as you worked your way up to his thick tip, repeating the process over and over again, making him grunt and curse above you in his frantic fight not to cum.

“G-good j-… -ahh such a pretty good girl…” he had to shut his eyes and scrunch his brow to handle all the pleasure flooding him. “I’m so close, princess... gonna keep bein’ a good girl for me and not let me make a mess on the floor?"

You don’t remember giving him an answer, but you do remember how your swollen pussy throbbed between your legs at his question.

You desperately wanted to touch you.

You desperately wanted him to touch you.

And your prayers were answered.

As you whimpered in frustration, you felt Beckman's large hand slip into your pants and slide under your underwear.

“Shh, I got you…,” he soothed in that deep voice of his, his expert fingers parting your labia and pulling up the hood of your clit, circling your perfect spot with astonishing ease. “Go on, princess.”

Gripping his hand you grounded your pelvis against it, desperately begging him to keep on those sweet circles that were taking you so quickly to the edge. He indulged, and in less than 30 seconds, he had you whimpering and mewling against his cock, eyes rolling and toes curling as you shoved his thick fingers into your clenching pussy.

Your pace bobbing your head decreased during your high, but the force increased. You hollowed your cheeks, raking him down with your mouth with so much fervor, that you had not yet come down from the crest of your orgasm when you felt his hands roughly grab your hair in firm handfuls, his cock throbbing against your palate and filling the bottom of your throat with his thick, salty load.

“Fuck, princess, sweetheart, -ngah!, you’re too good, too much -so goddamn perfect,” Beckman moaned out a stream of mindless praises while he shoved his cock deeper into your mouth, emptying himself so hard and so deep in your throat that you gagged on his knob again. Tears began to well up in the corners of your eyes, but you continued bobbing your head against him, feeling his hand rest on your throat as if he wanted to feel your windpipe shift with each swallow of his overwhelming stream of cum.

Panting, and sweating, with your hair tousled and your cheeks flushed, you felt the last of his spend spill into your mouth. You pulled away from him, lifting your eyes and finding him as breathless and damp as you.

He smiled, and his hand ran through his gray hair in an attempt to regain his composure. But as he leaned forward and his fingers grazed your cheek, the wetness made his smile disappear.

"Oh, Darlin’… No…" His voice cracked, eyes following the tears as they slipped down your cheeks. “Forgive me… I’ve made you cry.” His large hands lifted you effortlessly from the floor, settling you onto his lap. “Damn. I’m a fucking brute…”

“It’s alright, Becks,” you whispered as you pulled your face away, but he drew you closer once more.

His lips brushed softly against your cheeks, catching each tear with tender, almost apologetic kisses. You let out a soft laugh, and turned your head to allow him more access. In doing so, your noses brushed together, making your eyes flutter shut. In that brief, unspoken moment, his lips found yours.

The kiss was slow. Softer than you’d ever expected from that grumbling, broad-shouldered man. With the calm and patience of someone who had waited for this moment for a long time.

Sighing into the kiss, you allowed yourself to be carried away by the sweet, unhurried motion of his chin. When you pulled back, your fingers brushed lightly against his cheek. Your gaze met his deep gray eyes once again and what you saw in them was a look he reserved only for you.

A look that was now hungrier than ever, as if he were staring at something that had always belonged to him.

“And?” you asked, straightening your back and raising an eyebrow.

“And?” he mimicked you, a smile grazing his lips as he looked lovingly at you. “Darlin’, you were… you are gorgeous.”

“No,” you giggled as you gave him a light, teasing tap on his chest. “I meant if you can sleep now.”

“Ah, right… okay,” he frowned and cleared his throat. “The truth is… yeah, I think I can sleep now.”

You nodded as you gave him another light tap on his chest. But when you moved to stand, his large hands tightened around your thighs, pulling you firmly back into his embrace.

“Stay with me…” he whispered.

“I can’t, Becks. I’ve got work to do,” you lovingly brushed your fingers along his stubbled chin.

“No, you don’t…”

“Yes, I do,” you teased, “and if I don’t, my first mate is gonna punish me.”

"Oh, I see," he raised an eyebrow, "that first mate of yours must be really mean."

“The meanest."

He hummed in amusement.

“Is he?”

"You have no idea."

Clearly enjoying having you so close again, he tilted his chin towards you, and grinned as he caught the way your eyes darted to his lips. But when you leaned away out of his reach once more, his smile faded.

"Maybe he's just a man," he said, his voice rough and barely a whisper, "who believes he doesn't deserve what he truly wants."

Your eyes darted between his. “And what is that?”

He cupped your cheek and his thumb traced slowly your jawline.

"Stay with me, and I’ll tell you in the morning."

You smiled as you closed your eyes, sighing before slowly nodding to him.

Before you could even catch your breath, he had you in his arms, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you to the bed. He gently laid you down, quickly straightening the wrinkled sheets to make sure you were comfortable.

Smiling, he tossed his shirt aside and lay down behind you, drawing a giggle from you when the weight of his body made you roll toward him. His bandaged hand came to rest on your thigh, while the other slid beneath your body, wrapping around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer.

"Besides..." you heard him whisper, his nose nudging the curve of your neck, "I gotta show you what this tired wreck can do after a few hours of sleep..."

Those were the last words he spoke before letting out a long, deep sigh, his body relaxing behind you as his steady breathing signaled he had finally drifted off.

At last he was enjoying his well-deserved, soothing rest. You, however, couldn’t manage a single blink, and endured what felt like the longest night of your life.

.......................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

#one piece #x reader #jintaka stuff #benn beckman fiction #benn beckman x female reader #benn beckman wives army #benn beckman x reader #benn beckman #red haired pirates #Spotify #benn beckman x you #beckman x reader

619 notes · View notes

florihaei · 6 months ago

Text

drabble- late night calls⋆୨୧˚

the fight earlier had left a bitter weight in your chest. hours had passed, but the tension still lingered, thick and unrelenting. you toss and turn in bed, replaying every word exchanged, every raised tone. the argument wasn’t even about anything important, just something trivial that spiraled into something bigger.

your phone buzzes on the nightstand, the vibration cutting through the quiet. his name lights up the screen. jungkook.

you hesitate, staring at the phone as it rings. the hurt is still fresh, but so is the longing. finally, you answer, pressing the phone to your ear without saying anything.

“my baby,” his voice comes through, soft and cautious, yet so unmistakably him. “are you awake?”

you don’t reply right away, your silence speaking volumes.

“pretty girl,” he says gently, “are you still mad at me?”

your throat tightens, the sound of his voice unraveling the wall you’ve tried to keep up. you close your eyes and exhale, letting the quiet hang between you.

“i hate when we fight,” he says after a moment, his voice dipping lower, almost vulnerable. “i’ve been sitting here, thinking about it. thinking about us. and i was wrong, okay? i overreacted.”

the knot in your chest loosens just slightly. “you did,” you say softly, not to hurt him but because it’s true.

“i know,” he admits, his voice barely a whisper. “i just… i don’t like when we’re not okay. it messes with me, baby. i can’t stop thinking about it.”

his honesty chips away at the last of your defenses. you sigh, your fingers gripping the edge of the blanket. “i don’t like it either, jungkook.”

there’s a pause on the other end, the sound of his breathing filling the space. ��can i come over? i need to see you.”

you shake your head, even though he can’t see you. “it’s late.”

“i don’t care,” he says firmly. “i’ll stay outside your door if I have to. i just want to make this right.”

tears prick at your eyes, the sincerity in his voice overwhelming. “we’ll be okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“promise?” he asks, his tone softer now.

“promise.”

he exhales in relief, and you can almost picture the small, shy smile tugging at his lips. “i love you,” he murmurs. “more than anything, pretty girl.”

“i love you too, jungkook.”

the call ends, but the weight on your chest feels lighter. you curl back into bed, your heart finally at peace.

𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼-@khaer

763 notes · View notes

floral-and-fine · 5 months ago

Text

Green and Silver

Prince Nuada Silverlance x fem reader

Fem reader x Adopted siblings Hellboy and Abe

A/n: Sooooo… this has been in my drafts for a little under 2 years 😅 and this week I was determined to just go ahead and finish it. It’s kinda long about 12,800 words and it’s kind of a slow burn. Also I gave the reader plant related powers. Enjoy!

Warnings: lemon and probably a lot of things that don’t go with canon

Summary: The reader is determined to help mediate the conflict between man and magical beings, through her efforts Nuada ends up falling for her.

Entering your old room, a smile graced your lips as you saw that all your plants were alive and well. Someone must have been caring for them in your absence, you thought as you stepped over the healthy vines and roots that had spread over the tile floors. At first you assumed it had been Abe, but seeing how overgrown some of the plants had become, it seemed more likely that Red had been the one watering them.

You worried your lip wondering if maybe he didn’t hate you after all?

Things have always been rocky between the two of you. Constantly butting heads since you were children, always seemingly on opposing sides on certain topics, fighting for father’s attention.

You had always suspected that there was a little jealousy as well. Unlike Red, you could blend in with everyone else, you weren’t forbidden from leaving the compound, or forced to live a life in hiding.

It all came to a boiling point when you made the decision to leave. He wouldn’t look at you when you said goodbye. When he had found out the night before while you were packing up what you could, he was furious and both of you said a lot of things in anger. You immediately regretted it right after.

You left fearing that Red would never speak to you again, but your abilities were better suited out there, not on missions hunting down paranormal enemies.

You wanted to help, really help. You wanted to bring forests back to life and assist in places that had been ravaged by wildfires and deforestation. Staying here felt like you were doing more harm than good.

To make matters worse, shortly after your departure, Liz admitted herself into the hospital and then father died. When you returned to mourn his death with your family, Red tore into you. He blamed you for all of it, claiming if you had been around none of it would have happened.

You hadn’t been back since then.

Looking around your room, you couldn’t help but notice how homesick you had become. So much of your life was spent in this compound. You never intended to be gone for so long.

Your room was designed similar to a greenhouse with a glass ceiling to let in plenty of sunlight. Various sized pots filled with plants and vibrant flower beds lined the walls. Right in the center of the room was a hammock where you used to take midday naps. Your old record player was still sitting on your desk collecting dust along with all your books and art supplies.

Your father had made sure that you, Abe, and Red had some space to yourselves that suited your needs. He always so thoughtful of your individual needs.

You picked up an old frame, wiping the dust away with your sleeve to reveal the photograph under the glass. Your fingers traced over the familiar faces smiling back at you.

You had truly missed them all.

“So,” a voice suddenly spoke up from the entrance of your room. “You really did come back.”

You spun around to see Red leaning against the door frame. You laid the picture back on your desk. “I saw the news… Hellboy is everywhere right now. Thought maybe I could help.”

You swallowed thickly as the two of you stared at each. God, you didn’t think it would be this weird and tense, but simply being in the same room didn’t feel right. You wished you knew what else to say to fix it, but you got the feeling he didn’t want to talk.

“Well guess that’s it, I just wanted to see it for myself,” he shrugged and turned away, heading back down the hall.

All you could do was watch, wondering if it would ever be like it used to.

…

“He spoke to me at least,” you sighed, shoulders slumping while you sat on the edge of Abe’s tank with your feet dangling in the water. “I honestly expected worse, another screaming match or something like that.”

Abe’s head bobbed in the water as he swam closer to you and noticed how your frown deepened, “And that makes you… more upset?”

You groaned, throwing your head back, “I know, I know, it sounds crazy, but if he had yelled and maybe even slammed a few doors too, it would’ve felt more normal, more like it used to be.”

Abe chuckled a little, “Yes, I suppose you’re right. The yelling would be far more familiar.”

It was true that you and Red growing up always seemed to be fighting or arguing. It was just the nature of your relationship while Abe and Professor Broom were the mediators. Which was why it was so unnerving to be treated like a stranger, so coldly, by the person you had come to think of as your brother.

“I’m glad Liz is back,” you added. “She’s always been good at keeping him more level headed.”

“Me too,” Abe nodded, carefully climbing out of his tank. “And I’m glad you're back as well.”

“Got somewhere to be?” You asked.

“Director Manning is bringing in someone new,” he explained. “I believe he wanted the entire team to be present for introductions.”

“Ah, I see.”

“You could join us, if you’d like,” Abe offered, putting on his goggles and breathing collar.

“I probably shouldn’t, I’m not officially back,” you sighed, rising to your feet. “Pretty sure the government still wants these types of things confidential.”

You walked with Abe down the stairs, your wet feet leaving behind dark footprints on the red carpet. You smiled at him as he left the room.

Without much else to do, you made yourself comfortable in the library. About an hour or so later, you were curled up in one of the arm chairs invested in a first edition copy of ‘The Time Machine.’

Immediately you perked up when you heard everyone bustling about and on the move.

“What’s going on?” You asked, setting your book aside and standing.

“We’re loading up,” Red stated without his usual enthusiasm. “To go on a goddamn wild goose chase,” he added with a scowl.

You furrowed your brow giving Abe and Liz a confused look.

“We’re going to the east end of the Brooklyn Bridge,” Liz explained while going in for a quick hug. “It’s good to see you,” she added.

You hugged her back. “The Troll Market…?” You questioned, putting it together. “Thought we gave up on that myth.”

You heard Red snort loudly, “Yeah, but this time will be different.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head as someone new approached you.

“Ah! You must be Ms. Y/n,” the strange figure said with a thick German accent. He was dressed in a suit that resembled vintage deep sea diving gear. “I am Dr. Kraus,” he introduced himself.

Your eyes widened for a second, realizing that there was no head or face beneath the helmet, just a strange mist. “Uh, yes, nice to meet you,” you half smiled.

“Will you be joining us?” He asked eagerly. “On the mission?”

Your eyes flickered to Red who seemed irritated but not completely against it.

“I suppose I could.”

“Fantastic,” Dr. Kraus clapped his hands. “I look forward to seeing your abilities for myself. I have read extensive dossiers on all of the team, including you,” the doctor explained. “Your powers seem quite… intriguing.”

“Why would you read my file?” You inquired. “No one knew I was coming back, and technically I might be here but I’m not with BPRD anymore.”

“Ah, yes, but you see I’ve heard stories about your missions from a good friend,” he explained. “So I asked for information that pertained to all of you.”

You looked at the doctor uneasy, before following the back of the group as they made their way to the hangar.

Arriving at the destination, agents filed out of vehicles and began prepping the area with practiced efficiency. Liz directed them where to install the cameras while Red and Abe discussed plans with Dr. Kraus. You tried your best to stay out of the way, simply resigning yourself to observe everyone else at work.

“Aren’t you going to go with them?” Liz asked as she grabbed the bird cage that held a little canary.

You shook your head, “I think it’s best if I stayed here. I don’t want to press my luck or step on any toes.”

Liz pursed her lips and nodded, “It’ll get better y’know, Red just needs time.”

“Yeah, I hope you’re right.” As much as you wanted to be part of the action, just like in the good old days, you knew Red already had enough on his plate as he unwillingly adjusted to Dr. Kraus’s lead.

“Help Manning keep an eye on things,” she instructed with a slight eye roll. “I’ll be back shortly.”

You looked back at Director Manning who was still completely astonished that the little old lady was actually a troll.

“What a hideous creature,” he muttered to himself, staring at the monitors. Eventually he peeled his eyes away and turned to look at you, seemingly forgetting what he was going to say as he saw you through the lenses of the Schufftein glasses.

You lifted your brow, “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“You’re… very glowy,” he answered, somewhat entranced.

You chuckled, “Thanks.”

His eyes followed the swirls of green that traveled along your figure like vines.

“Better keep watching the fragglewump,” you suggested with a small smirk.

“Yes, of course, you’re absolutely right,” he said, turning his chair back around.

You, Liz and Manning stayed behind, keeping an eye on surveillance. Over the radio, Red shared how amazing the troll market was. A part of you wished you had gone with them, but it was too late now. Maybe one day you’d be fortunate enough to return and see it for yourself.

With a heavy sigh Liz stood up and left the back of the truck.

“Everything alright?” You asked her, immediately joining her outside.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she muttered, fidgeting with her hair then her jacket.

“Liz,” you said gently, knowing her well enough to see that something was bothering her.

She rubbed her forehead and took a deep breath releasing it slowly. “I’m pregnant,” she admitted.

“Oh,” you blinked in surprise. “Oh wow, that’s huge!”

“Yeah, tell me about it. I still can’t believe it myself.”

“Who else knows?”

“Just you and Abe right now,” she answered, kicking some gravel away with her boot. “I can’t seem to find the right time to tell Red.”

The two of you stood side by side watching cars and pedestrians passing just taking in the moment. You couldn’t be happier for Liz and Red. Your small family was getting a little bigger which was also a comforting thought especially after so much loss.

“Ah!” You suddenly shouted, unintentionally scaring Liz in the process as you started jumping beside her. “I’m going to be an aunt!”

She laughed, “Yeah, I guess you will be. I hadn’t really thought about things like that.”

“I’m so excited! We’re all going to love this kid!” You promised.

After making sure she was good, you returned to the truck giving Liz some space, not to mention you knew leaving Manning alone wasn’t the best idea. He wasn’t what anyone would call helpful in an actual crisis.

…

The BPRD truck rocked and swayed as the ground below started to rumble.

Curious if it was just a tremor, Liz opened the doors to the truck, Director Manning stepped back as you and Liz walked out onto the street to see what was going on.

For a brief second everything stilled, everyone’s eyes searched the surrounding area collectively wondering if it was over. Then suddenly the road abruptly cracked like an egg with large thick vines breaking free.

Automatically you recognized that the creature was plant like, leaves covered its body and its head reminded you of a closed flower bud. For a moment you simply took it in, amazed that such a creature existed.

People began screaming and fleeing from their vehicles as the green monster further sprouted from the ground almost resembling a beanstalk.

You remained entranced as strangers ran past you, until Red retrieved a large gun affectionately nicknamed ‘Big Baby’ from the truck's armory.

“Wait! Please!” You pleaded, placing a hand on Red’s arm. “Let me try to reason with it.”

“Are you out of your mind? Look at that thing!” Director Manning argued from the back of the truck.

You ignored him, instead looking at Hellboy for permission.

“You got 2 minutes, Green,” Red instructed as he continued to load his gun. “After that, I’m going in for the kill.”

You stared up at the massive creature, its tentacle-like limbs thrashing around it. The green glow from its center and head was similar to your own, you wondered if it was like you? Would you be able to control it like other plants even though it was sentient?

It was funny to think that you might have more in common with this forest god than you did with anyone else on the planet.

You shrugged off your sweater, dropping it to the ground. Your eyes began to glow as you slowly approached the creature with your hand outstretched. Swirls of glimmering green light traveled down your arms to your palms.

Its flesh felt smooth, waxy, and cold but there was also a subtle pulse beating beneath your hand. Looking up at what you believed was its face, you met its glowing eyes which were warm and very much alive.

The beast howled, using one of its long tendrils to swat a helicopter away.

“Please stop,” you begged. “I don’t want them to hurt you.”

Another tendril came slamming down too close for comfort, successfully smashing a car flat.

“Listen!” You yelled at it. “They’ll kill you.”

You could sense its rage and its fear as it screeched and wailed, thrashing about. It didn’t recognize this world. Where were the tall trees, the giants, the other gods?

“The world has changed,” you said softly. “I’m sorry, this isn’t your world anymore.”

Its body slumped as it whined at you, head tilting to the side.

“It’ll be alright.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s time for you to rest,” you urged.

The creature’s glowing eyes dimmed as it started to fold in upon itself slowly, almost as if it was falling asleep. It started to shrink back down almost in the same fashion when it sprang from the earth, until finally it was a small seed again,

You crumpled to your knees, your own soft green glow fading as the danger seemed to pass. Examining the still crowded street, you noted the damage it caused, it was severe but it could’ve been much worse. A large breach remained in the ground, the cars that were the closest were crumpled like cans.

You cupped the seed in your palm. It was frightening to think that all you had to do was add some water to grow a huge plant monster from this little bean.

“You didn’t destroy the forest god,” the princess said in complete awe, kneeling beside you.

“I couldn’t let it be killed,” you explained, still admiring the seed. “I’ve never seen anything so terrifying yet so beautiful before.”

“That’s quite accurate,” she smiled. “The gods were the Givers of Life and the Destroyers.”

You looked over your shoulder, all the rest of the team and the other FBI agents were busy dealing with crowd control.

