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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

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The Pact - Date #7

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 7.2k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: a bit of talking down on yourself, the confusion continues, general fluff with a touch of angst

a/n: this is the final date. guys...how is this going by so fast?? please let me know your thoughts on the date, on everything else overall...and I’ll see you soon? Next Saturday is the finale!

Date #7

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Note from the creator of this stupid idea:

I loved her first.

“Who do you think it was? Any ideas?”

“I…” you shrug. “No?”

Gina arches a brow, staring you down from across your kitchen table. “So, that was a lie.”

You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from your chest, Gina also chuckling. It’s a relief, the fact that she doesn’t hesitate to call you out. You’re grateful that you finagled her number from Jin, shooting him a text that looked a lot like this:

Me: Burn this after reading

Me: We can’t have any evidence !!

Kim Seokjinnie: ok, hi. I’m not burning my phone weirdo. I’ll just keep it away from Jungkook. What’s up??

Me: Hi. You know what I meant.

Me: Can you give me Gina’s number?

Kim Seokjinnie: Sure, I’ll send you the contact in a second. You two gonna hang out or something?

Me: Hopefully…do you think it’s weird if I just ask her out of the blue? Will she not wanna come?

Kim Seokjinnie: Nah, she’s pretty chill. I bet she’ll come

Kim Seokjinnie: *Kim Seokjinnie shared a contact with you*

Kim Seokjinnie: do you need anything before I burn my phone?

Me: no, thank you!! I owe you one. I’m short on friends rn, hopefully she’ll come over

Kim Seokjinnie: I’m sorry  miss you. We’ll all get to hang out once this is all over, I promise.

“Yah! I really don’t know. I mean they’ve all be so…”

“So what?”

You sigh, sounding like some kid in a dreamy teen movie. “Perfect?”

“There’s no such thing,” Gina huffs, leaning back in her chair. It’s a bit rickety, you’d found it at a yard sale with Namjoon and Jimin. You had just moved into your apartment, and realized that you were a little low on furniture. Together, you’d managed to find three mismatching chairs that made you grin each time you saw them.

It was a little odd at the time, you didn’t want to buy three chairs. Two seemed like plenty. They convinced you though, and looking back you understand why they were so adamant.

Wasn’t it rule #3? “Limit one-on-one interaction”? Three chairs made it so that there was always space for at least two of them.

Suddenly you look at the most average things in your house with different eyes.

Groaning, you rub your hands over your face. You’ve probably smudged your makeup, but you don’t care. It’s Friday night, you can do whatever you want.

“Unfortunately, I really think that there might be.” You let out a dry chuckle. “Seven dates with the world’s most perfect men. I knew I was screwed from the beginning, but this, I mean, I didn’t expect it to go this far.”

“On the bright side, you only have one more to go.” Gina gets up, stretching before moving to put her plate in the sink. She’d picked up some takeout on her way to your house, proving to you that you two are going to be friends for a long, long time.

“I’m terrified because of that. What happens after tomorrow’s date? I know it’s up to me, but I feel like I’m waiting for someone to come tell me the next step.”

Gina hums in agreement, shooting you an apologetic look. “Maybe I shouldn’t have pointed out how flirty they were at the haunted house. You never would have gotten into this mess.”

“No,” you wave her off. “It’s not your fault. Jungkook let it slip anyway, after the door closed on us in the basement. Ugh, I still get freaked out thinking about that. Has that happened since?”

Gina pauses over the sink, back turned to you as she runs her plate under the hot water. After a moment she shuts it off, turning around to wipe her hands off on a dish towel before leaning up against the counter.

“Erm…”

Your stomach drops. “What.”

“It’s just…” she crosses her arms and uncrosses them, unsure of what to do with her hands. “The door is connected to a little button on every employee’s key fob. You know, just for some extra scare factor.”

You meet her sheepish gaze with a blank stare. “So you’re telling me…”

“It’s just a part of the tour,” Gina shrugs. “Wait, what happened? He told you about the pact when the door closed? That’s…that’s honestly not the most romantic setting-”

“No no, we had a little moment after the door closed, and we almost kissed. But he stopped himself and said the I didn’t have to worry about him making a move. When we got out, I asked him why, and that’s when he mentioned the pact.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“So tomorrow is the last date, correct?”

“Yup.”

“Look,” Gina notices your worried expression. “Do yourself a favor. Let go. Don’t waste tomorrow thinking about what’s gonna happen next. Focus on the moment, ok? Then how about we get together next week sometime to talk everything over? If you feel like that might help, that is.”

You definitely made the right choice in inviting Gina over. You can already feel your stress levels going down.

“Ok.”

You’re up early the next morning, earlier than you’d like. You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting on your sofa, basking in the golden morning sun and watching the little dust motes float in the air, but it’s certainly been a while.

For once, it’s quiet in your mind. You’re not sure why now, why today. There’s no doubt you’ll be your typical bumbling mess once Yoongi picks you up, but for now all is peaceful.

It’s the last date. Somehow, despite how much you’ve enjoyed these little escapades, you feel relief at the thought. Knowing that you’ve made it nearly to the end without doing anything remarkably stupid (you’re still mortified that you and Jimin got kicked out of that basilica but oh well), and now you’re so close.

For now, you slide your worries under the rug, to be left there for the weekend. You curl your legs under you and lean your head back against the cushions to drink in the sunlight. It warms your skin, leaving you feeling even better than before.

Yoongi is supposed to be here around four. Jungkook had sent you a quick text earlier in the week checking that you didn’t have any plans for Saturday afternoon and night. You didn’t bother to tell him that you always had all day open for them.

While the exchange had been short, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was blushing just as much as you when his contact popped up on your screen. In an instant you were plunged into the memory of clinging to him just outside your front door, Jungkook’s shaky breaths the only thing keeping you planted in reality.

Either way, it was safe to say that you were a blushing mess despite the simplicity of the text. He kept it strictly professional, not once alluding to the events of last Saturday. But you could still hear those words he uttered when he asked if you ever thought about what might have happened if he’d kissed you in the haunted house when he had the chance.

“I do. Every day.”

Of course you thought about it. You let out an amused huff on the couch, laughing to yourself. Who wouldn’t? But the only thing was the fact that you were thinking about a lot of things. Not just Jungkook.

Or his lips, for that matter.

The couch rustles as you get up, deciding to change out of your red sweatshirt for a green one. You’d been instructed to dress warm, which made you wonder what was planned for today. Outside everything looks warm and pleasant, certainly no need for anything too heavy.

By the time afternoon rolls around, you’re tempted to call up Gina for a late lunch or something. To say you’re antsy is an understatement; you’re positively losing it. The clock on the wall has decided to try its hand at stopping time altogether, and you think it’s doing a pretty good job of it. Every time you glace over, seemingly no time has passed.

This time, you really start to wonder if no time has passed. You swear it’s been stuck at 3 o’clock for a while-

The sound of someone knocking on your door has you nearly tipping over from where you perch trying to grab the clock.

For some stupid reason, you’re frozen to your spot at the far end of your living room. Holding the clock in your hands, you jump a little as a second tentative knock sounds.

To your utter mortification, your mouth opens and you yell out, “Come in!”

You’re still frozen in place when the door opens and Yoongi pokes his head in. His eyes immediately land on you, a sheepish smile that he has a hard time containing immediately breaking out.

“You’re not planning on throwing that at me, right?” He asks, making you glare down at the clock you cling to.

“Oh.” Your knuckles have turned white, and somehow your heart has decided to try its hand at sprinting a marathon. “No. I- it’s broken. I think.”

Yoongi shuffles inside, closing the door gently behind him before wandering over to you. His pale complexion makes the pink on his cheeks easy to spot. Somehow the fact that he’s blushing makes you blush.

“Do you have batteries around here?” He asks quietly, hiding his amusement.

“Maybe in the kitchen?” You brush past him, handing off the clock. “Would you mind getting the old batteries out?”

He mumbles out a sure, plopping down on your sofa while he gets to work on the clock. He’s wearing a similar outfit to you, which makes you smile. It’s not very often these days that he sports a bandana and you wonder if he somehow knew that you love the way he looks in it. His hair looks particularly fluffy as it kisses his forehead, the dark bandana giving him an air of coolness you know you could never pull off.

Rummaging around your kitchen drawers, you pause when you realize what you’re doing. Are you stalling? What’s the rush to fix a clock when you have Min Yoongi in the other room waiting to take you out?

Closing the drawer, you take a deep breath and shake your head.

“Sorry Yoongi,” you call out, trudging back into the living room. “I’m an idiot.”

He looks at you over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s your reasoning?”

“Ouch.”

Yoongi chuckles, setting the clock down on the coffee table before getting to his feet. “Wow, is it just me or…”

You wince. “This got off to a bad start, huh.”

“Yeah.”

Looking at each other from across the room, you realize just how much you’ve missed him. His witty sarcastic remarks, his honesty.

Him.

“Can we start over? Go knock on the door again.”

Yoongi’s already on his way, huffing out a laugh as he steps outside. “Alright, see you in a second.” The door clicks shut behind him, and you’re suddenly left with the silence of your house.

As Yoongi timidly knocks on the door, the same sense of calm you experienced this morning settles over you.

The seventh date. No more guessing who’s on the other side of the door, no more anxious glances in the mirror to check that everything looks flawless. It’s just you, Yoongi, and the door between you.

There’s already a smile on your face as you open that door, finding Yoongi standing with his hands in his pocket. He returns your grin, feeling like a fellow conspirator in a heist that has yet to be planned.

“I’m here,” he announces, then adds with a chuckle, “finally.”

“Took you long enough,” you tease, reaching out to grab his jacket and pull him inside. He feigns a horrified expression at your flirty nature, but you just roll your eyes. You’re not sure who wraps their arms around the other first, but the next thing you know, you’re wrapped up in a tight embrace.

I missed you, is what you want to say, but the words get caught in your throat. The lump that’s formed there only grows thicker with emotion as Yoongi’s gravelly voice rumbles against your hair.

“How’re you holding up?”

Your arms fall around his waist, ever aware of his shoulder. Even though he says he’s completely healed now, you aren’t taking any chances. It’s quiet for a long moment as you struggle to find an answer.

“I…fine. I’m fine.” You pull away and arch an eyebrow at him, pleased to see that is cheeks are still rosy despite the serious look in his eye. “How are you holding up?”

He lets out a breathy laugh, dropping your gaze. “Fine.” Then, when he catches your disbelieving stare, he states as innocently as possible, “What? Aren’t we lying to each other tonight?”

“You suck.”

“See!” He exclaims as you step out of his grasp to grab your things. “You always do that when you’ve been caught in a lie!”

“Ugh, yah! I wasn’t lying,” you turn around to face him, walking backward toward your room. “I’m fine, really.”

He shrugs. “And so am I.”

You stifle your laughter as you enter your room, grabbing your things and wondering if you should grab a coat. “Do I really need a coat?” You call down the hall.

“Yes!”

Pursing your lips, you snatch the puffy monstrosity from your closet before turning to head out. Double checking that you have everything you need; your eyes can’t help but glance at the item sitting atop your dresser.

You stick your tongue out at it. A few seconds later it’s tucked safely away in your top drawer and you’re heading out into the hallway. Your stomach does an uneasy flip as you recall the words that are practically burned in the backs of your eyelids now.

I loved her first.

Yoongi gets up from off the couch, waiting for you beside the door. His dark eyes survey you as you walk toward him. “Good to go?” He asks quietly. Clutching your coat a little tighter to your chest, you nod.

The two of you head out, locking up your apartment and settling in the car that Yoongi drove over. Before long, you’re out on the highway, speeding toward your destination.

Which, you’ve just realized, is still a mystery to you.

“Sooo…” You begin, smiling lazily at Yoongi. You take a moment to admire his hands that are wrapped around the steering wheel. “Where are we going?”

A smile tugs at his lips, but he manages to contain it as he adopts a serious expression. He glances over at you. “We’re going to see the sea.”

“We’re…” you stutter, furrowing your brows. “We’re going to see the sea?”

A breathy chuckle escapes him. “Yeah. But it’s a long drive, so are you down to listen to a murder-mystery with me?”

“YES.”

You’re still pretty sure that it was the nosy maid that did it by the time you arrive at your destination. Two hours, one murder-mystery short audiobook, and several snacks later, the sun is well on its way to the horizon when Yoongi pulls off to a sandy parking lot filled to the brim with cars.

There’s tons of people mulling about, several of them appear to be young families who smile fondly as their children laugh and play in the sand. There’s a couple of food-trucks that have popped up on the beach, which sport long lines. Yoongi observes them woefully, seeming to come to some sort of understanding with himself before moving to get out of the car.

“Woah, what’s with all the people? Is this beach always this busy?”

It’s a beach you’ve never been to before, the pristine sand glowing as the sun makes its way across the sky.

“Today’s a special occasion,” Yoongi explains, popping the trunk and rummaging around. “We should probably pick out a spot now before all the good ones are taken.”

You come around to the back of the car to meet him, taking the blanket he extends out to you. Leaving your big coat in the backseat, you hope he doesn’t scold you and tell you to put it on. Right now it’s windy, but fairly warm. No need to look like a living marshmallow just yet.

Before you can inquire after what the special occasion is, Yoongi passes you a couple of water bottles and begins rattling off instructions.

“How about I jump in line to buy us some dinner,” the way he says it so casually has your heart skipping a beat for some reason, “and you head down the beach to scout out a decent spot?”

“But what kind of spot do you mean? Is there a show or something?”

Yoongi pauses, closing the trunk and running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, something like that. A show. Just find a spot that you like, I’ll come find you with our food, ok?”

“Ay ay, captain.” You trudge away, hoisting the blanket up higher in your arms as you begin to look for an empty space. The immediate surrounding beach area appears to be pretty packed, which has you marching farther and farther away from the parking lot.

You grin as a couple of children race past you, giggling as they fly their kites. It’s looks like it’s a little boy and with his younger sister, trying their best to keep their kites afloat in wind. Waving at them, your smile only grows as the boy sheepishly turns away and the girl cheerfully waves back.

It feels like you walk for years before finding a clearing. You were definitely looking for a semi-secluded spot, not too keen on spending your long-awaited date with Yoongi surrounded by strangers. It doesn’t even occur to you to ask someone what the big deal is about today before you’re laying the blanket out. Not wanting to leave anything unattended just for it to blow away, you decide to just be patient until Yoongi finds you.

