#I am not ready to go through this scene again but with good english voice acting
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I just want to see him again.
#persona 3#persona#fanart#p3#yukari takeba#artists on tumblr#p3fes#persona 3 the answer#the answer spoilers#<- tags I never thought I would use in the year 2024#me when the 17 year old going through extreme trauma mourning the death of her best friend/boyfriend isnt making rational decisions#currently getting ready to fight the war on yukari in the answer on the side of yukari in the answer#I am not ready to go through this scene again but with good english voice acting#even with the honestly really bad voice acting in fes I still tear up when she says that line#anyway free my girl she did all of that but she deserves better anyway#me: I should try to practice drawing hands in a fun way like while drawing my fave characters!#also me: draws yukari having a breakdown
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Em!! Any update on your fic updates? So excited for next chapters !(but no pressure to write if you are busy!)
Hi hi!!! I would love to say it's coming really really soon but I said that a week ago and it definitely turned into a lie dfjkdfjdfkjdfk I can really just tell you it's at 9500K and there are about two or three scenes left before it's officially ready to edit, so it's just a matter of finding the time. Unfortunately I've been really busy at work and am kind of just mentally dead when I come home every night, but I'm hoping I'll have more energy soon <333 the good news is the one AFTER this is actually in pretty good shape, so the wait after this current chapter is up hopefully will be shorter!
Thanks for checking in! Excerpt under the cut for your patience <3
He’s roused from sleep by a rustling, and when he opens one eye it’s to see Lando digging through a bag of crisps, the sound cutting through the dull roars of the engines. Charles' AirPods are still playing the audio from the screen, the rolling lull of a language he doesn’t know making his eyes droop again. He has the subtitles in English because Max had been watching over his shoulder (and studiously pretending he wasn't), but one glance tells him Max has since fallen dead asleep, his mouth open as he lets out tiny snores.
Will you accept this gift? The screen reads.
You found me a gift? I had been going to get you one. I was waiting to find the perfect thing. You’re always quicker than me.
I am just impatient. Omegas can be impatient too.
Well don’t you want the perfect gift?
Perfect? No. You are perfect for me. I don’t need a perfect gift. I just want you.
Charles is suddenly wide awake. Hauling himself out of the soft pit that is his seat, he stumbles to his feet and toward the forward cabin door. It’s dark, beyond—everyone is asleep.
“Yuki,” he hisses. It’s too dark. Oscar is awake, leaning against the one open window while he messes with Lando’s Switch. He points toward the front.
Yuki is sprawled upright on the sofa, Pierre somehow tucked under his arm with his knees hanging off the armrest. It’s Pierre who wakes up first, giving Charles a sleepy glare. Not to be dissuaded, Charles pokes at the top of Yuki’s head.
“Yuki,” he hisses again. “Wake up.”
“What?” Yuki mutters, then grimaces, a hand thrown over his face. Pierre’s eyes close again, though his frown lingers.
“Omegas court Alphas here, right?” Charles whispers.
“Omegas court Alphas everywhere,” Yuki replies. He stretches one leg out, then groans. “I know Monaco is full of old rich people who do not think this way, but you should know this. You are very well traveled.”
“I do,” Charles says, affronted. “I do know that. How do you…what kinds of things do you buy for alphas?”
“You do not actually want to know what I bought for Pierre,” Yuki says, a lazy smirk creeping onto his face.
“No. But how do you–-what kinds of things do they like?”
“Charlo,” Pierre says, a growl hidden somewhere under his voice, his frown deepening. “You are not seriously asking this right now. We are sleeping.”
“You are clearly awake.”
“Just get him things that make you think of him,” Yuki says, clearly taking pity on him. “You will think of something. It is not hard.”
“I am not good with gifts.”
“That is a lie,” Pierre says. “Now fuck off.”
“Pierre, you are being a little mean,” Yuki says softly.
“Yukino, I am very tired.”
Charles huffs, frustrated. “I will ask you about this again,” he warns, then takes his cue and fucks off.
Tucked into his own row next to the door, Daniel wiggles his eyebrows at him as Charles makes his way back to the aft cabin. “I got Michael a rockmelon,” he whispers as Charles passes him.
Charles pauses. “What?”
“Rockmelon. Cantaloupe–whatever. They’re his favorite. It was perfectly ripe. The lady at the stall helped me pick it. Best one we’d ever tasted.”
He leans against the doorframe, lingering. It’s a good courting gift—thoughtful, special, highly unique, missing the pressure that can come from something too expensive. Max doesn’t particularly like cantaloupe, though. “What else did you get him?”
“I won Monza for him.”
That’s a good gift too. Again, not something Max would particularly appreciate.
“You’ll think of something,” Daniel soothes, sensing his growing distress. “Max is crazy about you, and the thought behind it is what matters, anyway.”
“Everyone thinks I am courting Max,” Charles grumbles. “I am just asking.”
Daniel’s eyebrows climb toward his hairline. “Yeah, you burst in here with drool on your shirt and shake Yuki awake because you’re just asking. Who else would you be courting?”
Charles shakes his head. He slips back through the door and back into the comforting hush of the aft cabin. Max is still dead asleep, curled up in his oversized chair. Charles wants to climb onto his lap, or find a way to tuck himself in at his side. He’s pretty sure they would both fit. The chairs are soft and wide, and the cushions have a lot of give to them. He wants to wake him even less, though—knows he needs the sleep—so he returns to his own seat, feet tucked in, and stares blankly at the program still playing on the screen while he thinks about cantaloupes and trophies and a hundred other things that could do the job, but don’t seem quite right.
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count chatgpt
you have heard of chatgpt, or if you hadn't, now you have. it's a software program probably run with a neural network style system that acts as a predictive text completion function and basically responds coherently with writing to almost any request. it won't write your lemon fic, but it will write slash if you ask it. that's write: it does fiction. what does this mean for us?
i come at this from the angle of a preservice english teacher. this is going to change the way writing works, if we continue to have free access to it, as anyone with a good internet connection currently does. this is not the kind of genie who politely returns to the bottle. classroom and homework experiences will change irreversibly.
some people are switching to pencil and paper, written in class. another faction is choosing to embrace it as inevitable and work it into assignments, saying "this will raise the floor of your essays. create your first draft with chat gpt and then improve it, showing me your improvements and (i would add) explaining the reasons for your alterations."
here is what it can do with fiction:
write the first scene of a novel in which a powerful and intimidating vampire count first frightens and then seduces an intrepid vampire-slaying hero who has great integrity
The sound of dripping echoed through the dark chamber, the only sound breaking the heavy silence. The walls were made of stone, the air was stale, and the only light source was a single flickering candle that barely illuminated the room. The hero, a seasoned vampire slayer, walked through the chamber, his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to strike at any moment.
Suddenly, a shadow emerged from the corner of the room. The hero swiftly drew his sword and aimed it at the shadow, ready to fight. The shadow stepped forward into the light and revealed a tall, pale, and imposing figure. It was the Count, a powerful and notorious vampire who had terrorized the land for centuries.
The hero trembled in fear, but the Count just smiled and chuckled. "You're a brave one, coming all this way to face me," the Count said in a deep and seductive voice. "But tell me, why do you risk your life to destroy me? Are you not aware of my power?"
The hero stood firm and replied, "I am aware of your power, Count. But I am here to end your reign of terror and to protect the people from your wickedness."
The Count smiled again, his lips revealing his sharp fangs. "Ah, so noble and courageous," he said. "But let me show you a different kind of power, a power that comes from the darkness and the passion it brings."
With that, the Count stepped forward, his eyes glowing red. The hero tensed, ready to fight, but then he felt the Count's cold lips on his neck. The hero felt a rush of desire and passion like he had never experienced before. He fought against it, struggling to keep his resolve, but it was too late. The Count had seduced him, and the hero was now under the vampire's spell.
The hero's mind was clouded, his body numb, as the Count whispered into his ear, "You are mine now, my brave hero. And soon, you will learn to love the darkness as much as I do."
it's not very good, but it "understands" pacing. it "understands" how to put the button on a scene. and that lets me know that, while chatgpt is not very good at writing fiction, yet . . . it will be.
also here's the kirk/spock fic it wrote when i checked whether it would write slash fiction. for science.
write a romantic evening scene featuring captain james t kirk and science officer spock as long-term partners
The stars sparkled brightly in the inky blackness of space, casting their warm glow over the deck of the Enterprise. Captain James T. Kirk sat on a bench, his hand entwined with that of his long-term partner, Science Officer Spock. [lmao too on the nose buddy]
They sat together in comfortable silence, gazing up at the twinkling stars, their fingers intertwined in a silent display of love and affection. The crew had retired for the evening, leaving the couple to enjoy a rare moment of solitude.
Kirk turned to Spock, a soft smile on his face. "You know, I've been thinking about that planet we visited last week," he said. "The one with the bioluminescent flora. It was quite breathtaking, wasn't it?"
Spock tilted his head slightly, the corners of his mouth quirking into a small smile. "Indeed, it was quite fascinating," he replied. "I was particularly impressed with the way the flora responded to changes in its environment."
Kirk nodded thoughtfully, his gaze never leaving Spock's. "You know what I find fascinating?" he said, leaning in closer to Spock. "You. Every day, I find new things about you that leave me in awe. The way you think, the way you speak, the way you move."
Spock raised an eyebrow in response. "I fail to see how my movements are noteworthy," he said, his tone curious.
Kirk chuckled softly, his thumb rubbing over the back of Spock's hand. "You have a grace about you, Spock. A poise that is unmatched. It's what drew me to you in the first place."
Spock's cheeks flushed a delicate green, and he looked down at their hands, his fingers tightening around Kirk's. "I must confess, James, I find myself equally enamored with you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Kirk leaned in, his lips brushing against Spock's in a soft, tender kiss. They stayed like that for a long while, lost in their love for one another, content to simply be in each other's company. As the night wore on and the stars began to fade, they stood, their fingers still intertwined, and made their way back to their quarters, ready to face whatever the next day would bring, together.
so cheesy.
but it did it.
don't turn away from this as if that will change anything. we writers are going to have to adapt. write your novel now. get it published now. you are about to become very cheap to replace. i'm sorry.
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Reunited - Sirius Black x Reader
Summary/(A/N): After 14 years, Harry’s Godmother is finally reunited with her husband. I made this sort of specific to whatever my own mind came up with; (Y/N) is Harry’s Godmother, and has of course known the Marauders since their school days. She’s known Harry since the events of POA, and she took him in. Harry and (Y/N) have lived together for the past two years, and although Harry has met and seen Sirius, the most that (Y/N) has received is letters. Finally, in OOTP, they’re reunited.
Warnings: None really, maybe a lil’ kissing scene <3
“Good morning my dear!” you said as you walked into the kitchen, where Harry was cracking an egg over the frying pan.
“Mornin’ (Y/N).” he smiled, and you walked over to him.
“Y’know Harry, you don’t have to make breakfast for us. Even after all this time I feel bad-”
“(Y/N), I’m fine, I promise. Besides, I already made you tea.” he nodded towards the counter, and you gave a pouty smile as you picked up the mug. “Sweet boy.” you cooed, and ruffled his hair.
You and your godson were enjoying whatever Harry had whipped up, and talking about the strange dream he had last night, when an owl tapped on the window. You took a swig from your tea mug and lifted the latch, letting the dusty creature inside. It gave a polite hoot, and you bowed your head in return.
You unfastened the letter from the owl’s foot while Harry filled a bowl with water and a plate with bacon scraps.
“Oh, it’s from Rem!” you hastily tore the envelope, and slipped the parchment through the folds. Sprawled across the yellowed paper was half-messy, half-loopy writing, which you’d grown quite familiar with.
“What’s he up to?” Harry asks nonchalantly.
Your eyes quickly moved from left to right, scanning over the message. Your brain hung onto specific words; Order, Phoenix, Army, The Dark Lord... and Padfoot.
You took a breath in as you read your husband’s name, and Harry peeked over your shoulder, raising his eyebrows. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, my dear..” you shook your hand, handing him the message. “It’s just..”
Harry immediately understood. “Well, that’s a good thing, right? You do want to see him... right?”
You whipped around, your updo falling loose. “Of course I want to see him! I just... I just don’t know.. “ you sighed, and sat back at the kitchen table. Your brain floated back to what Remus had written; how the Order was reassembling, and he was extending the invite to you, just like he had in the 70s.
Not only that, but he had scribbled something along the lines of “Padfoot will be joining us as well. I do hope you’re willing to see him.”
Of course you did! But it was complicated to explain to others. You were nervous. The most communication you’d had with Sirius over the past two years was letters. Most of his were on scraps of newspaper, so you always made sure to pack extra parchment into your envelopes.
Within the past few weeks, his message arrived a lot cleaner and appeared less rushed, which you appreciated. Each time an owl arrived, your heart soared. But in those letters, you couldn’t reveal anything about your lives, in case they fell into the wrong hands. That being said, the most you two could say to each other was “I love you”.