You turned towards Princess Nuala offering her the seed.“Here, you probably know more about it than any of us do,” you said, but in all honesty, you just didn’t want it to end up in Director Manning’s hands or the FBI’s. The BPRD already had enough trophies.

The princess looked at you full of curiosity, carefully accepting it and tucking it away in her dress. “Thank you.”

You stood up and joined the rest of the group.

Dr. Kraus informed you that the casualties were minimal considering all the destruction caused in such a short period of time.

Your eyes met Red’s who gave you a nod of approval before you all departed to return home.

…

“Hello, my lovelies,” you greeted your plants as you shuffled into your room after a long hot shower. Dressed in a long silk robe, you strolled past all your ferns and flowers, reaching around to turn on the irrigation system near the wall. “There we go,” you hummed as water slowly started to trickle out.

Stretching your arms over your head, you approached your hammock and climbed in, reclining on your back with one of your legs hanging off. Using your foot, you pushed it against the floor, gently rocking yourself.

Laying there, you admired the night sky, watching thin wispy clouds floating across the full moon. Your mind drifted back to the forest god, Nuala had mentioned that it was the last of its kind. You started imagining a world full of magical beings like that, it seemed wondrous. Perhaps you made the right choice coming back. You were happy that you saved it.

You squinted once you realized you were absentmindedly humming along to a Barry Manilow song. Swinging your leg over the edge of the hammock, you sat up. The music seemed to be coming from below.

Your feet softly padded through your room towards the door, wondering who in the world was blaring ‘Can’t Smile Without You’ this late at night.

Focused on the music you allowed it to lead you through the halls. You and Red almost ran into each other, stopping outside the golden doors. You both stared awkwardly at each other.

He had an open can of Tecate in one hand and the rest of the six-pack in the other. He sniffed, eyes darting to the door, “Wanna see what the hell is going on in there?”

You nodded, but as soon as he pushed the large doors open the music changed, going from Barry Manilow to a classical piece.

“Ah,” Abe said, jumping a little, clearly not expecting the sudden intrusion. “Hello Red and y/n, you’re both up late.”

“What are you listening to?” Red grumbled.

“Oh, uh, Vivaldi,” Abe answered quickly. “Il cimento dell’armonia.”

You narrowed your eyes and shook your head, “Don’t play dumb. I distinctly recall hearing Manilow just a few seconds ago.”

“Not here, I’m afraid,” Abe said sheepishly.

“Hey,” Red said accusingly, pointing at Abe while stumbling forward. “What’s that?”

“It’s just a remote.”

Red’s eyes moved to Abe’s other hand.

“Oh, this, yes…” Abe mumbled revealing the CD case.

You peeked over Red’s shoulder, reading the title out loud, “Popular Love Songs?”

You and Red had completely different reactions as it dawned on you both.

“You fell for the Princess?” You and him asked at the same time. Red appeared to be in total disbelief while you looked utterly delighted.

Abe sat on the steps in front of the fireplace as he delved into the details of his growing crush. Both you and Red joined him, sitting by his sides.

“You’re in love,” Red announced. “Have a beer.”

Abe tried to politely decline but Red wasn’t having it, practically thrusting the can into Abe’s hand.

Red sighed, freeing another beer from the plastic rings and looked at you, “And well, you’re back, so you get one too.”

You graciously accepted Red’s version of an olive branch, cracking open the can and taking a sip.

“So what track?” he asked, returning to the reason that brought the three of you together tonight.

“Eight,” Abe answered, then explained his love and connection to this particular song. Lifting the remote, he clicked a button and ‘Can’t Smile Without You’ began to play again.

“I wish father were here,” Red confessed, taking another drink of his beer. “He’d know what to tell you… us.”

The sentiment was one you all shared. Each of you were facing new problems, dealing with complicated feelings of loss and love. Professor Broom always looked out for the three of you, offering advice and guiding with a gentle hand.

Abe began to sway with the music, singing along with the lyrics. You weren’t sure if it was the beer or the music, but soon you and Red both joined in belting with him.

You couldn’t quite recall the last time the three of you hung out like this. Red, Blue, and Green back together again, it felt right.

Eventually you parted ways, the boys leaving to get more beer and talk about their girl troubles while you retreated back to your room. Your heart and mind felt lighter now, your relationship with Red seemed to be on the mend, relieving you of a weight that had been crushing your spirit for too long.

…

“How did they stop it?” Nuada asked as he flipped through another book before tossing it aside. “How were they able to return the forest god to a seed?”

Nuala's eyes briefly darted to the red emergency button on the wall before answering her brother.

“One of them was able to… speak to it.” She wasn’t sure if that’s exactly how it worked, it seemed more as though you had willed it back into its dormant form. It was a curious thing, you like so many of the others she had encountered here were so strange and unique, to be able to have control of such a powerful and ancient being was truly impressive.

Nuada snapped another book shut, “They spoke to it?”

“I’m not sure how else to describe it,” she said, shrugging her shoulders slightly.

“Where is it now?” Nuada pressed.

“I have it.”

“They returned it to you?” He asked skeptically, furrowing his brow.

Nuala nodded, reaching into a pocket of her dress and revealing the green seed. “They trust me,” she responded. “They have been… better than I expected, kind and honest.”

Nuada scoffed, casting aside another book. “Do not do this, it won’t work,” he turned his head away, sneering. “I will never trust their kind or the ones that help them.” He carelessly grabbed another book before dropping it on the floor with the others.

“I’m simply telling you what happened,” she argued. “The one who saved the forest god didn’t want to see it destroyed, she said it was beautiful.”

Nuada paused, fingers resting on the spine of another book, deep down he was glad that the elemental wasn’t killed. It was, unfortunately, the last of its kind, perhaps using it was selfish of him. If they would have killed it instead, its death would have weighed heavily upon him. An entire race would have been completely eradicated and he would’ve been the culprit who ordered the last one to die.

That was the last thing he wanted, there was already so little of his world left to save. When he closed his eyes he could still picture the world as it was, how it should be.

“Perhaps you can give these people a chance,” Nuala reasoned.

“No,” Nuada said sharply. “The Golden Army is the only way.” He had already sacrificed too much to give up now, killed his own father, lost his good friend, Mr. Wink.

Upon hearing the conviction in her brother’s voice, she knew that her words could not sway him without any other options, Nuala quickly pressed the emergency button.

…

You were laying on your bed, warm and relaxed, your eyelids heavy and your body drained. You hazily dreamt about giant magnificent creatures and exploring the wonders within the troll market. Red had mentioned how incredible it was, how every creature, no matter how strange, walked freely without stares or causing a commotion.

Ever since you were little, you found yourself longing for a place that encapsulated the best of both worlds, a place that balanced the ordinary and the fantastical. It was an intangible dream that slipped through your fingers like dust or smoke.

Suddenly alarms began to blare and red lights above flashed. You sprang up and scrambled out of bed, almost tripping on your silk robe as you ran towards the door.

But you stopped midstep, taking a second to think things through. Swiftly turning back around you opted to use the exit that led straight to the library.

You ran down the narrow spiral staircase, taking two steps at a time, hoping you wouldn’t be too late.

Everything seemed to stop when you stumbled down the steps past Abe’s tank and saw the scene unfold before you, a white haired man with a silver spear was preparing to strike while Red was distracted.

You acted without thinking, grabbing the man from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist tightly as you tried with all your might to hold him back. All you knew was that you had to stop this man from killing your brother.

Your fingers curled over his chest and you planted your feet firmly on the floor, you acted as an anchor using all your weight against him.

Vines sprouted from your hands, they twisted around his arms curling around his fingers right before the spear could plunge into Red’s chest.

Nuada’s eyes went wide, he couldn’t budge. He felt the warmth of your person pressed against him. Looking down at your hands on his chest and waist, his eyes followed the vines. He could barely wiggle his pinky finger within the fabricated restraints.

As he recovered from his stupor, he found himself amused by such a brazen tactic. He could feel your heart pounding in your chest and your breath tickling his neck.

It was a desperate move but effective.The prince suspected that you could keep him bound like this with ease if you chose.

Abe quickly tended to the Princess. While Red rose to his feet and dusted himself off. Confidently he approached Nuada, his glare was full of fury while his stone hand curled into a tight fist by his side.

The men didn’t exchange a single word as they stared at each other. Eventually, Red turned his attention to you. “You did good, Green.”

…

With his arms now bound behind his back, Nuada sat silently in an interrogation room. His face was expressionless like a stone statue. Even with his current status as a prisoner, there was an air of superiority.

He stared at you coolly from across the table. His yellow eyes had already analyzed his surroundings and now were focused on you.

You were different from the Red one, far less aggressive with calm eyes and a peaceful presence. He doubted the demon would have sat in silence as patiently as you had.

“I get it, you know,” you started quietly. “That’s what makes this whole situation so complicated, because your motivations make sense, they’re relatable wanting to protect your people, your way of life.”

Nuada curled his lips in disdain, he didn’t want your sympathies, pity, or your ‘understanding.’

“We aren’t blind to the blight you and your people face,” you pointed out. “All fae folk deserve better. If only we-“

“How would you know?” He seethed, interrupting you. “Your world isn’t the one that’s vanishing!”

You shook your head, “Like my brother, I’m caught between worlds, while I’ve come to love humanity for what it is, my true home is in nature… and with that I’ve had to bear witness to mankind’s abuse to the natural world-”

You closed your eyes, anger from years past resurfacing. You had dealt with your own internal struggle, hoping to find a balance between the man made world and the natural world.

“If I could I would change the hearts of man, make them all see what’s truly important, what’s really at stake here.”

Nuada narrowed his eyes. “So…” he drawled, putting the pieces together. “You’re the one that spared the forest god.”

“And you’re the one that sent it to die for your cause,” you retorted, more heatedly than you intended.

He looked guilty for an instant, eyes downcasted, “My people, our way of life, this is the only way I can save them… the truce between mankind and elves has only brought us loss.”

“If I’ve learned anything,” you sighed. “It’s that you can’t blame humans for their nature, not when you have lived for thousands of years, while a human life is so quick and fleeting,” you explained. “With such little time, it makes sense that they’d act with the greed and selfishness of a child. Even in old age they are practically children.”

“You speak as though you are not human,” Nuada noted.

You glanced at your hands, anyone who simply looked at you would assume that you were human just like them, but you weren’t and unfortunately you didn’t have any answers as to what you were or how you came to be.

“I don’t know what I am,” you said without divulging any additional information.

You leaned forward on the table. “Give us a chance to help, to find another way, no more lives lost… no more races or species extinguished.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping, not in defeat but in exhaustion. All he wanted was to save his people, and somehow that goal became twisted and sour.

“What do you propose?” He asked, sounding broken. “My people have given up, the Golden Army was the single source of hope that I had clung to… I see no other way.”

“We change the truce,” you suggested. “We create a way for both species- for all species to thrive.”

Nuada’s eyes flickered to yours, still not convinced, “You make it sound so simple.”

…

“Prince Nuada has made it clear,” Manning shared exasperatedly. “He won’t work with anyone else but you.”

You could feel the blame and judgment radiating from Manning, he didn’t like this deal and neither did his superiors, but the prince’s threat of the Golden Army was still very real. Rocking the boat, especially after your ‘negotiations’ would surely lead to war.

Manning leaned back in his chair, “We could use this to our advantage,” he considered. “You can gain his trust… and simply take the crown pieces when he least expects it.”

You immediately rose to your feet. “Ugh, I can’t believe you people sometimes, always looking for an easy way out, instead of doing what is actually right,” you spat. “Maybe the prince has a point…”

“Oh come on now agent-”

“I’m not an agent,” you reminded him, eyes narrowed. “I don’t follow your orders or your commands. I’m going to do what’s right.”

You stared daggers at the man, not hiding your hostility towards him, “They had the opportunity to eliminate humanity a millennia ago, instead of proving them right, maybe we should focus on proving them wrong… the truce needs to change.”

“I agree with Ms. Y/n,” Dr. Kraus said. “I’ll contact my superiors at Interpol. We should all work together on this.”

You excused yourself from the meeting, feeling frustrated and angry despite Dr. Kraus’s support. No wonder Nuada had no hope, that the only solution he could see was eradicating all of humanity.

Even you had to remind yourself that not every single person was like Manning. Somehow, someway, you wanted to bring all magical beings out of the shadows, give them a place where they could exist, where they could strive.

You threw open the doors to the library, ready to share all your grievances with Abe but unfortunately he wasn’t inside. Instead you found Red.

“Hey,” he started slightly startled by your abrupt entrance.

“Hey,” you muttered back, your fists still tightly clenched by your side.

“So, it looks like the meeting went well,” he joked, noting your tense body language. He knew it took a lot to make you this mad, but once you were, it was like setting off a bomb.

You rolled your eyes and began pacing the room. “I can’t believe those idiots are in charge!”

He nodded, all too familiar with it. He missed the days when father was around to handle all the administrative crap.

“They’re all absolute imbeciles, literally the worst!” You continued to rant. “I hate all the red tape and bureaucratic bullshit… Can you believe that Manning suggested I try to steal the crown pieces? After all this? I manage to find a peaceful solution and he’d rather I betray the elves because it’s easier… the selfish bastard! I’m so glad I left!”

You stopped in your tracks and sighed, recalling how Red and Abe were practically stuck here, trapped into being part of the BPRD. “I’m sorry Red, I’m so sorry for leaving you and Abe here to deal with this alone.”

He shrugged, “y’know I’ve given it some thought and I figured if given the chance, if I could blend in like you, I’d probably would’ve left a long time ago.”

“Still,” you added, taking a seat next to him. “I wish things were different.”

For a while you and Red sat, sharing stories and memories of the good old days before drifting into a comfortable silence. Eventually, you retired to your room. Unsure what to expect over the next few weeks or months or however long this ‘mission’ took.

First things first, you’ll be accompanying Nuada back to his clan’s palace. Maybe you should start packing a bag, you wondered. It was strange, you had just arrived and now you were leaving again, at least Red wasn’t pissed at you this time. In fact, he had already agreed to keep watering your plants.

You stood there admiring your plant babies, thinking back to how you acquired most of them. Professor Broom would come home from some mission with a pleased look on his face as he gifted you a single seed from wherever he had been. Every time you were so eager to see what would grow, you loved them all as much as you loved your father.

A knock at your door snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Princess Nuala?” You asked, surprised to see her at your door. You stepped aside, allowing her into your room.

Her eyes lit up as she saw all the green. “Incredible,” she whispered, her fingers brushing over the delicate petals of a gardenia.

“Thank you,” you murmured, watching as she took in your little version of paradise.

“I heard that my brother has agreed to work with you,” she shared, redirecting her attention from all your plants to you.

“For now, at least,” you sighed, still feeling overwhelmed. “I’m pushing for the terms of the truce to be upheld as well as updated,” you added. “Magical beings need more, deserve more…”

Nuala smiled, “An ambitious plan, but I’m sure you’ll find support from our people.”

“I hope so. We’ll need all fae folk to be willing to give this a try.” Although in truth, what concerned you the most was making sure the officials of the BPRD held up their end of the deal.

“I believe you’re quite capable of accomplishing this. Abraham speaks highly of you,” she said.

“He’s a good brother that’s why,” you chuckled. “He has a lot more faith in me than I do.”

“The three of you are quite close,” Nuala noted.

You nodded, “We’ve always been there for each other, without them, without our adoptive father, we’d each be all alone.”

Nuala’s eyes returned to your exceptional garden. It reminded her of how the world used to be, back when her people lived in the forests and the wilds.

“Here, I want you to have this,” she said, holding out her piece of the crown.

Your eyes widened and you shook your head, “I can’t.”

Nuala held the piece out closer to you. “You were the one who convinced my brother to choose another path, you spared the life of an ancient being,” she explained. “I believe you’ve earned it.”

“I don’t feel right accepting it,” you muttered, eyeing the piece of gold in her hand.

“All the more reason for it to be in your care,” she countered.

Finally, you relented and accepted the crown piece, tucking it into your pocket until you could find a safer place for it. One thing was for sure, you wouldn’t be letting Manning know about this exchange.

“Will you be coming with us?” You asked the Princess.

She shook her head, “I’ll be staying here for now. Especially considering that your people still believe that I have the last crown piece.”

She gave you a knowing look, showing that she already understood that people like Manning couldn’t be trusted. “With me here, they’ll feel more… in control, I believe if I were to leave they’d assume I’d eventually betray them and help my brother awaken the Golden Army.”

…

Arriving at the palace it was nothing like what you pictured in your mind. You expected bright halls and lush gardens, but instead it was dark, gloomy, lifeless. You could practically feel the oppression outside these walls pushing in, the constant threat of humans looming over them.

Nuada didn’t exactly look happy to be back, his facial expression was rigid and tight. However, the feeling seemed mutual. The elves who were present for his homecoming didn’t receive him with open arms, in fact there was a wariness in the air as they kept their distance from the prince.

You could feel their cautious stares fall upon you as you stepped forward to introduce yourself. The silence was unnerving, you could hear your heart beating anxiously in your ears.

You exhaled slowly, trying your best to relax. “Hello, I’m y/n, I’m with the BPRD and we’re hoping to work with you and other fae folk in an effort to uphold the truce.”

Nuada sighed, then quickly spoke up, reiterating what you said in elvish or at least you hoped that’s what he did.

You mustered up your best smile and the rest of your confidence and continued to explain the plan, going into how you wanted to improve the life for all magical beings. You watched as their expressions changed, from anxious to curious. A few elves worked up the nerve to speak to Nuada, probably asking him questions about what transpired and if you could be trusted.

Your gaze moved upwards, watching discolored leaves fall. “What’s wrong with the leaves?” You asked yourself, but Nuada overheard you.

“The tree is dying,” he answered simply.

“Can I see it?”

Nuada hesitated, closing his eyes for a moment, before nodding. He gestured for you to follow him.

He walked at a fast pace making it difficult to keep up. As you struggled to follow him, the rest of the palace passed as a blur. Suddenly, he came to a halt at the entrance of a rather barren courtyard. Looking at what remained, you could tell it had once been a lush garden, full of wildflowers, ferns, and shrubs.

Despite Nuada being difficult to read, he seemed bothered by the state of the garden. His gaze was hard as he tried to look past the dead land as if he didn’t want to acknowledge just how bad it had gotten.

In the center was a magnificent old tree with a thick and tall trunk and sprawling branches. However, even from a distance, you could see the tree was sick, the bark was discolored and flaking. Some of the branches were brittle and dry. Just looking at it made your own bones ache.

“May I?” You asked quietly.

Nuada shrugged, approaching the tree with you.

One of the elves suddenly spoke up, sounding rather peeved that Nuada brought you here, but the prince was quick to put the elf back in his place, with a sharp and direct order.

You could sense the web of roots under your feet, they were desperately trying to keep the tree alive. You circled the wide tree trunk, dead leaves crunching with each step you took.

Rolling up your sleeves, thin green spirals appeared on your arms as the light moved towards your hands, making them glow. You pressed your palms to the trunk of the tree. Instantly, you felt what you could only describe as a thirst. Your powers felt like a cool spring as your energy bled into the tree.

After several silent moments, you lifted your hands from the tree.

Long thin branches grew and cascaded down like curtains, shielding you and Nuada within. You watched in awe as small green leaves fluttered down like rain underneath the canopy. The entire courtyard was revived, new grass and plants filled the once barren ground. Clusters of wild flowers bloomed around your feet and climbed up the trunk of the tree.

While you were distracted by the surrounding beauty, Nuada continued to watch you, his stare focused and determined. Quiet, with a hunter-like pace, he crept closer towards you.

He didn’t understand it, he didn’t understand you. It was like beholding a miracle.

You blinked in surprise when you realized how close Nuada was. His expression was unreadable as he observed your face, his own merely inches away from yours.

Your eyes widened as his hand rose towards your face. You gasped when his fingers lightly touched your hair, retrieving a single leaf that had landed on the crown of your head.

He held your gaze for a moment, his mouth opening slightly only to snap shut.

“Prince Nuada,” you said softly, somehow finding your voice. The leaf fell from his fingers landing gently on the grass.

But the moment was broken as the murmurs of the other elves grew closer, they spoke to one another in awe, examining your work closely.

Immediately, Nuada backed away.

A few elves that spoke English, eagerly engaged you in conversation. They were all obviously delighted with what you had done, it was as if you had revived their spirits along with that old tree.

Nuada followed behind as a group showed you around the rest of the palace. They discussed preparing a big feast for later in the evening to celebrate your arrival and the new parameters of the truce.