The sand is warm beneath the blanket as you plop down, resting with your face turned toward the sun as you let out a content sigh. Despite the chill of the wind, the sun warms you right up.

“Why are you alone?”

Peeking one eye open at the little voice, you’re delighted to see the same little girl from earlier standing a little ways away. She watches you with a meek expression, her kite forgotten at her feet.

“Oh, I’m not alone,” you explain. “I’m just waiting for my friend to come find me. He went to go get food.”

“Oh.” The young girl shuffles her feet. “My mommy says that I need to get all my wiggles out before the show.”

You chuckle. “Really? What show are we watching tonight? Is it Disney?” That would certainly make sense for all of the young families here tonight. Did Yoongi bring you to a beach-front outdoor movie?

“No, silly!” The girl giggles at your questions. “The sky’s coming to say hello!”

“What?”

“That’s what my mommy said. She said, ‘Young-mi get your wiggles out, the sky is coming to say hello soon!’”

You blink, a little amused by Young-mi’s earnest response. “I see…I didn’t know that the sky was coming to say hello tonight.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Oh,” you crane your neck toward the parking lot, but it’s too far away to see Yoongi. “My friend brought me, as a surprise.”

“Wow,” Young-mi utters in a reverent tone. “Can I meet your friend?”

“I don’t see why not.”

With a gleeful shout, Young-mi takes off running, her kite skipping along the ground behind her. She runs toward her family, her mother grinning at the sight before reaching out to pull her into her arms. You watch on with a forgotten smile, wondering for a split second what that would be like.

If you squint, that could be Yoongi sitting beside Young-mi’s mother, throwing his head back with laughter at something his daughter says to him. Their son crouches in the sand nearby, digging around as though searching for gold.

Laying down with a soft sigh, you close your eyes and let the little daydream take over. Here, at the beach. Telling your children that this is where you had your first date; laughing as they make disgusted faces when Yoongi plants a loud kiss on your cheek-

“Did the nosy maid get to you?”

Yoongi stands above you with arms laden with food. He blocks out the sun, the rays coming around to make him appear like an angel. Judging from the delicious smells radiating from the food he carries, you think he actually might be.

“Ah, so you agree that you think it was her that murdered Duke Rittington?” Your voice sounds a little croaky, a testament to the fact that you were just dozing a moment ago. Leaning up to ease some of the food from his arms, Yoongi snorts.

“No. It was obviously the son. Why can’t you see it?”

Rolling your eyes, you pat a spot next to you on the blankets. Yoongi takes the seat without hesitation. “Because, the son seems like too easy of a suspect. Whereas the maid-”

The screams of Young-mi as she rushes toward you cut you off. “You have a boyfriend?!”

“Oh, no.”

Yoongi leans over, still busy arranging the bags of food – is that a cheeseburger you see? – around the blanket. “Who’s that?” He mumbles.

“I, uh, made a friend while you were grabbing food,” you explain with a small smile.

Now Young-mi reaches your blanket, dropping to her knees as she gazes up at Yoongi with wide, innocent eyes. “Hi, my name is Young-mi and I’m four years old. I’m the second tallest in my class.” Young-mi prattles off information, her large eyes never once leaving Yoongi’s face. “Are you her boyfriend? I hope you’re her boyfriend.”

Yoongi lets out a startled laugh. “You do? Why’s that?”

“You’re so pretty.”

Now both of you burst out laughing, Young-mi looking utterly confused at your outburst. Yoongi covers his face with his hands, shaking his head.

“What? What’s so funny?” Young-mi questions.

You grin at her. “You think he’s pretty?” The little girl nods enthusiastically. “I do too.”

Yoongi peers over at you at this comment, an unasked question in his eyes. The pink in his cheeks has intensified, as has your own blush.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one complementing you?” He asks under his breath. You shrug.

“You brought food, so now we’re even.”

Young-mi lingers a little while longer, asking a few questions and drawing in the sand. Munching down on your cheeseburger, you eye Young-mi’s kite.

“Do you mind if I try to fly your kite for a second?” The question is out of your mouth before you can fully process it, but Young-mi looks up at you excitedly.

“Yes!!” She squeals, immediately dragging the little handle over to you. “You have to run really fast, that’s what my mommy told me. Then it’ll fly!”

Glancing back at Yoongi as you clamber to your feet, you don’t miss the fond smile he wears as he watches the interaction take place. You wave at him, heading off down the beach with Young-mi. Once you’ve walked far enough, you wink down at her.

“Ok, you run on ahead and I’ll catch up in a few seconds.”

The girl wastes no time running off, her laughter making you feel lighter than you have in weeks. Once she’s far enough off, you take off after her. She heads straight toward her family, who smile at you as you attempt to get the kite off the ground.

Sand flies up behind you as you race, and you catch a glimpse of Yoongi with his phone out, recording you with a wide smile on his face. The sun has hit the horizon now, a dizzying array of colors sending your mind into a joyful frenzy. Up ahead, Young-mi has successfully made it to her family and is waiting for you to catch up. She jumps up and down as the kite soars above you, the little pinwheels attached to it spinning around in the wind.

A bit more energy overtakes you, and you sprint the last few yards toward Young-mi, unable to stop the laugh that jumps out of you. You feel so free, here on the beach. It’s almost like you’re up there flying with the kite-

“Wait!”

Someone shouts it, you’re not exactly sure who, but by the time the plea registers in your ears, it’s too late. Foot catching in the hole that Young-mi’s brother had been digging earlier, you feel a twist of pain before tumbling to the ground.

You cry out, barely managing to catch yourself before faceplanting it. The handle from Young-mi’s kite digs painfully into your hand, but that’s the least of your problems at the moment.

Young-mi’s family rushes over to you, but before they reach you Yoongi is dropping to your side.

“Oh,” you pant, “hi Yoongs.”

“Are you alright?” He’s also panting, and you wonder if he had begun running after you before you even fell, foreseeing your path. “Your foot…”

“I am so sorry!” Young-mi’s mother stoops down on your other side, her husband right behind her. “We completely forgot that Doyun even dug that hole! Can you move? Are you in pain?”

From where you’re laying belly-down on the sand, you can’t help but feel the burn of embarrassment in your cheeks. “I…move? Yeah, I can – ah never mind.” You wince as you attempt to get to your feet only for the dull ache in your right foot to flare up to a fiery red pain. Yoongi immediately reaches out for you, unsure of what to do. His hands ghost over your leg, but retract when you hiss in pain.

“Here, my husband-” Young-mi’s mother points over her shoulder to the man in question. “He’s a nurse. Honey, could you…?”

“Do you mind if I take a look at your ankle?” The man asks in a gentle voice. “Just to make sure nothing’s broken.”

With a nod, you allow both him and Yoongi to help you swivel around to sit the correct way, the blush you already have deepening even more when Yoongi takes up a spot at your back. He gently pushes your shoulders back until you’re leaning into his chest, his arms coming to wrap around you in a protective manner.

When you wince as the man delicately presses down on your already swollen ankle, Yoongi begins talking.

“So, is it just me, or has this entire night been a disaster?”

You let out a choked laugh. “No, Yoongs. Well, maybe it has, but it’s all my fault. I can’t believe I fell, how embarrassing…”

“Oh, are you two out on a date? Er, sorry for prying…”

Both you and Yoongi awkwardly chuckle. “No, no…um, yeah. We are.”

“It’s our first date, actually,” Yoongi adds as an afterthought.

“How exciting! Honey, it’s their first date, did you hear that?”

The man currently inspecting your ankle spares the two of you a kindly glance. “Good for you two. You make a good looking couple.”

“But I swear I’ve seen you before,” the mother comments, squinting at Yoongi. “Where do I know you from…”

You can feel Yoongi tense up behind you, but he doesn’t say anything yet. Instead he takes to finding your hands (which you’ve slipped into your sweatshirt pocket to avoid accidentally punching the man poking and prodding at your foot), eventually curling his hands around yours and steadily unclenching your fists.

“Oh! I know it! Do you do commercials?”

Yoongi lets out an audible sigh of relief, which makes you smile for half a second before a particularly hard prod at your ankle sends you into a tailspin.

“Yeah, I’ve done a few commercials.”

“I knew it. How’s it looking, honey?”

Her husband sits back on his heels, giving you a nod. “Nothing appears to be broken, you just twisted it pretty good. Babe, grab that icepack out of the cooler. You should keep ice on it for a while to counter the swelling.”

A second later you’re handing a little bag of ice. “I don’t wanna take your ice,” you comment lamely. Yoongi chuckles in your ear, pulling back from you and standing.

“It’s just a disposable pack we used for the cooler,” the mother explains, waving off your concern. “No need to worry. We’ve got plenty more. Now, go enjoy your date!”

“Yeah, try your best to have fun. And keep ice on that, on and off for the next couple of days. It shouldn’t give you too much trouble after that.” With a wink toward Yoongi, your temporary nurse gives him a little nudge. “You seem like a good man. I think you’re in good hands here, miss.”

Young-mi bids you a mournful goodbye as you limp away with Yoongi, quickly coming to find that sand isn’t the kindest to people hopping around on one leg. You’ve made it all of four hops while clinging to Yoongi before he stops.

“Hop on my back,” he commands, stepping directly in front of you.

You blanch. “But Yoongi…your shoulder.”

“It’s fine. Just hop on. You don’t need to limp all the way back to where we’re sitting.” When you hesitate another moment, he looks back at you over his shoulder, his dark eyes sparking in the sunset. “Jagiya.”

Well, the man puts up a convincing argument.

Yoongi crouches down so you don’t have to jump, and with a bit of careful maneuvering you manage to hop onto his back. His hands grip your thighs, hoisting you up a bit higher which makes you gasp a little. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on shoulder.

Setting off toward your abandoned blanket and food, you can’t help but feel a rise of disappointment in your chest.

“Yoongi?” You mumble, almost sounding like an embarrassed child.

“Hmm?”

Hiding your face in the back of his neck, you groan. “I’m sorry.”

Yoongi’s steps falter before he continues on, confusion evident in his tone. “Sorry? For what?”

The calm that you felt earlier has completely shattered at this point, and you grit your teeth against the pain in your ankle and the onslaught of emotions that surface. What happened to picture perfect? Why couldn’t you focus?

Other than sitting in the car together, you feel as though you’ve hardly touched base with Yoongi. You haven’t seen the man in nearly two months, and yet here you are distracted as ever. Distracted with your dumb broke clock, distracted with the audiobook, distracted with a kite.

Yoongi stops in his tracks as he feels hot tears against his neck. “Jagiya?”

“I- I’m so sorry, Yoongi,” you blubber. “I’m an idiot! I c-can’t focus on anything tonight and…and now I’ve made everything fall apart by going and getting h-hurt…Yoongi, it hurts so bad. A-and now I’m complaining, which is making everything worse!”

You’re surprised when Yoongi doesn’t say a single thing, instead picking up where he left off as he trudges on toward the blanket. In response to his silence, you continue in your repentant monologue.

“And you waited in line to get us fooood,” you bite down on your lip as you fight the urge to wail. “It’s probably c-cold now, and you waited for s-so long to get it…I feel like such a bad person…if you don’t wanna continue the date, I u-understand. I promise I won’t tell anyone if you want! J-just, I’m so sorry, Yoongi. I’ve completely ruined this, and you drove t-two hours to get me here….” You’ve reached the blanket now, Yoongi gently sets you down, and you hobble on one foot as you half-expect him to grab his keys and set off toward the car. “I just can’t think straight because I read that stupid pact and-”

“Woah, back up.”

Swiveling around to face you, Yoongi has a frown etched into his face. It makes you want to turn and run, to crawl into a cave to die from embarrassment, but it’s the fact that you can barely manage to stand on one foot at the moment – let alone run – that has you standing still.

“You read the pact?” You blink, hopping a little. When Yoongi sees your struggle he reaches out to you, steadying you. “Here, let’s sit.”

“W-we’re staying?”

Yoongi gazes down at you, the look in his eyes turning unspeakable soft. “Yes, jagiya. Unless you aren’t feeling up to it anymore?” He looks as though the thought of leaving now pains him, but he waits patiently for your answer.

“I wanna stay.”

“Good. Now, what’s this about you reading the pact?”

Having successfully turned into a sniffling mess, you wipe away your tears with an angry swipe. It’s time to come clean.

“I found a copy in Jin’s room-”

“What were you doing in Jin’s room?!” Yoongi whispers frantically, growing more concerned by the second. You wave him off.

“-and I took it! I knew I shouldn’t, but I just wanted to know, you know? So I stole it but that was stupid because then I saw that thing on the back…the little note.” Your words trail off, unable to even say the word lovewhen Yoongi’s looking at you like he’s unsure of whether he wants to laugh or cry.

“The little…note?”

“Yeah, you know…” You shake your head, moving on. “And since I saw that, I’ve been a mess. Like, an actual mess. I finally called Gina help just to get some help, I needed someone to talk to because you know, I can’t talk to you guys right now which is stupid. But I’m still so lost and I screwed everything up and my ankle hurts Min Yoongi!”

You’ve stunned yourself into silence with your outburst, Yoongi across from you looks a bit lost himself as he sits back on his heels. It’s clear the moment he comes to a realization.

“The note.”

It’s all you can do to breathe normally and not burst out into tears again. Yoongi’s expression turns mournful when he sees you.

“Oh, jagiya…” leaning forward, Yoongi somehow manages to pull you into his lap. Wrapping his arms around you and tucking your head close to his chest, Yoongi pulls you in as close as he can. He sways gently back and forth, a hand coming up to cup your cheek to make you look at him.

You do so begrudgingly, feeling like nothing more than a large child. However, the moment you meet his eyes, it hits you like a lightning strike.

“Do you remember,” he begins quietly, “that time when your final paper accidentally got deleted? All you had left to do on it was add the reference page. You were distraught, remember?”

Of course you do. It’s the stuff of nightmares. Countless hours spent laboring over a final essay for a class you loathed, only to make a stupid mistake and delete it all. All of it, all nineteen pages were gone in a blink. Your hard work along with it.