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It was just after 7 o’clock, when Remus and a girl with purple hair had come to pick up you and Harry. She introduced herself as ‘Tonks”. Of course, you hadn’t realized at the time she was your cousin in law.
You both waved them off, Remus assuring them you’d catch up soon. You gave your Godson a kiss on the cheek.
“Be good,” you pointed your finger at him “Listen to Tonks”.
“I will, I will!” he teased.
When they’d both left, you and Remus sat on the tiny loveseat in comfortable silence.
“I wanted to check up on you,” he stated, and you looked up to reach his gaze. Oh, Remus. Your best friend. “I realize when I sent my letter it must’ve been a bit of a shock to you.” he placed his hand over yours.
“Oh yes, well, I think I might’ve frightened Harry more than anything. I’m not sure if he’s used to how dramatic I am yet.” you two laughed, Remus teasing you that it took him a long time to get used to it too.
Your laughter died down, and Remus spoke again. “He’s very excited to see you, (Y/N). In fact, he’s been fixing up his hair all day.”
You couldn’t even laugh. That was such a Sirius thing to do.
Your eyes glossed over at the thought, which Remus noticed immediately. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze.
“You don’t have to-”
“I want to see him Rem.” you cut him off, and you saw relief wash over his features. “I’m just a little nervous.”
It took a few minutes, but after a warm hug and Remus’s signature pep talks, you were ready to go. Never letting go of his hand, the two of you apparated to 12 Grimmauld Place.
Always a gentleman, Remus opened the front door for you, and you were greeted by the distant chatter at the end of the hall. Although you couldn’t see any faces, you recognized the voice of your Godson and his friends, along with that of Mad-Eye and Mrs. Weasley, to be followed by-
him.
It was that glorious laugh you’d waited 14 years to hear, the sound bounced around your head and you began to feel faint. Remus patted your shoulder, and you turned your head to look at him.
He nodded towards the end of the corridor, smiling. You took a deep breath, staring down the long hallway ahead of you. You brushed the stray hair out of your face and clenched your fists. As you began walking, you could hear Remus following close behind.
Your footsteps were booming across the corridor, your pace picking up with every step. Your breathing heightened and your heart was in your throat. You pushed open the door in front of you, and it slammed against the wall. The sound alerted the entire room, and you scanned over everyone’s faces. You finally landed on those eyes, his eyes, still as grey and dreamy as you’d left them.
“(Y/N)!” he shouted, getting up from his seat, looking anything but composed.
“Sirius” you breathed, tears already forming. The two of you ran towards each other, and finally, after 14 long years, you found yourself in his embrace once more.
It was tight and strong, he held you protectively yet with extreme caution. You sobbed into his chest, knowing that there weren’t enough words in the English language to describe how you felt at the moment.
Much to your surprise, and those in the room, Sirius began to cry as well. Not as much as you, but tears fell from his eyes as though he was only a boy. You held onto him, not wanting to let go, your hands digging into his jacket, and your face buried in his chest.
The world fizzled out around you, and you didn’t even notice how people were reacting to the scene. Remus leaned against the doorframe, wiping away a few tears himself; he felt so grateful he could see his best friends together once more.
Although they would deny it later on, Harry and Hermione hid their emotions behind Ron, the both of them on the verge of an entire breakdown. This was followed by Mrs. Weasley, who was sniffing loudly as her husband passed her a handkerchief.
Sirius was the first to pull away, and he cupped your face with his hands. He had a certain look on his face, as though he’d fallen in love all over again. He wiped away your tears with his thumb, and looked into your eyes.
Your knees might’ve given out at that very moment if he wasn’t there to steady you. “Even more beautiful then when I left you.” he spoke, barely over a whisper, his voice sending those familiar tingles down your spine.
You couldn’t even form words, you were so lost in his features. You only smiled, which he returned. “Why don’t we go into the other room, hmm?” he wrapped an arm around your waist, leading you out of the dining room. You could barely hear Ginny burst into loud sobs behind you, and how Mrs. Weasley followed suit.
He walked you down the hall, and you never took your eyes off each other, only breaking the gaze when he opened the door to the living room.
You two sat on the dusty couch in the dimly lit room, and he took your hands in his. You realized then and there how much you’d missed his loving gaze; at this point he was practically drooling at the sigh of you.
He wrapped his arms around you once more, his head resting atop yours. “I’ve missed you so much my love, so very much.”
You only gripped him harder, breathing in the smell of cigarette smoke and his old cologne. Your eyes pricked yet again; it was the cologne you used to spray on his pillow when he was first imprisoned.
“Sirius..” you said his name as though it were your only prayer. He hummed in response, lifting your face to meet his. You leaned in closer to him, your faces not even an inch apart. You closed the gap, your lips finally meeting his. You took in a breath through your nose, and butterflies began swarming in your stomach.
You parted your lips, which Sirius took as an invite, and his tongue slipped into your mouth. Your hands found their way into his hair, and his around your waist. You felt your cheeks getting wet, and you realized it was from Sirius. A few tears had spilled from his eyes, but he didn’t let up from the kiss.
It was full of passion and love, sprinkled with a bit of lust. He laid you gently on the couch, his body hovering over yours, and you finally broke apart. He gave a few gentle pecks down your neck, and returned to eye level with you.
“Oh darling..” you spoke, trying to contain the emotions that were sure to spill out of you. Both of you were at a loss for words, simply staring at each other, taking in everything you’d missed out on. You smiled lovingly at him, and the corners of his mustache quirked as he did the same. You giggled, fiddling with his locks.
“You grew a beard.” you stated, still admiring the sight before you.
“Do you not like it?” he asked, more so a rhetorical question than anything.
“I find it very sexy.” you reassured him.
He chuckled a bit, never taking his eyes off you. “Oh my dear,” he stroked the side of your face, and he brought you to sit back up. “I haven’t a clue how I managed without you.”
A certain emotion flashed over his eyes, and he fought off a grimace, trying to outrun the hell that lived within him. You placed a hand on his cheek, your wedding band giving a bit of a cold sting to his face.
He gently took your hand and brought it into view; his eyes crystallized once he saw the ring he’d given you so many years ago. “You kept it..” his tone was unsure, as though he was confused as to why you did.
“Of course I did Siri, I love you.” your heart ached for him; he must’ve thought you’d moved on before he’d seen Remus again. You remembered the conversation you had with Remus a few months ago, where he opened up about seeing Sirius again. They’d been writing every couple of months, and Remus had to constantly reassure him that you were still available; that you’d never given up on your husband.
“I’ll always love you.” you furrowed your brow in an attempt to conceal yet another sob.
“And I, you. My sweet girl.” Sirius placed a kiss on your knuckles, then moved back to your lips. “I love you more than you’ll ever know.” he mumbled into the kiss, and you felt yourself melt in his embrace, knowing that you and your husband were finally reunited.
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Hi my lovelies!! I hope you enjoyed reading this just as much as I loved writing it! Let me know if I should follow up on this “Reunited” fic, because I’m really looking forward to adding more. That would include something romantic and/or something smutty, I’m honestly up for anything bahaha. Please send in your requests, whether it be for this fic or really anyone in Harry Potter. And don’t be afraid of giving feedback, I’d love to know what you think! <3
~Aurora
#marauders#wolfstar#marauders x reader#sirius black#sirius black imagine#sirius black x reader#sirius black x wife#sirius black x wife reader#post azkaban#post azkaban! sirius#old!sirius black x reader#old!sirius black#remus lupin#harry potter ootp#ootp#harry potter#harry potter imagines#padfoot#sirius black fluff#sirius black smut
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Meet the Family
pairing: Pietro Peter Maximoff x fem!reader
warnings: angst, manipulation, reader is a Westview hostage controlled by Wanda, etc., 2.5k in length
notes: writing a piece that takes place in the WandaVision universe was such a challenging and fun experience, and I really tried to capture the same dark undertones of the show so I hope you enjoy!
summary: An innocent family dinner with Pietro’s new girlfriend reveals that life in Westview is not what it seems. Uncle Pietro introduces y/n to the family!
Y/n almost feels like she’s being watched as the warm hand of her boyfriend— since when do I have a boyfriend?— carefully guides her trembling figure up the front steps of his sister’s house and rings the doorbell. Her grip on the glass dish of brownies in her hands is so impossibly tight she fears she might just break it, and when the silver haired man swoops down to steal a kiss from her cherry gloss stained lips she can’t help but to feel nauseated. The sickness morphs into guilt immediately, and when he looks down upon her with a gaze so tender and fond she forces herself to bat her eyes and smile at him. What kind of girlfriend is horrible enough to be disgusted by a kiss from her own boyfriend? Something isn’t right here...
“Don’t even sweat it, babe, my little sis is going to love you!” Pietro comforts with an easygoing grin plastered on his features.
“I hope so,” y/n murmurs quietly, nervously chewing at her bottom lip. This is the audition, her one shot at impressing the boss, and if even one tiny minuscule detail is thrown out of place then there goes her new house and fancy wardrobe and y/n is written out of the show. Permanently.
“My girlfriend is such a worrywart,” he laughs fondly with a gentle pinch of her cheek. It’s as if a switch is flipped inside of her, and this time when she smiles at him it is genuine and full of unadulterated love.
“I just want everything to be perfect, I know how much this means to you,” she replies earnestly, too dazed to notice the soft aww that drifts through the air from the audience. Pietro smiles.
“Man, did I luck out on finding the most perfect girl in the world or what?”
“Well us being together certainly isn’t a coincidence,” she notes with a small smile. The uneasiness begins to wash over her again, but y/n isn’t given a chance to dwell on the feeling as the front door swings open and a vibrant looking young woman stands in the doorway, almost beaming at the two with pure glee.
“Thank goodness you made it!” She exclaims, hand delicately resting on her chest to showcase her relief before she pulls the stranger her brother into a hug.
“Like we’d really miss Sunday dinner,” Pietro jokes before pressing a chaste kiss to his sister’s cheek. His hand returns to the small of y/n’s back and the fond smile pulls at his lips again. “Wanda, I’d like to introduce you to a very special little lady, my girlfriend y/n.”
“Oh, she’s very special indeed,” Wanda notes with an overzealous wink, ignoring the way in which the brownie dish begins to tremble in the poor girl’s hands. Just a little stage fright, that’s all. “It’s very nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Wanda.”
“It’s an honor to meet you,” the girl replies earnestly, “Pietro has told me so much about you.”
“Well aren’t you sweet! Please, come in,” Wanda grins, ushering the two inside before shutting the door. “Boys, Uncle Pietro is here!”
“What a lovely place you have,” y/n compliments. Her eyes scan the perfectly decorated home in wonder, awe, and a third thing she can’t quite place for if she dwells on it for too long her head begins to ache and her surroundings begin to grow fuzzy.
“Oh, please, it’s just a little something I threw together,” she jokes, canned laughter echoing distantly in the background of y/n’s mind.
“Uncle Pietro!” Two voices exclaim, and y/n watches curiously as her boyfriend lets out an ecstatic laugh before rushing forward to scoop the twin boys in his arms.
“If it isn’t my favorite little trouble makers!” He grins, making sure to ruffle both heads of hair. “Billy, Tommy, say hi to your aunt y/n.”
“Hi, aunt y/n,” Billy greets politely. Tommy is at her side in an instant, movements so quick y/n can’t help but to let out a startled yelp as he lunges for the dish in her hands.
“Are those brownies?!”
“Tommy, where are your manners?” Wanda chides gently, shaking her head with a laugh and reaching for the pastries. “Boys will be boys. I’ll take these off your hands.”
“Oh, uh, yes, thank you...” y/n murmurs softly, brows stitched together in discomfort.
“You’ll have to excuse my husband’s absence, another late night at the office. You know how it is, don’t you?”
“I can’t say I do.”
“Hmm... Well, make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be ready soon, I’ll just go put these in the kitchen.”
“Oh, do you need any h-“
“No,” Wanda blurts out abruptly, startling everyone in the room. She plasters on a smile, “No thank you. How can I be a good hostess if my guest is doing all the work for me?”
“You’re right, I’m so sorry,” y/n flounders, panic clear amongst her features. “I-I didn’t mean to impose at all.”
“No apologies,” the woman murmurs quietly, a small smile on her lips and an admonitory glimmer in her eyes, “we’re going to have a nice family dinner, and everything is going to be just perfect.”
The tension in the air is suffocating, wrapping itself in a slow growing hold around y/n’s neck. Her eyes begin to water, bottom lip quivering in fear as she looks around the room that suddenly feels too big and too bright. She doesn’t belong here with these people, something is wrong, the man she came here with is not hers, and as Wanda’s figure retreats behind the kitchen door y/n makes a mad dash towards the nearest exit.