…

Lilting music filled the dining room as trays of food were brought out. Your eyes widened over all the options, each dish was executed artistically, looking more like artwork than food.

Nuada leaned towards you, filling your glass almost to the brim with a deep red wine. Then stood up and raised his own glass. All eyes were on him as he made a simple toast to new beginnings.

You noted a subtle change in his mood from when you first arrived. He was more relaxed now, conversing casually with his subjects as he ate. He was also unexpectedly attentive towards you, checking if you were alright, translating for you mid conversation when needed, and telling you about elven culture.

You suspected that he missed this, missed being a prince during his exile. It wasn’t that the hardened warrior side of him had vanished, instead another side of him had emerged. This side of him was charming, social, an ambassador capable of persuading even the most stubborn leaders.

It was quite refreshing to get this opportunity to laugh and speak with him and not worry about all the pressures you had been feeling all day.

After dinner, everyone began filing out, one of the servants stayed behind and offered to show you to your quarters, but Nuada dismissed them.

He led you out and towards one of the wings of the palace and up a grand staircase. “You did well today,” he commented as you walked a step behind him.

“Thank you.”

“In a few days we will be hosting officials representing the goblins and trolls in order to inform them of these changes.”

You nodded.

“Until then the palace is available to you, think of it as your home, free to explore and entertain yourself, I recommend visiting the library and the gardens.” He stopped outside of a room, opening the door and stepping aside to let you in.

Standing on opposite sides of the doorway, Nuada looked at you for a moment before adding, “Should you need anything feel free to ask, as your host, it’s the least I can do.”

You grinned at the formality of his words and the change in his behavior compared to your first encounter.

He lifted his brow, giving you a questioning look in return. “What?”

“Sorry,” you smiled wider. “Just didn’t think I’d get the opportunity to see you be so… accommodating.”

He rolled his eyes and turned away. “Goodnight,” he said while heading further down the hall to his own room.

…

You paced around the library, occasionally selecting a tome and perusing its contents before returning it. You were in desperate need of a distraction from how anxious you were feeling, but nothing seemed to work.

All morning the only thing you could think about was the meeting taking place later today. There was a lot of pressure to make all this work, pressures from the BPRD as well as hopeful expectations of the elves.

It was up to you to get the trolls and goblins on board with this plan. Despite how much faith people seemed to have in you, you never saw yourself cut out for all this diplomacy. Fortunately, Nuada would be there, he seemed to have a lot of experience with this sort of thing, and you were grateful for it.

“Lady y/n,” a servant called, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Yes?”

“It’s almost time for the summit,” she explained. “You should get dressed.”

“Oh, of course,” you nodded.

As you returned to your room, you found a sage green dress waiting for you on the bed. The dress had a similar shape and design to the ones Nuala wore with a lovely band of gold along the waist. Lifting it up, you noted the weight of it.

“How many layers does this dress have?” You wondered out loud, unsure how you were going to get it all on.

You did your best, struggling more than you’d like to admit, as you changed into the dress. You recalled all those movies that showed aristocratic women getting dressed and how they always had a servant around them to help, it made a lot more sense now.

You exited the dressing room and examined yourself in the mirror, fixing a few areas around the collar to show off the fine embroidery and checking your hair.

Nuada stood a few feet away from the doorway, taking a moment to admire you without you noticing. He was satisfied to see the color he picked suited you so well, and that the style of the dress .

Finally, he rapped his knuckles against the door alerting you of his presence.

You tilted your head blinking curiously when you noticed what he was wearing, it was a small change, but instead of his usual black and red ensemble, it was black and green, the same shade of green as your dress.

“It’s time to go,” he announced. “Our guests aren’t known for their patience.”

“Oh right,” you nodded, quickly following him out.

Nuada led the way, his hands clasped behind his back as you walked a few steps behind him. Without being asked, he slowed his pace, matching it to yours, his pace going from a brisk march to a casual stroll just for you.

“Any tips?” You asked him as you both stopped outside the thick oak doors.

He smirked, his eyes lighting up playfully compared to their usual seriousness, “Afraid they’ll be immune to your charms?”

“Charms?” You questioned, blinking. “I don’t believe my ‘charms’ have ever worked in my favor.”

“They were certainly effective on my people,” Nuada elaborated.

You laughed, “You’re confusing charm with skill, I believe I impressed them with my powers.”

Nuada shook his head, “It’s more than that, it’s the way you speak and act… you’re…” he paused, mulling over his next words carefully. “Endearing, genuine.”

You looked surprised at the compliment, “I didn’t know they felt that way.”

“That surprises you? Even after you won m-“ Nuada stopped himself from finishing that statement.

He cleared his throat, “Goblins like precious metals and gems, intricate devices and designs, and of course flattery. Trolls are not as bright as other creatures, they prefer honest loyal people who are clear with their intentions. Speak too fast or too complex, they’ll immediately distrust you.”

“Flattery and honesty, I can do that. Thank you,” You nodded, letting it all sink in as the doors slowly opened revealing the large throne room.

Nuada chuckled, “Are you sure you’re not royalty?” The prince smoothed his hands over his attire and pushed his shoulders back. The stern expression that you were most familiar with returning to his face.

“My friends,” Nuada greeted. “I am pleased to see you all here in good health.”

Trolls occupied one side of the room, while the goblins sat at the other, yet all eyes fell on you as you emerged, standing at the prince's side. The high ceilings looked small compared to the giant mountain trolls that managed to cram themselves into the back of the room.

“Allow me to introduce our guest, representing humanity as their ambassador, Lady y/n.”

Unsure what the proper etiquette was for a situation like this one was, you nervously bowed as Prince Nuada finished introducing you.

You followed Nuada as he made his rounds, personally introducing you to important goblin and troll figures. He tried his best to conceal his amusement as he watched you quickly put his advice to work, easily charming various goblins and trolls with a smile and a few simple words.

“She’s not as human as I expected.” Nuada overheard one of the goblins share with his comrade. His smile grew at the comment, glad he had trusted you so far and that the others were beginning to recognize that you were something special.

Gently taking hold of your upper arm, Nuada guided you back to the front of the room. As you crept up the steps, a hush fell over the room. All in attendance were eager to hear what you had to say.

Nuada stood behind you, his hands clasped behind his back allowing you to address the whole group.

You explained the changes that had been made to the truce, specifically the part that specified that each magical species would be granted land that suited their needs. You added that the mountain region that had been granted would need to be shared or divided amongst the goblins and trolls.

There were some murmurs amongst them, but it didn’t sound as though they were completely against the idea.

Nuada stepped in from there, answering questions and directing the two groups on what to do next. It was obvious to you that this man was meant to be a leader, it seemed to come to him so easily.

“This could actually work,” he murmured thoughtfully, chin resting in his hand as he watched the trolls and goblins discuss the terms of sharing a territory and rather peacefully in fact.

You smiled and nodded, “it will work.”

…

Over the next few weeks, you traveled to several hidden fae cities and communities with Nuada. Similar to the Troll Market, all sorts of beings congregated in secret, hidden from humanity. You were amazed by the ingenuity of the fae folk and how they managed to find a way to endure, although you knew full well that this situation wasn’t ideal.

Nuada actually seemed excited to bring you along, getting to show you all these unique places that existed right under the noses of humans. And despite his somber appearance, he also seemed to be in high spirits over the plan, over the restoration of the palace, and the allegiances being formed.

To your surprise, you had actually enjoyed these past few weeks with him. He demonstrated that he was more than a warrior, that he was also an intellectual who had interests in engineering and art, and that underneath it all was a man that simply cared for those he viewed as his people, elves and other creatures.

You had worried that working with him was going to be difficult to say the least, that you would have to listen to long lectures about everything wrong with humanity. Instead, he had focused his efforts to unite the fae and become a true leader for his people. He often spoke of the past with a longing in his eyes, one that tugged on your heart strings. You had a similar longing, one where there was harmony between nature and people and now also magic folk.

Browsing through one of the troll markets, you paused when you smelled something delicious, the aroma of vanilla and nutmeg wafting in the air around you.

Nuada chuckled as he observed you. Without asking, he took your hand and led you to a food stall nearby. He spoke briefly to the vendor and handed something in exchange for the pastry that Nuada was now handing to you.

“Thank you,” you beamed. You inhaled deeply before taking a large bite. You hummed in appreciation, the bun was so soft and warm and was filled with something similar to custard.

While focused more on eating than walking, you accidentally knocked into a troll.

The troll growled something in a language you didn’t understand, but you could tell from his tone that it wasn’t anything nice.

Immediately, Nuada lashed out, coming to your defense. He started shouting back at the creature, his voice dripping with venom and his eyes full of rage.

The troll roared, thumping on his chest, looking rather eager to fight.

Clutching Nuada’s arm, you attempted to hold him back, having never seen him this angry before. He reached for his lance, gripping the hilt tightly.

At the sight of the silver spear, the troll seemed to come to his senses, finally backing away, but Nuada didn’t care, all he saw was red.

“Nuada,” you murmured softly, tugging at his arm, hoping to de-escalate the situation. “Come on, don’t let this ruin our day.”

“But-“ Nuada sighed, his rage subsiding as he looked at your face. “Fine,” he relented. “However, next time anyone speaks to you that way, I’m beheading them.”

…

Returning to the palace almost felt like returning home. This time around, the reception of your arrival was warm and welcoming as many of the elves gathered for your and Nuada’s return.

After another large feast, the prince quietly slipped away while everyone else mingled. You tilted your head, watching as he snuck out through the wooden double doors. Excusing yourself from the table, you followed him.

“Nuada,” you reached out, taking a hold of his arm. Successfully stopping him in the hall.

“Hm?” He turned to face you.

“Here,” you slipped the third crown piece into his hand.

He couldn’t hide his utter confusion as he felt the cold metal in his palm, “This is…”

“The final crown piece,” you answered.

“Why?” He asked, his eyes boring into yours.

“I don’t want you or your people to be out of options if this falls through, I trust you,” you said simply. “And I trust you’ll do what’s right… Wish I could say the same for humans.”

Nuada stared at the gold piece in his hand, rubbing his thumb the length of it as he processed your words. He now had all three pieces and could claim the Golden Army.

But…

He lifted his head, his gaze falling upon you, you had provided him with a better solution, one that he was willing to try, to work towards. He’d keep his word, he wouldn’t awaken the army as long as there was hope for his people.

“Thank you,” he said in a quiet voice, that still conveyed his gratitude. “But it should remain with you.”

As he returned the crown piece to you, his touch lingered on your hand for longer than necessary before he said good night.

…

The next morning, sometime after breakfast, Nuada came to your room, seemingly in a hurry.

“I’d like you to accompany me somewhere,” he said vaguely.

You lifted your brow, “Um…Sure?”

“I cannot believe I had forgotten about this until now,” Nuada shared with a lighthearted tone as he took you by the hand and led you down several familiar halls.

“The library?” You questioned as you and him stopped in front of the large doors.

He shook his head, pulling you further into the large room. Nuada led you to a door towards the back that easily could be missed, in fact, despite all the time you had spent in here, you had never noticed it before.

His smile grew as he opened it, inside the walls of the small room were lined with tall cabinets that had rows and rows of tiny drawers. On each drawer were words carved into the wood in elvish. Nuada gestured for you to open one.

Sliding the small drawer open, you peeked inside to find a jar filled with seeds. “A seed library…” you murmured, eyes filled with wonderment as you realized the hundreds, no thousands of plants held in this small room.

Nuada nodded, “Most of these were collected long ago, some of these plants no longer exist.”

“This is amazing,” you started as it all sunk in. “Could I try to plant some? Perhaps I could nurture some of these back into existence.”

Nuada smiled, it was a smile you hadn’t seen before, one filled with youthful excitement, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“So which ones are flowers?” You asked, eager to get started.

Nuada helped you select a few, explaining that these flowers had the most wonderous scent, that sometimes if he tried hard enough he could recall just how lovely they smelled.

Sitting side by side in a courtyard, you and him prepared a flowerbed, breaking up the soil, making sure it was soft and moist. You rolled a seed between your fingers, your arms glowing, but nothing happened.

“Keep trying,” he encouraged when he saw the look of disappointment on your face.

Taking a deep breath, you tried again, “Can you describe it for me, what this flower looks like? That might help.”

“They’re simple but elegant, like gardenias but larger and smell just as lovely and their leaves are a dark green and appear waxy.”

You could almost picture the flower in your mind’s eye, see it sprout and grow and blossom. Looking down into your hand, you laughed seeing that the little seedling had finally sprouted. Delicately, you planted it in the fresh soil.

“You must think poorly of me,” Nuada stated unprompted. “You must see me as a man who seeks violent solutions, solutions where I willingly sacrifice my people and allies needlessly for my own goals.”

You shook your head, “I can tell none of this has been easy for you, I know that it all weighs heavily on your conscious.”

“Still,” he sighed. “I’m not like you, I hadn’t considered any other option, I hadn’t considered that peace could still be possible. You are… admirable to say the least.”

“You’re mistaken,” you whispered, eyes staring at your hands as they padded the soil. “I may be the worst of them all…”

Nuada tilted his head, you obviously had his attention.

“Before Professor Broom,” you began, your mind drifting to your childhood. “I don’t remember much, but I do remember living in a forest, alone, I was practically feral… unfortunately, I didn’t stay hidden away forever, eventually unlucky travelers and hikers stumbled across my path and all my encounters with them ended the same, who knows how many I killed.”

The memories were foggy, but you could still picture roots wrapping themselves around strangers and coiling tighter and tighter until blood ran.

“I don’t know what was different about father when he found me, but I didn’t kill him. He patiently camped in the woods, keeping his distance from me, but stayed close enough that we could observe each other. I remember him being such a gentle soul…”

You recalled watching him from the outskirts of his camp, he started leaving little treats and trinkets for you in the same spot for you daily. Apparently, he used his experience as Hellboy’s father to help him make a connection with you.

“I have a penance to pay, to both humanity and nature.”

Nuada placed his hand over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, “I think it’s been paid.”

…

“So,” Red started. “Once you're done with this whole truce crap, what are your plans?”

Nuada opened his mouth to answer the question, but quickly closed it as he realized he actually didn’t know the answer. He assumed that you would be staying with him, living in the palace like you have been, but in all honesty, he had no idea what your plans were, it’s not like he asked or spoke to you about it.

He felt an unpleasant heaviness within him as he acknowledged the possibility of you leaving, moving on to a new and different place to help others.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” you said, working on some needlepoint for the twins’ nursery. “I’ve been so focused on helping the fae, that I haven’t had the time to really think about what’s next.”

You and the prince were currently visiting, mostly to update the BPRD on your progress, but also to spend some time with your family and check in on how everyone was doing. Abe and Nuala appeared all lovey dovey and Liz had shared with you all her crazy pregnancy cravings.

“Well, there’s always room for you here,” Liz offered, absentmindedly rubbing her pregnant belly.

“Thanks, although I’m not sure Manning feels the same way,” you laughed.

“You’re not any worse than Red and they still put up with all his crap.”

“Hey,” he scolded playfully, glaring at Liz. “The BPRD would cease to exist without me.”

Nuada tuned out the rest of the conversation as he contemplated what to do. The thought of you far off somewhere without him stung more than it should. What if something happened to you? What if he never saw you again?

Suddenly you yelped, having accidentally stabbed your index finger with the needle, Nuada’s eyes narrowed as he watched you, he could practically feel the sting of it on his own fingertip. Looking down at his pale hand, he saw a little droplet of blood.

His stomach lurched at the realization. Without a word he withdrew from the group and went out into the hall. On the outside to any of the agents he passed he looked as calm and collected as ever, but inside he was a dam on the verge of breaking due to this latest revelation.

“Have you told her?” Nuala inquired behind him.

Nuada shouldn’t have been surprised that she had followed him, but he didn’t answer her question, he just huffed and turned away.

“Brother,” she urged.

“Have you told the blue one?” He sneered.

“I have.”

He rubbed his forehead, love was a serious matter, especially in their case, it wasn’t something that should ever be taken lightly, because for him it wasn’t something fleeting or lighthearted, it was deep and all consuming.

But when did it get to this point? When did his infatuation become love?

“She has a right to know.”

He began to pace slowly, his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s not that simple,” he argued.

“All the more reason for her to know. We had our suspicions that this could happen,” she reasoned. “That our bond, our ability to feel each other’s pain, could transfer once we each found love.”

His jaw tensed at the word ‘love’, knowing it would only become stronger, that soon you’d experience his every ache and pain and that he’d feel all of yours.

“Human love isn’t as complicated as this,” Nuada stated, glaring at his twin. “What if she doesn’t understand? What if she doesn’t want it and rejects me? What do I do then?”

His mind was already racing with worse case scenarios. The splitting pain he felt over the mere thought of you not loving him had him worried. There was no way for him to stop this, he had no control over it, you and him were now bound to each other, but that didn’t mean you had to remain at his side or even return his love.

“I can see that she cares for you, brother,” Nuala soothed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Tell her.”

…

It was nice being back at the palace, while seeing your family was great, something about being there made you appreciate the peace and quiet cultivated here. Life was simpler, calmer, amongst the elves.

Nuada, however, hadn’t been the same since returning. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but he was distant, colder. It reminded you of how he had behaved when you and him first met. It’s not as if he was actively avoiding you, but the rapport that you two had developed had seemed to vanish.

As you were walking through the halls, planning to visit the seed library, but halted midstep when you spotted Nuada training in the gardens… in the rain.

You watched mesmerized from the outskirts of the courtyard. Drops of water rolled down his back drawing your attention to the way his muscles moved and flexed. Graceful didn’t even begin to cover the sight before you.

Despite having already seen him in action, you were still impressed by the fluidity and speed of his movements. He transformed something as violent as fighting into something captivating and beautiful like an intricate dance.

Wet strands of hair clung to the front of his face as he spun with a final flourish. He stabbed his spear into the soft wet dirt, his chest quickly rising and falling while he caught his breath.

Nuada raked a hand through his hair, slicking it back as he lifted his head. He gave you a questioning look when he spotted you on the other side of the courtyard. His lips slowly parted, but before he could speak you scurried away full of embarrassment.

You tried to regain some of your composure as you sped walked through the halls, not really paying attention anymore to where you headed. Abruptly, you halted when you noticed that you were walking towards a dead end, but before you could turn around you heard Nuada say your name.

You could hear him approach, stopping once he was right behind you. Your heart sped up as Nuada possessively placed his hand over the center of your chest, his warm fingertips pressed down into your soft flesh as he pulled your back to rest against his wet chest.

Under his palm he could feel your heart beating in sync with his own. His other arm wrapped around your waist holding you firmly in place.

“This,” Nuada began, his voice low and velvety right by your ear. “This was how you grabbed me that night, do you remember?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

Closing his eyes, he sighed wistfully, his breath tickling your flushed face. “Your touch lingered for days and it was all I could think about,” He admitted, his arms winding tighter around you. “I couldn’t recall the last time someone had held me or touched me like that, with such…passion.”

His hand crept a little higher from your chest, gliding over your collarbone before his palm rested on your neck. You released a shaky breath, your head spinning from his touch and the low tone of his voice. You were barely even able to register the words he spoke, completely confused by his intentions.

Nuada exhaled heavily, “I suppose that’s when it started, my infatuation for you.”

“What?” You squeaked.

His index finger traced down the center of your throat as he lowered his hand and loosened his grip on you. “There’s an important matter we need to discuss.”

He started heading towards his room and beckoned for you to follow.

“What is it?” You asked.

He shut the door and stood in front of you with his hands behind his back. “I’ve come to care for you,” he confessed, his expression stern as if he had given you a life sentence.

“I care about you too,” you said in a soft tone.

Nuada shook his head and frowned, frustrated with himself for not being clear and not being more eloquent about it. “It’s more than that… I’m in love with you and there are circumstances that you need to be aware of.”

“Circumstances? Sounds… serious.”

His heart sank at your hesitant expression, but he continued to press on. “You are aware of my bond with my sister, yes?”

You nodded, “if either of you gets hurt, so does the other.”

“Well, I’m no longer bound to her, I’m bound to you.” His eyes studied your face as he spoke, watching your brow furrow as you pieced together what he said.

“How?”

“Because you have become that important to me,” he answered with absolute certainty.

You looked up at him, slowly closing the space between the two of you. Your fingers lightly brushed over his skin as you tucked several loose strands of his white hair behind his ear.