“I remember you called me, a sobbing mess. Obviously I thought you’d hurt yourself, the way you were crying about killed me.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, leaving you completely enraptured in his spell as he continues speaking. “I fought with Namjoon because I needed to go see you, but we had a schedule. It was an interview, I don’t even remember for what or with whom, but I was so angry. I seriously thought I was gonna punch him. Then I remembered he goes to the gym a lot more than me, so I didn’t.”

He manages to make you crack a small grin at that. The sight spurs him on. “But I’ll never forget the sight I saw when I finally made it out to your house later that night. It was like what, two in the morning? No one knew I was even going over, which obviously I did on purpose. I didn’t want to get into another argument. When I walked in your apartment, you were sat at the kitchen table. Remember?”

The memory is vague, tinged with exhaustion and disappointment, but it’s there. You’d set up camp at your kitchen table all day, missing all other appointments just to try to rewrite your paper. You were half delirious at that point, staring at the screen seemed equal to burning at the stake.

“I’ve never seen you look more exhausted in my entire life,” Yoongi chuckles. “I remember I was ready to write the paper for you, I was so sad for you. But when I made it over there, I was floored to see that you’d already written it. Not only that, but you’d written twenty-seven pages. Twenty-seven! Who does that?!” He shakes his head at you, looking absolutely shocked.

“When I asked you why you would do that, you just shrugged and said, ‘why not reach for the stars?’ Then you submitted it, stood up, walked over to me and gave me a hug before going straight to bed. I was so shocked that I just stood there for ages, trying to fathom what had just happened.”

Yoongi sighs, glancing up at the night sky. You admire his jawline from this angle, nuzzling in a little closer to him for warmth. He notices that you didn’t bring your coat out with you, giving you a playful glare before gently rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

“Why did you tell me that?”

You can feel his shrug. “You are more capable, more special than you will ever know. I’ve always kept that in my heart, over the years. Why not reach for the stars? Jagiya…”

Yoongi shuffles a little bit before cupping your chin and pointing toward the horizon where the sun has slipped down. The night sky is becoming more visible by the second, a few stray stars winking down at you.

“Look.” He points at a certain spot in the sky just in time for you to see a streak of breathtaking light.

A falling star.

In the span of a few minutes, you’re completely speechless as the sky continues to darken and your eyes are glued heavenward. Gradually, more and more falling stars dart across the sky, taking your breath away. As they continue, you recall Young-mi’s words. The sky is coming to say hello.

Yoongi reaches for your hand, easily enveloping it while tracing the outline of your knuckles.

“You,” Yoongi breathes out, sending tingles down your spine. “Are the stars I’ve been reaching for ever since that night.”

Heart thundering against your ribs, you turn to look at him only to find his eyes also trained on the heavens. He speaks the words softly, almost to himself, but you still catch them.

“You’re a star, all the way up there…and I’m all the way down here. Maybe all I’m meant to do is admire you from afar. But for tonight, just for a moment, I’ll hold you.” His eyes slide down to meet yours, glinting with pure starlight. Cold and beautiful. Hurtling toward you, burning up in your atmosphere and leaving you wondering what would happen if you let him in.

If it would lead to utter destruction or the most beautiful thing you’ve ever witnessed.

All words have escaped you at this moment in time, but you don’t feel the need to scramble for some sort of a response. Instead you settle for snuggling in a bit closer, allowing Yoongi to hold you a bit tighter.

Tonight, he’ll hold you close to his chest while what will later be recorded as the most prominent meteor shower in recent history rains down above you. The dark night sky is set aflame with streaks of silver as falling stars graze the earth, sharing a sweet goodnight kiss as they hurtle through space. You marvel at the seemingly never-ending parade the night sky puts on, relishing the way Yoongi keeps your warm as he also marvels at the wonder above you.

There’s no words that are exchanged for the entirety of the meteor shower, the only form of communication found in the patterns Yoongi traces out against the back of your hand and the way he gazes down at you from time to time. As though making sure you’re really there.

It’s a long while before the meteor shower begins to fade, and it’s only when you hear Yoongi softly calling your name that you realized you’ve dozed off.

“It’s over, jagiya,” he coos, brushing hair away from your eyes. “Let’s get you to the car, then you can sleep the rest of the way home.”

Somehow you two manage to make it to the car, you yourself being much more coherent by then due to the sharp pains in your ankle. You realize that you two are some of the few people left at the beach, making you wonder when everyone else left.

Your eyes are half-closed when Yoongi begins to drive away, your hand finding his atop the console.

“You know you don’t need to worry about us, right?” Yoongi mumbles out, glancing over at you with a worried expression. “We’ll support whatever you decide to do. Remember what I said before? You’re the most capable person I know. You don’t need us, not really. Just…be happy.”

You mumble out something incoherent, not completely realizing that he’s referring to the aftermath of the pact until you’re already asleep.

The next thing you know, you’re parked in front of your apartment and Yoongi is grinning down at you from the passenger side door.

“C’mon,” he urges, helping you out of the car. “Careful with the ankle.”

“Mmm.”

It takes a bit of careful maneuvering to get up the stairs to your apartment, but you manage to make it. Leaning up against the door, you fumble for your keys.

Once you’ve found them, you hand them straight over to Yoongi. You’re far too tired to attempt unlocking your door at the moment. He laughs at your behavior, shooting you a proud gummy smile when he unlocks the door. You don’t even have to ask before he’s assisting you inside, helping you hobble to your room before turning to leave.

“Thank you, Yoongi. For everything.”

Yoongi smiles down at his shoes. “We’ll swing by tomorrow to check up on you if that’s ok?”

We.

Your stomach flips to remember that you’re over now with these dates. Now what-

“Or just shoot me a text? I know that might be awkward if we all show up…”

“Thank you. I’ll text you?” You sigh, running your hands over your face. “Yoongi, I…” You trail off, staring up at him from your bed as your mind and heart races. There’s just no words.

With a soft smile, he leans down and pecks your nose. The innocent gesture has your ears turning red, which widens his grin.

“I know.” He whispers back.

And then he’s gone.

And you’re left here, suddenly colder than ever.

main masterlist

the dates are DONE. please let me know your thoughts, I love hearing from you! Tomorrow I'll be opening up a poll for your top two dates, so stay tuned for that!

alsooo stay tuned this week because I may have a lil bonus chapter for you guys

taglist: @baepsaetay @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton @thecaffeinatedscribbles @moon-write @fangirl125reader @heishichoulevi @knjkitten @sacha-cff @vik7797 @eusticenatalie @hesmyphenominiall @miriamxsworld @kayahay @secretlycrazyhummingbird @marianeamine @hqtetsurou @protontippens @beginwithamin @delacyrose224 @luvtaeha @fanfictionreader05 @mininimmy @dreadity @starlight-night0 @luzaroon @seaoffangirling @prachi05 @fangirl125reader @bluehairedotakugem @hunnibxbe @kayahay @fanfictionreader05 @seokjinmoonfics @littletinyhobi @honeyhalcyon @yoontaethings @herrmionejgranger @beepbeep11 @extraordinary_reads @vntwishlist @aussiebeachbabes @hitsussi @hannah2291 @alwaysasadaesthetic

#bts x reader #bts fluff #bts dating au #Yoongi x reader #bts ot7 x reader #bts friends to lovers au #yoongi friends to lovers au #bts as your best friends #bts imagines #bts fanfic #suga x y/n #yoongi x y/n #armywriterssupport

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shorkbrian · 3 years

Text

Prelude - I need to stop catching sight of poetry on my explore page lol. This is entirely self-indulgent and very specific cause I’m rotting thru life rn and so if u dislike I understand lol. When I was in the hospital this last time it sucked rlly bad and like the awful horny degenerate I was I kept thinking abt Kirishima and soft sweet Sugawara idk lol

Pairing - Death god Kirishima x Reader

Warnings - Suicide, suicide attempt, no smut. Death. Drunk Drivers. Yandere but only a little bit and cause I can’t voluntarily accept love it has to be forced bc I cannot handle the thot of someone who is sane loving me bc there is no freaking way lol

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/5Iy1wdO0tMaHwKnfFYtlel?si=-vqod-W6SHia8ui2Hdl_9g

Adding this one bc it’s like one of my favorites and I wish god I wish and I hope that this year is better than the last amen lol also there’s nothing more sad to me than someone pleading and begging and crying for the year to treat you nicely like bitch u okay? no. the answer is no.

https://open.spotify.com/track/0xRO7EKgYKVB8zKIoiXMDD?si=HYBaiBzjRGmQwfCHgnTUxA

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“It hurts.” You had told him, as the entity sat at the end of your hospital bed.

He often sank heavily onto the nearest surface, as if his bones ached with the weight of his body. You saw him often during those first few days in the hospital, days spent puking up pills, every move you made monitored, doctors and nurses scolding you about the severity of your actions.

You didn’t think they could see the hulking figure that comforted you.

“I”ve heard that it’s supposed to.” The red god of death would think aloud.

“I don’t want it then.” Tears upon your cheeks, soft, misty. “Take it.”

“Your life?” A nod would affirm his question, but the red god would shake his head. “I am no thief. Not a hunter, simply a gatherer of souls. I won’t take what doesn’t belong to me.”

“Then it’s yours, have my life. A gift, from me to you. Don’t make me live it any longer…..”

His sadness would show in his eyes.

But the soul-crushing hugs that were provided were admittedly a tiny bit nice.

“You’re far too sweet for your own good. I’ll receive your life when the time is right, not before.”

“But I don’t want it!” You sobbed into his shoulder, the god seeming to be your only friend in the world.

Hands stroked along your back, soft shushing sounds as the god attempted to soothe you in the ways he knew how. Soft touches, kind truths. “Many don’t. But it happens - life happens anyways. All you can do is find the things that make it less painful.”

“That’s not enough, it still hurts. I can’t stand it.” The sobs wracking your body didn’t stop the entity from holding you.

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

——

He’s patient and kind.

Surprising for a god who’s work involves collecting souls as if they were taxes. A job that should be bitter and tiresome, but the entity has infinite softness resting inside of him.

He walks with you, as you get “better“.

You watch him stop to marvel at flowers, to study the way dew drips from trees in little drops, eyes wide and wondering as crows startle from their perches and take off with noisy weeping.

This courtyard is drab and brown, a prison. Safe.

Yet the god of death treats the space gently, with respect. He thanks the old walls for standing, the worn stones beneath your feet. Their service is noted and appreciated. He’s so tender it almost makes you sick.

But you come to realize that he’s simply allowing himself to be vulnerable, to experience the earth and the beings in it.

For as soon as one recognizes vulnerability, which is so different from weakness or tragedy, one experiences a sense of tenderness. Without tenderness, pleasure means nothing. You need only look at the animals to see the truth of that. It is gentleness that distinguishes their playing from the actions they constantly take to ensure their survival.

You ask why he walks with you, why he is so focused on seeing you get “better“.

A soft smile, a meeting of eyes. “There is an end to your pain, sometime and somewhere. It’s most likely not here, not in this place at least-“ and he looks around, at the cold walls, the other sick patients, the staff. All human.

“-It will come. But for now, it’s enough to try and seek it out ourselves.”

You must look more sick than you really are, talking to thin air like that.

——-

Once you return home, the red god writes you letters.

He’s an old soul, an old god. You’re sure if you asked, he’d be able to recount the very first souls he reaped, a man and a woman, sinful and sweet but in love.

The letters help you get out of bed. What new stories or little quips the god has written pique your curiosity, even when you don’t want to move, don’t want to be awake or alive.

He tells you stories about certain souls, how each one is infinitely interesting, how they all interconnect. How some of them struggle against him, however fruitlessly. But he’s not the one who brought about their death, he’s there to comfort and guide.

Other souls, (“souls like yours” he writes) welcome him, run to his arms like a long lost lover. Their death was terrifying by their own hand, and it hurt. He can’t take away that pain, those memories. The red god says he wishes those souls find peace wherever he must take them afterwards, or at least, some form of contentment.

“The meaning of life is to give life meaning, at least, that’s what seems to be the consensus.” You rip off that part of the letter, hang it on your wall by your bed. The other letters you keep in your nightstand, content with the knowledge that there are souls out there like you

It’s hard work, creating meaning for yourself.

The red god takes to visiting you between each letter, says he misses you, the way your soul cries. He tells you that he wishes he could help you quiet it, quiet that raging, terrible storm that hurls you about.

You make him cookies - it’s the only way you know how to say thank you. It’s what your mother taught you, so it may not be right, but the god eats them nonetheless. He likes it when you eat with him, feeding you bites from his cookie, wiping chocolate off of your nose, making you laugh with stupid jokes and a mouth stuffed full of cookies.

Even if some of them are too crunchy, or others too soft, all of them imperfect.

Imperfection is the essence of humanity, he tells you, and it’s more fun eating each cookie with the thought that you’re devouring your imperfections, making yourself whole again, filling up the empty spaces in your soul.

——

Eventually, the crawl back to your feet, rise with the unsteadiness of a toddler. You fall frequently, cry often, but you’re able to get up and try again.

Some days you need to bury yourself in sadness, let yourself feel and feel and hurt. Other days are not so bad, but still tinged with regret and fear and sadness.

The red god is by your side, gives you something to cling to when you waver.

He is always there.

He will be there when you meet your end.

The god is in no hurry.

You question why he wastes his time on you, hours spent reassuring you, talking to you, tucking you in your bed and leaving glasses of water on your nightstand before taking his leave.

Home is a feeling, not a place. Home is with you - that’s what he tells you. You take his breath away, even though he might not even need to breath because he’s the god of death. HIs thoughts muddle and he trips over his feet and can’t help himself from wanting to hold you.

You learn that even gods yearn for home.

He’s capable of feelings and emotions just like any other human. He may be wiser, and older, able to draw from experience and a deep well of wisdom. But he still feels, and feels deeply.

Just as he gives the earth around him such reverence, he extends that same attitude when he deals with you.

“Everything I see reminds me of you. When I wake and the sun creeps over the mountains, hesitant, it reminds me of the way that you rise - haltingly, yet it happens nonetheless. The flowers in the field that so steadily grow, you’re like ground they take root in, soft and unstable yet still tenable with the potential for growth. I don’t know, I haven’t exactly held such closeness with a human-“

He trails off, but you think you understand.

Maybe you don’t. It’s hard to relate to a god.

——

A confession occurs, and you’re surprised to learn that the blood-red god of death is in love.