“Whoa!” Pietro exclaims with an uneasy laugh, and in a blue flash she suddenly finds herself being scooped up off her feet and tossed back down on the couch in between the apprehensive twins faster than her fried brain can even comprehend. “Not so fast there, missy. Just where do you think you’re going?”
“I... I don’t feel right,” the young woman murmurs, wincing at the uncomfortable dryness of her throat as she swallows. “I want to go home and lie down.”
“Don’t be like that, babe,” he chides with a disappointed frown, “this is my family.”
“But what about my family?” Y/n whispers, tears welling in her eyes as she realizes that whenever she attempts to picture the life she once lived not a single thing comes to mind. “I don’t have a family.”
“This is your family now. We talked about this, remember? We came to Westview to make Wanda happy, and you don’t want to upset her, do you?”
“No,” she replies meekly, shuddering when the calloused pad of his thumb swipes across her warm cheek to remove any evidence of tears. No, I don’t want to make her unhappy, because if I do then I’m written off the show and I don’t know what will happen to me if I am. “I want to spend time with my new family.”
“Atta girl,” Pietro grins as he cups her face with both hands and brings her in for a kiss.
“Yuck!” Tommy exclaims in disgust from beside the couple, and this time y/n can’t help the bubbly laughter that escapes her at the young boy’s antics. Any memory of her previous meltdown is quickly wiped from her mind, and all she can think of now is how utterly grateful she is to be loved by such a wonderful man and be taken in by his wonderful family.
She pulls Pietro in for another kiss and giggles uncontrollably when he responds by tickling her sides, all while Wanda watches carefully from behind the scenes.
~~~
“Dream of better lives, the kind which never hate. Trapped in a state of imaginary grace.”
Her voice is quiet and serene as she hums along to the Modern English song playing on the radio, a content smile on her face as she washes the dishes leftover from dinner. It was the least she could do after the lovely evening Wanda had hosted; her sister-in-law had been called upon by the neighbor Agnes for a task that hadn’t quite been specified, so y/n was happy to tidy up while her boyfriend spent quality time with the boys. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt as happy and content as she did now— she couldn’t remember anything, really— and y/n knew then and there that moving to Westview with Pietro had been the right decision for the family, for his sister and themselves, and for the children, too. Yes, everything was just peachy keen.
The kitchen door swings open and in walks a man y/n has never seen before. He looks just as surprised as she is when their eyes meet, an awkward smile on his red face and the morning paper in his hands, and y/n slowly drops the dish she had been washing back into the sink.
“Hello,” the man greets curtly, “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before.”
“I’m afraid not,” y/n agrees with a bashful smile, quickly removing her rubber gloves so that she may extend her hand towards him for a shake, “I’m y/n, Pietro’s girlfriend.”
“Ah, yes...” he murmurs lowly, cautiously shaking her hand and sizing the woman up and down until she shrinks under his gaze. He means her no harm, but he isn’t sure whether or not she’s part of this cooky little play or just another victim cast under Wanda’s spell. He smiles suddenly, the gesture startling the girl. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Vision.”
“Oh, yes! Of course. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
“May I ask where my wife is?” Vision asks.
“She went off to the neighbor’s,” y/n explains before promptly returning to her dish washing. The radio sounds distant and warbled now, the song she had been singing along to now nothing but static and jumbled up syllables, but to Vision’s dismay she doesn’t seem to notice in the slightest.
“How are you enjoying Westview?”
“I’m having the best time. Pietro and I have been talking and we might just have to hunker down in our own little place,” she says with a giggle. “It would be nice to be closer to you all.”
“I must say, having you and Pietro here was quite the surprise.”
“Not a bad one I hope,” she frowns. Vision guiltily refuses to meet her gaze.
“No, not at all. But, might I ask how you two came to be?” Vision asks apprehensively, adding on so that she doesn’t feel cornered, “I’m sure it must be a lovely story.”
“Oh, yes! I remember it like it was yesterday,” y/n swoons dreamily, a fond smile plastered on her face and her gaze casted out towards the living room where Pietro sits playing video games with the boys. She blinks once, twice, eyes never once leaving the silver haired stranger in the couch. A pregnant pause hovers over the two, the porcelain plate trembles in her hands, and Vision watches in silent horror as her eyes begin to well with tears.
“Y/n?” He calls gently, fingertips carefully brushing against her elbow in an attempt to bring her focus back to him. He removes the plate from her iron grip and sets it back carefully in the sink before turning the girl by the shoulders to face him; she still wears that same adoring smile despite the tears that silently fall down her cheeks.
“Forgive me,” she murmurs quietly, “I can’t seem to gather my thoughts properly.”
“Who did this to you? Was it Wanda? Pietro?” Vision press urgently. Y/n sways slightly when he shakes her by the shoulders in a desperate attempt to break her from her trance but still her smile remains.
“Pietro? Oh, he loves me, and I love him.”
“My dear, I don’t think you do,” the man utters sympathetically.
“Of course I do, silly. We were made for each other.”
“Perhaps you were, but not in the way you think. Y/n-“
“Please let go,” she interrupts in a soft, steady voice, looking up at him like a scorned child, “you’re scaring me.”
“If you would just let me,” Vision begins to say, fingertips reaching for her temple in preparation to break her from the spell only to be interrupted by another presence in the room.
“Whoa, what’s going on in here?” Pietro asks with a raised brow and uneasy laugh. “Hey toaster oven, you mind maybe letting go of my girlfriend?”
“Of course, my apologies,” Vision murmurs, stepping away from the girl and allowing her to run into the arms of her boyfriend.
“You okay, babe?” He asks with a raised brow. She isn’t, not in the slightest, but she has a job to do and a role to play, so she merely bats her eyes at him before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“Never been better. Hey, how does dessert sound?”
“I think that sounds lovely,” Wanda chimes, her sudden appearance in the kitchen doorway startling the already present trio. Vision looks like a deer caught in headlights when Wanda saunters over and gifts him with an innocent kiss to the cheek. “Why don’t you and Pietro get the boys settled down while y/n and I prepare the dessert?”
“What a lovely idea, darling,” Vision chimes with an easy smile— y/n isn’t the only one with a role to play. “Come now, dear brother-in-law.”
“Take good care of my girl, little sis,” Pietro calls on his way out. Wanda smiles, her eyes never once leaving y/n’s trembling frame.
“But of course. What is family for? Y/n, be a dear and grab the plates, won’t you?”
“Yes, Wanda,” the girl chimes obediently. She smiles.
“I noticed you seemed a little shaken up just now, is everything alright?” Wanda asks, feigning obliviousness.
“Oh, you know, just some friendly questioning from my new brother-in-law. I’m sure he just wanted to make sure Pietro had found the right match,” she explains with a passive wave of her hand. Wanda hums softly.
“Well we don’t need to worry about that,” she notes. “You’re here for a reason, y/n. Do you know that?”
“For Pietro, and for you,” she replies earnestly, smiling when Wanda takes her hands in her own and gives them a gentle squeeze. “You’ve always wanted a big family, a real family, one that would never turn its back on you or leave you behind ever again. You want a sister and nieces and nephews and love, and I’m here because I can do all of that and more for you.”
“Exactly right. Family is forever, y/n. Are you ready for the commitment that comes with being a Maximoff?”
“I’ve never been more ready,” y/n responds eagerly. Wanda smiles.
“I’m so relieved you said that,” she utters gently, pulling y/n in for a hug so that she may not see the way in which her eyes begin to glow red and waves of energy begin to emit from her fingertips as she carefully settles herself fully into the girl’s mind. She fills her head with thoughts of Pietro and family, with memories she’s never lived and feelings she’s never had, she fills her with love, and y/n is none the wiser.
“Congratulations, y/n,” Wanda utters quietly, comfortingly stroking the girl’s hair, “you’re a Maximoff now.”
#wandavision spoilers#wandavision#peter maximoff#pietro maximoff#peter maximoff x reader#pietro maximoff x reader#peter maximoff imagine#pietro maximoff imagine#quicksilver#quicksilver x reader#quicksilver imagine#wanda maximoff#vision#wanda maximoff x reader#vision x reader#marvel#mcu#mcu x reader#mcu imagine
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Aftermath
Jay Halstead
Pairing: Jay Halstead x Sister!Reader
Description: People always tend to forget about the aftermath.
Words: 2,122
Requested: yes by anonymous; second, if it's ok i wanted to request a part two to the imagine? i was wondering if you could just explore the aftermath of her assault, as she continues to heal and accept what's happened to her. by this i mean experiencing ptsd and having nightmares, flashbacks and dealing with certain triggers. also, maybe she could still sometimes turn to substances as many survivors do, and just break down sometimes. obviously since it's a halstead sister fic and i love the support system in the last story, i'd love to see jay helping her through everything and being super protective + some scenes with the rest of intelligence? but it's obviously up to you. thank you so much <3
Warnings: mention of drinking, sexual assault, drugs, language, PTSD, Jay Halstead and all of Intelligence being the best.
A/N: This is the long awaited part two to Infliction, and by long-awaited I mean like a month later. I tried to make the end light hearted because it seemed like a good way to go. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors.
—
It had been a few weeks since the party and things were beginning to look up. You and Brayden started hanging out more and it was safe to say the two of you were on your way to becoming best friends. The group of guys had all been arrested and sent far away from you. You, Jay, and Will have been having more frequent family movie nights instead of them heading out to Molly's every free night they got. Intelligence had basically adopted you as one of their own and even went out of their way to hang out with you. Kim and Hailey had girls nights away from the ever-annoying guys they work with. Adam and Kevin practically chauffeured you to hangouts with Brayden and took you out to your favorite diner on the weekends. Even Hank had called you once in a while as a check-in and to keep you informed about your case. Overall things seemed to be getting better for you.
Except for one little detail. Your PTSD was hitting you like a truck. Of course, the only person who even remotely knew what was happening was Brayden because he was the one person you spent most of your time with. Thankfully he was there to help ground you and calm you down when it all became too much for you. This wasn't sudden, it's been building up since it happened and clearly you needed to work on accepting it rather than shoving it all down. That's one thing you and Jay had in common, the two of you always had trouble addressing your problems no matter how big they became.
Currently, you were laying in bed and staring up at your ceiling that Jay had covered in stars for you. If there was one thing about you is that you still are a child at heart. You had been shocked awake by your recurring nightmare. It always followed the same premise of the night of the party but every night there were either different people, points of view, or different actions you took that still led you to the same outcome. There were dried tears staining your cheeks that you hadn't bothered to wipe away and every few moments there would be a soft sniffle to break the eerie silence.
Having enough of staring up at your ceiling you let out a low huff and pushed yourself up to a sitting position. You turned to the side and looked at the clock resting on your nightstand. The clock read 4:19 AM which was clearly too early for you to be up but too late for you to try and go back to sleep before Jay's rustling while getting ready would wake you up. Reaching over to open the drawer in your nightstand you checked the small bottle hidden under the glasses case that held your blue light ones. It was three-quarters full of vodka you had inconspicuously stolen from Jay's cabinet. You kept promising yourself that you wouldn't drink anymore, but clearly, that wasn't really panning out in your favor. Sure you would have a swig or two before braving yourself and heading off to school but it was to take the edge off, not to get drunk.
If Jay were to check through your drawer he'd probably think otherwise. You had stopped with the pills since he had found you, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him so you continued to drink. Obviously, it wasn't a lot and definitely not enough to get you drunk off your ass. You just wanted to be buzzed enough to have the courage to walk into your dreaded school every morning and deal with the numerous triggers you kept on discovering.
Eventually, it was time for you actually start getting ready for school. Jay had already left for work a while ago, leaving a kiss on your head before stepping out the door. You pulled on a random outfit that was comfortable and your usual pair of shoes before throwing your backpack over your shoulder and walked downstairs. Deciding against your worst judgment you made the choice to brave the day without the buzz of alcohol. Waiting at the front entrance of your building was Brayden. Like every morning the two of you would walk to school together if Jay had to go into the district early. If Jay only had paperwork that day he would drive the two of you to school instead, but that didn't happen very often.
The two of you walked to school silently, only exchanging a few words of greeting. Once you had made it to the large building you both had to split up for your classes. The day went on like usual, boring teachers droning on about upcoming assignments and tests. Lunch had arrived after what seemed like forever and you sat at an empty table practically half asleep. You held your head in your hand as you kept your eyes from slipping shut at the exhaustion.
"You not feeling too hot there?" One of your classmates from English asked as he passed by.
You froze at the familiar words before shaking yourself out of the memory.
"Fine, just tired." You brushed off their comment as he nodded with an understanding smile before continuing to his table.
Moments later the door opened and you picked your head up reluctantly. It was a few guys on the football team.
"You not feeling too hot there?" One of the seniors asked you.
You simply shook your head which only worsened the pain in it. The boys walked a few steps closer before placing their hands on your shoulders. They shoved you back onto the bed and immediately your body began to react.