His hand promptly took hold of your wrist, his expression torn as if he couldn’t decide between stopping you or encouraging you.

“You need to understand,” he started, his grip tightening. “That there will be no turning back, I will never let you go.”

You were aware of Nuada’s intentions, he wanted this to be absolutely clear for you, for you to know just how consequential it was for you to start a relationship with him, even if it meant scaring you off. But, surprisingly you weren’t afraid or intimidated by the thought of being with him for the rest of your life.

Through your observations, starting from the very beginning, you had seen how lonely he was. How he was trying to repair things basically on his own. He kept everyone at a distance while he shouldered a burden alone until very recently.

In your eyes, Nuada was more than a warrior or a prince, you saw all of him… he was complex and intriguing and passionate. You wanted to be the person he shared those parts of himself with, and most of all you didn’t want him to be alone again.

“I want this,” you promised. “I want you.”

His other hand held your chin, his thumb brushing over your trembling lip as he tilted your head up. He leaned in, eyes boring into yours. “Mine forever.”

Nuada didn’t waste another second, capturing your lips with his and eagerly pushing you against the wall, his tongue swept over your bottom lip before finding its way into your mouth.

Your fingers clutched the back of his head, curling around his wet hair as you reciprocated the kiss with just as much passion. Your other hand ran down his chest, his heart racing under your touch.

His fingers hooked behind one of knees, yanking your leg upward, instinctively you wrapped it around his waist allowing him to be even closer to you, his pelvic bone now grinding against you. He pushed your skirts up so his hands could roam over your thighs while his mouth latched onto your neck.

Nuada, under typical circumstances, would be more intentional about where he left marks but right now he couldn’t care less as little pink and red marks bloomed on yours and his skin.

You had never felt this sort of urgency before, it was as if he’d die if he had to wait any longer before being with you.

In a hurried and rough manner, he undid the sash of your dress then began to tear away all the layers in his way. He moaned obscenely, feeling your bare torso pressed against his own. His lips explored the newly exposed flesh, nipping and sucking.

Even he was surprised by how desperate and animalistic he was acting, unaware of just how much his body craved your touch and your skin on his, he was practically ravenous.

You could hear him panting heavily by your ear as he undid his pants. He pushed your underwear to the side, exposing your slit. Fortunately, you were already aroused because Nuada couldn’t wait any longer.

Taking his cock in his hand for just a moment, he aligned it with your tight warm cunt. In a fluid motion, he thrusted into you completely, pausing briefly as he savored the feeling of being buried in your velvety walls.

You gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck for support as he began thrusting. His pace immediately starting out fast and hard.

Nuada’s cock was long, reaching depths no previous lover ever had. Your nails raked across his pale skin as you cling to him, yet this caused you to hiss as you also felt the sting of it.

“You are,” he panted, “enchanting, wondrous, divine…”

He sloppily kissed along your shoulder, loving every little sound you made as he fucked you. He wondered if he’d regret not taking his time with you, for being so rough with his flower, but he didn’t feel any pain, just waves and waves of pleasure.

There would be time, plenty of time, where he could make up for it, where he would be a gentle, more tender lover, who will kiss and touch every inch of you.

It didn’t take much longer before you came. You moaned his name, muscles now tightening and your toes curling.

Nuada immediately followed, grunting as he rode out his orgasm and came inside of you.

Propping himself up against the wall with his arms, he caught his breath. Leaning his head down he kissed your forehead then along the side of your face. Acting with more self control, he cupped your face, gazing lovingly into your eyes, “I am yours.”

The following morning, things progressed a lot more slowly with your new lover.

Nuada groaned as you straddled him, his back arching off the bed as you slowly took his cock. Casually he fucked you from below, rolling his hips at a leisurely pace as you rode him.

He admired you, taking in all the pink and purple splotches left from the night’s activities, but also appreciating how lovely you looked in the light of the morning.

…

“Have you packed?” You asked Nuada as he entered the bedroom. You were currently packing your own bag, excited to take a small trip back home.

A couple of days ago, you received a message letting you know that Liz delivered two healthy babies. It had been a couple of months since your last visit, so you were already due for another, but this news made it even more necessary to go.

Nuada nodded, placing his hands on your waist. “Do you need help?”

You shook your head, “No, I think I have almost everything I need.”

Nuada kissed you, right under your earlobe. “Are you looking forward to seeing everyone?”

“Of course I am… I can’t wait to meet my little niece and nephew!” You gushed. “What about you?”

“It will be nice to catch up with my sister, see how she’s adjusting to living with the blue one.”

“He has a name, you know?”

Nuada chuckled, but didn’t bother correcting himself.

“What do you think I should have the babies call me? I was thinking of Auntie Green.”

“That is… suitable I suppose.”

Suddenly you grinned as a thought crossed your mind, “This means you’re also an uncle now, because of our lifelong magical love bond.”

He shook his head, trying to hide his smile over your name for the bond. Taking a few steps back, he moved aside as you finished zipping up your bag. Without thinking, Nuada lifted it up from the bed, ready to carry it to your destination for you.

“Uncle Nuada,” you mumbled, but scrunched your nose in disapproval. “Hmmm, what about… Uncle Silver? That’s much better!”

“Must they call me anything?” He muttered.

“Hey! Don’t be like that, plus you might be a biological uncle soon.”

Nuada sighed, “I suppose you are right… in that case, I think I’d prefer Uncle Silverlance.”

He offered you his arm, escorting you out of the bedroom, so you both could be on your way.

#hellboy ii the golden army #Hellboy fanfic #reader insert #female reader #prince nuada #prince Nuada Silverlance #Prince Nuada x reader #nuada #nuada silverlance #Nuada Silverlance x reader #Nuada x reader #Nuada fanfic #Prince Nuada fanfic

427 notes · View notes

balkanultraviolence · 11 months ago

Text

719 notes · View notes

ryeomin · 1 year ago

Text

ಇ jungkook headcanons.

pairing : idol!jungkook x f!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

𓇢𓆸 while on tour

:: brings you souvenirs from the different cities he goes to while on tour. :: you send each other cute photo dumps at the end of the day; him getting ready on stage, outfit checks, mirror selfie, pics with other members, him on stage. and you send pics of you trying a new café, what you ate today, you walking bam, your outfit before going out with you friends, you spending the weekend at his parent’s house (they love you a lot ♡) :: always make sure to wear the necklace you gifted him for the encore stage. :: sends you a text once he’s back at his hotel to know if he can call you. :: you always try your best to stay awake but if you fall asleep he will make sure to write a cute text for you to wake up to. :: before he leaves he will wear as many hoodies as he can so they can have his scent on them for you to wear or sleep with.

𓇢𓆸 at home.

:: you two have this routine where you watch a movie together once a week. one is in charge for the drinks and the other for the snacks. :: he loves to see you in his clothes. :: since you have the same taste as him in fashion he sometimes will buy matching shirts for you two. :: when he comes back from work he tries to bring you your favorite pastries if the bakery is open. :: karaoke nights are a must ! :: likes to make new recipes and you are always the first one to try them, complimenting him and telling him to share the recipe with army. :: loves when you hug him from behind while he is in the kitchen or the other way around. :: stay up late staring at you while in bed, sometimes will get up and write some lines about you, you are his muse.

𓇢𓆸 at work.

:: appreciates a lot when you come visit him during rehearsals to support him, kudos if you bring him an iced americano ! :: writes lyrics about you but will only show them to you when he deems them perfect :: your opinion matters a lot to him !

:: always tries to include you in his works, whether it is in the lyrics, the mv, the album packaging. :: asks if you are okay with your voice being used for the intro song of his album. :: loves to see you getting along with the other members ♡

#bts #jungkook #jungkook headcanons #kpop #army #bts army #jungkook imagines #jjk #bts jjk #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts headcanons #bts jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook ff #jungkook fic #bts x female reader #jungkook x female reader

1K notes · View notes

kooffeecup · 4 months ago

Text

INK AND EVER AFTER

A Jeon Jungkook x Reader Valentine's Day Fanfiction.

pairing : tattoo artist jk x reader

genre : flufffffff

— ink & ever after :

The tattoo parlor hummed with the low buzz of a needle as you lingered outside, clutching the crumpled sketch in your trembling hand. “ Breathe ”, you told yourself. The sign above the door read “Eclipse Ink in neon purple, and through the glass, you spotted Jungkook— the artist with the shy smile and ink-stained fingers, who’d spent the last three months etching constellations onto your best friend’s arm. Today, he’d finally agreed to design your first tattoo.

His black apron streaked with ink, his hair tousled under a beanie, his sleeves rolled up to reveal swirling tattoos. He was laughing at something a client said.

The bell above the tattoo parlor door chimed as you stepped inside, clutching the crumpled sketch in your hand. The scent of antiseptic and vanilla filled your lungs. Jungkook glanced up, and his smile softened. Your eyes immediately met Jungkooks,“Y/N?” he called, wiping his hands on a black apron. His voice was softer than you’d imagined, like melted caramel. “You’re early”, he said.

“I—I didn’t want to chicken out,” you admitted, handing him the sketch. The paper trembled in your grip. Nerves fluttering as you handed him the drawing: a tiny moon cradling a star.

“ It's for my -,”

“For your mom, right? The astronomy lover.” He said before you. You nodded, surprised he remembered your friend’s offhand comment. He pulled out a charcoal pencil, his fingers smudged with ink. “ This deserves more than a quick job. Mind if I add something? It’ll balance the design.”

Before you could answer, he sketched a delicate vine curling around the moon, tiny forget-me-nots blooming along it. “The vine’s for growth,” he explained, his voice low and steady. “And the flowers… for he said, meeting your gaze. “ So you never forget the good memories.” His eyes flickered to yours, warm and earnest. “Sounds okay?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Perfect.” He smiled.

“Ready to make your skin a canvas?” he asked and you nodded.

He guided you to the leather chair, his touch feather-light on your arm. The needle buzzed to life, and you tensed. “Hey,” he murmured, adjusting the lamp to illuminate your skin. “Look at me, not the needle.” His gaze held yours, grounding you. All you felt was the warmth of his hand steadying your arm. When he leaned closer, his minty breath tickled your ear. “Breathe, Y/N. I’ve got you. Tell me about her. Your mom.”

The story spilled out how she’d mapped the stars with you on summer nights, how she’d whispered “You’re my little supernova” when tucking you in. Jungkook listened, his hands never pausing as the ink bloomed under your skin. When you mentioned her passing, his voice gentled. “She’d love this. A piece of the cosmos forever with you.”

By the time he finished, the room had dimmed into twilight. He smoothed a bandage over the tattoo, his thumb brushing your wrist. “Come back in a week. I’ll check the healing.” He paused, then added shyly, “And… he smiles nervously, maybe stay for lunch? The food truck outside makes killer kimchi fries.”

Your cheeks warmed just like his . “I’d like that.”

As you left, he called after you, “Don’t forget to moisturize!” His grin was brighter than the neon sign.

Weeks turned into shared lunches at the park, where Jungkook sketched while you rambled about your job. He’d laugh, crinkling his nose, and toss you his jacket when the autumn wind bit too harshly. Thursdays became your ritual. You’d arrive at Eclipse Ink with takeout, and Jungkook would clear his

workstation, spreading out sketches and ink bottles like a chaotic art exhibit. He’d listen to your rants about cranky bookstore customers while doodling constellations on napkins.

One rainy afternoon, you arrived soaked, your umbrella mangled by the wind. Jungkook tossed you his hoodie “It’s warmer than it looks” and you drowned in the scent of sandalwood and ink. He sketched you as you ate, his cheeks pink when you caught him. “What? You’re a better muse than the grumpy old guys who want tiger tattoos.”

Weeks later, he showed up at your bookstore, a latte in hand. “Thought you might need fuel,” he said, pretending to browse the romance section while stealing glances as you shelved novels. When a customer snapped at you over a misplaced order, Jungkook appeared like a shadow, his voice calm but firm. “She’s got it handled. Maybe try asking nicely.” Afterward, he squeezed your hand. “You’re too kind for this world, Y/N.”

The day of your tattoo checkup, he traced the healed design with a reverent finger. “It suits you,” he murmured. As you admired the finished tattoo, his fingers lingered on your wrist, sending shivers down your spine. “You’re… different, you know? I’ve never wanted to redesign someone’s idea before. I’ve never added flowers to someone else’s design before. But with you…” He trailed off, his ears burning.

“Why did you?” you asked. He hesitated, his ears turning pink. “Because you looked like someone who deserved to bloom.”

That evening, he walked you home beneath a sky streaked with amber. At your doorstep, he fidgeted with his septum ring. “Can I show you something?” He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a fresh tattoo: a tiny supernova beside his wrist. “For the girl who’s brighter than any star,” he said, voice cracking.

Your heart raced. “Jungkook, I—”

He cupped your face, his calloused thumb brushing your cheek. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered. The world stilled.

The air thickened. Your heartbeat thrummed as he brushed a stray hair from your face. When you nodded, he closed the gap then, slowly so slowly his lips met yours. His lips were soft and tentative, like he’d memorized the moment in his mind a thousand times. It was sweet, achingly gentle, and over too soon. It was a first kiss spun from stardust: tender, hesitant, and sweet enough to make your knees buckle. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to yours.

“I’ve been wanting to do that,” he admitted, “since the day you walked into my shop looking like a scared rabbit.”

You laughed, breathless. He grinned, stealing another kiss, this one bolder, surer as the street lights flickered on around you.

—

Valentine’s Day arrived with a blanket of snow. Winter had draped Seoul in a hush, snowflakes swirling like confetti as you trudged toward *Eclipse Ink*. Jungkook had been cryptic all week, canceling your usual Thursday lunch with a text: “Wear something warm. Big session today.”

Your breath fogged the parlor’s window as you peered inside, it was dim, lit only by fairy lights and candles shaped like stars. No clients, just Jungkook pacing nervously, his boots scuffing the floor. He smiles as he notices you.

He yanked the door open before you could knock. “You’re here,” he breathed, cheeks flushed. The parlor smelled of pine and freshly brewed hot chocolate. Fairy lights coiled around the ceiling beams, casting constellations on the walls, and a small heater glowed beneath the tattoo chair.

What’s all this?” you asked, brushing snow from your hair.

He avoided your gaze, fiddling with a vial of gold ink. “Lie down,” he said, patting the leather chair. “And… take off your coat. I need access to your collarbone.”

Your breath hitched as he uncapped the ink vial. “ Jungkook —” you said.

“ Trust me? ” he interrupted, his voice unsteady.

You obeyed, shivering as the cold leather met your skin. He draped a heated blanket over your legs, his fingers lingering. The needle buzzed to life, and you tensed. “Relax,” he murmured, adjusting the lamp. “This’ll hurt less than the moon.”

“You’re still a terrible liar,” you laughed, but the sound died as his expression turned serious.

The needle buzzed, tracing a path near your collarbone. You winced playfully. He smiled and worked in silence, his brow furrowed. The needle’s sting was sharp, but his free hand anchored yours, thumb tracing circles on your palm. Minutes stretched into hours, the only sounds were the hum of the machine and his shaky breaths.

“ Done,” he finally said, voice thick. He bandaged the tattoo and handed you a mirror.

You froze. Beneath the gauze, in elegant script, were the words “Marry me?” by a ring of ivy and Jungkook’s signature star. Your eyes met his.

Jungkook was on one knee, a velvet box trembling in his ink-stained hand. Inside sat a ring: a delicate band of intertwined platinum and gold, set with a diamond shaped like a star. “I—I wanted it to be permanent,” he stammered, tears glinting in his lashes. “Like the ink. Like *us*.”

Tears blurred your vision. You gaped. “You… tattooed a proposal?!”

He laughed wetly. “I panicked! I practiced speeches for weeks, but nothing felt right. Then I remembered…” He gestured to your arm, where the moon and forget-me-nots bloomed. “This is how we started. How we fit. You’re my first everything, Y/N—my first muse, first kiss, first love. Let me be your last.”

“Is this your way of saying I’m stuck with you forever?” You said. He smirked.

“Maybe.” Both of you chuckled.

“ So… let me be your last?” he asked again. The room blurred. “Yes,” you choked out, lunging into his arms. He caught you, knocking over the ink tray as he kissed you fiercely, his lips tasting of salt and peppermint.

—

The loft above “Eclipse Ink” had become your sanctuary, a nest of twinkling string lights, mismatched quilts, and Jungkook’s half-finished sketches strewn like love letters. Tonight, snow fell silently beyond the frosted windows, and the radiator hissed a steady rhythm beside the bed. Jungkook’s hands trembled as he unclasped the necklace he’d gifted you last Christmas, the pendant a tiny moonstone. “Nervous?” you whispered, tracing the ink-stained star on his wrist.

He laughed, a soft, breathy sound. “Terrified. In a good way.” His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes. “You’re… everything, Y/N. I don’t want to miss a second of this.”

You kissed him first slowly, deliberate your fingers threading through his hair as he pulled you closer. His touch was a language he’d spent years mastering: calloused palms skimming your waist, thumbs brushing the sensitive dip of your hips, lips trailing the constellation tattoo he’d inked below your ear. “My little supernova,” he murmured, echoing your mother’s words with a reverence that made your chest ache.

He undressed you like unwrapping a relic every button, every sigh, a prayer. When his hands stilled, you nudged him onto the mattress, straddling his hips. His breath hitched as you traced the new tattoo on his collarbone: “Y/N’s” in cursive, fresh and bold. “Permanent,” you teased, leaning down to kiss the letters.

“Y-You’re trying to ruin me,” he groaned, arching into your touch.

The world narrowed to the slide of skin, the catch of breath, the way he whispered your name like a secret only the stars knew. He mapped every scar, every freckle, as if committing you to memory. “Beautiful,” he breathed against your thigh, and you believed him.

Later, tangled in sheets and each other, he sketched idle patterns on your back, a habit he’d never outgrown. “Look,” he said, nodding to the window. Dawn bled into the sky, painting the snow gold. “Our first sunrise.” You turned to face him, your nose brushing his. “Not our last.”

He kissed you, deep and languid, his hand settling over your heart. “I want a thousand more. With you.”

---

Five years later, — “Eclipse Ink” had a new addition to its wall of fame: a framed photo of your wedding day. Jungkook’s tuxedo sleeve had been rolled up to showcase his tattooed vows — “Forever Y/N’s” in cursive, while your ivory dress dipped to reveal the “Marry me?” now accompanied by a “Yes” inked in gold.

On your first anniversary, Jungkook added a final touch: a tiny crescent moon cradling the “Yes,” its curve mirroring the one on your arm. “Now they match,” he said, kissing the spot. “Like us.”

Valentine’s Day became your pilgrimage. Every Valentine’s Day, he’d trace the words and whisper, “Best canvas I ever had.” Every year, he’d close the parlor early, and you’d curl up beneath the fairy lights, tracing each other’s tattoos. “Remember when you thought I was a serial killer because I kept rescheduling your appointment?” he teased one evening, his lips brushing your neck.

You swatted his arm. “You did have that creepy collection of horror manga!”

“Says the woman who married me,” he grinned, sliding a hand over your rounded belly, a recent, dizzying surprise.

Your daughter arrived in spring, her first cry harmonizing with the cherry blossoms outside. Jungkook wept when the nurse placed her in his arms, her tiny fist clutching his inked finger. “She has your nose,” he whispered.

“And your lungs,” you sighed, laughing through tears.

That night, as you dozed in the hospital bed, Jungkook slipped out his sketchbook. By dawn, a new design bloomed across the page: a cherry blossom branch wrapping around your “Yes”, petals drifting toward a bassinet.

“For our new universe,” he said when you woke, showing you the sketch.

You kissed him, slow and deep, as sunlight pooled over your daughter’s face. Some loves were fleeting.

Yours was etched in skin and soul.

216 notes · View notes

themissinghand · 28 days ago

Text

Solo Leveling Fire and Ice, That's Pretty Nice

Summary: In which opposites attract and the shadow army gets a terrifying mother figure.

Or more of Jinwoo’s shadow army shenanigans.

Pairing: Igris x Ice Elf Queen Reader!

Note: Self indulgent because I can basically count all the solo leveling female characters on one hand.

Also I like Igris >.<

This is longer than most of my other works at (7.5k words x.x)

Warnings: Violence and mother’s rage. Kind of long introduction.

★・・・・・・★

Jinwoo stood over the lifeless body of the Ice Elf King, his black blade dripping with blood.