“What did my hands do before they held yours? What did my heart do without all of this love? I can’t hold enough of you, I carry such love for you in my heart.”

With a frail, hopeless human nonetheless.

You don’t know what to tell him, how to explain that you can barely take care of yourself right now, meet your own needs.

But the red god seems to know, seems to understand the way your breath hitches and your eyes widen. One more hug, squeezed tight to his chest while he promises nothing has to change.

Things do change, even if you wish them not to. The world doesn’t bow to your whims, nor the death-god’s.

Innocent touches, his hand on your shoulder, patting your head, offering to rub out the tension in your back after you’ve had a crushing day - they don’t feel so innocent anymore.

The constant survellience still seemed kind, and you knew it was with your best intentions in mind that the god hovered so close, invading every aspect of your life.

But a creeping tendril of unease took hold, and you worried.

Everywhere you turned, he would be there, ready to support you, walk you through anything you wished.

Again, you questioned his commitment. Why? Why you?

“I can’t explain how fond of you I’ve grown. How heat blossomed in my chest as we grew closer. There’s infinite things I wish to say to you, ways for me to express my-my love, but I’ll just let you live.”

He neither killed you nor let you live.

Was it frightening? Maybe. But you had nothing to really live for, lost, searching for your own meaning in a big big world, floundering in an endless sea of sadness and suffering. You weren’t afraid of anything the god could, or would, do to you.

Until you woke up, not knowing where you were, in pitch black.

Arms encircling your shoulders, a soft body beneath your own, holding you tightly, a hand caressing your cheek.

A sun rose, on a strange new land, on the blood-red god gazing at you.

“There seemed to be so much more time for you. But accidents happen, Drivers drink and hearts give out. I was expecting you to grow old, for us to live and love like that, see how you grew through life.”

He looked around this new world, and you vaguely remember what had come before. A walk along the sidewalk, blaring horns, impact, blood.

“But this will be just as nice. You can stay here with me now. Life can’t cause you anymore pain.”

You don’t feel comforted by those words. There’s no way for you to know whether this new world would be better than the one you left behind.

#kirishima #Kirishima Eijirou #kirishima x reader #kirishima imagine #bnha kirishima #kirishima x you #yandere #Yandere kirishima #tw.death #tw.suicide

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bnhaficsforthesoul · 4 years

Text

BNHA College AU - Dabi

Major: Graphic Design

Minor: Business

Sports: Nope

Clubs: He’s not necessarily in the Shogi club, but he competes in tournaments just because he’s so good at it

Dabi has two reasons for going to college: to prove to everyone, mainly his dad, that he can be successful despite what they say, and to force his dad to spend a lot of money

He hangs out with all the labeled creepy people (save for Keigo, but even then he won’t hang out with him in public cause Keigo’s pretty popular), cause of his scars and resting bitch face people are generally too scared to talk to him so he stayed with the people who didn’t judge him for that

He got his scars in an accident when he was young, the house had gotten set on fire and he got trapped inside after saving his little brother Shouto, who luckily got out with only a scar on his face

Overall dabi was lucky to have survived the ordeal at all, having inhaled so much smoke and being so burnt, but by some miracle he turned out fine, and his scars, other than being a permanent dark red and the skin being rough, weren’t too bad (basically he has the scars in the same general areas but they look more like how real burn scars would – there’s no staples anymore either)

He also changed his name as soon as he was old enough, wanting to create his own identity rather than the one his dad had crafted for him

Dabi works at a tattoo shop near campus, he’s always been pretty good at art and loves tattoos, so he decided he might as well get a job doing something he actually likes. He’s given himself a few tattoos too, and all of his piercings

Him being a graphic design major stems from his love of drawing, but him choosing graphic design rather than fine art or just drawing was due to him wanting to try a new medium, and then enjoying it

Then his business minor is so that he can open is own tattoo shop - he feels that owning his own shop and being successful in it is the best way to spite his dad, so he is all for it

He also lives off campus in his own apartment, he didn’t feel like bothering with getting a roommate

You meet him when you go into the shop to get a tattoo, you just had the sudden urge to get a tattoo so you walked in there and asked if there was any space for you, and turned out Dabi was free

You told him the basic design that you wanted, but also told him that he was free to add whatever he wanted which he greatly enjoyed, and he went to work

Normally dabi would kinda just do the work and move on, maybe make a few comments here and there if he felt like it, he wasn’t much of a talker anyways

But hey, you were cute, so he couldn’t help flirt a bit – and you didn’t seem creeped out by him like a lot of people tended to be, so he took that as a sign that you didn’t mind it

And you definitely did not mind it – you weren’t expecting the person tattooing you to be so hot, but it was for sure a welcome surprise. And you’d be lying if you said the smirk he flashed at you occasionally didn’t give you butterflies

After the tattoo was finished, it didn’t take that long since you had gotten a fairly small one, you were doing the stuff for payment and he went, “ya know, if you go on a date with me, maybe I’ll give you a discount on the next one”

Yes he was technically bribing you for a date, but again, you were cute and didn’t give him a weird look when he started flirting, even flirting back a couple times – so he was just tryna shoot his shot

“I’d like that. Even without the discount, though that would be a nice bonus.”

Sexy tattoo man asks you on a date? Who are you to say no

So you give him your number and give him a little wave before running out of the shop, already wondering where he was going to take you

Now, Dabi never wants to come across as desperate, and in all honesty he really isn’t since he’s not even looking for anything serious, so he decided to wait a few days before even texting you – making you worry that he had decided he didn’t wanna go out with you anymore

It wouldn’t be the end of the world if he didn’t, it’s not like you’d been crushing on him for months or anything dramatic, you’d met the guy once – but he was pretty, and fun to talk to, so you were hoping you’d at least be able to see where it went

Luckily though, late at night a few days after you had met him, you finally get a text, reading “hey its dabi, the guy who tattooed you. Still interested in that date?’

You almost ended up texting him right away, ready to get on with it. But nah, he waited 3 days, you can at least wait an hour or two – thank god you didn’t have your read receipts on

Eventually you got to it, responding ‘Hey – yeah I’m up to it. What’d you have in mind?’

Finally deciding he would save the both of you the time, he responded quickly, ‘nothing fancy, I’ll surprise you though.’

You said that was fine, and that was it for the night. You were just gonna wait until he told you when, and didn’t worry about it too much

But then that night, at around 7pm, you got another text: ‘you busy rn?’

You weren’t, so you said so, and he said ‘can you meet me back at the shop in like 30 min? We’re going out tonight.”

Bold of this man to not only assume you could make it in 30 minutes but to just spring your first date upon you like that – but you weren’t going to complain about it, other than the fact that if you wanted to get decently ready you’d have to sprint over there (you were lucky that the shop was close to campus – and that he probably assumed you went to the college here since you never told him)

But you threw on the first clothes you deemed acceptable and got any other small touch ups finished in the next 20 minutes before grabbing your phone, keys, and wallet and booking it towards the tattoo shop – only stopping to look at your reflection in a car window once you were up the street to make sure you still looked decent

Why were you putting in so much effort for the hot emo dude? You’d never know. But you wouldn’t be disappointed either.

You soon walked into the shop and were almost immediately greeted by Dabi. He was wearing ripped black jeans and an oversized black hoodie with black converse, simple but nice

“So what are we doing exactly?”

He didn’t say, just walked out of the shop, so you followed him back into the parking lot where he directed you to an expensive looking matte black car – which side note, he was very proud of. He bought it with his own money (I don’t know car breeds, forgive me for not specifying what type of car it is)

The car ride was pretty vibey – he has awesome music taste but he kept it just high enough so that you could hear it but low enough so that the two of you could talk, he generally doesn’t like small talk but you were pretty interesting so he let the conversation go wherever you led

Eventually you arrived at a big park with a lake and a bunch of tall trees, and you got out of the car while Dabi went to grab a backpack from the trunk – then he led you over to a nice little clearing right next to the lake and pulled out a blanket from his backpack and laid it out so you two could sit

“like I said, nothing fancy. We’re just gonna hang out.”

He had a whole bunch of snacks and drinks in his backpack, and you just spent the next couple hours talking about anything and everything – he loved when you asked him about tattooing and stuff, gave him a chance to brag, and he asked you a bunch of probably too personal questions just because he thought it was cute seeing you flustered

In the end, the first date was a success – and it led to many more. Many of which weren’t even classified dates, just more times where he would randomly text you to hang out, and each time you found yourself liking him more and more, and he shockingly felt the same

At the beginning, the best and most dabi could hope for with you was a kind of friends with benefits situation. He didn’t want a real relationship, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to be close with someone

But then you came along, and despite you being very good looking of course, he wasn’t just waiting for the right time to ask if he could fuck you, he just wanted to be around you and actually spend time with you – not just turn you into someone he could fuck when he was bored

Regardless, he’s not very good at getting attached to people, it scares him, so as soon as he realized he caught actual feelings he kinda ghosted you for a bit, worrying you that you did something wrong – he wouldn’t respond to your texts or anything

So this time you stormed your way down to his apartment, where he had brought you a couple times to watch movies and whatever, and knocked on his door

Dabi, much to his disdain, was happy when he saw you standing there. So because of that, he didn’t immediately shut the door, and you walked inside before he could protest

“Are you okay? Did I do something wrong? Why’d you disappear all the sudden?” Even outside of your crush, you considered him a friend, and you had hoped he did too, so you were worried

“It’s nothing… I’ve just been busy, don’t worry your cute little head about it.”

You rolled your eyes, “Dabi, I’m serious. What’s wrong?”

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his messy hair and staring back at you, “It’s – it’s stupid. I don’t want to talk about it.”

God he hated how concerned you looked, he could tell you cared about him and it weirded him out, but he loved it so much. He couldn’t help himself, as much as he wanted to push you away, he knew that he wanted to keep you around

“Still… if you change your mind, I’m here you-“ you didn’t even get to finish your sentence before his lips were on yours – something you very much weren’t expecting to happen today but you sure as hell weren’t complaining

“That’s what’s wrong. I think I love you.”

You could see that he looked scared, but he wasn’t pulling away, so you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed a soft kiss on his lips, “Well, if it makes you feel better, I think I love you too.”

There was no formal asking out, just from that day on you were his. It still took some time for him to get used to it, not being familiar with how to act in a relationship, but with your help he got the hang of it

He loves when you watch him draw, he’s dubbed you his muse and therefore you being there helps inspire him

Wants to get matching tattoos with you eventually, and you know that if you want any more tattoos he’s gonna be the one to give you them, he might even let you do a tattoo or two for him

He’ll also do all your piercings for you, he’ll dye your hair for you - we love a boyfriend who supports you spicing up your look

Aw but you two dyeing each others hair would be so cute

Your relationship is pretty chill, like you guys only ever hang out at his apartment or go on dates in the middle of the night, sometimes clubbing or sometimes just walking around town, whatever you feel like honestly

You do go back to that one spot by the lake a l o t, you both love it there because it’s just full of memories of each other

When you met his friends you were probably a bit creeped out by them, you’ve never had any bad experiences with them but most of them looked pretty angry. But toga and jin were quick to accept you, and so you got to become friends with them too which was really important to Dabi because his friends are basically his family

When he told you about his dad – not him having to stop you from walking into his dad’s house and beating the shit out of that fucker, despite him very much wanting to watch you do it (he just doesn’t want you to get hurt/have to deal with the consequences of what that could bring – but if you were to bring out them fighting words during the next family dinner he’d definitely be very proud)

You’re welcome to move into his apartment whenever you want, after he’s decided he loves you you could propose and he’d probably say yes honestly- so you moving in isn’t an issue to him just tell him and he’ll help you bring all your stuff over

You might as well honestly, you’re there in most all your free time. You already have clothes in his closet, your school stuff is next to his - it just makes things so much easier

Besides, then you get to be around your hot emo bf even more than you already are, doesn’t that sound fun

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi imagine #dabi headcanons #dabi college au #touya todoroki x reader #bnha #mha #bnha college au #dabi as a tattoo artist just feels right ya know

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dontjudgemeimawriter · 3 years

Text

Excerpt-- the“Breakup”

Surrounding context: (This is earlier in the story than I’ve been writing, though I’ve referenced it.)

Before this, Terran was assigned to kill Jesse Sutton, a PI that he discovered Raymond knew. Raymond was unable to convince him to back off the kill, because Terran was worried about Zachary discovering his true allegiance, already feeling like this was a test. Raymond gave Jesse a heads up, which caught Terran off-guard enough that Jesse was able to convince Terran to let him go. Terran’s still trying to figure out a cover story to give Zachary when Raymond shows up. He’s in a cafe, grabbing a coffee and looking over Jesse’s investigation.

Under the cut

I’d been on edge since I’d left Jesse’s, sure that someone was checking in on me. Jasmine, or someone else sent by Zacahry or Abigail or anyone else. Just because I hadn’t seen anyone I recognized didn’t mean someone was.

So when my peripheral caught someone walking toward me, I was on edge. I didn't react, only slowly and as natural-looking as I could re-sorted the papers—to-be-destroyed on the bottom, to show Zachary in the middle, and notes on Jodi on top. Could be someone passing by, could be someone sneaking a glance, had to be safe.

When the person slid into the seat across from me, I figured it must be Jasmine—very much her style to come up to me and sit down. But when I flicked my eyes up, it was someone else entirely—Raymond.

Of freaking course. It was good for me—I could relax about what I had in front of me—but just because he had approached me didn’t mean someone else wasn’t following me. To give Raymond some credit, he was disguised— he had a hat on with the brim low, covering much of his face and hair, a dark red scarf covering part of his face, and the glasses he usually wore were off, which did change his face considerably.

Still, this was a public place. “We can’t be seen together,” I said, my eyes staying on the yellow note paper in front of me.

“What did you do?” he asked. He spoke quietly, but I caught an edge of desperation there. I looked up. He was leaning forward, eager, nervous. Scared—he was scared I’d done it. He’d told Jesse to talk to me, but he was afraid it hadn’t worked.

It felt too dangerous to say it aloud, especially here. I looked up, looked around. “Can we talk in private?”

“Did you?” he asked again.

He needed an answer. I gave the smallest shake of my head—unsure, suddenly, if the question was “did you kill him” or “did you let him go,” so I wasn’t sure if I was answering him—and said, “I can’t talk about this here.”