You kicked and punched aimlessly to get them off of you but your movements were uncoordinated and your mind was foggy. There were too many of them and they began to overpower you, their hands wandering to unwanted places.
“Y/N?” Brayden’s voice pulled you out of the flashback.
“Huh?” Your teary eyes darted around his face before focusing on his concerned expression.
“Let’s head to the library, all right?” Brayden suggested already standing up from his seat across from you.
You nodded silently before hiking your bag over your shoulder and walked to the library beside him. Luckily at your school, they were lenient enough to let you head to the library during lunch. Usually, the kids didn’t take advantage of it but it was an unspoken spot of peace for you and Brayden.
The two of you sat at a table near the back and Brayden pulled a chair up beside you.
“Want to talk about what happened back at lunch?” Brayden asked softly.
You bit your lip in contemplation. This had been happening for weeks and every time you’d shake your head and change the subject. But the fact was it wasn’t getting better and you just needed to tell somebody that you weren’t okay. A few tears slipped out of your eyes which led to quiet sobs escaping from your lips. Brayden offered you a hug with outstretched arms, making sure to check if you were okay with it. You leaned forward into his embrace and squeezed his waist tightly. He held you there while rubbing soothing circles on your back until your cries stopped. You lifted your head off his chest and wiped away the remained tears on your cheeks before speaking up.
“Uh, flashbacks. I’ve been getting them for a while. I thought they’d go away, but they haven’t.” You explained with a sigh, avoiding his gaze and instead taking interest in your hands.
“Okay first, if they happen again tell me, or pull on my sleeve and I’ll get you somewhere quiet. Got it?” Brayden bent his head to try and get into your eye line.
You nodded your head with a hum before he spoke up again, “since they haven’t gone away maybe you should talk to someone. Preferably a professional, but if you’re only comfortable telling me then I’m all ears. Although, I’m not sure that I can cure you with magic, wish I could though.” Brayden tried to lighten the mood with his magic comment.
“Thanks, Brayden. Jay actually has been bugging me about seeing a therapist. Said it helped him with his PTSD, I think I might take him up on it.” You looked up at the boy with pursed lips.
“That’s good. Just know we’re not trying to force you into anything, we just want you to feel better however long that may take.” Brayden gave you a soft smile.
“You are wise beyond your years, you know that?” You smiled back with a small laugh.
“I try, I try.” Brayden shrugged nonchalantly.
“Can you come with me to the district after school?” You asked cautiously.
“Of course, not like I’d rather do my homework.” Brayden laughed.
“And there’s the Brayden I know.” You smiled widely.
Soon enough you and Brayden had been making your way to the twenty-first district to talk with Jay and probably the rest of Intelligence. The air was lighter between the two of you once you had finally started to open up. Of course, you hadn’t spilled everything but the little you had told him made the weight on your shoulders lessen slightly.
“Ah, baby Halstead and company, what brings you here?” Trudy greeted from the front desk with a tight-lipped smile. Even if she didn’t want to admit it, she had a soft spot for you.
“Can you ring us upstairs? I need to talk with Jay.” You asked.
“You’re lucky they haven’t caught a case today.” Trudy walked out from behind her desk and led you and Brayden upstairs.
“Thank you, Trudy.” You smiled and followed the woman.
“I have a special delivery for Detective Chuckles.” Trudy spoke up once the three of you reached the top of the steps.
Jay’s head snapped up from his desk with a look of confusion when his eyes landed on you. He quickly stood up and scanned you over for anything.
“What happened, are you all right?” Jay cupped your cheek in concern before sparing a glance at Brayden for any sign of something bad.
“I’m okay, I just needed to talk to you.” You reassured him.
“All right. You wanna head into the kitchen?” Jay asked.
“No, we could talk at your desk. They’re all gonna find out anyway.” You gestured to the rest of the unit who was watching the two of you intently.
Jay nodded his head and led you to his desk. You reached out and held onto Brayden’s arm as you pulled him along to take a seat and sit beside you. Of course, at this, the entire unit had gathered around with concerned faces once you started to explain to them. Jay’s expression was held with soft eyes as he listened to you agree with wanting to try therapy and asking for help.
Once you were done Jay stood up and placed a kiss on the top of your head before whispering into your hair, “I’m proud of you.” Jay pulled away to give you a warm smile.
“All right come here you little muffin.” Kim held out her arms with a smile.
You stepped forward into her embrace as she squeezed you tightly, she rocked the two of you from side to side eliciting a small giggle out of you. Hailey joined the hug with a laugh once Kim pulled her by the arm.
Antonio placed a hand on your shoulder once you, Hailey, and Kim pulled away, “I’m proud of you, kiddo.” He offered you a kind nod.
“So proud.” Kevin gave you one of his signature bear hugs.
“Okay, it’s my turn.” Adam squeezed his way to stand in front of you. Which caused everyone to laugh at his eagerness.
“I could never forget about you, Ruz.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he lifted your toes off the ground.
“Are we done yet? You guys are treating my sister like an attraction.” Jay sassed.
“You’re just mad that you only got to kiss me on the head and not a hug.” You retorted from leaning back into Brayden with a smirk.
“No, not true.” Jay shook his head with furrowed brows.
“Yup, totally jealous.” You nodded convinced.
“How did we go from a serious topic to Halstead and mini Halstead having a sarcasm battle?” Adam questioned with a confused expression.
“I learned to stop questioning it.” Brayden shrugged from behind you.
“It’s how we cope. Halstead thing, I guess.” You said with raised brows.
“Fair enough.” Jay sighed.
#chicago pd fanfiction#fanfiction#imagine#request#one shot#one chicago#one chicago fanfiction#one chicago imagine#chicago pd imagine#chicago pd#jay halstead x y/n#jay halstead x you#jay halstead x sister!reader#jay halstead x reader#jay halstead fanfiction#jay halstead imagine#jay halstead
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limerence | yan zhongli x reader
ai ai ai, i’ve never tried writing before so this is a first (and ofc i picked zhongli to seduce him to come home), if all goes well possibly i’ll do another!
apologies for poor english and grammar, i speak dutch, im trying hehe.
warnings: blood, violence, mentions of public death/ exec*tion, mentions of death, stabbing (in leg and arm), obsessive tendencies, forced relationship, yandere content
please let me know if i missed anything!
limerence: the state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person
“Thank you for providing me your kindness, Mr. Zhongli.” You smiled, letting your hands slowly wrap around the porcelain cup adorned with designs of gold. It seemed to fit the man’s mysterious aura: truly lavish.
After an encounter, more so a dilemma with a small village in Liyue which left you seconds away from your inevitable fate of hanging by a rope. To be fair, sure, possibly you shouldn’t have accidentally set fire to half the village. But having a pyro vision has its downsides too, no?
Although it left you questioning why it seemed he had such an impact on the small village, all the mattered is that you still sat in flesh and bone and not six feet under.
Truly, he was a kind man, even inviting you into his abode for a cup of tea and a residence for the meantime. You were an adventurer from Fontaine, traveling to all the seven nations in search of, well nothing. Armed with only a pyro vision and a spear you were determined to travel the world. Liyue Harbor was just one of your many stops, and to your delight it was truly a fascinating and astonishingly beautiful place.
“Ah, there’s no need for formalities. I do think we are well acquainted by now.” He hummed, observing how you lifted the cup to your lips, your eyes widening as the scorching substance hit your tongue. You quickly placed the porcelain cup down, a light laugh emerging from your lips as a smile soon followed.
“Really, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” Resting your finger tips upon the cup and frowning as you stared at the liquid in deep thought.
“I’d give you my life if I could.” You laughed, furrowing your eyebrows with a sigh.
“We could arrange for that.” Your eyes widened, staring down at the cup of tea with a dumbfounded expression. Quickly composing yourself, a laugh quickly arose from your mouth, though sounding more panicked than natural.
“Ah, I didn’t imagine you’d be a man of comedy.” You chuckled, cocking your head to the side and letting your hand fall from the cup down to your waist, toying with the pyro vision by your side. Sure, you weren’t in danger, just force of habit.
“I’m afraid I do not understand.” There go the wide eyes once again.
“Oh- your comment, before?” You looked up, now gripping the red orb by your side as more of a safety precaution than anything, worry seeping through your bones but that stupid voice in your head told you Mr. Zhongli couldn’t hurt a fly. Tension rose in your throat, watching as his amber orbs slowly gaze over your expression.
“Ah, I see.” A wave of relief washed over your body. Social cues truly aren’t just his thing. We all have our quirks though, no?
“You don't take my word?” He hummed, furrowing his eyebrows. The 10 seconds of relief now came crashing down, setting you back to your state of panic.
“I do believe it is a fair trade. On my part, saving your life from harm and death and as for your part, giving me yourself in return.” He wasn’t joking.
“I’m sorry, but you’ve got to be mistaken. We had no such agreement before this!” You raised your voice, listening as a hum of what seemed to be displeasure released from his mouth. He lifted his hand, bringing it to his chin as if in thought. “I do value fairness greatly.”
“You’re out of your mind, no part of this is fair! There was no mention of such a thing?” He seemed to be confused, taking in your words.
“Ah, you seem to misunderstand. I simply intend to establish a marriage. To bind you to my side, for eternity that is.” Well, now it was your turn to be confused. “Marriage? Goodness gracious, we met, what? Two days ago? My apologies Mr. Zhongli, but in no way do I intend to marry you. I haven’t a clue what you speak about.” You stated, rising from your seat and preparing for your departure.
“That does not seem like a wise choice, Y/N.” Your body tensed, was this a threat? No. You are fine. A huff of breath released from your mouth as you readied yourself once again, walking towards the door and making your departure with no more exchanged words.
“What a shame.” Zhongli hummed with a frown, staring at the door you’d made your sudden leave from.
Putting the events of a few days ago behind, it truly was difficult to leave Liyue Harbor. Residents of the city were welcoming and kind, helping a foreigner with open hands. Though all good things must come to an end at some point.
As you traveled your way through Liyue, passing by ruin after ruin the thought of your soon adventures in Mondstadt seemed more intriguing by the second. Maybe you do get excited too easily, but you can't help the way your daydreams take over reality. It does make time fly by faster though.
After days of travel through a variety of terrain, soon you find yourself at Wangshu Inn, looking for a night's rest. It does seem as though everything in Liyue is elegant, and this place is most certainly no different. To say the least you were excited to stay in such a place.
With your bag in hand, you slowly make your way across the balcony of the building towards your room, letting your eyes gaze upon the stars in the sky. A sigh releases from you as you stop your short walk and make your way towards the edge of the balcony, staring up at the stars in all their glory.
In sight is Celestia itself. Perhaps one day you could visit. After all, this is only the beginning of your adventures. With so many more to come maybe you could ascend there one day.
“Pathetic.” The words catch you off guard as your eyes widen, quickly turning to meet the raspy voice only to find yourself knocked to the ground, your belongings and spear shoved to the side. An excruciating pain made its presence upon your leg and as you let out a loud groan, you open your eyes and are met with a black and teal-haired man staring down at you with a malicious glare.
Your eyes widen in horror as you look down to the source of the pain: a large spear present in your calf leaving you to watch as blood seeped out. The agonizingly slow speed as to which he pulls the spear from your skin makes tears surface upon your eyes. And soon after you find the tip of the same spear pointed at your neck.
“Who are you?” You muttered through gritted teeth, glaring at him with watery eyes. It hurt so bad, more pain than you’d ever felt before.
“It doesn’t concern you as to who I am, you are only a mere mortal.” Your breath hitches as you scan over his body and take sight of the mask on his side.
“Y- you’re an adepti?” You whispered, your voice shaky. “Aren’t you supposed to be protecting hum-”
A cry of pain releases from your mouth as the spear once pointed in your neck now finds itself sunken into your thigh.
“Did I say you could speak?” His voice is raspy, it sounds as though it’s strained from screaming, but you’re the one screaming. Tears fall from your eyes as you wait for your fate to be sealed. Beside you you can hear footsteps upon the wooden balcony, a surge of hope rushes through you only to come back down to horror as quickly as it lasted.
The same deep hum you’d despised now evident once again.
“It seems you are in trouble?” It was as if he was asking a question more than making a statement as if you weren’t sitting in a pool of your own blood with a spear pointed at your throat. You reach your arm out in a desperate attempt to grasp your spear, biting your lips to stop the sobs from spilling once again.
“Zhongli, please-” In your arm this time the spear plunges down on.
“Do not speak to Rex Lapis in such a disrespectful manner.” The adepti snaps, glaring down at you. Silence surfaces as your sobs grow louder, and soon you find yourself coming to realization.
Rex Lapis? No no, there has to be a mistake. But it all makes sense? The same man who took you in so humbly now kneels beside you watching you suffer. Is this who Rex Lapis, the god of contracts and war truly is?