He tightened his grip on Kasaka's Venom Fang and exhaled, his breath turning to frost.

"I couldn’t turn him into one of my shadows." Jinwoo muttered, almost disappointed. 3 tries, and all of them were a failure.

Ha. A wasted opportunity.

Then, he felt it.

A tremor.

The sound of countless footsteps on the snow.

He turned to face the open field, his eyes narrowing as he summoned his shadows.

Ha.

An army of Ice Elves. Dozens, no, hundreds. Their blue-tinted skin and ice weapons glinted like shards of glass in the pale light.

"Backup?" Jinwoo said under his breath, his heartbeat quickening in excitement.

"Bring it on."

But then, the temperature plummeted.

It wasn't just the cold.

It was her.

The elves parted, bowing in reverence as the figure approached. Armor forged of pure ice clung to a tall, commanding form. Frost spread from each of your steps, the ground itself cracking and freezing beneath your weight.

You carried no weapon, for you were the weapon, an entity born of vengeance and ice.

Jinwoo's instincts screamed at him.

Danger.

Then, the ding of a system message appeared before his eyes:

[System Alert: New Enemy] [Danger! Hidden Boss] [Defeat the Ice Elf Queen]

The Ice Elf King had been impressive, but compared to you, he seemed like nothing more than a footnote in the hierarchy of this dungeon.

You stopped several paces away from Jinwoo, your piercing gaze locking onto his. Frost coated your silver lashes, and your voice carried like the howl of a blizzard.

"You killed my children," you said, the words cutting deeper than the ice of your domain.

Jinwoo froze, just for a moment. Children?

And then he understood. The Ice Elf King was not merely your ruler. The elites he had fought. the ones who had fallen at his hand, had been your offspring.

"You'll regret that," you hissed, lifting a gauntleted hand. A bitter wind howled, and shards of ice erupted from the walls, the floor, and the ceiling, spires that sought to impale the intruder who dared stain your legacy.

Jinwoo barely managed to sidestep the first barrage, his speed saving him from certain death. His eyes gleamed with mana as his black armor manifested around him.

"So, you're the real boss of this place," he said, grinning.

"Then let's get started."

The battlefield exploded.

You were relentless. For every shadow Jinwoo summoned, your frost overwhelmed it. Spears of ice shot from the ground, forcing Jinwoo to stay on the move, his agility tested like never before.

Jinwoo darted forward, closing the distance in an instant. He swung Kasaka's Venom Fang with lethal precision, aiming for the gap between your ice-plated joints. But the moment the blade connected, your armor regenerated, spreading frost across his weapon like a virus.

"What?"

You seized the opportunity. Raising both hands, you summoned a swirling blizzard around him. The gale shrieked as jagged shards of ice formed mid-air, each one honed to kill.

The storm closed in.

For a moment, there was nothing but cold.

But then, amidst the storm, Jinwoo's voice cut through, calm and deadly.

"Shadow Exchange."

A dark ripple pulsed across the battlefield, and Jinwoo vanished, only to reappear behind you.

Ruler's Authority!

Your head snapped around just as the force of Jinwoo's telekinetic grip slammed into your back, sending you skidding across the ice. You caught yourself, frost blooming from your fingertips as you snarled in rage.

Jinwoo landed lightly, black smoke coiling around his feet like serpents.

"You're strong," he admitted, his voice laced with excitement.

"But I've fought worse."

Your eyes glowed brighter, your voice now a roar of grief and fury.

"Then you've never fought a mother."

The world trembled. Ice surged from the ground, forming massive constructs, golems of frozen wrath that towered above Jinwoo's shadows. The air grew thick with frost, suffocating and relentless.

Jinwoo grinned, though he felt the chill in his bones.

"Good," he said, raising his hand. "I was just starting to get bored."

"ARISE."

From the shadows of the fallen elves, soldiers of death began to rise.

The Ice Queen, you stood amidst the blizzard you had summoned, your piercing gaze burning with icy wrath. Each of your attacks carried not just strength, but emotion.

Grief. Fury. Vengeance.

Jinwoo had fought countless enemies, monsters, bosses, and even beings beyond comprehension. But none had ever felt quite like this. You weren’t just a beast.

You were a mother.

"Why…?" Jinwoo muttered, dodging another spear of ice that shattered against the wall behind him. He leapt toward you, his shadowed blade swinging to strike, but your hand rose faster.

With a chilling whisper, frost erupted around your palm, and you caught his sword mid-swing. The force of it cracked the ground beneath your feet, yet you held firm, your armor regenerating instantly where the black blade had scraped through.

"Why?" you echoed, your voice trembling between grief and rage. "Because you stole them from me!"

A pulse of mana erupted from you, blasting Jinwoo back. He skidded across the ice, his boots digging into the frozen ground to stop himself. A headache throbbed in his temple, and he realized, his mana was draining.

Quickly.

What?

He glanced at his status bar, disbelief flickering across his face. His mana pool, vast as it was, had dropped significantly. When did this start?

Then he looked at you. The frost spreading beneath your feet was no longer just physical ice, it shimmered with a dark, consuming energy.

"You’re absorbing it," he murmured, realization dawning.

You advanced slowly, frost blooming with every step. The air grew impossibly heavy, laced with sorrow that hung like a weight on his shoulders.

"You are no different than the others who came before. Slaughtering for sport, for power. My children were not monsters. They were mine. My blood. My heart."

Jinwoo’s heart skipped a beat. He had heard curses and cries from his enemies before, pleas for mercy, hatred, or blind rage. But this was different.

Your grief wasn’t just a programmed reaction. It felt real.

For the first time, as he looked into the burning blue of your eyes, Jinwoo hesitated.

"Your children attacked me," he said carefully, his voice lower, steadier than before. "They were strong. Dangerous."

“And did they ask to be born here, to fight in this cold, forgotten prison?” you shot back, ice crackling at the edges of your words.

“Did they choose to face someone like you?”

Your anger was consuming the air, turning it into frost itself, and now it was consuming him. His mana continued to bleed away into the frost-covered ground beneath his feet. The realization struck him hard, this wasn’t a simple boss battle anymore.

You weren’t just regenerating. You were feeding on his mana, absorbing his strength to sustain your fury.

His mind raced. She’s not just strong. She’s unstoppable at this rate.

You lunged, faster than before, your form a blur. Jinwoo barely managed to deflect the strike, but the force of it sent shockwaves rippling up his arms.

Think. Think.

His shadows flickered around him, faltering under your draining aura. His mana bar continued to drop, and for the first time in a long while, Jinwoo felt something unfamiliar.

Pressure.

This was no mindless monster. You were a mother with nothing left to lose.

Jinwoo grit his teeth, his mind racing as he struggled to regain control. The cold was unrelenting, his mana still bleeding away into the frost-laden ground. You stood tall before him, your ice-forged armor glimmering with an unnatural, otherworldly beauty, your fury as eternal as the chill in the air.

He readied himself to charge, but before he could, a shadow moved, an unmistakable figure leapt forward.

"Igris?" Jinwoo muttered in disbelief.

The red knight stood between you and his master, his massive sword lowered but steady. The flames of his crimson armor flared against the oppressive cold, his presence a stark contrast to the glacial frost you commanded.

What happened next shocked Jinwoo.

Igris, who had always been silent, spoke.

"Ice Queen," the knight said, his voice deep and reverberating like the echoes of an ancient cathedral. For a moment, the frost stilled, and the blizzard paused as you regarded him.

“I am Igris, a knight.”

Igris took a step forward, his burning crimson gaze locking with yours.

“You know me,” he said, his voice steady, firm. “Or at least… you knew me, once. Another time. Another world.”

Your expression faltered, just for a second, as though an old memory had scraped against your consciousness. The ice around your fingers trembled.

“Lies,” you hissed, but there was a faint tremor in your voice, one you could not suppress.

“No,” Igris said, his tone calm but unyielding. “You know it as truth.” He raised his blade and pointed it toward Jinwoo, though the gesture was not hostile.

“He is my liege, the king I currently serve. Your children’s suffering has ended, and under his dominion, they will not suffer again. They will rise, reborn under a new master. Under his shadow, they will be safe.”

Safe.

The word pierced through the storm raging within you. Your frost cracked, spreading hairline fractures through the ice coating your domain.

“Lies!” you roared, your voice breaking with fury and grief. “They are dead! Their souls are gone, and you dare speak of safety?”

Igris lowered his sword slightly, the flames along his armor flickering. “Your grief is not unfounded,” he said, quieter this time. “But you know this truth already, buried beneath your rage. You feel it even now.”

Your breathing hitched as his words struck deeper, clawing at the wall you had built around yourself. There was something haunting about the way Igris spoke, something familiar.

“Who are you?” you demanded, your voice wavering.

Igris straightened, his form tall and unwavering against the storm. “A knight,” he replied. “A loyal servant. And in another time, another life… we knew each other’s names.”

The ice around you splintered further, your vision blurring with conflicting emotions. Memories you couldn’t place flitted at the edges of your mind, too faint to grasp, too powerful to ignore.

“I will not allow you to manipulate me!” you shouted, your frost lashing out again, cracking the earth beneath you.

Jinwoo, who had been watching in silence, stepped forward then, his voice cutting through the tension.

“I don’t know what you two were,” he said firmly, his black armor darkening against the pale frost.

“But Igris isn’t wrong. I don’t kill for sport, and I don’t take it without purpose. Your children are mine now, yes, but under my command, they will rise stronger, safer than before.”

Your eyes snapped to Jinwoo, blazing with mistrust and fury.

“And why should I believe you? The man who stole everything from me?”

“Because I know what it’s like to lose everything.” His voice was calm but heavy, filled with a weight that gave you pause.

“And I won’t let that happen again. Not to my shadows. Not to them.”

Igris turned his gaze back to you, his voice softening.

“Do you truly believe your vengeance will bring them back? Or will you let their souls find purpose under a king who knows the weight of life and death?”

You staggered, your ice-cold heart trembling for the first time in centuries. The frost beneath you crackled and broke as you faltered.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No… I won’t… I can’t…”

The blizzard around you howled, raging with the last vestiges of your denial.

Jinwoo raised his sword once more, but this time, there was no mockery or cruelty in his stance. Only resolve.

“Then I’ll prove it to you,” he said, his voice echoing across the frozen cavern. “Come at me with everything you have.”

And you did.

Jinwoo stood before you now, a dark silhouette against the shattered blizzard. His breathing was heavy, his armor battered, but his resolve remained unbroken. Your knees hit the fractured ice, cracks spidering out beneath your weight as the last of your strength bled away.

“It’s over,” he said softly, lowering his sword. Shadows stirred behind him, coiling and whispering like sentient beings.

“Kill me,” you hissed, your voice ragged and weak.

“Take my soul as you took my children’s.”

But Jinwoo didn’t move to strike. Instead, he reached out, his mana surging as shadows spilled forth and wrapped around the battlefield. Before you could protest or summon your magic, a dark aura pulsed through the field, gentle but commanding.

“What…are you doing?” you choked, trembling as you felt it, the unmistakable presence of life returning.

The shadows moved, forming shapes that you knew too well. Small figures emerged from the darkness, their translucent forms taking on flesh and light. Your breath caught as you saw them, your children.

One by one, they stood before you, no longer bound by cold and suffering. Their faces were radiant, their frostbitten forms replaced by vitality and warmth, though their bodies bore a faint shadowy sheen, a mark of this man’s power.

They were alive. Reborn.

You dropped your sword, the clang echoing like the toll of a bell.

Jinwoo stood silent as your other children, now shadows, gathered around, their roars echoing through the forest. Shadows danced in their footsteps, but there was no malice.

“They… they are happy,” you whispered, staring at Jinwoo with wide, disbelieving eyes. “How is this possible?”

Jinwoo’s gaze was steady, his voice low and certain.

“I gave them a new purpose. Under me, they are free from pain and death. Immortal in my shadow. I promised they wouldn’t suffer again…and I keep my promises.”

You turned back to your children, watching them roar with expressions you hadn’t seen in centuries. The rage that had burned so fiercely within you began to fade, replaced by an ache so deep it left you breathless.

But when you looked again, you noticed someone missing.

“Where…where is my king?” Jinwoo’s expression hardened.

“Your king has passed before I could turn him into my shadow.”

The words struck like a shard of ice, and for a moment, you felt the grief resurface. But as you looked back at your children, free, you realized the truth, your king’s ambition had led you here.

To war. To loss.

The sword you had carried for so long, the weight of vengeance and pain, slipped from your hand entirely, sinking into the ice.

Your voice trembled as you looked at Jinwoo, no longer with hate, but with reluctant acceptance.

You rose to your feet slowly, your frost-forged armor shimmering as it began to melt away, replaced by a lighter form. The magic still swirled around you, but it was no longer violent.

You had been a queen. A mother. A warrior. But now, you could be something else.

“I am a swordsman,” you said softly, staring at Jinwoo with renewed purpose. “And a mage. My strength has been forged in both ice and war. You have taken everything from me…but you have also given back what I thought was lost forever.”

Jinwoo regarded you carefully as you knelt before him, frost blooming beneath you like flowers in the snow.

“I will serve,” you said quietly, “not because I must, but because I choose to. For them. For my children.”

The shadows around Jinwoo swirled with approval, and Igris, who had watched the scene unfold, nodded once, his crimson armor glowing faintly.

Jinwoo extended his hand toward you, and for the first time in centuries, you felt something other than cold.

Hope.

With one final look at your children, who danced in the shadows, you took Jinwoo’s hand. A new bond was forged, one of loyalty, of purpose, and of peace.

The Ice Queen was no more.

But you, a magic swordsman, would rise again under Jinwoo’s command.

Serving your liege had been an adjustment, to say the least.

The battlefield, once your home of ice and grief, had transformed into something else entirely, shadows and death. Yet, to your surprise, this place felt more alive than your frozen kingdom ever had.

Your children thrived here. They trained, played, and walked among the shadows without fear. You watched them grow stronger, their once-frozen faces now glowing with laughter as they hung out with other species.

It brought peace to your heart, something you hadn’t thought possible for centuries.

Of course, your presence brought a new dynamic to Jinwoo’s overwhelmingly male army.

The soldiers, stoic and loyal as they were, had never been quite sure what to do with you.

They knew strength and they respected power.

And you, the former Ice Elf Queen, exuded both. But you also had a softer side, one you didn’t show on the battlefield. When Jinwoo began adding more female shadows to the ranks, they naturally gravitated toward you.

It wasn’t long before you became their unspoken leader, a mother, a guide, and an aunt, as some of the more playful ones had teased. You listened to their concerns, encouraged their strength, and ensured they were seen.

You were fierce, yes, but you were also nurturing. It was a role you had forgotten you could play.

Even Jinwoo noticed the change.

“You’ve turned my army into a family.” You had simply stared ahead.

“An army is stronger when it has a heart.”

Jinwoo didn’t argue.

But there was one member of the Shadow Army who had become an unexpected complication.

Igris.

You first noticed it on the battlefield. Igris was always nearby, close enough to intercept any attack that came your way, his crimson armor a stark contrast to your icy form. It wasn’t unusual for soldiers to protect one another, but Igris seemed overly diligent.

Then it started happening outside of battle.

You would train with your frost magic and swordplay, and Igris would be there, watching silently. You’d turn around, and he’d be standing at the edge of the clearing, his massive sword resting at his side. At first, you assumed it was a coincidence.

It wasn’t.

Whenever you walked the shadow realm, Igris wasn’t far behind. He hovered like a lost puppy, a very tall, very intimidating puppy, his crimson flames flickering softly, as if unsure whether to step forward or hold back.

It reached a point where even Jinwoo noticed.

“Igris,” Jinwoo said one day, arms crossed as he observed the red knight following you into yet another training session.

“Why are you always following her?”

Igris paused, the glowing slits of his helmet turning toward Jinwoo.

For a moment, it seemed like he might deny it, but instead, he simply said, “I am ensuring her safety.”

Jinwoo arched a brow.

“Her safety? She nearly killed me, and she’s stronger than half the army.”

Igris didn’t flinch.

“It is… a habit. I do not understand why, perhaps it is due to memories from another life.”

Another life? Jinwoo remembered that you and Igris did seem to share some connection. Even then, they must have been a long time ago.

You, listening to this conversation with your sword planted firmly in the ground, narrowed your eyes.

“Igris.”

The knight turned to you instantly, as if awaiting an order. Jinwoo took a step back to exclude himself from the conversation.

“Are you following me?” you asked flatly.

There was a pause, brief but telling. Then, with that same unwavering voice, he replied, “Yes.”

“Why?”

Igris hesitated for the first time since you had met him. His sword shifted in his grip as if the flames themselves were unsure.

“Because… I remember.”

The words froze you in place.

You stared at him, memories flickering at the edges of your mind, ones you couldn’t quite place but felt deep in your soul. Another time. Another life.

“You remember what?” you demanded softly.

“I remember you,” he said, his voice quieter than before. “From before. From a life long gone.”

Your heart skipped a beat, though you didn’t know why.

“And what was I to you?”

Igris straightened, the flames of his armor burning brighter.

“I am…uncertain. However, you were…important.”

Jinwoo, watching this exchange with no small amount of amusement, muttered under his breath, “This is getting interesting.”

Igris's words lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken, and you couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth beneath the ice that had once been your heart.

“Fine,” you said finally, turning your back on him as you picked up your sword. “While I do not remember as well as you may, you can follow me if you wish, but don’t get in my way.”

Igris bowed his head slightly, as if you’d just granted him a gift.

“As you command.”

And so, the red knight continued to shadow your steps, silent but steadfast, his presence both a mystery and a comfort you didn’t dare admit.

Your liege, for his part, had to fight back a smirk every time he saw the two of you together. “Interesting indeed,” he’d mutter, much to your exasperation.

Managing the shadow army turned out to be far more chaotic than you ever anticipated.

At first, you assumed your liege, having reached such incredible strength and commanding an entire shadow legion, had a handle on things.

You were wrong.

His form of “management” seemed to consist of standing silently with his arms crossed while the shadows interpreted his silence however they pleased. It was fine on the battlefield, his sheer presence was enough to unite and terrify, but outside of combat?

It was a mess.

Resting areas were haphazardly chosen, shadows sprawled out like abandoned weapons until it was time to fight again. Training consisted of brutal sparring with no structure or goals. And let’s not even discuss living quarters, shadows didn’t need sleep or comfort, so he’d never thought of such things.

But you had.

So, in the absence of leadership outside of war, you stepped in.

You oversaw the construction of a proper base, a castle, as the shadows began calling it. Walls rose high, forged of dark stone and reinforced with your frost magic.

Resting areas were organized, equipped with blackened banners, training grounds, and even kitchens (even if Jinwoo’s shadows didn’t eat, you insisted on adding them for dignity’s sake).

Jinwoo watched all of this unfold with mild amusement.

“I didn’t think they needed this.”

“An army isn’t just swords and numbers,” you replied matter-of-factly, arms crossed as you oversaw the placement of a fountain.

“They need purpose. Structure. Pride.”

To your surprise, Jinwoo didn’t argue. Instead, he simply muttered, “You’re better at this than me.”

You didn’t deny it.

But it wasn’t long before you encountered an entirely different issue, the shadow army was obsessed with him.

It started small.

The first time you noticed it, a group of shadows had gathered in a circle, whispering with surprising energy. Curiosity piqued, you approached, only to stop dead in your tracks when you saw it:

A statue of your liege.

It was crude, clearly carved with brute force rather than finesse, but it was unmistakably him.

“What…is this?” you asked slowly, arching an eyebrow.

The shadows flinched, clearly caught red-handed.

“A tribute to our liege.” You sighed.

“Fine. One statue is acceptable.”

But it didn’t stop there.

Days later, as you surveyed the newly completed courtyard, you found another one. This one was bigger. Shinier. Better.

“Another tribute,” one shadow explained proudly.

The following week, statues started cropping up everywhere, lining the training grounds, looming over the entrances, even decorating the castle halls.

Some depicted your liege in dramatic combat poses; others made him look regal, arms crossed and cape billowing as if he stood atop the world. You found one shadow carefully polishing a statue of your liege's face, its glowing eyes full of reverence.

It was absurd.

You cornered your liege about it one evening, after stumbling upon yet another statue, this one holding a disproportionately large sword.

“Do you know what the shadows are doing?” you demanded, arms crossed.

Jinwoo blinked at you.

“Training?”