“Is there really a place no one will be listening?” he asked, but as set as his face was, he sighed. He held out a hand. “Ultimate privacy,” he said.

I stared at his hand. He’d implanted a thought before, yes, but that was different from showing him mine. But why was I being so cautious? It was Raymond. He knew the secrets.

But I didn’t want to let him in completely. I didn’t want him to witness that scene from my perspective, in all my hesitation—what would he think of it?

“Or somewhere else, whatever,” Raymond said, starting to stand. “If there’s a place that’s safe—”

I reached over and took his hand. He looked at me, surprised, and then it closed around mine, giving me a squeeze. I watched him, nervous, waiting.

Go ahead, what happened?

He could have just looked himself, pulled the memory to the front of my mind and watched it. Asking the question did that anyway, but he was waiting for my answer.

I let him go. He left town, I’m going to find him but figure out how to fake his death then.

Raymond nodded, but he didn’t look less tense. He didn’t withdraw his hand yet, so while we had privacy, I added, It was risky for you to tell him I was coming.

I wasn’t even sure if he’d hear it— I don't know how Nyp magic works, not really, and haven’t let any in other than him. But he must’ve, because he glared and dropped my hand. My wrist landed with a thud on the table and I stared at him, watching his eyebrows furrow in.

Was he upset with me? I was so used to the opposite— me scolding him to stay hidden, him assuring me he was being careful. I was used to Mika’s anger, but on him it felt so foreign. Mika’s never bothered me, but Raymond being upset with me?

Had he really needed scolding there anyway? I stared at the papers in front of me, not to look at them but just to look anywhere else. After a moment of him glowering at the saltshaker, I said, aloud, “It’s a good thing you did, though,” I admitted, and then that got him to at least look at me.

“Because you were going to do it,” he said, an edge in his voice.

I didn’t want to have this conversation, here, aloud, but sometimes a response builds up and comes out anyway. “We talked about this. Last night, I thought you understood—I had to.”

“But you didn’t,” he said, stubbornly.

“I found an alternative, one that probably won’t work,” I snapped, realizing in a sudden rush just how shaky this plan was. I’d had to sound confident with Jesse, even faked myself out, but this was so unpredictable. So many ways for it to go wrong, for us to get caught. I hadn’t even told the first lie yet. “We have to be more careful than ever—”

Raymond leaned forward, setting his hands on the table. His voice was hushed, but sharp.“You almost killed a friend of mine.”

I tried to stay calm. “I’m in a difficult—”

“I know,” he interrupted, in his normal volume. “And you’re very good at it. But if I hadn’t convinced Jesse that you were capable of being a decent person, you would’ve—done it, and you know what? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Keep your voice down,” I scolded, automatically.

He narrowed his eyes and I realized I probably shouldn’t be telling him what to do in that moment— even if he did need to be quiet. But he lowered his voice and chose his words carefully. “You almost did, and you intended to, because you were at risk. So I have to ask myself, if you’re willing to kill a friend of mine to keep your cover, can I really trust you?” His eyes dropped, staring hard at the table. “And maybe I shouldn’t.”

A vision flashed of him leaving, of him leaving and never getting to see him again. “Raymond—” I started to say, but there were people around, and I couldn’t say everything I wanted to, and he wasn’t going to reach over and let us talk through my head.

How could I say, in that moment, how much I needed him? With the exception of this moment, I was safe around him. I was a better person around him, we both knew that. And maybe freeing him, and keeping the cover and helping his friends, maybe it was hard, but he was worth it. And maybe that was why he was upset anyway, but I couldn’t lose him because he was the reason I was taking the risk with Jesse.

Raymond shook his head and stood up without looking at me, walking to the door.

I wasn’t going to let him leave— he left and I may never see him again. I pulled the papers together and clutched the file, hurrying after him. I caught his arm, searching for something to say, some way to apologize, but before I could find anything he twisted his arm around to hold mine. “Stop. Don’t follow me,” he said, then pulled away, running away.

It should’ve been easy to follow him, to at least know what direction he was going, but as soon as he turned away, it was like my mind forgot who he’d been, and I stared at the people fast-walking every which way and had no idea who I was looking for.

I took a deep breath. I’d lost him, and that feeling was bubbling up in me. I’d always known he’d come back, warned him against it, but taken comfort in knowing that he would, or at least that I could contact him but the contact card were gone— not that he’d respond anyway— and in all our time together, all our arguments and I’m sure, plenty of reasons to infuriate him, he’d never been mad at me before. Not like this.

His words echoed in my head. Could he really trust me, I would have done it… and it would have been so easy. Sure, once Jesse’d shown up it had gotten complicated, but that wasn’t Raymond’s point—my conflict had never been what Raymond wanted it to be. Maybe he was right. Maybe he deserved better than me, would be better off without me involved.

(So to answer Sleepy’s question, Raymond’s thoughts here are basically what he said about not being sure he can trust him. Raymond has been defending and forgiving Terran, and something he doesn’t say here is that when he told Jesse to try to talk Terran down, he knew it might not work and that he might be sending his friend to his death. That made Raymond realize that he was forgiving Terran way too much and he felt he needed to draw this line. Raymond’s not sure if he even should like Terran as much as he does, and certainly feels he’s cutting him too much slack, especially when Terran keeps telling him what to do.)

I call this the breakup because even though they’re not together rn I do think of this moment as kinda them breaking up and have referred to it as “When they broke up but not really”

Taglist: @sleepy-night-child @drippingmoon @puzzleddragon02 (you’ve read this scene already though) annnnnnnnd I’m going to superimpose @l-resonant-l to my taglist because I want you to read my stuff

#excerpt #syndicate #chapter 4 #tw killing mention #tw death mention

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forever-rogue · 4 years

Note

Hi darling. I would like to request Frankie being overprotective when reader is sick. I have headache rn and I would like to see how our cutie boy can handle it. Thank you 🤩

I love the idea of an overprotective Frankie 🥺 He would be such a good caregiver.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You set the warm kettle back down as you finished pouring the steaming water into your mug. Spying your favorite tea in the cabinet, you grabbed and opened it fishing out one of the last teabags. You'd have to get more when you went to the store next time. You loathed running out of it, especially now that colder months were starting.

"What are you doing?" Frankie caught you completely off guard as he came back into the kitchen, canvas totes in each hand, filled with fresh groceries. You had dropped the tea in surprise but offered him a sheepish look as he came over and set the bags on the counter, "Honey Bee, you should be in bed."

"I know," you managed to croak out, your throat still dry and scratchy. You'd come down with a harsh cold, which had caused you to have stay home from work and rest. Frankie, the ever doting boyfriend, had taken on the role of caregiver rather well, and had been waiting on you hand and foot, trying to help you to feel better. You hated depending on someone else for everything, but this cold had really knocked you down and out, "I didn't know when you'd be back and really wanted some tea. I can do some things myself."

"I know," he agreed, taking the bag and dipping into the mug for you, adding just a bit of honey like he knew you enjoyed. His hand found your cheek as he stroked your skin delicately before placing a kiss to your forehead, "but its okay to let me help you out. You always do it for me. But come, let's get you back to bed."

"Are you sure?" you asked quietly, "I can help put away groceries and stuff. At least let me help that much..."

"Absolutely not, out of the question," he insisted fervently, wrapping an arm your waist and holding your tea in the other as he led you back to bed. You didn't even bother to argue with him, knowing there was no point.

Setting down your tea on the bedside table, next to a picture of the two of you that you loved, he pulled back the covers and ushered you under them. It was like the universe was on his side because as soon as your head hit the pillows, you were heavy with sleep again. Sniffling a yawn, you offered your love a soft smile, "thank you, Frankie. You're the best and I love you more than words could describe."

"I love you too," he promised softly, "now just rest. But if you need anything, call me. I'm going to and make some soup, okay? After that I'll draw you a bath, if you would like."

"I don't deserve you," it was a wistful sigh as you snuggled into the blankets and he offered you a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"Of course you do," he promised gently, "you deserve the world. Now rest, and if you need anything-"

"I'll call for you," you confirmed with a sleepy grin. He nodded before leaving the room closing the door ever so slightly.

He'd gone to the grocery store early that morning in order to get everything for homemade chicken noodle soup. It was his Abuela's recipe and he swore by it, sure if he had helped him through many colds in the past.

Frankie hated seeing you sick, knowing how independent you were and much you despised relying on the help of others. But he wasn't about to let you handle things on your own either. He had a feeling you'd be okay and feeling much better after the soup anyways, and surely you'd he right as rain in a few days.

»»————-　♡　————-««

When stirred from slumber again, the sun was setting and casting the room in a soft, pinkish orange glow. You stretched and yawned and almost as if on queue, Frankie popped his head into the room.

"Hi baby," he said softly as he came over to you, his hand going to your forehead to set check for any signs of fever, "how are you feeling?"

"Better, I think," you admitted, the tired heaviness of your aching body feeling ever so slightly relieved, "I must have been out for hours."

"You were," he confirmed, "but you need to listen to your body as well and right now your body needs the rest."

"Apparently so," you agreed as you pushed back the blankets, "is that your Abuela's soup I smell?"

"Indeed it is," he grinned at you, "it can work miracles after all. It just needs to finish simmering for a while and it will he ready soon. I made some bread to go with it too."

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Francisco. Thank you for taking such good care of me," you beamed as you ran a hand through his dark locks.

"Like I said, you do the same for me," he said gently, "and I love you. Now, what do you say about a bath?"

"Are you saying I stink?!" you joked as he leaned in and pretended to smell you. He jerked back and scrunched up his nose as you glared at him.

"Very stinky, baby," he almost giggled with laughter, "definitely time for a bathroom. You smell like honey and vaporub."

"Jerk," you teased as you slid your legs out of the bed in order to head to the bathroom. But Frankie was quicker and easily scooped you up into his arms and carried you to the ensuite bathroom, "ahh, what a prince my love is."

"Nah," he teased, "don't get used to it."

But you already were. Because Frankie was like this all the time, treating you like you were the only thing that mattered, because in a lot of ways to him, you were. But you loved and adored him with just as much reverent devotion.

Frankie gently set you back down before turning on the water, fiddling with the taps for a moment to get the temperature just before dropping in some of your favorite bubble bath. Stripping off your pajamas, you quickly stepped into the water, sinking down and letting the rising water start to envelope you. A small groan of pleasure left your lips as Frankie sat down the floor next to you, resting his arms atop the edge and watching you closely.

"What?" you asked as you grabbed a few bubbles and placed them on the tip of his nose, "never seen a pathetic sickling take a bath before?"

"Shush," he said as you blew some bubbles right back at you, "you are always beautiful, no matter what you look like or how you feel."

"Mhmm," you replied as you leaned back and closed your eyes, "whatever you say, mi amor."

"Exactly," he insisted, "do you want me to wash your hair?"

Your eyes opened as a little grin crossed your features. There were few things you loved more than the feeling of getting your hair washed, especially by Frankie. He often took it upon himself when the two of you showed together.

"Really?" you asked as he nodded, "I would love nothing more. My body is still tired and sore, and if I'm being quite honest, it's never as good as when you do it."

"Ahh, I've spoiled you too much already."

"Indeed, you truly have," you agreed.

"I'm joking-"

"I'm not," you promised, taking his face in your hands and staring into those soft, deep chocolate eyes, "I mean it, Francisco. I love you more than anything. You make me so happy."

"You do too," he promised, taking your hand and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles, "now come, let me help you wash up and then we'll have dinner."

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Okay," you said, swallowing a hearty bite of bread and soup, "it's official. Your Abuela is a miracle worker and whatever secret ingredients she puts in the soup are magic."

"I know," he grinned at you, as he took your bowl and laddled some more soup into it, "one day you might even learn the secret ingredients. But she has to give permission first."

"Oh?" you quirked an eyebrow at him as you eagerly took the second helping, "and how does one go about getting permission?"

"Gotta be part of the family-"

"I am part of the family," you insisted, knowing full well it was true. His family, including his Abuela, adored you and always considered you to be one of them.

"I know," he agreed, a flush of pink rising in his cheeks, "but she means family family. Like we gotta get married."

"Ohh," your eyes widened as you stared at your soup, "maybe...maybe one day."

"Obviously," his response was sure, but nonchalant that your head snapped in his direction as he looked back at you with a simple shrug. You'd talked about marriage before, more or less in passing, but you'd never given it that much thought before. You figured if it was meant to happen, it would happen eventually, "what?"

"You want to get married?" you asked shyly as he gave you a surprised look.

"Of course," he beamed, "I'm going to marry the hell out of you. Don't you worry, Honey Bee, its going to happen. When you least expect it, but it will happen."

Frankie was just was just waiting for the opportune moment to pop the question. He'd had the ring for months, carefully hidden away as he tried to plan the perfect moment. Hell, he was half tempted to grab it and do it now. Despite still being sick and tired and run down, you looked as beautiful as ever. The soft expression on your face was enough to make his heart melt.

"Well..." you trailed off, staring at your soup and barely able to contain your smile, "I...I look forward to it. Just, you know, so I can get your Abuela's recipes."

Frankie snorted with laughter as he shook his head and reached over to wipe a crumb from the corner of your mouth.

"You must be feeling better if you're giving me this much sass," he stated as you nodded in agreement.

"Its the soup..." you said as you brought the bowl to your lips and downed the rest of it, "and the amazing care from my Frankie. Thank you for everything."

"You don't have to thank me," he promised, getting up to clear away the dishes, "now, what do you say to a movie? If you're up for it? We'll get under the covers, you can rest, and I'll even let you pick the movie."

"Deal," you eagerly agreed, "I make no promises to stay awake but I will try."

"Perfect," he busied himself with the kettle on the stove, "now get back into bed, turn on Netflix, and I'll be there in a few minutes with tea."

"And honey?"

"Only the finest for my Honey Bee," he promised, waving the bottle at you.

"I love you, Frankie," you said softly, "truly."

"And I love you," he shot you a quick wink, "now get into bed and I'll be right there."