As he kneels by your side, his gloved hand delicately makes its way down your cheek, wiping the tears from your face.
“Please help me.” You whisper, you sound truly pathetic. But you’d rather look pathetic than give up on life so easily.
“I’ll do anything.” You ever so quietly whisper out. You knew you didn’t want what would come next, but you couldn’t give up. Not yet.
“Anything?” He hums as if he found the scene before him amusing. The eye contact made between his amber eyes and your e/c orbs sends shivers down your spine.
He truly wants this. He’s crazy.
You find yourself nodding your head in hesitance, you don’t want this.
“Y/n, do you agree to stay bound to my side in marriage for eternity?” Your breath hitches, eyes widening in horror, there’s no going back on this. There truly isn’t.
Is this worth your life?
“Yes.”
#yandere zhongli#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin x reader#yandere genshin impact x reader#yandere zhongli x reader#yandere x reader#yandere genshin#yuna’s fics
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Smooth like butter
BTS 8th member
Sunny’s masterlist
“Sunny being a mess in the behind the scenes for Butter”
requested by: anon
a/n: Feel free to share your thoughts with me. Requests are open! 💜
Sunny blinks three times from where she was standing, eyes focused on Jimin's hair while ignoring whatever he was telling her.
“I've had this hair for days now. Get over it” He snaps his fingers in front of her face and the girl's eyes fall to his face. “Are you going to say I look like a 'my little pony' character again?”
“I was wondering if I pressed the color strands in a specific order something would happen?” Sunny says without a thought and J-hope, who was watching the interaction, snorts.
“You're just jealous” Rolling his eyes, Jimin turns away from her. Sunny nods and turns to the styling team.
“I am, actually. Unnie, do you think I could do something like this next time?” She smirks after getting a positive sign. One of the makeup artists gets close to make some touch ups and Jimin gets called up to record his elevator scene.
“Did you rehearse something for your take?” J-hope looks up from his chair and pats the armrest for her to come closer, which she does and leans next to it.
“Not really. Just spinning and throwing my jacket back should do it, right?” Shrugging, she places a hand on his shoulder and watches Jimin's first take. The song plays for longer than she remembered, and he does a bunch of fancy moves before stopping and asking for a do-over. “Well, maybe it won't cut it”
"Add some groving in the middle" Hoseok stands up, swaying to an unexistent beat. As if on queue, Jungkook and Jimin, who stepped down since something about the lights had to be fixed, showed up also doing the same shimmy.
Sunny laughed and watched them huddle together in a little dance pile. Taehyung who was standing a little away shouted an "Ay" to support his friends' little club section.
“Good thing we're not a part of the dance line” Yoongi's voice suddenly appeared by her side, startling Sunny while he stared amused at the group. J-hope walks a little to the side, waving for them to join the circle, and as a reflex Suga points to somewhere undefined “Look, they're calling for us there”.
"Get in here" Jimin holds Yoongi's arm and pulls him closer. Doing the same to Sunny, Hobi intesinfies his shoulder movement getting her to do the same and "grove" with them.
"Jimin, we're good to go" The director interrupts their moment to continue with the shoot.
Sunny takes that moment as a good time to walk out and search to see if there's anything she can drink to boost her energy. Spotting Namjoon standing next to a bunch of colerfull bottles, she heads his way and snatches one for herself.
"Having a good time?" He asks before locking his phone and putting it inside his pocket. Sunny nodds adding a straw into the energy drink.
"And you? Excited for another season of american interviews" She snorts wacthing him roll his eyes.
“Of course. You're going to help me out, right? Pay attention to what's being asked and answer with a short sentence like you're used to doing” Nudging her sides, Namjoon watches her think for a second.
"I don't know. I'd have to explain how my brain is capable of speaking the language and learning English through normal school might not be as entertaining as learning it through a tv show. Americans might not be ready for it" She adds making him snort.
"You're awful" He says bitting back a laugh. Sunny shruggs sipping from the bottle. "But you always help me out. The tradition is still going, right?" Namjoon waits in silence for a sencind beforr reeinforcing "Right?"
“Chill out. Of course” Rolling her eyes, Sunny lets go of the straw “We can do the usual one question for you one for me system”.
"Thank you for lowering my worries" RM sighs and pats her shoulder.
The girl is ready to turn around and look for a couch to sit on when Taehyung and Jin walk closer to them. She waves the oldest closer and rest her head on his arm.
"It's so hot we might have to change the title to melted butter" Jin laughs and claps to support his joke, the action making Sunny's head bounce and she sends him an annoyed sideglance.
"Ha ha ha" Namjoon laughs ironically and Taehyung sings "Melt like butter"
"It is getting warm. Why are we wearing suits for this concept again?" The girl points to her clothes as a way to emphazise her question, yet she doesn't have a straight answer.
"Part of the symbolism or something. Not the time for questions like that" Namjoon pats her on the shoulder and walks out.
"They probably explained it in the concept meeting" Taehyung tries to recall. Sunny represses a laugh and shrugs again.
“I didn't pay attention to that one. My bad” Also walking away from the group she turns around and brushes her jacket back “It must be for that smooth criminal vibe”.
#Sunny#bts 8th member#bts addition#bts additional member#bts au#bts female member#bts female addition#bts female oc#bts oc#bts extra member#bts extra member au#bts x oc#bts x 8th member#kpop addition#kpop female member#kpop female oc#kpop female addition
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An Amalgamation Waltz 1839. |01|
> pairing: min yoongi x reader
> genre: FallenAngel!AU
> words: 23k
> warnings: hints of smut (heavy make out), a scene of harassment (nothing explicit), violence. possible heresy. forgive me. a third party’s unrequited feelings for OC. don’t know if i did this right, it’s 3 am right now.
> summary: When it comes to the both of you, a lifetime is not enough. And when it comes to you, there’s really no lines he wouldn’t be willing to cross. Even on the brink of a war that could destroy the world as we know it, you’re everything.
“ (...) ‘Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?’ he asked wistfully.
You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.
‘I’ve never had to,’ you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you.”
a/n: my love for Paradise Lost gave birth to this. i really like this one :) gonna be posting the second (and last) part soon! no need to say that PL was just an inspiration, this isn’t exactly based on the poem.
“(…) Here at least
We shall be free, the almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:
Here we may reign secure, and in my choice
To reign is worth ambition though in hell:
Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.”
The sudden thud on the wooden surface of the table made you jolt and close the book, heart rate increasing considerably.
“Y/N.” His voice was deep, dragging your name through his teeth to evince his annoyance. The bustling café was already at its peak hours and you didn’t even notice the time as it passed you by.
“Yes, Taehyung?” You ogled your grumpy friend, his noisy arrival being due to the study material he tossed in front of you.
“You said you’d help me with English lit. I was waiting for you at the library for about an hour and your phone is off.” As you remembered why you were even in the café in the first place, you threw him a guilty look. He pouted. “Hey, what does that Milton guy have that I don’t? And the fancy words don’t count.” You giggled.
“John Milton has nothing on you, Tae. He’d probably need my help to get through this semester as well.” The joke seemed to almost let you in his good graces again, but you knew he still needed the bribery. “I’ll buy you your favorite if you forgive me.” You could tell he was fighting back a smile upon hearing your offer, his mood suddenly uplifted.
“Okay. But don’t think I’ll let you off the hook that easily.”
“I wouldn’t dare. Wait here.” You went to the balcony to pay the check and get his frappuccino to go. Taehyung was a sweet guy who liked sweet things, and that also applied to his coffee. His sweet tooth earned him a nickname from you – Marzipan. Waiting for the bartender to finish your order, you looked over where your best friend was digging through your copy of Paradise Lost without much enthusiasm.
You had moved in next door to his house about fifteen years ago, and you two instantly initiated a solid friendship. As much as you could say about three-year-olds. Despite him being one of your favorite people in the whole world, the both of you were into totally different things. He went to parties, you enjoyed some lone quality time. He played all sorts of sports, you preferred to stick to your writing and, sometimes, the piano. You were still working on the latter. But even though you seemed to be totally opposites, he still got you like no one else could. He was the person you told all your secrets to, not that you had that many anyway, and you liked to think – no, you were sure of it – he felt the same way about you.
“Here’s your overly-sweet drink, Marzipan. I don’t even know if you can still call it coffee,” you scowled.
“Don’t diss my frappuccino, it’s the sole reason of my forgiveness.”
“Yeah, right. So, you wanna get going? I’m sure you have a lot of thoughts on that book already.”
“It was very average so far, if I do say so myself. I don’t know why you like it so much,” he teased you.
“Well, that’s what the private lessons are for. So I can teach you good taste.” You pushed the door open and immediately shivered as you felt a cold gush of air. It was snowing.
“Here, take my coat. Why don’t you ever wear decent clothes in the winter? I swear to God, I don’t know how you never caught something serious, like pneumonia or whatever,” he scolded.
“You don’t have to. We’re near home anyway,” you tried to reassure him, but he was, as usual, outwardly ignoring it. “Really, Tae, it’s no big deal. Let’s go.” He was ready to fight you on this one, but you were already walking away. He took a few hurried steps to catch up.
After a ten-minute walk, daylight was almost completely gone, lit lampposts following its wake. You both hit the front door rug with your feet several times before getting inside, your mom was a bit freaky when it came to cleaning.
“Mom, Tae’s here!” You shouted from the living room, guessing she was in the kitchen. “We’re going upstairs for a bit! School work!”
“Okay, honey! Tell him that dinner will be ready soon!” She responded.
“I love you, Ms. D’Angelis!” He shot back. Yes, you had an italian background. When she heard his voice, she made sure to come out and greet him.
“Love you, too, honey”, she pecked his forehead and he beamed. They liked each other way too much for their own good. “And you,” she pointed in your direction, “give mamma a kiss.”
You sighed before attending to her request. It was in your best interest not to fight it. “Okay, enough of this. We’ll be upstairs if you need us.”
“Have fun, kids.” You sure would. Taehyung might beg to differ.
The rest of the night was somewhat peaceful. You had helped Taehyung as much as you could before your mother called you out to eat, claiming that you shouldn’t starve the boy and then make him eat a cold meal. He couldn’t agree fast enough. For the most part, that was your life. Uncomplicated and comfortable, which was plenty for an eighteen year old. When you went to bed after practicing the piano for a little while, you were completely unaware of the pair of pitch black eyes that observed you through the window. But he was fully aware of you.
||\\
[Fear of the Water, by SYML]
You knew it was a dream. From the moment your brain processed the heavenly sight that unrevealed before your eyes, you knew. It was breaking dawn, the soft orange light kissing the ocean like a long lost lover. You were at the end of a cliff, but couldn’t find it in yourself to be afraid. You looked down at the waves that broke into the rocks almost violently, the salty breeze somewhat comforting. You loved the sea.
Taking a few deep breaths, you barely noticed the crack. The sound came from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t want to look away from the view, neither did you want to wake up. When you heard it again, you recognized footsteps. You turned around lazily, curious as to whom it would be the visitor of your reverie. When you fixed your eyes on him, though, you stopped breathing for a moment and your heart surely skipped a beat. He was a stranger in a number of ways, for he was seemed truly unworldly. Maybe ethereal was the word you were looking for. His violet eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe. Beautiful. His hair was dark as it fell like a silky curtain on his forehead. Not a single flaw on his skin or his body, but none of that was as breathtaking as what lied on his back. Great, large white wings, so beautifully outstretched that you felt unworthy of looking at them.
You opened your mouth a few times, but nothing would come out. Probably for the best, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of what was probably your mind’s greatest creation. How you could come up with him was beyond you. You wanted to ask his name before it all ended and you had to go back to real life, back to average. You wanted to touch his face, his wings, see for yourself if they felt as they looked. You wished you never woke up. As he took a step closer, you took your own back, startled at the sudden movement. Before you realized your mistake, it was too late. You had lost your balance. You knew it would be over soon. Taking one last look at the stranger, you saw as he stretched one arm to reach you, but to no avail. Too soon, the wind was ricocheting your skin and you were falling.
You woke up with a loud gasp as you searched for air, finding it oddly rarefied. When you registered the annoyingly high pitch of your alarm, you whined. Real life was the last thing you wanted to face right now, but if you told your mother that you’d stay in bed daydreaming about a figment of your imagination, she would personally retrieve you from the bed and toss you into the shower. Made sense.
Getting ready as quickly as you could manage, you felt excited for no obvious reason. Maybe it was the afterglow of the dream, but now you were eager to get out of the house, as if you wanted to find him. Which was insane, because you knew he did not exist. Come to think about him now, it was getting harder by the minute to remember his face. You panicked.