“No.” You jabbed a finger toward the nearest statue.

“They’re turning this entire castle into a shrine dedicated to you.” Jinwoo glanced at the statue and tilted his head.

“Huh. That’s new.”

“This isn’t new, my liege! It’s everywhere.” He stared for a long moment, then shrugged.

“Let them do what they want. It’s harmless.” You gave him an incredulous look.

“You’ll regret this when you can’t see the sky because of all the statues.” Jinwoo’s lips twitched into something resembling a smirk.

“I think you’re exaggerating.”

You weren’t.

The next day, you found a group of shadows trying to carve Jinwoo’s face into a mountain.

You glared up at the giant, incomplete mural, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Of course,” you muttered under your breath, “they take after him.”

“Isn’t it grand, my lady?” one of the shadows asked eagerly.

You sighed, looking at their hopeful, flickering forms. In truth, you couldn’t find it in yourself to scold them. They were loyal. Fiercely so. And if building statues of their liege brought them joy, then who were you to stop them?

Still, there had to be limits.

“Fine,” you said, hands on your hips. “You can have three statues in the courtyard. No more. And stay away from the mountain.”

The shadows grumbled but reluctantly agreed. You knew they’d push the boundary again eventually, but for now, you’d won this battle.

Later that night, you found Igris standing silently near one of the more polished Jinwoo statues.

“Don’t tell me you approve of this,” Igris turned his helmet toward you.

“I find it… excessive.” You nod.

“Good. At least someone has sense around here.”

“…But it is well-crafted.”

Silence, then a sigh. You did admit at least the craftsmanship improved over time. You dragged a hand down your face as Igris tilted his head ever so slightly, his version of amusement.

Jinwoo, watching the entire exchange from the castle steps, simply chuckled.

“You really have your hands full, don’t you?”

“My liege, you could help.”

“I could,” he replied, turning back toward his ever-growing army. “But you’re doing such a good job.”

You swore you heard Igris laugh softly under his breath as you stalked off, vowing to tear down at least one statue before the day ended.

Boys would be boys, indeed.

It started with small, almost negligible details, at least to everyone except Jinwoo.

At first, he didn’t think much of it.

Igris was Igris: noble, stoic, and unwaveringly loyal. But recently, something had changed, and Jinwoo couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

It began when you sparred with Igris one afternoon. Your icy blade clashed with his crimson greatsword, magic flaring, and shadows gathering to watch the spectacle. The spar had been long and hard-fought, ending in a draw that left you both panting but satisfied.

“That was impressive,” Jinwoo said afterward as he approached.

Igris remained quiet, his gaze lingering just a moment too long on you as you restored your blade to your sheath with a graceful flourish.

“…Igris?” Jinwoo prompted.

The knight stiffened and turned sharply.

“Yes, my liege?”

Jinwoo frowned. Weird.

Then there were the moments when Jinwoo would notice Igris standing near you, closer than necessary, his crimson armor seemingly shining brighter whenever you were around.

And there was that one time he caught Igris subtly handing you an ice-forged rose that one of your children had made, claiming it was “on behalf of the Shadow Army.”

You accepted it with mild amusement.

“Tell them their craftsmanship is improving.”

Igris’ helm dipped slightly, as though he was pleased with himself.

Jinwoo, watching this from the corner of the room, blinked slowly.

Wait a second…

The final confirmation came when Beru, as excitable and nosy as ever, suddenly burst into Jinwoo’s quarters with the energy of a gossiping whirlwind.

“My liege!” Beru hissed dramatically, clawed hands wringing together.

“You won’t believe what I’ve discovered!” Jinwoo raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Is this another complaint about shadow formations?”

“No, no!” Beru waved him off frantically.

“It’s about Sir Igris!”

That got Jinwoo’s attention.

“What about him?” Beru leaned in, voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper.

“He has a crush.”

Jinwoo blinked, then stared blankly.

“A what?”

“A crush! On the Ice Queen!” Beru practically cackled. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes! He follows her like a lost puppy! He watches her sparring matches with an intensity I’ve never seen before! And when she talks, my liege, he listens.”

Jinwoo leaned back in his chair, processing this information. At first, the thought seemed ridiculous, this was Igris, his most loyal knight, the epitome of calm and collected authority. But the more Jinwoo thought about it…the more the pieces started to fit.

“Oh no,” Jinwoo muttered to himself, realizing the truth.

“Igris does have a crush.”

And just as Jinwoo said it, the doors opened, and in walked Igris, calm, composed, and completely oblivious to the whispers and stares from Beru and Jinwoo.

“My liege,” Igris said with his usual gravitas. “You called for me?”

Jinwoo stared at his knight for a long moment, a smirk creeping onto his face. This is going to be interesting.

“Igris,” Jinwoo began innocently, “how do you feel about the Ice Queen?”

For the first time Jinwoo could remember, Igris paused. It wasn’t a noticeable pause, just a momentary stiffness in his stance, a subtle hesitation. But Jinwoo caught it, and so did Beru, who was practically vibrating with glee beside him.

“She is an exceptional warrior,” Igris replied after a beat, his tone measured but somehow…off.

“Her leadership skills have greatly benefited the Shadow Army.”

“And?” Jinwoo pressed, feigning innocence. Igris’ helm tilted slightly.

“…And she is a valuable ally.”

“And?”

“My liege,” Igris said firmly, clearly aware he was being cornered, “is there a point to this line of questioning?”

Before Jinwoo could answer, Beru burst out, “Just admit it, Sir Igris! You like her! You admire her ice powers! You think she’s graceful and strong!”

Igris’ head turned slowly toward Beru, the kind of slow turn that suggested death was imminent.

“I suggest you choose your next words carefully.” But Beru wasn’t done.

“Don’t worry, Sir Igris! Everyone thinks you two would make a perfect match!”

Jinwoo covered his face with a hand, trying to stifle his laughter as Igris stood there, every ounce of his dignity being stripped away.

The knight’s silence spoke volumes.

“Run.”

Beru flew out the door.

Later that day, you found Jinwoo observing the training grounds with an odd little smirk. You didn’t question it until you spotted Igris in the corner, supervising recruits with an intensity that could only be described as aggressively focused.

You frowned, sensing something was off.

“My liege, what’s wrong with Igris today?” Jinwoo shrugged, his smirk widening.

“Oh, nothing. He’s just… dealing with some feelings.”

“Feelings?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

You narrowed your eyes, suspicion brewing, but you didn’t press further.

And in the shadows, Beru lurked with giddy delight, ready to share his next piece of gossip with anyone willing to listen.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the Shadow Army to catch wind of Igris’ crush. Beru, being the ultimate gossip enthusiast, made sure of that.

It started with whispers, hushed conversations in the halls of the shadow castle, smirks exchanged between troops, and subtle glances whenever Igris and you crossed paths.

Tank was the first to approach Igris alone.

The massive shadow bear lumbered up to the knight during a sparring session, his size making him impossible to ignore. Igris turned, his crimson greatsword in hand, only to find Tank staring down at him with an unreadable expression.

“…What is it, Tank?” Igris asked coolly, though he already sensed trouble.

Tank tilted his enormous head.

“Sir Igris.”

“Yes?”

“Have you…mated with the Ice Queen yet?” Igris froze, his blade still mid-swing.

“WHAT.”

“Tank, you absolute imbecile!” came Beru’s screech from a nearby shadow. “You’re not supposed to ask him that directly!”

Tank shrugged with a rumbling growl.

“But Beru said-”

“I said implied!”

Igris turned his helm toward the two of them, a palpable aura of murderous intent swirling around him.

“What. Are. You. Talking. About?”

Beru cackled and immediately scampered away, leaving Tank to deal with the consequences.

“Tank, run!” Beru’s voice echoed from the distance.

Iron, who lacked any and all social tact, decided to take a much more direct approach.

One afternoon, you were overseeing recruits sparring when Iron stomped up to you, his hulking form casting a shadow over everyone present.

“Ice Queen!” Iron’s booming voice startled even you, though you quickly straightened.

“Yes, Iron?” you replied with a raised brow.

“Igris likes you!”

The training grounds fell deathly silent. The recruits froze mid-swing, staring wide-eyed as the words echoed through the air. You blinked once, your stoic mask cracking slightly.

“…Excuse me?”

“Igris! He likes you! He looks at you like Tank looks at honey!” Iron repeated proudly, as if he’d uncovered the world’s greatest secret.

From across the field, Igris appeared out of nowhere, slamming his sword into the ground with such force the ground shook.

“IRON!” Iron flinched.

“Oh. Was that supposed to be a secret?”

You slowly turned to Igris, curiosity lighting up your expression as he stomped toward Iron with an air of absolute murder.

“Iron, you fool,” Igris growled through gritted teeth.

“Oh, don’t be mad!” Iron said, cheerfully unbothered. “The Ice Queen is strong! You’d make good mates!”

“Silence!”

You crossed your arms, watching with mild amusement as Igris all but dragged Iron away, his dignity shredded once again.

That night, as you stood at the edge of the shadow castle overlooking the vast plains, Igris approached you silently.

“You asked for me?” you asked without turning, sensing his presence.

Igris hesitated, just for a second, before he spoke.

“I…wished to apologize.”

“For what?”

“For the… behavior of the others,” he replied stiffly.

“Their gossip is uncalled for.”

You smirked faintly, turning fully to face him.

“Let them talk. I don’t concern myself with rumors.”

Igris stood taller at your words, though something about his posture softened. You stepped closer, your gaze steady.

“But perhaps you should tell me, do they speak the truth?”

For the first time, Igris faltered. His helm tilted downward, his silence louder than words.

You studied him for a moment longer before turning back to the plains, an unreadable smile on your lips.

“Goodnight, Igris.”

As you walked away, Igris remained rooted to the spot, the chill of the night air doing little to mask the warmth lingering in his chest.

From the shadows, Jinwoo and Beru watched the exchange, the latter barely containing his squeals of delight.

“Did you see that, my liege?!” Beru whispered excitedly.

“Oh, I saw it. Poor Igris doesn’t stand a chance.”

Who knew watching his subordinate's love story could be so fun?

Igris had faced dragons, commanders, kings, and hordes of enemies without faltering. His blade had clashed against unbeatable odds, his will unwavering against death itself.

But now, the once-mighty knight stood in a shadowy corridor, frozen in place, gripped by the strangest and most insurmountable enemy of all, his feelings.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I know! I know! Sir Igris must confess his undying love!”

The voice of Beru shattered whatever composure Igris had left. The insectoid shadow stepped out of a dark corner, his glowing eyes alight with glee.

“…Beru.” Igris groaned, instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword. “This is none of your concern.”

“Oh, but it is!” Beru exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement. “As the Shadow Army’s most socially attuned being-”

“Hardly.”

“-I am here to assist you! I have gathered extensive knowledge from hours of observing human courtship rituals.”

“…Human courtship rituals?” Igris echoed skeptically.

“Yes! Lady Jinah has been watching these K-Dramas! And I, being a shadow of excellent taste, have memorized their methods for confession!”

Igris turned slowly toward him, dread pooling in his core.

“I don’t want to know.”

“Step one!” Beru ignored him entirely.

“The Grand Gesture.”

And so, an hour later, you stood in the training grounds watching with a mix of amusement and confusion as Igris, in full armor, dramatically knelt before you.

“What…are you doing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as the crimson knight extended a single glowing flower made of mana.

Igris said nothing for several moments, clearly at war with himself. Finally, his deep voice rumbled, “This is… for you.”

Before you could respond, Beru leaped out from behind a pillar.

“SPEAK YOUR HEART!”

“Beru—!” Igris snapped, his mana flaring in irritation.

“SPEAK IT!”

Igris, utterly flustered now, turned back to you stiffly. “I… appreciate your strength and…” He paused, clearly struggling. “…you’re very… capable.”

You stared at him, blinking.

“Capable?”

“Like a soaring falcon!” Beru added unhelpfully.

“…Right.”

Before you could respond, Igris stood abruptly, tossing the flower onto the ground like it offended him.

“Forget this ever happened.”

And with that, he stormed away, leaving Beru screeching, “Wait, you didn’t finish the confession scene!”

You watched the chaos unfold, shaking your head with a quiet laugh.

At least it was cute.

Two failed grand gestures later (including an unfortunate rain-soaked poetry recital Beru insisted on), Igris had all but given up. He found himself back in the training grounds, gripping his sword far tighter than necessary.

You approached him, clearly done with whatever weird behavior he had been exhibiting for days now.

“Sir Igris.”

He stilled.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or are we going to keep pretending you haven’t been acting strange?”

“I am not-”

“Pick up your sword,” you interrupted.

“What?” Igris blinked behind his helm.

“You’re clearly distracted. Spar me. If you win, I’ll stop asking.”

The knight hesitated, then nodded. Sparring was straightforward, something he understood.

Or so he thought.

Ten minutes later, Igris found himself flat on his back, his blade knocked clean from his grip as you stood over him, your own weapon pointed at his chest.

“You’re distracted,” you said simply, though there was a glint of satisfaction in your eyes. “And you’re terrible at hiding it.”

Igris groaned inwardly, his pride in tatters.

“This… is difficult for me.”

“What is?”

He hesitated, then finally, finally, spoke.

“You.”

“…Me?”

“I…” He sighed, clearly abandoning every complicated plan Beru had forced on him. “I admire you. Your strength, your leadership…You have earned my trust.”

“That’s what’s been bothering you?” you asked, a brow raised.

Igris slowly sat up, his crimson helm turned toward you.

“…It is not just trust. I…adore you”

A long pause stretched between you before you smirked faintly.

“You could’ve just been direct about it, you know.”

Igris stared at your offered hand for a moment, then took it, allowing you to pull him up.

“Being direct was… not part of Beru’s advice.” You snorted.

“Beru? You took advice from Beru?”

“Unfortunately.”

“…No wonder you were acting weird.” You turned, sheathing your weapon. “Next time, just say what’s on your mind.”

As you walked away, Igris stood rooted in place, feeling something unfamiliar settle in his chest, relief.

From the shadows, Beru and Jinwoo watched once again.

“Well, that could’ve gone smoother,” Beru chirped, pouting.

Jinwoo laughed under his breath. “You’re banned from giving advice.”

“No! Give me another chance, my liege!”

“Not happening.”

“Humans are confusing creatures.”

“No, you’re just terrible at romance. And shadows are not humans.”

As for Igris, he silently vowed to never listen to Beru again, unless he wanted another existential crisis.

After weeks of awkward interactions, failed grand gestures, and silent brooding, Igris had finally decided to end his suffering.

And so there he stood, outside the castle training grounds, holding a bouquet of rare, frost-kissed flowers he had painstakingly gathered from dungeons. His usually stoic demeanor was betrayed by the faint tension in his posture, his grip on the bouquet just a little too tight.

When you walked out and caught sight of him, you paused, raising an eyebrow.

“Sir Igris?”

He stepped forward, the crimson armor reflecting the soft glow of the fading sun. Slowly, he extended the bouquet toward you, the flowers shimmering in an ethereal light.

“These are… for you.” You blinked at the sight.

“Flowers? You brought me flowers?”

“I…” Igris faltered for the briefest of moments, his voice lower now. “I wished to offer you something…as a sign of what I feel.”

“What you feel?” you echoed, amusement tugging at your lips.

“Yes.” He stood straighter, his deep voice unwavering despite the hint of nervousness beneath it.

“I have admired you since the day we crossed swords. Your strength, your resolve… you. I care for you. I love you.”

The confession hung in the air, thick with weight. Igris, who had faced countless foes without flinching, now stood in front of you, awaiting your response like a man facing judgment.

You stared at him for a beat, then smiled softly, shaking your head.

“About time.” Igris blinked.

“…What?”

“I knew, Igris,” you said, taking the bouquet from his armored hands with a smile. “You’re not exactly subtle. The weird grand gestures? The brooding? Beru’s antics? I figured it out weeks ago.”

He stiffened.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I wanted you to say it yourself,” you replied, smirking. “A knight should be direct, don’t you think?”

Igris remained silent for a moment, processing your words, before the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease.

“You… are maddening.”

“And you’re dramatic, but I love you too,” you shot back playfully, while Igris froze on the spot, speechless.

“Thanks for the flowers, they’re beautiful.”

Not as beautiful as you.

A faint glow emanated from Igris’s crimson armor, almost as if he were embarrassed.

“I…am glad you like them.”

From a nearby shadow, Beru’s voice suddenly chirped, “FINALLY!”

Both of you turned sharply to see Beru, Jinwoo, and the rest of the shadow army peeking out from behind pillars and walls, clearly eavesdropping.

Jinwoo crossed his arms, grinning.

“Took you long enough, Igris.” Beru buzzed with excitement.

“Now kiss her! That’s what happens in the dramas!”

“Beru,” Igris growled warningly, mana flaring around him.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you turned to Igris. “I guess we’ll never live this down, will we?”

“…Perhaps not,” he muttered, though the hint of fondness in his voice was unmistakable.

“Well,” you said, tucking one of the frost-kissed flowers into your hair. “Let’s give them something to talk about, shall we?”

And for the first time, the unshakable knight seemed utterly stunned as you leaned up to press a kiss against the side of his crimson helm.

The resulting cheers from the shadows echoed across the entire territory.

Jinwoo let out a relieved sigh.

Who would've thought his shadows would get a relationship quicker than him?

Jinah is going to love this.

132 notes · View notes

tashs-stories · 10 months ago

Text

Apocalypse Chaos 🧟‍♀️💚 (Part 1)

10K × Fem!Reader (TW: Swearing)

The apocalypse was chaos, a relentless storm of violence and uncertainty that never seemed to end. Y/N wasn’t having any of it today. The group had pulled off the road to rest, and she found herself kicking rocks around the dusty clearing, trying to release some of the frustration that had been building up inside her.

10K sat in the tray of the truck they’d been driving for the past couple of days, carefully cleaning his gun. He watched her with quiet interest, his fingers methodically wiping down the weapon as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The others had gone ahead to scout the area, leaving the two of them behind to watch Murphy, who was dozing in the back seat.

"God, how I hate the apocalypse," Y/N muttered, her voice tinged with annoyance. She let out a heavy sigh before continuing, "I was in the army, you know? I had a good life going for me. Then it all went to shit after the apocalypse started."

10K knew Y/N was older than him—she had to be somewhere in her mid-twenties, while he was only about 19. But in the world they lived in now, age didn’t seem to matter much. What did it mean to be an adult when everyone was just trying to survive?

"It can’t be that bad," he said, his voice soft and uncertain, almost as if he were testing the waters.

Y/N turned to him with a look of horror, her eyes blazing. "You don’t understand," she snapped, her anger bubbling to the surface. "You were a kid when all this started. I was an adult—I was a pretty damn good one too! I had my life together. Then everything just… fell apart."

Her voice grew louder, more intense, as she vented her frustrations. She had been strong for so long, but the weight of the apocalypse was bearing down on her, wearing away at her resilience. 10K listened, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to say something, to do something that might comfort her, but he was unsure of himself. Y/N was so strong, so capable, and he felt like a kid next to her, despite everything they’d been through.

As she continued to speak, her words became a blur in his mind. He was gathering his thoughts, trying to find the right moment to speak, to do something to make her feel better. His hand tightened around his gun, and he could feel the nervous energy building up inside him. He’d seen her at her best and her worst over the past year, and he admired her more than anyone else in the group. But admiration was different from the feelings that were gnawing at him now.

Without fully realizing what he was doing, 10K slid off the tray of the truck and approached her. His steps were tentative, almost shy, as if he might change his mind at any moment. When he reached her, he hesitated for a split second, his heart in his throat. Then, with a burst of courage that surprised even him, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, the kiss as gentle and uncertain as the boy who gave it.

Y/N froze, her breath catching in her throat. She hadn’t expected this—10K, sweet, quiet 10K, who she’d watched grow up in the harsh world they lived in. The kiss felt wrong on some level, but at the same time, it wasn’t wrong at all. It felt like a spark in the dark, something bright and hopeful in a world that had lost all light.

10K pulled back, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Are you going to stop now?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N stared at him, her mind racing. She should be angry—she should tell him that this wasn’t right. But as she looked into his eyes, she saw something there that made her pause. He wasn’t the kid she had known a year ago. He was still young, yes, but he had grown in ways that she hadn’t fully realized until now.

And maybe, just maybe, he was exactly what she needed to remind her that there was still something worth fighting for. Something worth surviving for.