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #triple frontier

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the-fandom-fuckup · 4 years

Note

Kirikacchako? Please

I'm not sure if this is referencing a specific prompt from like.. An older post or not, but I've been on a bit of an au kick lately so I'm gonna use this as a plug for some of the aus/ideas I've had, so I hope that's alright ^-^

(I'd offer a doodle for your troubles but... I don't have any to offer rn gjskfksjfkak)

One of the most recent ideas I've had is Kirichako sirens x hoh/ace pirate Baku, in which Kirichako are a mated pair of sirens that travel the seas together to prey on unsuspecting sailors and Baku is a pirate that spends a bit too much time around the cannons n explosives, resulting in hearing loss over time

Upon meeting Baku for the first time Kiri n Ochako are both fascninated and peeved. Fascinated bc no one's ever looked them in the eyes during their song and resisted them like he has, and peeved bc immediately after staring at them Baku tried killing them with explosives

Like sure, they've met people on the seas that have been resistent to either their song or bodies before, but never someone who was unaffected by both. They didn't know whether to be more interested or insulted honestly

((They go with interested, but tell themselves they're insulted bc it's easier to admit))

N honestly I don't have much here, but they end up following Baku's ship around bc it has some good benefits (provides them with protection from bigger sea creatures, food from all the ships they destroy/people they fuck up), and also they just like bothering Baku until they get a reaction from him

They don't sing to him anymore, but they chitter at him n throw pretty sea trinkets up against the ship/into open cannon flaps for him to find later

The last thing I have for this idea is the courting process probably starts bc Baku tripped on the sea trinkets one too many times while carrying out his duties n gets pissed, so he goes up to the main deck to get their attention before chucking some sparkly, garbage thing back at them hoping to distract them enough to get them to fuck off. But the sirens look at their new gift and go wait... Returned gift?? A courting gift?? Which goes to kickstarts a whole new wave of bullshit lmao, rip Baku's sanity

Another idea I wanna shoehorn these guys into is my EnjiRei/TodoDeku mafia bodyguard au, but I'm not too sure on how to go about it tbh like

One one hand, I could have Kiri in with the Todorokis n Ochako in with All Might's group, and have Baku be the unsuspecting civilian just trying to live his life but has attracted the attention of both gang members, who then treat it as a rivalry of who gets Baku first but end up seeing each other as more than just rival groups when the gangs actually start working together n they get paired to run jobs, and has everyone spiralling into a mess of feelings and highjinks before leveling out to smth manageable

On another hand I could have a similar idea with Kacchako as the rivaling gang members and Kiri as the unsuspecting civilian, or maybe even some other underground member like an underground ring fighter or a runner or whatever, who gets scouted by the groups bc his reputation in the ring gets him a gig as some extra muscle or smth for an outside job

And then on the last hand I could have pre-established Kiribaku as the gang members (in the same gang this time) and Ochako as the civilian making bad deals with shady people for extra cash to try and help her family out of their shitty finacial situation, taking jobs she has no business taking (probably from the rising group that's fucking up everything for everyone else tbh) n catching the boys' attention bc "what's a pretty little thing like you doing in the sleazy part of town? Don'tcha know shit gets dangerous around here?" And they're endeared by her spunk n unwillingness to crumble under pressure so they take her under their wing to show her the ropes but also gives them their kicks bc they get off on corrupting her innocent n naive moral compass, all while being hunted by the other group bc she ditched their jobs n now has to face the consequences or smth, Idk idk

It would help if I had any understanding of how mobs/organised crime shit worked or even watched those kinds of shows/movies lmaofnakfmdjs

I'll finish it off with the modern fantasy au I've been thinking about bc I love it dearly, staring alpha werewolf Baku, alpha dragon Kiri, and bamf witch Ochako

At some point or other Baku gets the entire Bakusquad + Deku, Tetsu, Camie, and Ochako living in his packhouse bc he takes a great deal of pride in caring for his pack members and it's actually really easy for his alpha to categorise people as pack, but you'd have to pull out all his teeth before he admits it

Some of them just decided they lived there now n didn't leave, but both Kiri (+Tetsu) and Ochako were brought in by Baku bc his alpha's love language is acts of service/providing and clearly they both benefitted from the move so "why tf are you making such a big deal about it?? Just pack your shit n get it moved in, you've got a week"

Kirikacchako dance around each other hardcore in this au, to the exasperation of everyone else. The alphas try to play off their urges to provide n scentmark as subtly as possible, and since Ochako isn't aware of the meaning it goes pretty well. But literally everyone else is rolling their eyes n making bets on how long it takes them to get their shit together lmaojdidudj

A scene I have pictured for them (and the first one I came up with for this au) is Ochako going out somewhere and Kiri n Baku both casually scent her before she heads out, thinking they're all slick n shit. But as soon as she leaves Deku levels them with the most deadpan expression he can make n says "that was the least subtle thing I've ever seen in my life", and as Baku snaps n goes "I dunno what you're talking about" Kiri replies with a smug "I wasn't trying to be😏"

And like. Realistically the alphas know Ochako isn't really an omega, but she does share some traditional omega qualities that have their alphas going wild (period cycle=heat cycle, round n squishy but will fight you=strength n size for providing healthy pups + the ability to protect them, etc.) so it's understandable that their alphas would slip up n refer to her as their omega, right? Right??

It also doesn't help that after taking Ochako with them on full moon runs, she's been chatting with some of the betas n omegas there and asking how to better communicate with the boys (to avoid miscommunication, she says). But they've both marked her so much that the betas n omegas think she's their courted omega, so they teach her vocal cues n what they mean coming from an alpha, and teach her how to purr and chirp in response.

They don't think to mention the significance behind some of the cues they teach her bc why would they? Smelling as strongly as she does, there's no way those alphas aren't going to give her their bite n bond with her. Why would they need to explain some of the more provocative noises they teach her? They're just helping her for when her alphas decide it's the right time to mate her, is all

I haven't gotten around to how their tension n dancing breaks, but it does eventually n they do get together n bond and all that good stuff, and eventually they have werewolf/dragon/magic hybrid babies bc I have quirkbabes design in another au n I'm obviously dropping them into every au I possibly can bc I love them n put a lot of work into them (and they're super pretty, so I'm showing them off where ever I can assuming I actually draw smth for this au eventually rip)

And wow, this is getting kinda long n rambly so I'm gonna end it here, but I hope that this was kinda what you were looking for landkwidjdkwbf

If you wanna know more about any of the aus just let me know, I could ramble forever

Or if you have any other kirikacchako ideas you wanna hear about feel free to drop them off, I don't mind!! ^-^

#BnHA #Bakugou Katsuki #Kirishima Eijirou #Uraraka Ochako #Kirikacchako #Sirens n Pirates au #Mafia n Bodyguards au #Modern Fantasy au #my first ask akdbsmdjahek #I don't handle vague instructions/suggestions very well so I hope this was okay #A/B/O dynamics #periods tw #menstration tw #just in case #headcanons #fuckup replies

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notnctu · 4 years

Text

heather | k.dy ❀

━ listen to: heather by conan gray

kim doyoung x reader ❀ genre - here’s the angst we didn’t ask for, fluff ❀ details - intentional lowercase, genderneutral!reader, drinking ❀ word count - 2.1k ❀ synopsis - if only he knew how much you liked him... but you watch his eyes as heather walks by and how he falls in love with her instead.

❀ a/n - hi hi it’s author doie❀! i use lyrics from the song so pls listen to the masterpiece that inspired this fic LMAO also thank you to everyone who follows us <3 we reached a big big milestone this time and i’m still speechless how far we’ve come as a blog. it almost feels surreal? that so many people actually enjoy our content... it’s unbelievable. thank you all again for your support and interactions ): idk how to even express the gratitude i have rn

what a sight for sore eyes — kim doyoung with eyes that light up brighter than the blue skies. heather walks by and waves enthusiastically to the both of you. her smile is kind, gentle, sweet. and doyoung reflects nothing, except hearts that shape his pupils. he’s mesmerized and unrecognizable.

you stand there dying at the hopelessness in your crush’s gaze over a single person. the nervousness in his wave says enough for you to know pain in your own chest. a sadness that pulls directly at your heartstrings.

heather, she wears cute outfits worth seeing the day of light. heather, she has a big heart that’s too good for this world. heather, she’s such an angel. heather, the one doyoung is in love with.

you wish you were heather.

you love doyoung the very day he stayed up with you to help you study for your final last semester. yet, he doesn’t even acknowledge your new haircut or the different accessories that wrap around your fingers. doyoung isn’t the type to really take these little details in account, but with heather. it’s different.

he rambles on and on about how he loves her dainty earrings. or the way her hair is pulled nicely into a neat ponytail. or how she looks better in his sweater.

despite it all, you couldn’t hate her. she has done nothing to you. effortlessly, doyoung tripped and fell head over heels for her and that is all out of her control. so, you’d rather loathe in your own self doubt than to hate someone as pure as heather.

maybe you simply aren’t as pretty as heather. she’s a doll, so to compare yourself to her is really an opportunity to crush your self esteem. doyoung likes pretty things. but is it that hard to find beauty in you?

if only he knew how much you loved him, would that change the way he views you? doyoung is not perfect either, but that’s why you love him. his imperfections make him perfect. a little tempered, but cares with everything he can give to someone. he’s the softest boy, but won’t hesitate to snap someone in the neck.

doyoung is more than what he makes himself out to be. a complexity that is greater to the unknown, but worth exploring. he’s outspoken, with a yield to fragility if punctured. doyoung, you know him better than anyone else.

“are we hanging out tonight?” waving a quick hand in front of his daze, he shakes his head to refocus.

doyoung pouts at your question, a little apologetic. “i thought i told you i had a date with heather.”

her spoken name crushes your bones, along with any hope that doyoung could ever feel anything for you. and silly you! to have buried the memory of their first date so deeply in the back of your mind that you forgot.

“right.” your answer is limp, but doyoung is too excited to really register the drop in your tone. and the tug at the corners of your lips, the dipping eye contact to the ground. you’re not even listening anymore, drowning out the giddiness of your friend talking about someone else.

but it’s always the same. he talks about heather unwarranted, like she’s the only thing on his mind when before her, his mind was full of wisdom and insightful snarky comments.

“listen doie, i’ll catch up with you later.” you place a lingering hand on his shoulder, and confusion blinks back at you. he takes your hand, intertwining them and kisses your knuckles. it’s a friendly gesture. he probably does this with heather too.

his gummy smile reminds you of the man you love. instantly, pain is washed away and momentarily lost. “don’t be a fool, y/n. i always walk you to class. today is no different. plus, i like your company.”

you wonder if this is his poor attempt at still making you seem important to him, or if he truly enjoyed spending more time with you. regardless, you don’t deny the offer and he seems to drop the conversation about heather.

“have you ever loved anyone?” you are going to regret asking him this question, without you knowing the consequential answer that will break you further.

“such a sudden question....” he laughs nervously, his eyes widening. “i don’t know what that feels like, and i’m sure the movies are over dramatizing it.”

“do you feel that with heather?” what on earth are you doing? the light pink that dusts across his pale cheeks can’t hide his embarrassment to being asked. your heart drops to the pit of your stomach, as you slowly feel your hand slipping away from his.

“not entirely, yet.” the shattering of your heart can be the only thing heard at this very moment. the chatter from passing students, the rustling of leaves from the wind, doyoung’s voice all fade away.

it suffocates you, like the one word grew hands to squeeze all the life out of you. “have you? are you hiding a special someone from me?” his quizzical eyes blink with a mischievous implication and a growing smile.

“i’ve felt it before and you’re right. it’s nothing like the movies, it’s more painful.” you speak without any control over your own words. doyoung frowns, but not evidently enough for you to point it out. instead you drop his hand and rush to your lecture hall. waving a small goodbye and a sadness that exposes more of your intentions.

nonetheless, your friend waves back with an embarrassing amount of energy. and an irredeemable facade of kindness that taunts at your selfish feelings.

“where’s doyoung?” johnny appears at your side with copious amounts of alcohol enough to wipe out the whole fraternity house. somehow you manage to lose sight of the people you came here with and end up sulking in the kitchen.

johnny is doyoung’s friend, but is friendly enough to acknowledge you whenever paths crossed. he opens a can of beer for himself after vultures snatch the new bottles he had brought in, but he doesn’t mind. he never does.

“on a date with heather.” grumbling, you let the remainder of the drink tip you over your limit. you’re buzzed enough, you could cry. and are you really going to forfeit the first person in college to see you cry be johnny suh? you just might.

“ah, the new chick he’s been talking about?” he mindlessly sips at his drink, while also greeting every person that flirtatiously beckons his way. but what you needed is for him to notice the suffering that love has mercilessly sprouted upon you. because your pride would never let you speak what’s bothering you.

johnny turns around to your silently crying figure and automatically draws you into a warm hug. his shirt soaks up your tears, and in a way, he’s wiping them away. “don’t tell me you like kim doyoung.”

he whispers loud enough for only you to hear and it does nothing to help the waterfalls that wet the fabric, “no. i’m in love with kim doyoung.”

now that is a proclamation that can be heard throughout the loud thumping party music that rumbles the house. and the single voice that has you regretting seeking comfort and vulnerability in the middle of a densely populated frat party.

“you are?” when you pull away to face the one person you did not expect to see here tonight, he shows an array of shock that you soon mirror as your eyes trail down. you see his hand nicely intertwined with heather’s, and her by his side with an equal amount of confusion. but they look promising, while your friendship with him does not anymore.

“what are you doing here?” is all you can find to say. johnny runs a hand through his locks, clearly flustered at the sight of such a tense awkwardness.

“i came to pick you up.” a small speechless airy voice, he’s in disbelief.

“doyoung, i’ll excuse myself.” heather proceeds to walk towards the door. you hold your breath to see his next move, but he stands there like an unmovable tower.

is it pain in his eyes? you can’t tell what he’s feeling, but you had to do this for him. he’s your friend with feelings of his own that sadly does not include you, but must be honored and respected. so you run after heather for him, leaving doyoung to find time to process what had just happened.

“heather, please wait.” you sound breathless, chasing after the girl who holds your crush’s heart. she’s out on the pavement as you abruptly stop on the lawn, the night air feeling extremely cold against your hot skin.

she smiles at you, when you feel the alcohol running up your throat. your drunken self falls as she catches you in her arms. “y/n, it’s okay. you didn’t need to come after me.”

“you can’t leave him. please, he loves you.” heather’s hands caress your cheek softly and her round glossy eyes bore through your skin.