Running towards your desk and grabbing a pencil and your notebook, you tried to recreate him on paper, which was a lost battle from the start. Even if you were some doodling genius – you were definitely not – you would never be able to do him justice. You doubted anyone who had ever stepped on this planet, past or present, ever would. It was not the kind of beauty that could be explained or demonstrated, but rather felt. He wasn’t just inhumanely pretty, wings and all. There was something about him that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It may sound cheesy and totally deranged, but you felt whole in those few shared moments, like you knew him your entire life. Your mind didn’t recognize him, but your body did.
Groaning at the piece of paper and throwing the pencil at your baby-blue wall in annoyance, you gave up. It was pointless, his features were already escaping your mind. You didn’t know why you were so hung up on a dream, honestly. Seeing that you were a little riled up, you decided to let it go and just finish getting ready for class. You could see through the window that Taehyung was already waiting for you.
||\\
“So, how did it go?”
He pouted before answering. “It went alright.” Lies, he was a big fat liar.
“C’mon, Marzipan, be honest with me for a second.”
The nickname finally broke him down. “Fine, I hated it. I remember you telling me about every important detail of the subject yesterday, but I couldn’t put it on paper. Plus, why the fuck does he have to elaborate the questions so much? Most of the time I didn’t even understand what was being asked. Literature sucks,” he whined indignantly. You could tell it was taking a toll on him.
“Don’t worry too much about it, okay? I will help you. We’ll both graduate this year, yeah?” you reached his hand on a reassuring squeeze.
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
“Then sure. But you have to take me seriously, Y/N,” he warned you. “No more losing track of time in coffee shops.”
“Hey, I bought you a frappuccino, that incident should be six feet under by now,” you accused and he mumbled a grumpy response.
The both of you spent half of the morning taking the lit test. You thought you did fine, though the questions really were a little bit tricky. Walking side by side with Taehyung, you didn’t notice him at first. But once you realized there were no seats available right next to each other, your eyes eventually landed on his.
“We can’t sit together through this class, we’re too late,” Tae grumbled, trying to get your attention back to himself, but to no avail. “Y/N? Hey!” He flicked your forehead and you yelped.
“Did you just… flick me?” you seethed.
“I wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t lusting over the new guy. Who is he, by the way?” If you acknowledged the hint of jealously in his tone, you didn’t show it.
“I was not lusting over anybody,” you huffed.
“If you say so.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Grumpy. Is it because I caught you?” You just snarled and took a seat at the front row, while he chuckled and chose the one in the back.
To be honest, you were lusting a little. Those eyes seemed oddly familiar, though you couldn’t quite put a finger on why. The rest of the day passed by smoothly; you were able to sit with Taehyung for the remaining classes you had together and even helped him a bit with some homework. After a while, your new classmate was nowhere near your mind, despite that funny feeling you got every time you looked at him. Maybe it was because he was stunningly handsome. Who knows? You never cared much about those things, but you were only human.
On your way home with Taehyung, you felt eyes burning on your back. You turned around and found him staring, expression unfathomable. He wore a black lather jacket, jeans and a black shirt, his dark hair beautifully disheveled. He gave you a wanton grin and you scoffed. Well, you knew his type, and it unnerved you to death.
Preppy playboy. Nothing more, nothing less.
He cut off the eye contact abruptly, heading towards a grey motorcycle. No shit, huh? You almost laughed at the predictability. You weren’t exactly into bikes, but that looked expensive. And it suited him perfectly.
“Holy-… do you see that? That’s a Triumph fucking Rocket,” Taehyung gasped, shaking your elbow lightly. “A 2500cc engine capacity Triumph Rocket. Man, his parents must be loaded. That’s not a high schooler’s bike,” he said, almost dreamy. Yeah, you saw that coming from a mile away.
“You talking about the new guy?” You asked nonchalantly, turning your head as you resumed walking.
“Don’t even try to pretend you weren’t ogling just now,” he accused.
“You’re obsessed with our new-found bad boy. Maybe you should date him, Tae,” a snicker left your lips at his appalled expression.
“Shut up,” he pushed your shoulder. “I’m just curious.”
“As in bi-curious?”
“Okay, that’s it, I’m leaving you behind,” he grumbled as he fastened his pace. You chuckled, trying to catch up with his long legs.
When you arrived home, you noticed an attempt of a drawing on top of your bed. It looked like a poorly doodled angel. First things first: though it definitely looked like something made by your hands, you didn’t have any recollection of it, let alone of leaving it on display like that. You looked around, searching for something, but nothing else seemed out of place. Trying to shrug the uneasiness off, you picked some clothes off the wardrobe and went for a warm bath.
||\\
It was a Saturday afternoon, so you planned to do the usual: hit the library and grab some coffee on your way home. Taehyung had promised to watch a movie with you this weekend, but a surprise party to one of his friends came up. He’d invited you to tag along, more out of habit than anything else. Your answer was always the same when he asked you to spend time with his peers; you weren’t even remotely fond of them. They had maybe one functioning braincell and a whole lot of conceit. Not your crowd at all.
“Mom, I’m leaving. Do you need me to get you anything?” You said, already on your way to the front door.
She was sprawled on the couch, gazing attentively at the TV. “No, honey, thank you. Are you going out with Tae?”
“Nope, something came up, we rescheduled. I won’t be long.”
“Okay, then. Be careful!”
“Will do!”, you shouted from the outside.
It was closing time when the sweet old lady had to gently kick you out. You weren’t surprised when you found out your phone was dead; you probably had a billion calls from your mother and, if she was desperate enough, maybe even Taehyung. Letting out a sigh, you grabbed your stuff quickly and waved goodbye to the librarian as you made your way out the door, grumbling to yourself about not being able to pick up some coffee now.
The air was hazy and cold, you couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead, and the streets were oddly empty. You tightened your coat around your body and quickened your pace, not willing to spend more time outside than you needed to. Seeing that all the stores were closed, you realized that Martha (the librarian) probably let you outstay your welcome a little bit. You cursed at the freezing night and your cheap coat. Taehyung was right, you should buy warmer clothes.
Lost in thoughts, you were stupid enough to miss the drunken noises coming from the end of the street. There was a group of three men coming your way and they all seemed to have ingested an unhealthy amount of booze, laughing loudly and pushing each other playfully. You felt cold sweat fall down your spine but just tried to ignore it, hoping that you’d be able to pass them by without being noticed.
“Y/N?” His voice was dragged, and he was tumbling around the words. It was only then you realized they were from your school, the boy in the middle being Jimmy, Taehyung’s drink buddy.
“Hi”, you tried to stay as far away as possible, but the one with the fashionably boring rectangular glasses didn’t let you, hooking his arm around your neck. He reeked of cigarettes and whiskey.
“C’monnn-“ he hiccupped, “don’t you wanna par-tay with-“ another one, “-us?”
You repressed the urge to gag as your pulse quickened.
“Not really. I have to go,” you almost managed to untangle his disgusting arm from you, but he kept it in place, holding you tighter. “Let go of me.”
You were annoyed. And scared to death, to be honest. These boys didn’t exactly live by a moral code, and the four of you were alone in the middle of nowhere. You didn’t trust them.
“Aww, don’t be shy, princess. You’re always so… boring. Makes me curious about what you’ve got going on under all… that.” The last one, Ian, made his way towards you, snickering menacingly. He wasn’t as drunk as the other two, and if you could give a hunch, you’d say he knew exactly was he was doing. That scared you even more. Feeling the brick-wall hit your back, you realized you were cornered, a curse escaping your dry lips.
“Look, I really have to g-“ he cut you off by pressing his body into yours, making you lose your breath for all the wrong reasons. “What the fuck, man?! Let go of me!” You were visibly growing desperate as you tried to punch his face and his chest, but that only earned you a chuckle from him as he held both your wrists with one hand.
“Feisty. I like it.” You almost puked right then and there, the bile stuck in your throat making you scowl. He let his filthy fingers slide down your sides, until he could grope your ass.
Your stomach sank, heart drumming against your ribcage as you held back a whimper.
Okay, think.
Taehyung had taught you the basics about self defense a thousand moons ago. And yet, you realize that it was nothing like the real thing. You balled your clammy fingers tightly, knuckles white as you scanned every corner of your brain to try and find a way out.
“Tae will kill you if you touch me,” your voice trembled. You couldn’t help it.
He laughed whole-heartedly. As if the mere thought was actually funny to him.
“He wouldn’t dare, sweetheart. Besides, I think he actually wouldn’t mind sharing his bitch with us for the night,” he stated. “He’s not using it anyways,” he punctuated with a roll of his hips and, this time, as you felt the pathetic bulge inside his pants, you couldn’t hold back a tiny sob. Because fuck, this was it. There was no way you could take down three grown men on your own.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The voice was low and steady. It made your skin crawl. You snapped your head and looked at the dark haired man standing behind the boys. Ian lazily turned around, still keeping your wrists wrapped tight in his hand.
“None of your business, newbie. Now get out of my sight before I lose my patience.”
When he chuckled, it was different from Ian’s. It was darker, rougher, and concealed a vicious ferocity that you knew was there. You knew because, as he disregarded your aggressor and looked you in the eyes, you almost feared for them.
“Ian, dude, let it go.” Jimmy instantly sobered up and tried to avoid any confrontation. To think he spent time with your best friend but would let Ian harass you without saying a word was disgusting. “Come on, your old man will kill you if you get in trouble again.” So that was his main concern. Still looking out for his shitty, abusive friend. Men’s sorority really is misogyny.
“You should listen to your friend. Believe me, you won’t survive me when I get my hands on you,” he stated matter-of-factly. You felt the sincerity in your bones. And so did Ian and his stupid cavalry. “Leave.”
Ian sighed, but relented. You felt a hot wave of relief as he disconnected his body from yours, leaning on the wall for balance as your legs wabbled.
“You better watch out,” he spits.
“Y/N, I... I’m really sorry,” Jimmy said as he scooped his friends and dragged them away from you. “You too, Min. He’s just drunk. We would’ve stopped him if it got too far.”
He’s lying. You can tell.
“Get the fuck out of my sight,” he growls, his composure faltering for a minute. As they stray out of view, he turns his gaze to you.
“Care to tell me what the hell are you doing walking alone in the middle of the night?”
He’s angry.
You scoffed, adjusting your coat around your shoulders and straightening your back.
“Thank you for the help, but I’m too old for a babysitter,” you say. “Besides, I don’t even know you.”
He looks at you and, as if trying to regain some sense and control a fit of rage, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before exhaling a long puff of air.
“Alright. My name is Yoongi,” he takes you by surprise as he snatches your wrist in an iron grip, “And I'm fucking walking you home.”
As he drags you across the street, you want to yell at him. You want to tell him to fuck off, you preppy bastard. But you don’t.
Because the truth is, you’re so fucking grateful. God knows what would’ve happened if it wasn’t for him. As he calms down, he drops your hand and slows his pace, allowing you to catch up without having to make an effort. You want to talk, but you choose to stay quiet.
Now that you weren’t so skittish anymore, it finally dawned you how the snow was beautifully spread throughout the streets, the trees, the buildings. Everything that was cool, cold, blue, held some fascination to you. Summer was never really your season – it had always been winter. To be able to curl up on your couch with a warm blanket and a hot cup of coffee, it was heavenly. You always thought that, if you could see the world through a color palette, it would be in different shades of blue.
The snow was not the only thing that you were entranced by, though. Yoongi was, from what you saw so far, much like winter to you. Harsh when needed, cool, but also peaceful and comforting. He didn’t urge you to talk about the incident; he didn’t urge you to talk at all. His mannerisms caught your attention from time to time – how he constantly ran his long fingers through his hair, how his eyes seemed to flutter shut lazily a few times in a row, or how he carried himself so elegantly that it almost made you jealous. He looked terribly familiar, too.
“Why are you staring?” His bluntness caught you off guard, but still couldn’t disturb the peacefulness of the moment.
“Just curious.” It was true. “Apart from the motorcycle and the superhero complex, I don’t know much about you.”
“Well, there’s not much to know.”
You hummed in response. “What are you doing here, then?” You ask, and his feet come to a halt.
“What is this, an interrogation?”
You scoff, and you both start walking again. “Just trying to make conversation. Besides, I’m actually curious,” you ponder. “People don’t move into this town very often,” you kick the snow under your feet. He sighs.
“I’m here with my… brother,” he hesitated before continuing, “he’s my guardian, sort of. We used to move a lot. Work thing.” He couldn’t hold back a grimace, but it disappeared in a second. You wanted to ask about his parents, but felt like you’d be crossing a line, so you kept your curiosity to yourself. “Now you tell me,” he said.
“Tell you what?”
“About yourself. Your family. Whatever you want to.”
“Um, let me see. I live with my mom. We moved from Italy when I was about three years old. My dad… my dad stayed.” You didn’t want to get into it, and he immediately noticed, just nodding for you to continue. “She’s been taking care of me by herself since then.”
He hummed in understanding, sparing you a few glances that you couldn’t quite decipher.
Before you knew, your house was already in sight. You wished you lived farther, just so you could keep that strange interaction on for a little longer.