She gave him a small, tentative smile. "Yeah," she said softly, "I’ll stop."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N let herself feel a sliver of hope.

If you enjoyed please react in anyway to let me know 🧟‍♀️💚

Thanks for reading 😊

(Creds to my friend @swimming-in-the-lethe proof reading and giving ideas as this happened)

#ZNation #10K #10K × Reader #Zombies #Zombie Apocalypse #tv series #Ten Thousand #Addison Carver #Citizen Z #Fem!Reader #Army Female

9 notes · View notes

7brownsuga7 · 3 months ago

Note

Hii 😊

If you’re taking requests can I please request jungkook first time with no condom and he makes her squirt for the first time, they go for a second round bc jungkook is obsessed 💋😌 size kink + praise kink 🫣.

Also I LOVE YOUR WORK ❣️ read all your fics, literally slay !! 🌟 take care 🤍

First of all thank you so much ily🫶🏽 lm so happy you enjoy my work, I hope you like this one too. I decided to make it extra long since it’s been time since I’ve last did one. You take care too 💋

Notes: MDNI!!! Idk guys I kind of fell in love with Jungkook all over again after writing this. Possessive + desperate Jungkook. He works you tf out! Also sorry if I repeated a lot of shit here I was tired as FUCK writing this!! (Word count 4k+)

The city hummed softly beyond the apartment window, neon lights casting a warm glow against the walls. You leaned back against the couch, stretching your legs across Jungkook’s lap as the remainders of a half watched movie played quietly in the background. The night had started simple, takeout containers scattered across the coffee table, easy conversation flowing the way it always did when you were with him.

But there was something different in the air tonight. Something heavier.

Jungkook’s hand rested on your thigh, his fingers absentmindedly tracing small circles against your skin. It was innocent enough - or maybe you were just telling yourself that. Because the way his touch lingered a little too long, the way his eyes flickered to your lips every time you spoke, made it impossible to ignore the heat pooling low in your stomach.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, his voice smooth and low as he tilted his head to study you.

You realised he did that a lot - study you. It made you nervous especially because you didn’t know what he was thinking.

You swallowed, willing yourself to play it cool despite the rapid rhythm of your heartbeat.

“Just… thinking.”

His lips curved into a small smile, one that sent a shiver down your spine. “About what?”

You hesitated, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. About how good you look right now. About how badly I want you. But you didn’t say any of that. Instead, you shrugged lightly, pretending like his thumb dragging along your inner thigh wasn’t making your thoughts spiral.

Jungkook chuckled softly, but there was something darker behind it - something knowing. He shifted beneath you, leaning closer until his face was mere inches from yours. “You sure that’s all?” His eyes slightly squinting daringly.

His breath was warm against your skin, and suddenly, the space between you felt unbearably small. The tension that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks - months, was finally threatening to spill over.

You could feel the wetness between your legs as your eyes shifted towards his ajar lips for a second, you bite your own absentmindedly.

“You’re doing it again,” he said, his voice softer now.

“Doing what?”

“Biting your lip like that.” His eyes dipped down, watching as you sucked it between your teeth. “You know it drives me crazy.”

Your pulse quickened at his words, and you felt your walls start to crumble. You should’ve been used to this - teasing, flirting, the constant push and pull - but tonight felt different. More intense. Like you were standing on the edge of something you couldn’t take back.

“You wanna know what I’m thinking?” you asked quietly, surprising yourself with the boldness in your tone.

Jungkook’s hand tightened on your thigh, his dark eyes locking with yours. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Tell me.”

For a second, you hesitate, the way he was looking at you like he was barely holding himself together, was the thing that almost shattered the last of your restraint. Before you could say anything, he says, “should I tell you what I’ve been thinking about?”

He could tell you were hesitant to say whatever was on your mind. He had a feeling what it was - or more so hoped it was the same thing he’s been thinking about since he can remember.

You look at him surprised. “It’s something that constantly consumes my mind actually…” he continues, brown eyes never leaving yours.

He tries to hold back the slight chuckle that fights to escape his lips - seeing the way you perk up at this new discovery.

You’re so cute.

“I’m thinking about how much I want you,” he admits, the words tumbling out. He’s wanted to tell you this for the longest, he’s usually very bold with his words so the fact he’s managed to keep this on for so long has both surprised and killed him. “And how long I’ve been trying to pretend I don’t.”

Your breath hitched - just for a moment, but it was enough to make his stomach twist. Shit. Maybe you didn’t feel the same. Did he completely fuck this up?

When you make no move to speak, he slowly starts to sit back. Embarrassment creeping in. He didn’t think about the rejection part.

His moves come to a halt when your fingers grab his shoulders. “No no no, wait” you hurriedly speak. You were in such shock that you forgot to reply.

“I feel the same too. I just, I-“

And then, before you could say anything else, his hand slid higher, his fingers brushing against the hem of your shorts.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips hovered over yours, “how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that.” He couldn’t help but to bask in this excitement of his, grinning like a mad man. But everything changes when your fingers move towards his hair, playing with the dark strands like you usually did - but this time it was different, more intimate.

“For someone that’s usually so bold - why is it taking you so long to kiss me?” You mumble not missing the way his eyes grow big with shock at your sudden words.

To be fair, all he needed was your permission and he was on you like wildfire. All the times he’s fantasised about this moment and now he is actually living in it, oh yeah he couldn’t be anymore eager.

The hard on in his pants proves just that.

His lips crash on to yours with so much eagerness that it almost startles you. Almost - because just like him you were eager too. The feel of his lips as they work against yours is enough to make you moan. He groans at the sound of it - hands roaming your body, savouring every touch.

Too desperate for his touch, you whisper, “Touch me”. Even though his hands had already explored almost every inch of your body, still you craved more, more attention where you ached the most.

It’s not that his lips on yours weren’t enough - because fuck, they were. But your other lips needed him too.

Your sudden boldness this evening takes him by surprise. Usually, he’s the blunt one.

But he knows exactly what you mean.

His eyes darken, the shock fading into something far more dangerous, something hungry. Without a word, his hand trails lower, fingers brushing the edge of your underwear, teasing, like he wants to make you beg for it.

“You want me here?” he asks, voice low and rough, his fingers barely grazing where you throb. The question is almost mocking - he already knows the answer.

You nod, biting your lip to hold back a whimper, but that isn’t enough for him.

“Say it again,” he demands, his mouth ghosting over your jaw, breath hot against your skin. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as heat coils low in your stomach. You’re already melting beneath his touch, but the way he’s holding back, like he wants you to break first - has you trembling.

“Touch me,” you repeat, voice softer this time, but no less desperate. “Please.”

A low groan escapes him as if your plea snaps whatever restraint he was holding on to. His fingers slip beneath the thin fabric, and the moment he touches you - really touches you, you let out a gasp, your body arching into his hand.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a wicked smile as he starts to give you exactly what you asked for.

His fingers move slowly at first, sliding through your wetness with an agonising patience that makes your whole body tense. He’s teasing you - taking his time like he wants to see just how much you can handle.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, almost to himself, like he’s in awe. His lips find your neck, dragging hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin while his fingers circle that aching spot, just barely giving you what you need.

It’s not enough. Not even close.

A frustrated whimper escapes you, your hips shifting instinctively, chasing more friction. He chuckles softly against your neck, clearly enjoying how desperate you are beneath him.

“Impatient?” he teases, but his voice is rough, strained, like holding back is starting to get to him too.

“Yes,” you breathe, no longer caring how needy you sound. “I want more.”

His breath stutters for a moment, all the control he’s had shifting immediately. Without warning, his fingers press deeper, sliding inside you in one smooth, perfect motion. The stretch has you gasping, your body arching into him as he curls his fingers just right.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, watching your face closely, like he wants to memorise every reaction.

You nod quickly, words slipping from your lips in a broken moan. “Yes please, don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. If anything, your begging only fuels him. His pace quickens, fingers working you open while his thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that have your thighs trembling.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. “Falling apart for me. So pretty when you’re like this.”

The heat building inside you tightens, overwhelming and electric, and you know you’re close, so close it’s almost unbearable. He can tell, too. The way your body clenches around his fingers only makes him work you harder, chasing your release like it’s the only thing that matters.

“Come for me,” he whispers, his mouth brushing against yours. “I want to feel it.”

And with one last stroke - deep and perfect - you do. The pleasure crashes over you in an overwhelming wave, your whole body trembling as his name falls from your lips, breathless and broken.

He doesn’t stop until he’s released every last drop of pleasure from you, watching you fall apart with a look that’s nothing short of possessive. Your body finally relaxes beneath him, a shaking mess. H leans down to kiss you - slow and deep, like he’s already planning to do it all over again.

Your pulse is still racing, body trembling as you try to catch your breath, but he isn’t finished with you. Not even close.

Before you can fully come down, his lips trail lower, leaving a path of soft, lingering kisses down your body. Every touch feels electric, like he’s determined to keep you on edge, to push you even further.

“You can take more, can’t you?” voice low and smooth, but there’s an edge to it - a challenge.

Your body is already oversensitive, but the hunger in his eyes makes your stomach twist with excitement. You nod, barely able to form words, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

He moves between your thighs without hesitation, spreading you open as if you belong to him. And when his mouth finally meets you -warm and demanding, you let out a broken moan, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Fuck Jungkook” The words fall from your lips as he licks a slow, deliberate stripe over your most sensitive spot, his tongue working you with the same devastating precision as his fingers.

He hums against you, pleased by your reaction, and the sound of his name leaving your lips. He never thought he’d hear you call his name in this intimate situation - he’s dreamed it, fantasised but to actually hear it, so desperate and fucked out has him relishing in it. The vibration sends another pulse of pleasure through you. Your hips twitch, but his hands hold you down firmly, like he doesn’t plan on letting you escape.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs between kisses, his breath warm against your skin. “I could do this all night.”

He gives kisses to your inner thighs before going right back in.

The intensity is almost too much, and yet you don’t want him to stop. Every flick of his tongue, every soft suck, pulls you closer to that sharp edge again - you’re helpless against the rush building inside you.

Your hands tighten in his hair as your body starts to shake again, your thighs threatening to close around his head, but he doesn’t slow down. If anything, the way you’re falling apart beneath him only makes him work you harder.

“You’re gonna come for me again,” he says, voice rough and commanding. “I want to feel you lose control.”

His words alone send another wave of heat crashing through you, and when he sucks your clit between his lips, it’s too much. Your body tenses, pleasure ripping through you with the upmost amount of force, and you cry out his name as you come undone all over again.

He doesn’t pull away - not for a while even as you’re there trembling, body completely worn out. Only then does he lift his head, his lips glossy, eyes dark and full of heat as he takes in the sight of you - wrecked and breathless beneath him.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he repeats, crawling back up your body to capture your lips in a deep, possessive kiss. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

More? You think to yourself , unsure if your body can take any more.

His kiss is rough, deep and claiming - like he’s determined to remind you exactly who’s making you fall apart like this. You’re still breathless, body sensitive and trembling beneath him, but the way he presses against you - hard and heavy, makes it clear he isn’t anywhere near finished.

The weight of his body against yours is intoxicating, but it’s his hardened cock between his legs that steals your breath. It’s thick and heavy, pressing against your thigh through the thin fabric still separating you.

You want him. All of him. And judging by the way his fingers curl possessively around your hips, he wants you just as badly.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice soft but full of need. “I want to feel you.”

Your words make something snap inside him. In one smooth motion, he sits back on his heels, dragging his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. The sight of him, his toned chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, only makes the ache between your thighs grow stronger.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says, his gaze never leaving yours as his hands move to his waistband. He takes his time, teasing you with the slow drag of his zipper before finally pushing his jeans down.

When he frees himself, your breath catches. He’s thick, hard, and already leaking at the tip - evidence of just how much he wants you. And the way he strokes himself lazily, eyes locked on you like you’re his favorite thing to ruin, makes your whole body burn.

“You want this?” he asks, voice low and dark, like he needs to hear you say it.

“Yes,” you breathe, spreading your thighs wider in invitation. “I need you.”

“I don’t…” His voice is rough, strained. “I don’t have a condom.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. But instead of worry, all you feel is a deeper ache, the need for him overwhelming any rational thought.

“I want to feel you,” you admit softly, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. “All of you.”

His breath catches in his throat, and for a moment, he just looks at you like you’ve completely undone him. “You sure?”

“I’m sure”

His expression shifts as something darker, more possessive flashes in his eyes. “Fuck, baby… You’re gonna make me lose my mind.”

He moves back over you, one hand bracing beside your head while the other guides himself to your entrance. The blunt tip of him presses against your sweet pussy, and your whole body tenses with anticipation.

“Look at me,” he softly demands, and when your eyes meet his, he pushes in. Slow and deep, he’s stretching you inch by inch until he’s buried fully inside of you.

The stretch burns perfectly, leaving you breathless, and a broken moan escapes you as he sinks all the way in. He pauses, his body shaking against yours as he feels the heat of your bare walls clenching around him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight”

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your jaw before whispering, “You feel so good like this - so warm, so wet. And the way you squeeze me.” His voice drifts off as if in a trance.

His hips roll slowly, deliberately, making sure you feel every inch of him stretching you open. “I’m not gonna last if you keep clenching like that,” he groans.

A sharp gasp falls from your lips at the fullness, and he groans low in his throat, his head dropping to the curve of your neck. “Fuck, you feel so good. So tight around me.”

He gives you a moment to adjust, his breath heavy and ragged against your skin, but the way your walls clench around him makes it impossible for him to stay still for long.

Each roll of his hips brushes against that perfect spot inside you, and soon, your nails are digging into his back, silently begging him for more.

The slick, wet sound of him moving inside you fills the room.

“You like that?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “The way I stretch you open - filling you so deep?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” you moan, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him even closer.

His rhythm quickens. His thrusts harder and more deliberate, the sound of skin against skin sounding through the room making it all the more hot and intimate. His grip on your hips tightens as he drives into you, chasing both your pleasure with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

“Touch yourself,” he orders suddenly, his voice rough with need. “I want to feel you come while I’m inside you.”

The demand sends a fresh wave of heat through you, and with trembling fingers, you reach between your bodies to find that aching spot. The combined sensation of his deep, forceful thrusts and the pressure against your clit pushes you closer, so close you can barely hold on.

“Good girl,” he praises, watching you with dark, hungry eyes. “You’re doing so well, taking me so perfectly.”

His words, his touch - everything about him has you spiraling toward the edge. Your body tightens around him, and he groans at the sensation, his thrusts growing rougher, more desperate.

Your nails dig into his shoulders. The pressure inside you coils tighter and tighter.

“You’re close” he growls, and it’s not a question, it’s a promise.

“Come for me. Let me feel you.”

“Please,” you whimper, the pressure creeping up fast.

“I’m so close.”

His thrusts grow rougher, his breath coming in ragged pants as he chases your release with relentless precision.

“Come for me, baby,” he urges, his voice cracking with how desperate he is to feel you come around him.

“Show me how much you love being stretched, being fucked raw.”

The combination of his cock hitting that devastating spot inside you and his filthy words pushes you over the edge. Your body reacts instantly, your back arching, legs trembling as the pleasure explodes through you. And then it happens. The release hits so hard and fast, you don’t even have time to hold back.

A cry falls from your lips as you squirt around him, soaking his cock and thighs in a hot, messy rush. Your whole body shakes with the force of it, and the feeling of you squirting for him drives him insane.

He wasn’t expecting that - and by the looks of your startled face, you didn’t either.

“Fuck! that’s it, baby,” he groans, his rhythm stuttering as your tight, wet heat pulls him deeper. “God, you’re perfect. So messy for me, so fucking good.” A strangled moan escapes him as he feels you drench him again, and his whole body shudders. He swears he’s in love.

He slows down, letting you ride out your orgasm while his hands stroke over your trembling thighs. But his cock is still hard - still twitching inside you, and his hunger is nowhere near satisfied.

He’s obsessed with the way you fall apart, the way your body gives itself to him completely.

“You’re so perfect,” he breathes, his voice strained as he watches you in all your glory, his fingers working you through the oversensitivity as you couldn’t continue to do it after your orgasm. “So fucking beautiful when you come like that for me.”

His hips falter, and a broken sound escapes his throat as he loses himself entirely, thrusting deep one last time as he spills inside you. The warmth of it, the raw intimacy, only adds to the dizzying high as your body clings to his, milking every last drop.

For a while, the only sound in the room is your heavy breathing, synced together.

When he finally finds his voice again, it’s softer but still a hint of desperation behind it.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he confesses, pressing a few soft kisses along your shoulder. “I want to keep you like this, full of me, until you can’t take anymore.”

He’s still buried inside you, thick, hard, and twitching with need, even after spilling himself deep. But there’s no sign of him slowing down. If anything, feeling you squirt around him, soaking his cock, has only made him more obsessed.

His weight warm and comforting as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You okay?”

You nod, a lazy smile curling on your lips as you meet his gaze. “More than okay.”

His expression softens, and he leans down to kiss you again, slower this time, like he’s savoring every second. And as he holds you close, it’s clear neither of you is quite ready to let go.

His lips trace your jaw, then your neck, teeth scraping just enough to make you shiver. Even after everything, he’s still hard inside you, and the way his hips roll, slow and deliberate, makes it clear he isn’t nearly finished.

His hands trail possessively over your hips, squeezing like he’s memorizing every inch of your body. When he pulls back slightly and pushes in again, deeper than before, a broken moan escapes your lips. The stretch still makes you gasp, like your body was made to take him.

“I can’t stop,” he whispers, voice rough and needy as his lips drag across your shoulder.

“I don’t want to stop, I need you again.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you clench around him instinctively, making him groan, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“You feel so good”

The thought drives him wild, knowing his release is still deep inside you, mixing with your wetness.

His hips twitch, pushing deeper, and he lets out a ragged breath when your walls pulse around him.

“I love you like this,” he confesses, no trace of shame in his voice.

“Messy, mine. I don’t want to pull out. I want to stay inside you forever.”

He knows he sounds pathetic, but that’s exactly how you make him. He was even pathetic before he knew what you felt like, and now that he’s got a taste, he’s long gone.

The intensity of his words makes your head spin, and the raw need in his voice only ignites the fire between your legs. You’re still sensitive and aching from how hard he already made you come - multiple times, but his desperation is infectious.

“You can have me”

In one swift motion, he pulls out, only to flip you onto your stomach, dragging your hips up until you’re on your knees. His hand presses against your lower back, holding you in place, while the other strokes over your thigh in a possessive and firm action.

“You look so perfect like this,” he breathes, dragging the tip of his cock along your slick folds, teasing you until you’re trembling with need. “Like you’re made for me.”

Without warning, he thrusts back inside you deep, pulling another strained moan from your lips. The angle has him hitting deeper, rougher, and the utter force of it leaves you gasping.

“Fuck, so tight,” he groans, his fingers digging into your hips as he sets a brutal rhythm. Every thrust is deliberate, claiming, like he wants to leave his mark on every inch of you.

And god, you want it too.

“You feel me, don’t you?” he mutters, leaning forward until his chest presses against your back, his breath hot against your ear. “Deep inside, stretching you open.”

“Yes,” you gasp, your fingers curling into the leather fabric of the sofa as your body melts under his relentless pace. “I feel you everywhere.”

He chuckles low and dark, clearly satisfied by how wrecked you already are. But it’s not enough - no, not for him. His hand slides around your body, fingers finding your clit with devastating precision, and the combination of his touch and the way he’s filling you sends sparks shooting through your veins.

“Let me hear you,” he demands, his tone leaving no room for disobedience. “I want to know how good I make you feel.”

You can’t hold back, not with the way he’s fucking you. Your moans spill freely, desperate, and it only seems to egg him on. His thrusts grow harder, faster, until the sound of skin meeting skin fills the room again.

A sharp curse falls from his lips. He pulls out just enough to thrust back in, like he needs to remind himself that you’re his.

“You drive me fucking crazy,”

“I can’t get enough, I’ll never get enough.”

“I want to feel you fall apart for me again,” he begs, voice breaking as his hips snap against yours.

“Please, please, baby, let me feel you.”

The raw need in his voice, the way he’s clinging to you like he’s afraid to let go, it’s too much. Your body tightens around him, the pressure building fast and intense, making you tremble beneath him.

“I’m close, fuck, I’m so close,” you gasp, as your legs begin to shake.

“Come for me,” he pleads, his thrusts becoming erratic as his own release hovers just out of reach. “I need it, I need to feel you.”