“no. he doesn’t love me.” she points back to the house and you turn to see doyoung rushing out the door, taking deep breaths on the porch and staring directly at you, staring at you with a determination that has you running towards him as well.

and you melt into his long arms. his hand on the back of your head, pressing you into his rising chest. he’s absolutely breathless, why is he breathless? the kitchen is a short run from the front door, so why is he breathing as if he experienced the biggest panic in his life?

perhaps, it’s fear of losing you. that his reaction scared you off and the risk of you leaving him. you can’t leave him, please. he loves you.

doyoung does the unimaginable, something that you can only dream about, wish upon a star that it could come true. he lifts your chin and the streetlamps paint him a fluorescent warm tone orange. he kisses you with gentle lips and kind glides against your own.

in this very moment, you’re free falling. doyoung’s hand is reaching out for you, but it’s all too fast. the only thing that catches you is a gust of wind as it carries you to a safe landing. your heart beats like it’s never done so before, with love and confusion.

so, you push at his chest slightly aggressive as you scream with unknowing tears dripping down your cheeks again. “why would you ever kiss me? I’m not even half as pretty.”

doyoung grips your wrists and opens his mouth to say something. anything. his eyes are frantically searching for a way to tell you what you truly mean to him. “because i--” he sighs, “i like you. i’ve always liked you.”

everything comes to a halt, like a pause in the universe. never once has doyoung ever admitted those feelings about anyone, even heather. of course, you can tell through his reactions and constant chatter how he felt, but he’s never once said it aloud.

so were you too blinded by your own grief to realize that doyoung looked at you the same way he did to heather? that he talks about you endlessly to other people who are willing to listen? that he compliments subtle things about you, even if they aren’t things you purposefully changed?

“what about heather?” you sniff, wiping your wet eyes.

“i thought i should learn to move on from someone who wasn’t going to look at me the same way i did them.” he brushes your cheek with his knuckles, planting the sweetest, most comforting kisses on your forehead.

your heart feels full. it feels put together. “i’ve liked you since you helped me with finals..”

“...and i’ve liked you since the moment i laid eyes on you. then we grew closer, and today, i lied about never being in love. because with you, i feel it.” he smiles and it’s as if every bad thing to exist is resolved. doyoung grows a bit shy at his confession as his gaze drops to the floor.

“why didn’t you just tell me?”

“why didn’t you just tell me?” doyoung turns the question back on you so matter of fact, yet still chuckling jokingly. “i’m sorry, i should have mustered up the courage to tell you a long time ago, i’m not the best with feelings... but i hope it’s not too late... that we aren’t too late to establish something?”

he draws you into a tight hug, your head rests on his broad shoulder. the scent of his cologne tickles your nose, and you’re incredibly happy. what a sight for sore eyes — the happiness that reaches to the stars, brighter than the night skies.

you wish you were—

#neothestars #kpopscapes #nct scenarios #kim doyoung #doyoung #doyoung scenarios #nct fluff #nct angst #nct #nct imagines #nct 127 #nct 127 scenarios #doyoung imagines #nct doyoung #doyoung x reader #nct fic #nct soft hours #nct scenario

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poptod · 3 years

Text

Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 4 (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: He needs to listen. He needs to understand.

Notes: i havent been able to write recently bc ive been spending a lot of time with my boytoy but hes off being a firefighter rn so ive just been nonstop writing and drawing. its ridiculous. i finished pt 3 and 4 in like three days. WC: 5.5k

There were less paintings in Thebes. White marble walls and pillars reigned supreme, a stark contrast from the colorful streets of Memphis. You decided not to bring it up, or at least not at the moment you realized it, as in that moment you were face to face with the mayor of Thebes. He was shaking Ahkmenrah's hand, a polite smile on his lips.

"It's good to see you again, Piye," Ahk said. You had to stop and go over the sentence again to make sure you heard it right. Piye wasn't on the same boat as yours, and wouldn't arrive for another day.

"As it is you, my King," the mayor replied.

A trail of servants, soldiers, and slaves passed both behind and in front of you, lugging the offerings to specific temples, and the royal belongings behind the Pharaoh. Haji was put to the use, as unfortunate as it was, and you couldn't help but apologize when he was asked to haul a massive reed basket full of dried dates.

"It's alright," he said, huffing with effort. "I've done this before. Not usually uphill, though."

"Sorry," you said again, wincing at the way sweat beaded on his forehead.

The massive block of shade casted by the royal house's overhang was a relief for those carrying items, and for Ahk as well, as this was his home-away-from-home. Images of Ahkmenrah remained painted across the walls, the only color in the crystal city. The Nile flowed steadily beside the house, short fences leading to a plentiful garden through which the water came, and date trees that grew taller than any building.

The mayor, who you slowly realized was also named Piye, left your group there with a bid for a good evening. Along with that, he invited the Pharaoh and you––his pet––to dinner with him and his family. You weren't sure how enjoyable that would be, but either way the decision was out of your hands.

Following Ahkmenrah, you found yourselves in a large room with a domed ceiling, tall arches framed by red curtains. Outside, trees rustled in the gentle wind with no hint of society. You silently cheered––it was better, you believed, to have a view of the land, rather than of the city.

"Tomorrow I shall take you on a true tour of the city," Ahk said, coming up behind you till his breath fell sudden on your shoulder. You jumped slightly, but arms around your waist stilled you, pulling you into an unfortunately familiar warmth. "How does that sound?"

You said nothing, staring into the silent night.

"We can go through the markets," he suggested, shifting so he held you tighter. "If you want for anything, I will give it to you. I'm sure you've gone through many markets unable to afford anything, so now's a chance to make up for some of that."

"... thank you," you said, very nearly whispered, as hesitance seized you fiercely. Giving into his words––you said you'd never do that. He was not threatening you in any way, so why would you try to please him?

"Are you tired yet?" He asked.

"Not especially," you said, voice still strained.

"How does a game of Senet sound, then?"

"I've... never heard of it," you said honestly, glancing to the side as your fingers fiddled with each other.

"Really? I think you'll quite like it. It's a game of wits and chance. Are you interested?"

You paused before saying, "sure."

He grinned, leaving you alone in the moonlit room as he raced to the servants bringing in his personal belongings. While you waited, you stared out the massive, pale arches, bright as the moon in the perfectly clear sky. Barely a breeze passed by, leaving the warm, humid climate to cling to your skin, slowing your breath as peace reached you. Thebes was nice––just not the city. The countryside was beautiful, and Ahkmenrah's home here was beautiful.

It was not hard for a room to be better than your previous room, tied up in the middle of inescapable stone walls, still you took special care to appreciate the freedom here. Yes, there was a large drop between the pristine upper floor and the ground, but that hardly mattered to you. By your reckoning, you could milk Ahkmenrah's affection for you. If he truly would not let you go, you might as well make the most of it, and earn whatever you longed for in your poorer life.

Steps echoing in the empty hall grew closer, leading to the creaking hinges of the large, wooden doors behind you. You turned, coming to see the Pharaoh grinning like a dope, entirely uncharacteristic for his royal attire.

"I brought my board from home, but I've got one here as well. Made of crystal and ivory, actually, but I don't like it as much as my wooden one," he said, rambling as he set the board down on the carpeted floor.

The board was presented as a tiny, rectangular table with black and red squares for the pieces to move on. Dark wood legs held up the board, within which was contained a drawer filled with the pieces, numbering two pairs of five. One style was a long pillar with a head on top, and the other was a round-base pyramid.

Over the course of the next couple minutes, Ahkmenrah explained the rules to you, how the pieces moved forward, and that whoever got all their pieces off first won. The basics were gone over, but you soon started without much knowledge on how to play. He taught as you went along, and soon you were truly playing, concentrated deeply on your strategy and how to win. There were a few different tactics you could try to slow down Ahk or speed yourself up, but as you grew engrossed in the game, you hardly noticed the smile spreading across the Pharaoh's face.

"You might actually beat me," he said as you took another one of his pieces, sending it back five paces.

"What, you didn't think I was smart enough at first?" You said with an almost sly grin.

"No, I – actually," he paused, "yes. Sorry. I might've underestimated you."

"Don't worry," you said, handing the dice to him. "You're not the first."

"Really?"

"I ran into this stand at one point. It was a man who took your coin and hid it under one of three cups, switched them all up, and asked you where the coins were. If you got it right, you were paid in double, and if you got it wrong, he took your money."

"Basic deal."

"Yes. I came as a young child, a stranger to the city. He thought I'd be easy prey, so he did his trick, but I noticed he was dropping the coins off the edge of the table and into his lap. So I pick-pocketed him for all the money he took from people."

"That... doesn't sound like he underestimated your smarts so much as underestimating your conniving."

"Perhaps so," you said, moving another one of your pieces to steal one of his, sending it back by three. "But for me, the two go hand in hand."

"I can see," he chuckled, his blush visible even in the moonlight.

After a long time spent finishing the game, as the last move off the board had to be an exact number, you won mostly by chance. Still you cheered, grinning satisfied as Ahk held his head low in failure. He chuckled though, his shoulders shaking with the silent laughter, bringing you great gratification.

"Where did you learn these tactics?"

"Ever been to Nubia?"

"A couple times," he said, looking to the side as he attempted to recall it. "My father was rather cruel to them, so I try not to visit too much. They don't really like the royal family."

"Understandably so," you said with crossed arms, watching him deftly pick up the pieces and cram them back in the drawer. "They memorized your father's military movements, and I assumed you learned your own tactics from him. Applying that to the fact that you're more passive aggressive than actually aggressive, I decided you'd probably be more on defensive, creating strong barriers instead of stealing my pieces."

"... Wow."

"You're also less likely to overcome my pieces because you're trying to gain my favor."

"Okay, I don't need an in depth analysis of my childhood and psyche," he said, holding his hand up but still laughing.

"You asked," you reminded him.

"I did. And I'd like to hear more, when I'm conscious enough to actually understand it," he said as he set away the board. He returned quickly to you, pulling you into a tight hug, before promptly releasing you with a kiss to your neck.

"Tired?"

"Mhm," he hummed, hand trailing down to tangle in yours.

Once affirmed of your presence, he led you along the barren, white floor, your reflections standing beneath you with chests pressed together. The plush of linen sheets and pillows caught you when he pushed you, and soon your body was cradled by the bed and overshadowed by the Pharaoh above you. Crownless, barren of cape or gold, and caught enraptured in your eyes.

As he loomed above you, seemingly caught in his adoration for you, you noted with much confusion that you were breathing normally. Your heart raced horribly in your chest, that still remained a constant sickness. Yet your muscles relaxed, sleepiness seeping into your bones, hypnotized by his loving gaze.

"You're cute," he said with a sudden, wide smile. You huffed, rolling your eyes as you put your hands on his face, pushing him away. He just laughed, falling over onto his back.

"Go to sleep," you told him, lying down on your side.

"Very well. But in the morning," he leaned over your turned shoulder, kissing your cheek, "be ready to be out in public with me."

His arms once more wrapped tight around your middle, tugging you into his heat as he tucked you under his chin. You had several questions, both concerning his statement and other things, but you decided to wait until tomorrow. Tears were budding in your eyes from your incessant yawning, and sleep was a blink away.

You dreamed of a lake that night––laced with lily pads, blue and purple petals sprouting from green buds. Inside each pocket full of pollen, a sun glowed and illuminated your searching fingers. A black stone sky towered above you, dark and cold with wind, creating a deep contrast between it and the warm water.

You awoke to a different stone sky, shaped in the same dome. This one was made of white quartz, carved delicately, and lit by the strength of the sun. Recognition came to you instantaneously, and you recalled the trip to Thebes and the game from the night before. The only difference was the absence of heat, of pressure on your waist, breath on your neck. Sitting up, you realized you were alone in the room. How rare a chance––unsupervised, with massive windows beside you that you could easily climb out of.

Before you could even think of how to act in the presence of such opportunity, the doors slowly opened, revealing Ahk with a tray in his hand. You furrowed your brow. Couldn't he have asked one of his servants to get that? Or in the very least, open the door for him.

"I have never claimed to be a chef. I want you to know that before you eat this," he said, which was a very alarming thing to be told before being presented a meal.

"Ummm..."

"That sounded bad. Let me restart. I am not a very good cook, but I did what I could."

"Why can't the chefs cook?"

"I'm not asking anyone to work during the Opet festival," he said with a frown, before calling out, "Naguib?!"

"Yeah?" He called back, footsteps soon nearing.

"What about him?" You asked.

"Oh, he's not here for work," Ahk said in a bright tone, looking over his shoulder to see Naguib entering the room.

"I'm just here to make sure he doesn't burn down the house," Naguib chuckled, leaning on the door frame.

"Yes, and thank you for that. Come here," Ahk said, motioning the servant either. He dutifully obeyed, and Ahk pulled out a small pouch, handing it to him. "Have fun."

"Thank you, sir," Naguib said, bowing to the King before ducking out.

"Funny little man, that," Ahk said once he was sure Naguib was out of sight.

"How so?" You asked, mildly amused at their antics.

"He's the only one who can switch readily between free time and work time. Not many people have that switch, you know," he said, turning back to you.

"Do you?"

"I like to think so. What do you think?" He raised himself to tower above you, his expression suddenly falling into a shadowed cold. "Can I put on the face of a King?"

That cocky bastard knew the answer perfectly well. A man so aware of his own emotions, of the way he carried himself, would obviously know about this aspect of himself. Many go their whole lives without ever cracking into who they truly are; but not the Pharaoh. He knew every crevice of himself, and he used it to his advantage. Every weakness hidden. Every strength glorified.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, a cocky smirk on his face as you emerged from your thoughts.

You frowned.

"Oh, don't pout now, pet," he cooed as his finger trailed down the side of your face. "Let's see how breakfast turned out, hmm?"

He soothed and gained your vice attention at once with that little motion, that little motion he'd used a number of times before. Like himself, he had taken it upon himself to know you, to understand why you reacted in certain ways just as much as how you reacted. His expression gave little of that information away, so instead you turned to the tray and scanned its' contents.

You first noticed the wooden bowl of dates, set off in the corner of the platter beside two slats of seared meat. In the middle of it all was the largest plate, upon which he had placed an array of stirfry vegetables, garnished with an anise flower. Two cups were set to the side, filled with a faintly yellow tea. You reached for that first, as you had no idea what it was, and curiosity was always your main concern.