“Well, this is me,” you announced. Lying about your address had crossed your mind somewhere along the way.
“Sorry if I was a jerk,” he surprised you by saying. You mouth opens and closes a few times before you say anything.
“It’s okay, I guess. I was pretty riled up, too.”
He nodded. “See you Monday, then?” His voice was deep and silky.
“Yeah. Hey, I… I’m glad you showed up when you did.”
“I am, too,” there was a dark undertone in his voice. “Good night, Y/N,” he surprised you by leading his right hand to the top of your head and lightly messing your hair before walking away. You stood still for a minute, until your mother opened the door.
“Y/N?! Darling, why did you take so long? I was so worried!”
“Um… Sorry, mom. I ran into a friend and my phone was off.”
“Well, you should’ve at least borrowed your friend’s phone to let me know, things aren’t like they used to be around these parts anymore, it’s getting pretty danger-“
She kept talking as she let you in, but you couldn’t concentrate. That night, you dreamt of him.
||\\
“(…) Farewell happy fields
Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, hail
Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell
Receive thy new possessor: one who brings
A mind not to be changed by place or time.
The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”
You didn’t think of yourself as an early riser, but when Monday morning came, you woke up before the alarm – and seemed almost delighted to do so. To be honest, you really tried to ignore the eagerness to see him again, but to no avail. The day before was thoroughly torturous, flashes of the short period of time you spent together coming back to haunt you now and then. At some point, you were so annoyed that you just lied on the bed and attempted to blast your eardrums off by listening to some crappy rock band at full volume. It didn’t work, obviously, and now you probably had hearing damage. The cons and cons of obsession.
At this exact moment, for the first time in your entire friendship, you were banging on Taehyung’s door first. Because you just couldn’t wait a minute longer.
“Damn it, woman, was is it with you today?” The sound of his voice was muffled. That, or you were going deaf, there was no way to tell for sure.
“You’re going to make us late, Marzipan!” At that, he opened his bedroom door slightly, just enough so you could peek at his disheveled hair and sleepy face.
“It’s dick o’clock in the morning, we have at least forty minutes until we leave,” his voice was rugged and he had an aggrieved look plastered on his pouty face.
“I brought you coffee,” you smiled at him while raising the thermal cup.
“Stop the madness and go wait for me downstairs, Gilmore girl,” he grunted. “Dad probably misses you, the poor old man. Keep him company, will ya?”
“Don’t be silly, Mrs. Kim need his sleep in the morning.”
“Then shut up and don’t wake him,” he grunted, closing the door shut, but it took him just a second to reopen it. “Wait, if dad’s asleep, how did you get in?”
“I, uh… Might or might not know that you keep a spare key inside the porcelain elf’s hat,” your lips tugged upwards sheepishly.
“Of course you do, you little imp. I’ll be down in a sec,” he grumbled and shut the door again.
Taehyung had asked you a couple of times why you were so anxious to get to school that morning, but you just brushed it off with an excuse that you knew he wouldn’t buy. There were several reasons as to why you wanted to keep things to yourself for now. Mainly, it was because you were afraid that he’d be furious enough to break Ian’s face in front of everybody once you told him the whole story. Not that you felt any sympathy, but rather that you didn’t want Tae to get in trouble. You’d tell him as soon as you could, though. You didn’t care for the idea of him being friends – or whatever they were – with Jimmy.
As soon as you stepped into school ground, you discreetly searched for his motorcycle in the parking lot. It wasn’t there. You tried not to let the disappointment show on your face, but you couldn’t help it. He didn’t come today. Who cares? As much as you wanted to force some sense into your stubborn brain, you were still hoping he’d show up, even if you didn’t talk to each other. You just wanted to see him, is all. Great time to start acting like a stupid teenager, Y/N. Kudos.
You were in the middle of a pretty heated argument with yourself as you entered the classroom. Taehyung picked a desk in the middle, as he usually did when the both of you were able to sit next to each other. You were almost putting your stuff down at his side when something caught your attention. There. You felt a girlish jolt of excitement when you saw Yoongi sitting at the last row. His silky black hair was damped, probably from the shower, and he was wearing a black, long sleeved shirt, v cut. You were about to divert your eyes, but then he stared right at your face and calmy removed his bag from the chair next to his. He smirked, as if defying you to take a seat. Annoying little piece of-
“Tae, do you mind if I sit somewhere else today?”
“What?” He looked at you, confused. “Where do you want us to…” Your eyes flashed to the end of the room and he followed your gaze. “What? Why would you-”
“Do you mind?”
“Uh… No?”
“Okay, great. See you soon.” You knew Taehyung was confused, so you should probably be thinking of what to tell him when this class was over. But for now, you just carried yourself to the empty spot in the back. Yoongi was looking at you with an amused expression, hiding his little smile behind his intertwined hands. You wanted to wash that smug off his face so bad. You took a seat and his scent assaulted you, warm and musky. Almost irresistible. You saw Taehyung from across the room gazing at the both of you with an inscrutable countenance.
“Is your boyfriend mad that you sat with me today?” He audaciously asked.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“I see. Must be hard, then,” he looked almost sympathetic.
“What?” Your face contorted into confusion.
“Nevermind. Tell me how was your Sunday,” he said while opening his notebook and doodling something you couldn’t decipher yet.
“So we’re friends now?”
“Pretty much.”
“Shouldn’t you ask me first?” You lifted your brow.
“You’re bossy today.”
You were about to give him a proper answer when the teacher barged in, almost breathless. As the class began, focusing on Hess’s Law was your main priority, it really was. But you couldn’t help the tingle crawling up your skin every time he unintentionally bumped his arm into yours, because he was still drawing, keeping his head down since Mrs. Edwards started talking. Still, you couldn’t move. No. Focus. You held onto the edge of your desk with one hand, knuckles white, as you kept the other taking notes on the subject.
“Relax,” he softly whispered, not taking his eyes away from his notebook. You immediately loosened the tight grip of your left hand.
“I’m relaxed,” you lied, imitating his tone. He chuckled, lifting his head to show you the most beautiful gummy smile. God, why was he so distractingly handsome? His soft, pale skin, his cat-like eyes. His hands, Lord, you wouldn’t even dwell on his hands. Everything about him was appealing, alluring. His voice, his smell, his gaze. He was devilish.
All of a sudden, he ripped off the page he was working on. You tried not to get even more distracted, keeping your eyes on the board, until he touched your arm with his hand. You tensed. “Here, keep this if you want to,” he said, passing the folded paper to you. Curiosity washed over your face and you were about to unfold it, but he stopped you. “I don’t think you should open it now.”
“Why? Is it, like, an erotic sketch?” You could tell you broke his demeanor a little, he seemed both shocked and amused.
“I wonder if that kind of thought crosses your brain very often. You’re filthy, Y/N,” he smirked. You almost choked at his tone and his words. He was teasing you, and you refused to go down without a fight.
“Well, I don’t exactly know you, do I? You could be a perv.” He bit back a chuckle.
“I’m an honorable man. You’ll see.”
“Will I, now?”
“Yes. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”
“You haven’t convinced me yet.”
“Challenge accepted.” The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds, then the bell rang. He grabbed his stuff and got up, then tilted his head and asked, “Do you want a ride… friend?”
“I thought you didn’t ride here today.” Confusion stained his expression before he realized the meaning behind your words. You could see the enlightenment in his face and suddenly banging your head on a wall wasn’t all too bad. He was too cocky for his own good, and now you’ve just made it worse. Way to go.
“I parked on a different spot,” he responded.
“Yeah, sure. Uh, anyways… Thanks for the offer, but I’m going home with Tae.”
“Suit yourself.” Before walking away, he turned around and said, “I’ll save you a seat tomorrow, Y/N.” Before you could elaborate an answer, he was already out the door, and Taehyung was in front of you with that ‘what-the-actual-fuck’ face he made every time he was caught off guard.
“I’ll explain on the way home,” you sighed.
||\\
You were both in the safety of your bedroom when you told Taehyung everything. From how Ian tried to do God knows what with you, to why he wasn’t able to. Pure luck. It was pure luck that Yoongi happened to be passing by, and it was pure luck that he’d bothered to check what was going on. You told him Jimmy was there. You saw the guilt and rage clawing their way to his chest, and there it was; the reason you were wary to tell him in the first place. Taehyung was explosive, a force of nature when he let himself indulge.
“I’ll kill him. Why did you hide that from me?” Even though he was trying his best to hold back, you could still tell how furious he truly was. “Answer me, Y/N, I’m not fucking around here,” he didn’t mean for it to sound like a scold, but it still did.
“I knew you’d be mad,” you retorted.
“Of course I’d be fucking mad. I don’t think you understand just how mad I am.”
“I know. Tae, really, nothing serious happened. It’s not worthy getting yourself in trouble for it.”
“How can you even say that?” he barked.
“Promise me you’ll let it go,” you asked softly.
He looked like he’d just heard the worst profanity fall from your lips. “I don-“
“Promise, Tae,” you were using your serious voice now, the one you used to tell him that no, it was not okay for him to mess with your books back when you were kids. You took it to the heart too often. He stared at you for a moment or two before sighing.
“Okay,” he grudgingly said. “If that’s what you want.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he said after a moment.
“It’s not your fault. Really, it’s not.”
“I know. I’m just… sorry,” he let his head rest on your lap. You hummed and stroke his hair for a while. These little moments of utter understanding and peace was one of the reasons he was your best friend. The person you could rely on, always. And he could always rely on you, too.
||\\
A few weeks passed you by in the blink of an eye. After the infamous events of that night, you and Yoongi grew closer each day. Not that it was always easy, he was infuriating at times; you had to be sharp to keep up with the incessant bickering. But, for what it’s worth, you were able to gather that he was much more than just a little shit, even though he tried to deny it.
And you suppose that’s one of the reasons to why your stomach flutters and your heart skips a couple of beats when he gets too close.
Probably a month too late, you come across that piece of paper Yoongi had mysteriously given you the first morning you sat together. You took it in your hands with a gasp and carefully unfolded it, taking a sharp intake of breath at the drawing. It was a pair of eyes – your eyes, perfectly detailed by strong, yet delicate, traces. It was beautiful and left no room for doubts as to whose they were. The cocky bastard was actually pretty talented, you had to give him that. Before you had much time to think about it, your phone rang. You hesitated a moment before picking up, the number was unknown.
“Hello?”
“Did you like it?” The voice on the other line was coarse and drawn, and you recognized it immediately.
“How did you get my number?” You asked while laying yourself on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
He had become a constant whenever you were at school or at the library. Nothing beyond that. The call was a pleasent surprise.
“I have my ways. Will you answer at least one of my questions anytime soon?” There was a hint of a boyish amusement in his tone, and that instantly made you lighter. You liked him better in a good mood.
“You don’t answer any of mine, so why should I bother?” You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see you.
“That’s hardly fair. What do you want to know, George?”
You scoffed at the nickname. “First things first. I want to know how you got my number.”
“It’s not so hard to get privileged information on the students’ personal data if you’re charming enough. Ms. Parker has a soft spot for me.” Of course. You should’ve seen it coming.
“You’re shameless,” you scolded half-heartedly, taking a plushie in your hands and squeezing it.
“It’s one of my many qualities. So, can you answer me now?”
“Hmm… I might’ve liked it,” you stated, referring to the book he’d recommended. “But you’re already a pretty conceited man, so I should probably spare you the details.”
He was silent for a while, and you almost mention the drawing you found in your backpack. But then, he’s talking again. “So you think I’m pretty, huh?”
“Are you… Have you-“ you stammered in astonishment and he chuckled. “Do you actually select the words you want to hear?” you asked and he hummed.
“Where are you?”
“Home,” you answered without much thought.
“I’ll pick you up in ten. Be ready.”
“Wait, what?” You jolted out of the bed, dropping the plushie on the floor. “You can’t just… decide that. What if I’m busy?”
“You’re not.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“But you do,” He sounded almost confused. And he was right, you did want to. Somewhere deep inside your brain there was a voice saying that you should’ve objected at least a little bit more. But, against your better judgement, you kept quiet, and soon enough your silence gave you away. “I’m hanging up now. See you soon, George.” You meant to talk back to him, but he’d already ended the call. That, arrogant, insolent, contemptuous jer-
Before finishing that thought, you remembered you didn’t have much time. So you took a five minute shower, put on a little mascara and went out of the bathroom to find something to wear. There wasn’t enough time to go wild, so you just went for your favorite pair of mom jeans and tucked a burgundy sweater in. After brushing your hair and your teeth, you were ready.
As soon as you were done, you heard a horn and rushed to the window. There he was, in all his glory, hips resting against his stupidly cool Triumph Rocket. Black boots, black jeans, black long-neck shirt and his usual leather jacket. Wonder what his favorite color might be, you scoffed. He shot you a smirk that made you hold your breath for a moment. It now occurred to you that you had no idea as to where he was taking you. Also, was it a date? A friend thing? Shit. You should’ve said no. You sighed. It was too late now.