“Fuck, baby”

His words shoot straight through you, making your walls flutter around his cock. He feels it immediately, and a low, satisfied chuckle escapes him as he thrusts deeper, making sure you feel every inch.

“You love it, don’t you? Being stretched out by me, so full you can barely handle it.”

You nod, breathless and trembling beneath him.

“Yeah?” he breathes, one hand slipping down to your stomach, pressing gently against the bulge he’s making inside you. “Right here, baby? Can you feel how deep I am?”

The pressure makes your head fall back with a choked moan, your whole body burning from the inside out.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, his voice dripping with pride and possession. “Letting me fuck you raw, letting me fill you up.”

His neediness takes over, and he can’t seem to get close enough, his chest close against your back as he grinds deeper.

“I’m gonna ruin you,” he promises, voice shaking with how much he wants it. “Keep you full, keep you messy, until you can’t think of anything but me.”

His words unravel you, and he knows it. His thumb circles your clit again, too sensitive and too good all at once, and you can’t stop your body from trembling as another wave of pleasure continues to build. A low, satisfied groan escapes him, and his pace grows almost punishing, every thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you, dragging you higher and higher. Your legs tremble more, the pleasure building too quickly, too intensely.

“You’re gonna come for me again, aren’t you?” he teases.

His fingers speed up, and the coil inside you snaps violently. The orgasm tears through you like a lightning strike, and suddenly, you’re cumming around him again, clenching around him.

“Fuck” he groans. With one final, deep thrust, he buries himself, his body trembling as he spills inside you, marking you, claiming you in every way.

For a moment, neither of you moves, your bodies tangled together. Finally he speaks again, his voice is softer, but no less intense.

“I meant it,” he presses a kiss to your shoulder. “You’re mine, and I’m not letting you go.”

And from the way his body is still pressed against yours, you know he plans to prove it.

- mimi 💋

602 notes · View notes

vhyunjinverse · 1 year ago

Text

I DONT SMOKE

playboy! j. jungkook x f!black reader || (18+) || reblogs would be appreciated!

warnings : college party, mentions of smoking, smoking, smut, slight spanking, smoking during sex

You hated partying. Not entirely..you’d have fun but it dies down quickly when you had no one to talk to. Boring.

You could stay inside and watch the smoke in the air, drinks ultimately being spilled, and sweaty bodies dancing and getting it on in the corner, or you could stay out outside of the large house.

Being in college was truly an experience for you. You just hated that it wasn’t as exciting for you as the movies made it out to be. “Fuck..” You scratch your head, groaning while pulling out your phone to get an uber. Campus wasn’t too far away.

“Ahshit- damnit.” You hear a faint curse, followed by failed attempts of a lighter being struck. Eyes followed the sound, and you couldn’t have regretted it more. Jeon Jungkook. It’s his party after all. Another reason why you didn’t want to be there.

You didn’t know him personally- only having met a few times. He couldn’t even remember your name if you offered $50. He was a lot of things your disliked. A playboy, a smoker, a hardcore party thrower. Not only that- he does it often, and the girls who brag about how good he is in bed…disgusting.

Now, it wasn’t you trying to put yourself up. You weren’t exactly an innocent person. You enjoyed drinking when in the mood, and you’ve slept with a few people. It’s just him. Bumping into each other became so tiresome for you that you changed route’s to your classes. Him generally just not giving a fuck is what pissed you off.

But now? Now he looks up from his cigarette. Now he slowly starts walking towards you, and you started to wish you had ordered that uber instead of being curious.

“Hey- do you have a light?”

“I don’t.” you hum, looking away from those eyes. Everything about the man was just..stunning, that you could admit. Down to the piercings on his lips to the ones in his ears, and onward to his tattoos and hair that curled past his ears. Truly a beauty. You clear your throat as you tapped your foot impatiently, phone somehow slipping into your pocket.

“Why not?” He asks, getting closer. Jungkook was..a curious one. He could snuff you out in an instant, from his view he knew you didn’t have a lighter.

“Why don’t you have a spare? Coming out here knowing your lighter didn’t work. Honestly, seems to me like you came outside and found an excuse to talk to me.” You found yourself grinning, but looking off to the side. Jungkook almost laughed, covered by a chuckle. Rocking on his heels, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Was it that obvious?”

I don’t like you. You wanted to say. Everyone knew you didn’t smoke, including him. You could be a party girl if you kept to it. It’s only on nights like this where you reject every pass made at you.

“I don’t smoke.” You sigh, defeated by your will to stay. “Then let’s get a drink.” he counters, smiling. Cheeky bastard.

“Not in the mood.” It was a game at this point. He wanted you, but you didn’t want to be his girl for the night. You didn’t do hookups. No one night stands. Anyone you’ve ever given your body to has stayed for at least a while. Knowing Jungkook he’d never commit.

“Let me drive you home then.” His hand snaked around your waist. “I have an uber coming-“

“Then i’ll wait out here with you.”

“Christ Jeon.” He starts laughing, and you couldn’t help but do the same. He does however, lean into your shoulder. You shiver at the coldness of the metal on his lip. “Let me take you back inside.”

No. you would day no. You didn’t like him, he’s a whore, and you have morals. You’re a woman of society! A man of his..whatever- would not influence you.

“Right..r-right there..” You did not say no. Face tucked into Jungkook’s pillow as his cock slipped into your folds once more, tip touching that spot inside of you that sent you over the edge. It’s been so long… “Oh!” You gasp, shuddering at the feeling of his slipping past your rings, and out..and in.

“Fuck..you feels so good. So good f’me hm?” He hums, pulling your hips back onto his cock, fully bottoming out inside of you while everything rested there..deep inside. “hm?” he asks once more, in a hum. He goes to give a slight smack to your ass, watching how it recoiled back. He was enchanted to say the least. From the very first time his eyes landed on your brown ones. Infatuated with every little thing you’ve done. And finally, he go you.

“Yes! y-yes..” You felt your eyes flutter as they rolled back, tips of his fingers stroking at your sensitive clit. Pussy swallowing around his thick cock. “Taking me in so well.” You’re his favorite girl. You weren’t aware, but mentally he was already thinking of the next time he’d get you like this. Ass up while he fucked you until the party’s over.

The thought of the party still going on while he plowed into you turned Jungkook on so much. “S-shit.” Pussy drunk was an amazing feeling, he didn’t get that feeling often.

Jungkook found himself reaching for the lonely cigarette and spare lighter from his headboard. Giving another smack to your ass- making you yelp- he strikes the lighter. You lift your head at the sound, looking back at him. Your face flushed, eyes watery, still, you fucked yourself on his length. He light the cigarette, the smoke seeping from his lips while he tipped his head back.

“Wanna hit?” he smirks, taking it from his mouth and trying to put it between your lips. You could kill him.

#bts jungkook #v chats 🐚#jungkook #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook jeon #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkoooook #jjk #bts x black reader #bts smut #bts army #bts #jungkook x black reader #black reader #golden jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook x female reader #jungkook x you

1K notes · View notes

jintaka-hane · 9 months ago

Text

@walmartmihawk!! I did it!!! You have no idea how much fun it was writing this for you!

Ladies and gentlemen! Come get a ride with our favourite FIRST MATE!

A TRIP TO THE ONSEN

Masterlist

Img source / Img source

Summary: Your crew convinces you to join them for a relaxing trip to an onsen. When you arrive, you find out the women’s section is closed due to maintenance issues, and you're forced to use the men’s area as a mixed bath. What could possibly go wrong? Word Count: 2800 Notes: Beckman x f!Reader, forced proximity, nudity but not very explicit, Reader is shy, Beckman is a gentleman, Red haired pirates are assholes XD

As you stepped into the men's changing room, you considered turning around and walking right back out the way you came.

The place couldn’t be more different from the clean, orderly women’s changing area, with its wicker baskets arranged in perfect harmony on symmetrical shelves, and its pristinely rolled, white towels ready for use. No, the room you found yourself in, thanks to the sign that read, due to a facilities issue, we kindly ask you to use the men’s pool as a shared space, was a far cry from that.

The clothing of the current occupants—your crew—was strewn across the room in a careless mess, distinguished only by loosely categorized piles according to ownership. Each pile was a disaster of balled-up t-shirts, trousers with one leg inside out, and a pair of used boxers, briefs, or trunks, perched proudly on top. You let out a heavy sigh, recognizing your captain’s floral trousers, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the first mate’s cloak.

Were you really prepared to share an enclosed space with your crew members, as they had been brought into the world? The answer was a resounding NO. But the thought of sinking your body, aching after so many nights sleeping in a hammock, into the soothing waters of the onsen was too tempting to resist. Besides, you had an infallible plan. Slip in quietly, draw no attention, and position yourself as far away from them as possible.

You wrapped the largest towel you could find around your naked body, then placed your hands on the swinging doors that led to the pool. With your eyes closed, you took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and pushed the doors open... only to come face-to-face with Yasopp’s ass as he sank into the steaming, shimmering waters.

The mere sight of the sniper’s bare backside left you blushing, so you marched forward in long strides, avoiding any eye contact, carefully stepping around the towels your crewmates had scattered along the wooden edge of the pool.

“Hey! You made it after all!” Shanks called out with his forearms rested on the edge of the pool to get a better look at you.

“Yes...” you mumbled, clutching tightly at your towel and rushing past him as quickly as you could. Beckman wasn’t far away and greeted you with a slight, elegant nod, a gesture you shyly returned.

When you reached the farthest side of the pool, –and definitely not the prettiest, with a large pipe in plain sight on one of the walls—you sat down carefully on the edge making sure your towel wouldn’t betray you at the worst moment. With a calculated move, you let the towel fall onto the wooden floor, and quickly slipped into the pool.

The moment the mineral-rich water touched your skin you felt relief wash over your sore muscles. You dipped your head beneath the surface, letting the hot water relax your face and scalp, and as you emerged you opened your eyes, only to find your entire crew staring at you. A flush crept up your cheeks at the attention, so you discreetly turned away, lifting your arms out of the water to rub them as if you were busy cleaning.

"Roo, stop staring at me," you shot, picking a random scapegoat as you felt all the men’s eyes glued to your bare back. Beckman was quick to react, giving the cook a good smack upside the head, splashing water on a few of the nearby crewmates.

“Ow!”

"Stop looking at her," his deep voice commanded, stern and reprimanding. "And you too," he added, smacking Limejuice on the back of the head too.

"Huh? Punch is doin' it too!" the long-haired blonde complained, pointing an accusing finger at his larger friend.

Shanks chuckled heartily and leaned in toward the first mate, speaking in a low voice, “Come on, Beck, give them a break. Don’t tell me you didn’t take a peek yourself.”

The first mate turned his back to you so you couldn’t see, then flashed a cheeky grin and mouthed, 'I did,' causing the rest of the crew to crack up.

For the next few minutes, they left you alone, allowing you to settle into the little haven of peace you’d created at the far corner of the pool. You focused on your own relaxation, letting the warmth of the water soothe your body.

“Oi” Yassop’s voice broke through the peaceful silence. “The owner said there’s a cold pool next door, and a bar close by. Who’s up for checkin’ it out?”

Everyone but Beckman nodded, and they began to climb out of the water, offering you the rather embarrassing sight of a row of bare backsides as they completely ignored the towels waiting for them. You dipped your head under the water again, staying submerged until they had all left, which they thankfully did quickly — as they always did when a bar was involved — sparing yourself from having to choose between a death of embarrassment or by drowning.

"How’re you doing, darlin’?" you heard the first mate’s warm, baritone voice the moment your head broke the surface of the water.

His back was pressed against the side of the pool, arms casually draped over the edge. You noticed how his broad shoulders lifted just a touch, strained with the position. His wet, silver hair was tied back in a loose, low ponytail, and beads of water trickled down his neck. You swallowed hard, silently grateful for the distance between you, knowing that your nerves wouldn’t handle being too close to him.

“Fine,” you replied shyly, sliding into the water until it reached your chin.

Beckman opened his mouth to say something more but then shut it, his sharp eyes narrowing as they shifted from your gaze to a point behind you. You heard a faint hiss of pressure at your back and turned, realizing that the massive pipe protruding from the wall was vibrating slightly.

“Darlin’, something’s not right…”

“What—” you turned to look at him. His body was tense and alert, the water now at his waist.

The pool’s swinging doors burst open, and the onsen’s owner rushed in, wearing a mask of panic as his hands clutched his head.

"THE PIIIIPE!!! It’s going to explode!!!" he shouted, clawing at his face. "You, the strong one!" his finger pointed at your startled first mate. "Try to contain it until I can close the valve! The water’s extremely hot, and if it blows, you’ll be scalded!!"

And with that, he disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

Beckman, a competent man used to urgent commands, sprang into action without a second thought. He pushed off from the edge of the pool, water splashing everywhere, and grabbed his towel tying it in a loose knot around his waist. Then he raced toward the massive pipe behind you while you stared in shock, eyes wide and jaw hanging open, unable to react to the sight of the first mate, sprinting half-naked toward you.

When he reached the pipe, he felt it with his hands, locating the exact point where a joint was giving way, and pressed on it, straining with all his might to hold back the increasingly vibrating pipe.

“Shit, shit, shit…” he muttered to himself, bending slightly to apply more pressure with both hands. He lowered his head, mumbling incomprehensible words until a perfectly clear “FUCK” reached your ears.

“What? What’s going on, Becks?” From where you stood, all you could see was his wet back, taut with the effort.

“Darlin’… I’m afraid I’m going to need your help here.”

You didn’t need to hear anything else. You always followed your first mate’s orders, no matter how peculiar or awkward the situation. So putting aside your shyness, you scrambled out of the pool, knotted your towel tightly at your chest, and rushed to help him.

“Where do I need to press?” you asked as you moved closer, trying to ignore the striking muscles of his lower back peeking out from his towel.

“Right at my waist.”

“W-what?” your voice sounded a bit higher-pitched than usual.

“My towel…” he explained as calmly as he could, “it’s slipping, and I can’t let go of the pipe. You’ve got to hold it for me.”

“O-okay,” you lifted one hand, reluctantly, and extended your index finger to press it against the towel on one side of his adonis belt.

“Darlin’, it’s slipping on the other side too…”

“...Okay,” you repeated as you robotically moved your other hand to the other side of his hip, your face so close to his back that your nose nearly brushed against his defined shoulder blades.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” you lifted your chin to fix your gaze on the ceiling.

You hadn’t been in that position long when you heard him curse again, his hips shifting under your hands, tense and nervous.

“I think there’s another loose joint,” his rough, deep voice said. “Let me check…” He crouched down, arching his wardrobe-like back, and you stepped back to avoid bumping into him. “Yeah, damn… there’s another leak. Darlin’, you’re gonna need to help me contain it.”

“How?” your voice quivered.

“Get in front of me, hold the pipe where I tell you with one hand, and keep my towel in place with the other.”

“Okay…”

You let go of one side of his towel and moved to his side, waiting for instructions. He looked at you with his eyes framed by those characteristic deep lines, and with a nod, he motioned for you to tuck your head between his arms. You complied, wedging yourself between his massive body and the pipe, your back practically touching his chest.

“Right there,” he instructed with a tilt of his chin.

You placed one hand where he directed, and pressed firmly.

“Now the towel.”

Keeping an eye on the pipe, you awkwardly fumbled at the lower part of his abdomen, trying to find the edge of his towel. Not finding it easily, you turned your head towards him, coming face-to-chest again with his massive, muscular frame. Your cheeks flamed red as you felt his stomach tighten under your hands, your fingertips tracing the line of his happy trail until you finally found the towel.

Beckman knew you were a very shy person, and at that moment, he felt an intense wave of guilt for putting you in such a compromising position.

“Darlin’, I am so sorry ab—”

“—Beck,” you interrupted, noticing the pipe shaking and dripping dangerously from the other side. “I think I need to use my other hand to hold the pipe on that side too…”

He paused, looking thoughtful for a moment before nodding.

“Alright… do you think you can hold my towel with your knee?”

“... I-I’ll give it a try.”

You released his towel and turned so that your body faced his. Then, you extended your arm as far as you could to cover the new leak, successfully sealing it. Feeling proud that you had managed to control the situation, you lifted your leg—perhaps with a bit too much enthusiasm—toward the first mate’s groin.

“Hey,” he chided, jumping slightly in surprise at the speed of your approaching knee. “Just… be careful.”

“Sorry,” you slowed the movement, pressing your knee gently against the towel just below his navel.

Seconds stretched into eternity in that position.

Beckman, in an attempt to be as polite as possible, turned his face away to give you some space, exposing his X-shaped scar to you. The situation was extremely uncomfortable and awkward, but you both were convinced that any moment now the onsen owner would come and tell you he had managed to close the valve.

But of course, anything that can worsen, will. So barely a couple of minutes had passed, when you heard Beckman curse again, his body twisting and his arms trembling.

“Darlin'...” His gray eyes locked onto yours.

“Huh?”

“The pipe... ah, damn,” he grunted, shaking his elbows frantically but still gripping the pipe, large beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. “It’s too hot. I—I can’t keep holding it. It’s burning my skin.”

Your lips parted in alarm.

“What do we do, Beck?”

“I’ve got an idea… “ He cleared his throat. "take my towel off, so I can use it between the pipe and my hands.”

“What?! No, Beck…” You felt your pulse quicken.

“Got a better idea?” he asked, his tone urgent but calm, his eyes flicking quickly to the knot of your towel at your chest. You followed his gaze, then looked back at him.

“Oh, NO. No, no, no—”

“My towel, then,” he insisted.

You swallowed hard, and removing one hand from the pipe, nervously traced the edge of his towel until you found a corner to tug on.

“Sorry,” you whispered, causing him to let out a laugh that rumbled through his chest.

“Oh, I'd way rather have you see me naked than lose my hands, Doll”.

You forced a shy smile onto your lips and, with your eyes fixed straight ahead, gave the towel a quick yank to pull it free.

"Alright," he said with endless patience, "now you're gonna need to crouch down a bit to get it around my hands."

This time, the smile didn’t come.

You simply gave a curt nod, squeezed your eyes shut, and crouched down, feeling him step back to give you space. After you helped him protect his hands, you straightened up as fast as you could, extending your arm to cover the pipe again, avoiding letting your peripheral vision wander too far downward.

And so, there you were, standing directly in front of your bare and broad-shouldered first mate, arms outstretched, each hand firmly gripping a pipe.

“Could be worse, you know…” Beckman grinned, trying to joke as he noticed the sweat beginning to form on your brow.

"How?"

"We could be dealing with sewage."

You weren’t sure if you were about to faint or burst into a nervous, hysterical laugh. You didn’t get the chance to figure it out either, because at that moment, you felt the knot of your towel begin to loosen around your chest.

"Oh, Beck..." you groaned, your voice shaky and weak. "I can’t… I can’t do this anymore. I—"

“What’s wrong, Darlin’?” His eyes darted between yours.

“My towel… the knot… I don’t know what to do, I-I can’t…” you said, tears threatening to spill over.

Beckman couldn’t stand to see you suffering. As first mate, his duty was to protect and care for the entire crew, and the sight of your doe-like eyes full of desperation broke his huge heart. So without asking for permission or thinking twice, he did the first and only thing that came to mind. He shut his eyes and buried his head in your cleavage, growling as he gripped the knot of your towel with his teeth just as it was about to come undone.

You stood there, frozen, blinking several times as you tried to process what was happening. And just at that precise and convenient moment, you heard a group of familiar male voices cheerfully making their way back.

The doors swung open and the room fell into a sepulchral silence.

Your heart started thudding in your chest, and your blood rushed to your temples, your face turning a fiery deep red as you couldn’t contain your embarrassment.

"Well, well, Beck…" you recognized the unmistakable mocking voice of your captain, singing out with a teasing grin. "So you wanted her all to yourself, huh?'"

Beckman grumbled against your chest, and when you looked down, you saw that his ears were even redder than your own flushed cheeks, the contrast with his pearl earrings making them stand out even more.

A smile started to tug at your lips, and it quickly transformed into hearty, uncontrollable laughter at the thought that, for once in your life, you weren't the most flushed person in the room.

..........................................................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita <3

#one piece #x reader #jintaka stuff #benn beckman #beckman x reader #benn beckman x reader #benn beckman fiction #benn beckman wives army #benn beckman x female reader #one piece fanfiction #red haired pirates #jintaka request

271 notes · View notes