"What is this?" You asked, scanning the drink thoroughly.

"Blue lotus tea. Couldn't find any stores of beer, and I wanted to show you the flower. It's quite helpful in a number of things, medicinally... and recreationally," he said, biting at his bottom lip as he took the other glass.

"So... a drug," you said, raising a single brow.

"You could say that," he said as he took a sip, never breaking eye contact with you.

"Why don't I trust you?"

"Because I'm untrustworthy," he said, winking.

In the end you did end up drinking the tea, and the honey stirred within the warm water had you finishing the entire cup. Along with that, the two of you ate the various dishes Ahk had made with the help of Naguib, finding most of them––in the very least––edible. The meat was definitely burnt, and the stirfry was a little heavy on the anise. Overall, not bad––you probably shouldn’t expect more than that from a Pharaoh who had been handfed all his life.

He dressed himself once all was said and done concerning breakfast, twirling in the mirror to scan every inch of his outfit. There was no effort within it to conceal his identity as Pharaoh––in fact, it was enlarged, prominent and obvious on every golden brace and silk thread imbued within it. A regal, tall crown made of gold and bearing a poised cobra ended it all off, concealing the soft brown curls atop his head.

A few questions remained on the tip of your tongue, waiting for your brain to decide it was the right time to ask. After a little while of holding back, you decided that the 'right' moment would never come, and asked your question forthwith.

"Why are we here again?" You asked, thoughtlessly rubbing the sheets between your thumb and forefinger.

"The Opet festival," he answered, preening his cape. "It's an event that celebrates the strength of the Pharaoh. It'll be my first... since my father gave up the throne. We pray and make offerings to Amun, and the commonfolk are welcomed to ask their own prayers upon Amun's statue. Perhaps you've noticed it?"

Ah. That would explain the 11 foot tall statue made of gold.

"We'll be celebrating wealth for a little while, but in a week we take the barge to Luxor, where we shall enter the temple of Amun, and hopefully converse with the Gods. Amun, specifically."

"Yeah, I gathered that much. So all that food... it's offerings for this God?"

"Some of it, yes. Everyone brings their own offerings, and as I am a man of plenty, I brought plenty of offerings. It is also our duty as the government and protector of the people to replenish my citizens' energy, and so much of that food is actually for those who travel days and weeks to pray at Amun's feet. You, and the worshippers of Amun, will be well-looked after," he said, taking your hands softly in his and coercing you to your feet.

"Is that how it's always been?"

"As long as I remember. It wavers with cruel leaders... but never really vanishes. Our magic is as important as night and day, essential as fruitful trees, and as entwined with our lives as water. It is hard to break the worship engrained in generations."

While he spoke, he began to undress you, pulling at the buttons and knots until the fabric fell from you. Off your shoulders, off your hips, down your arms, until the white linen pooled on the marble floor. Soon you stood naked before him, but he kept his eyes on yours. Never strayed from your given attention.

"I know you don't adhere to our religion. I want you to know I don't mind. I would not force you into anything, especially not something as controversially widespread as religion," he said, cocking his chin upwards with a smile.

He took your hand again and led you out of the room. Chill breeze brushed by your naked stomach, sending shivers down the sensitive skin so readily bared. Once you reached the main entrance room, he let go of your hand, kneeling to dig into one of the massive bags packed before the trip. Most of them had been dumped in the front room, as the servants and soldiers were tired and ready for sleep the night before.

You attempted to look over his shoulder, an endeavor that was fruitless as it was needless. Soon he found what he was looking for, and he turned to you, presenting it in his open arms.

"Your clothes. From before. I had them washed and packed," he said, handing them to you.

Everything was there. Your long, red vest coat, your skirt with the panel tied into the waist, your buttoned shirt with the collar raised high onto your neck. Things you didn't genuinely expect to see again, and certainly not in the same shape as before.

"Thank you," you murmured, brow furrowed as you flipped through the layers. Without haste you pulled on the skirt, settling into your stolen shirt and the long coat over it. The only thing missing was your weapon––a staff with two spikes hammered into the end. Not the greatest weapon, but it served you well.

"New places can make me nervous, and personally it helps when I have something familiar with me. So I understand why you wanted them back."

"Yes, it's... good to be back in my clothes. Your style is a little much for me," you confessed, remembering the dress with no coverage of your chest except the straps holding the skirt up. A skirt that was see through.

"That's alright. I'm confused by yours as well."

If you were told anything by the various Egyptians you'd met in your travels, it was that Egypt was hot. Always sunny. Always humid. As you looked upwards, wide eyes meeting the grey sky, you nearly jumped. It had been a while since you'd seen a fully overcast sky, where clouds blocked out the sun and the horizons.

"Hmm," Ahk hummed as the two of you left the tiny palace, his hand encasing yours.

"Is it usually like this here?" You asked, looking up to Ahk. To your surprise, you had to squint, the sun still shining bright, white light through the fog.

"No," he said, beginning to walk down the steps, and taking you with. "Actually, it's usually a tad warmer than Memphis. No problem. I'm sure it'll clear out before the ceremony. We've got a week, after all."

He took you into the unfamiliar streets, through graffitied walls until stone turned to marble, great pillars surrounding a massive circle market. Stalls of various types spiraled down into the middle, where a towering obelisk overlooked all trade. Indecipherable hieroglyphs lined each side, though the base of the black stone remained invisible, hidden behind wooden stalls.

Once you entered the center, you noted brick beneath your feet, black stones running into a spiral in the midst of the white bricks. If you followed the path of the black stones, you would find yourself in the center of the market. As tantalizing as that exploration sounded, your hand was firmly set in Ahk's palm, and he had different plans.

You must've passed by a dozen carts before he finally stopped, halting you before a wooden stand showcasing a number of scarves. Each held a sheerness so intricate that you could see straight through it. The seller noticed your amazement, an amazement that had to be common, as he knew exactly what had caught your attention.

"These are made out of silk from China. Wonderful seamstresses they have, there. So thin you may draw the whole shawl through a common ring," the seller said, thumbing through a couple before pulling a blood red scarf out from beneath the stack.

He pulled a ring off his finger, and with great care, threaded the whole scarf through it. Before you could even react to the performance, Ahk was pulling a handful of coins out of his purse and setting them on the counter. The seller grinned, thanked him for the purchase, and just like that the interaction was complete. Ahk took your hand once more and led you away, continuing through the outer ring of the market.

"Beautiful color, isn't it?" He said, watching the way it wrinkled and fell in his hand. You made to nod, but paused as his arms drew over your head, placing the scarf over your shoulders.

"This is yours," you tried to say, but he shushed you, tutting sweetly.

"It's yours. And it looks fantastic on you," he said with a smile, pulling your entwined hands to his lips, where he kissed the back of your hand.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, trying your best not to say anything. That's how this day would go––he would buy you anything you looked at, flaunt his wealth in your face, utterly spoiling you in front of a whole city. Already your face felt as though it were aflame, nervous eyes set fiercely on the ground in front of you.

Along the way, Ahk stopped at a few jewelry carts, where he bought you an array of golden bracelets, faience necklaces, and ivory rings. It wasn't long till there was barely any room left for new gifts, though you suspected that was his plan.

"Here," he said, pausing your stride with a hand on your chest. "One of my friends here in Thebes runs a bakery. He makes the best tiger rolls I've ever had."

Must be good considering how much of them he's had, you thought dully. As usual, you kept your thought to yourself, and followed Ahk inside without complaint.

You were no longer scared of Ahk, you realized, watching him greet his friend with a gusto you rarely ever saw. He was just... irritating. Annoyingly sweet, painfully perceptive, and desperate to earn your favor. The things he dragged you along to do with him were the worst––markets too crowded for your tastes, too rich and uptight for your liking, or boats that you clearly stated you were uncomfortable being on.

The only good part was that outside, he didn't pay as much attention to you. While sitting around in the palace, his hands wandered you constantly, eyes set unmoving upon your body. He memorized those curves, the dips, the intricate veins, and the way you moved in those long hours. Outside, he was preoccupied with other stimulus and left you mostly alone.

Bitterness settled on your tongue. Your old routine was entirely lost, cast to the wind by the Pharaoh's greedy hands. The routine you loved, that kept you sane, and more importantly, kept you moving.

"Do you want anything, Amoke?" Ahk asked, leaning in to speak more intimately. You, of course, shied away, but was mostly stopped by Ahk's hand on your upper arm.

"Um... no. I'm not very hungry," you mumbled, and though he paused to glare suspiciously at you, he relented.

"Alright," he said, kissing your forehead before rushing back to the counter.

With a bag of tiger rolls in hand you left, Ahk continuing to pull you along just as before. This time he did take you down the spiral, and as you passed each stall, you realized it was a conglomeration of different cultures; an amalgamation of the western world. Art from Mali caught your eye. You had gone through there a few times, and the style of their statues had always intrigued you.

The Pharaoh noted your interest, and paused to take you there. He let you decide what you wanted, payed for it in full, and complimented your taste.

"You have a good eye," he had said, "for the divine."

"The divine?" you repeated, looking down at the statue. The form of a plush woman lay in your hands, smooth stone showcasing wide hips, large breasts, and a tiny head.

"A woman, a mortal who creates life, is as close to Gods as we will ever be," he said, looking over your shoulder to scan the figure as well.

The crowd had yet to notice the golden fabric of a Pharaoh, but the singular citizens who did notice were shellshocked, and hadn't the right mind to react at all. Dumbfoundedness gave way the closer you got to the center of the market, and by the time the black pyre casted you entirely in shadow, people were bowing at the King's feet, murmuring astounded praise as he passed by.

You looked up to gauge Ahk's mindset, finding something that terrified you more than it should have; he was smiling. Self-satisfied, pride puffing out his chest, silently declaring their praise to be a necessity.

A man intoxicated by his own fumes is dangerous––you knew that all too well, and fear began to seep back into your image of him, sending mold that tore down your irritation and replaced it with nauseous anxiety. His hand holding yours was now an anchor that sank you into a bottomless sea, instead of the earlier annoyance.

The combination of your own growing panic and the increasingly loud and desperate voices of the crowd sent you into overdrive. Hands reached up from bowed heads to touch the face of Ahkmenrah, to feel his grace and holiness overtake their bodies. Prayers surrounded you, and with the Pharaoh preoccupied, you fell to the ground and crawled out of the mass of the black land's people.

Once free from the writhing confines, you left the market sniffling, headed for somewhere lonelier. You hated to rely on others to heal you, but for a moment you longed for Haji. He had been kind to you. He would understand. Ahkmenrah didn't, and he never would––you swore this to yourself, your back sliding down the graffitied wall of someone's home.

Hiding your face in your hands, you pressed your knees to your chest, and curled up tight. No one would bother you; you looked like a homeless person, after all.

"Amoke?" Came a soft voice from above you.

You didn't move.

"Let's get home," Ahk murmured, his hands slowly moving up your arms till he gracefully pulled you to your feet.

Your eyes, once hidden and blurred, now opened to the grey light of today.

Ahk had no clothes on.

That was the first thing you noticed. The second thing you noticed was that he was smiling apologetically at you, nervous tics appearing as he chewed on his lip.

"Why are you naked?" You asked in a pathetically weak voice.

"Well, um... it was a little hard to leave the crowd, so I removed all my identifiers. They'll probably steal my clothes, so, um.. hopefully Naguib packed my other nice outfit," he said, beginning the walk back home. You followed quickly behind, still going over his bare skin.

"You could've left your underwear on, you know," you said.

"Oh." He paused. "The thought hadn't occurred to me."

You chuckled weakly, half-hearted as you trudged up the little hill. By the time you reached the doors of the tiny palace, the silence had stretched uncomfortably between you, and you were eager to hide away.

Ahk pulled the door open for you and said, "I'm sorry, by the way," before following after you and shutting the door behind him. The click of metal echoed in the empty, marble house, bouncing off the bare walls.

"For what?" You asked, unable to face him as your voice cracked.

"Bringing you to the market while I'm all dressed up. I knew I would get a lot of attention, but I didn't know how it would affect you," he said as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your head into his chest to hug you.

For a moment you were comforted, until you very abruptly realized that he was still naked. At that point you wriggled out of his grasp, though your plan backfired a little, as the moment you drew away your eyes scanned the entirety of him, from his feet to his head, and he ardently noticed your interest. Your panic had absorbed you so entirely that you hardly felt your cheeks burning with a bright red blush.

"I'll... go put some clothes on," he said with a smile, shaking his head.

He left you alone in the big, empty drawing room, occupied by a vacant kitchen on the far side of the house, and three bags of luggage laid haphazardly in the middle. Your steps that took you deeper into the walls echoed around you, causing you to move slow and careful.

Eventually you explored the whole of the room, finding a small door to the right of the entrance, one that led into a long pathway. The chill wind snuck through the thick hedges as you padded down the stone walkway, lines of sand between the rocks sticking to the bottom of your feet. Through the thin walls, you glimpsed a sliver of a garden, the sight of a white fountain bringing the sound of rushing water to you.

The fountain, alabaster centerpiece of the small garden, flowed with crystal clear water that pooled on the ground in such depth that lilies had sprouted from the bottom. Green pads floated on the cool water, and the blue lotus flowers were all closed up in the sun's absence. The trail that had led you there continued within it, circling the fountain, and ultimately leading to a small, sandstone gazebo.

You sat on the gazebo's step, elbow on your knee as you leaned your cheek on the palm of your hand. Here the wind was not as harsh, only occasionally brushing against your hair, though the cold had yet to cease. It was a good explanation for the silent garden, barren of animal life. No, this was a haven of silence, of loneliness, and of plants. Beautiful, quiet plants.

As many things as there were on your mind, there was nothing truly in your head. Abstract ideas and emotions relating to your position, to your relationship with Ahkmenrah, to the tired nerves burnt out from your earlier panic.

"It's a bit cold," Ahk murmured in his low voice, placing a blanket over your hunched shoulders.

You whirled around to see Ahkmenrah standing above you, fully clothed. With a slight huff he sat down beside you, settling onto the hard step, his thigh pressed to yours.

"I hate my life," you mumbled, falling and landing on Ahk. You could feel the way he tensed, how his breath caught in his throat at the given contact.

"I –"

"And it's all your fault," you said, face still hidden in his shoulder.

"... I know."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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