Before running downstairs, you sprayed a little bit of perfume on the nape of your neck and your wrists. Chloé, your signature scent.
“I’m going out for a bit.”
She was sitting by the window with a hot beverage on her hands and a book on her lap. Like mother, like daughter.
“Last time you said that…”
“I know,” you cut her off gently. “But I have class tomorrow. I promise I won’t be long.”
“Is your phone charged, young lady?”
“Yep, it is.”
“Then call me if anything happens, alright?”
“Sure thing. Bye, mom,” you gave her a brief peck on the forehead and rushed out the door.
He was waiting for you at the porch, even more breathtaking now that you could see him up close. His musky scent was stronger and his pale skin was glowing. He was drinking you in with mysteriously piercing eyes.
“Come,” he said, taking you by the hand.
“Where are we going anyway?” you asked. As the both of you approached his motorcycle, you were trying your best not to trip.
“You’ll see.” He took a helmet off a compartment that you didn’t know to exist and cupped your face to hold you still before he put it on you.
“Is this like a Hitchcock movie? Will you take me just far enough so I can meet my fate by the end of the night?” A hint of dread crossed his features, but he composed himself soon enough.
“Do you believe in fate, Y/N?” He asked, fixing the straps under your chin, his fingers setting your skin aflame.
“I don’t know,” you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but his countenance urged you to provide a proper answer. “Faith is just not my strong suit, I guess,” you mumbled.
Yoongi pondered about what you said for a moment. “Hold that thought, yeah?” Then he climbed the vehicle. “Hop on,” he started the engine. You were now too aware of the fact that you had never ‘hopped on’ one of those. “Don’t worry, I’m a really good driver,” he tugged his lips upwards.
“I just… I’ve never done this.”
“What, ride a motorcycle?” He asked and you nodded. “Trust me. I wouldn’t let anything happen,” he reassured you.
I know. So you climbed the damn thing and held tight onto his waist, almost comforted by his warmth. He felt the sensitive skin on his back crawl at the contact. Especially between his shoulder blades.
||\\
You spent the entire ride with your eyes closed. If you had any doubt that Yoongi was a mad man, those god-knows-how-many minutes on the back of his motorcycle had erased them completely. He was going fast. You could feel the wind ricocheting your face relentlessly, and every time he had to make a turn, your stomach fluttered. Sometimes, he turned his head just a little bit, as if checking if you were at least breathing, but you would grit your teeth and snap at him to look ahead, tightening your grip. You could feel him chuckle, his whole upper body being assaulted by small tremors.
But when you finally arrived at your destination, it was all worth it.
“Do you like it?” Expectation washed all over his ethereal features.
“Do I… like it? It’s amazing,” your eyes sparkled with wonder and astonishment at the sight of the ocean. You were at a relatively high spot, like a small cliff, and you could smell the delicious salty breeze that you adored so much. But what truly amazed you, what really took your breath away, was the electric blue lights sparkling all over the wave crests. “Bioluminescence! How did you find this place? Can we go down?” You asked with the biggest smile, a childish excitement seeping through your tone. He giggled, the most magnificent, angelic sound you had ever heard.
“I’d rather if we didn’t. I don’t want you to meet your fate at those slippery rocks, it wouldn’t be very Hitchcock-y,” he joked. You felt a bit disappointed but chose to let it go. The night, the sea, the sky; it was all too beautiful for you to allow yourself to be petty.
He took a few steps ahead and sat closer to the edge, wind whisking his hair and making his catlike eyes narrow. You followed suit, sitting in lotus by his side. You both took a minute to appreciate the sight, falling into a comfortable silence, that was soon broken by his husky voice.
“I come here a lot when I need to remind myself of who I am. Of where I’m from,” he said, still looking at the waters below, eyebrows furrowed. “I never thought of bringing anyone else here before.”
“So why did you?” Your voice was small, whispered.
“I don’t know. I guess…” he stopped for a moment. “I possibly just wanted to make sure you were okay. And I don’t know any place else that feels more like home to me. Perhaps I also wanted to share it with you.” Then he turned his gaze to you, eyes reflecting the moonlight. He was divine, bewitching. Especially now, when he seemed to be opening up to you for the first time. You felt your heartbeat speed up at his confession.
“Thank you,” you said softly, diverting your gaze to the waves. “I can understand why you’re so fond of this place. It’s blissful, feels like heaven.”
He humms, fixing his gaze on the crashing waves above you.
“Y/N.” He was surveying your face now, as if trying to read you. Expectant.
“Yes?”
“Do you believe in heaven?” His voice is a whisper and, for a moment, you wonder if you’d heard him correctly.
That was probably the last question you’d expected from him, it took you completely by surprise. You inhaled deeply, searching for the right words, but ended up blurting what first came to mind.
“For all I know, heaven is here. Hell, too. I want to be better, yes, for the people I love. I want to be better for whoever needs me to be, because I know how tough this can get. If there’s an afterlife… at least I’ll know that I tried to be good for the right reasons. So yeah, let’s say I don’t dwell on it. Whatever happens, happens.”
By the time you finished talking, there was something sparkling deep inside his onyx eyes that you couldn’t recognize.
“That’s sort of refreshing,” and there it was again. The sheepish gummy smile you adored so much, so utterly genuine and divine you thought you’d die.
“What about you?”
“Yes. Heaven, Hell, the whole ordeal. Except for God.”
“But… How would it be possible for all those things to exist without God?”
“That is not what I said,” he let out a humorless little chuckle. “Let it suffice that God is… I believe, much too real. Just not how humankind paint him to be. I believe God exists; I just don’t believe in him. Not anymore.” His tone was raw and melancholic. You ached with the need to console him, because he seemed adrift; and that bothered you more than it should.
Without realizing, your face had gotten closer to his, and suddenly he was all over the place. All you could see, smell, hear, it was all him. He must have known, because then he traced your features lightly with his long, graceful fingers. You thought that was it. That was heaven.
You closed your eyes so you could savor every second of it, heartbeat going wild and butterflies assaulting your stomach. He lifted his other hand, and now he was cupping your face gingerly, like you were made of glass. Every touch ignited something foreign and glorious inside of you.
He shifted, moving closer, and his scent hit you, unyielding, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes. When his lips finally brushed against yours, it was enough to set something off, and your hands made their way to his neck on their own as you let out a shaky breath. You pressed yourself harder and sucked on his bottom lip, before caressing it with the tip of your tongue, earning a groan from him.
Well, shit.
He took the hair in the nape your neck in a dainty – yet firm – fistful, asking permission with his tongue to deepen the kiss. There was no denying him, you could never. His taste, God, you could spend eternity tasting every single bit of him. When he licked past your teeth, you moaned, and it was so utterly pleasing, sinful, that he felt compelled to go harder, mercilessly swirling his tongue inside your mouth. There was no room to breathe, the neediness for one another unbending.
You don’t know how much time you spent in that haze of mind-numbing desire, but neither of you dared to stop. Until your phone rang.
You jerked away, pupils blown wide from the intensity of the moment, skin flushed. You were both panting, eyes trained on each other, searching, scrutinizing, waiting for a reaction. His reddened, glistening lips were parted slightly and he seemed displeased to cut the moment short. Even so, he managed to talk.
“You should probably get that,” he gusted, trying to catch his breath. You couldn’t find it in yourself to do anything but nod.
You took the device out of your back pocket and checked the ID caller, brows furrowing. He mirrored your expression.
“Who is it?”
“It’s a girl from school. We have history class together. That’s… odd,” you said. You and Sarah have never had a real conversation, one that didn’t involve Napoleon or Julien Sorel. You just had her number saved because of a paper you had to do together a while ago. “Hello?”
“Y/N? Thank God,” she sounded truly relieved. “Look, I’m sorry to bother you but… We’re at the school’s gym and-“ she let out a loud gasp, and only then you noticed the noise in the background, an uproar of voices and… Did you did hear a punch?
“Sarah? What is it?”
“Tae’s here. Y/N, you should come…”
Your blood ran cold.
“What? Is he okay? Sarah, tell me what’s going on. Now,” you blurted, already standing, missing the way Yoongi’s face contorted in confusion and concern.
“We tried to stop them, we really did, I-“
“Sarah,” you grunted.
“Okay, yeah. Him and Ian are at each other’s throats right now, it’s pretty bad. Y/N, I don’t think it’ll be long before someone calls the cops. I just thought I’d let you know, ‘cause-“
“I’ll be there in a minute,” you cut her off, and then hang up.
You were a lot of things at that moment, but mostly worried and angry. You had told him not to, you had told him to let it go, and he went behind your back. You heart rate was through the roof, adrenaline rushing through your veins. But this time, it wasn’t out of passion.
“Y/N,” Yoongi had a wary look on his face. “Tell me.”
“Can you take me back? Tae’s in trouble.”
||\\
He hadn’t meant to. He really hadn’t meant to break his promise, but he knew it was bound to be broken the minute he made it. The idea of someone else touching you was torturous enough, but to think of them doing it without your consent actually drove him crazy with rage. Those unbidden images of you scared, asking that piece of shit to stop, only for him to hold you tighter, closer, wrapping his filthy hands around you… it wouldn’t stop coming to him, even though he’d tried his hardest to restrain them. It had haunted him ever since you told him. He felt sick. He hated himself for not being there for you, with you. Like the disgraceful best friend he was, he’d canceled movie night to get wasted. Ugly feelings, even the ones he didn’t care to admit, pierced their sharp claws at his chest. Guilt, exasperation, jealously.
He’d tried to suppress the bitterness from watching you with the new guy, he tried to be just glad that he was there and hold out against it, because if he wasn’t… The point is: he really tried. But the way you looked at him made Taehyung’s stomach sink. He’d never seen it before, and he craved it like a man in the desert did a single drop of water. He wanted to be on the receiving end of that gaze more than anything.
He’d go mad if he stayed inside, so he went out for a jog. Your mother had told him you weren’t home, and he figured you’d be at the coffee shop near school. What a big surprise it was when he found Ian next to a blue SUV that was parked near the gymnasium. He choked out a chuckle; it was just too tempting. Rage boiled trough his veins, and at that moment he knew he couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t not break that scumbag in half, even if that meant he’d be going against your wishes.
So he did. Every punch, given or taken, satisfied him little by little. Because he also deserved to be punished, he thought.
||\\
“What was that shit that you pulled? After I explicitly told you to stay out of it! Why now?”
Taehyung had a bloody nose, a deep cut just above his eyebrow and some pretty ugly purple spots all over his upper body, staining his previously pristine skin. When you and Yoongi had arrived at school, you discovered he’d been taken. By a police officer, nonetheless.
You’d been so mad. But now that he was in front of you, all screwed up in torn clothes, the speech you had prepared escaped your mind. You just couldn’t understand his impulsiveness, and the fact that he was in a tiny, smelly cell because of you was infuriating.
“We both knew it was bound to happen eventually, so I figured rather sooner than later,” he answered nonchalantly.
“Taehyung,” you said through gritted teeth
“What, Y/N?!” He snapped. “You wanted me to let him get away with it?”
“Yes! Yes, I literally told you that that’s what I wanted!”
“Well, too bad,” he darkly said. He knew he was in the wrong here. But he was just too riled up to think straight.
“Okay,” you said, taking a sharp intake of breath while running your fingers through your hair, “Okay, let’s be practical about this. Your dad is coming, right? We can talk about it at home.”
“Fine,” he said, avoiding your eyes.
“Fine,” you, too, knew how to be petty. “I’ve got to go outside for a minute. Behave,” your gaze flashed to an officer for a second, but quickly made its way back to Taehyung. When you realized he wouldn’t give you an answer, you just sighed and carried yourself out the door.
As soon as you stepped out of the threshold, you saw Yoongi leaning on his motorcycle, arms crossed and head hanging from his shoulders. You didn’t know what tonight had meant. You wanted to at least try to figure out if he felt the same as you did, but you had bigger problems. And to be honest, you’d rather sleep on it. It was all too intense and hazy.
“Hey,” you said, walking slowly towards him. He lifted his head and offered a tiny smile.
“Your boyfriend really hates my guts, doesn’t he?”
“He’s not-“ you cut yourself off when you realized he was just messing with you again. Of course he is, he stuck his tongue down your throat just an hour ago. “Anyways. I guess Tae will be out in a couple of hours, but I have to stay here and wait for Mr. Kim. Thank you for… tonight.”
He nodded. “No problem, George. I’ll call y-“
Suddenly, his eyebrows knitted together and his whole body tensed as he straightened himself. If you ever told anyone about this, you’d probably be admitted in a mental facility. But you swore that, for an instant, his eyes changed colors, going from pitch black to a deep violet. It happened in a heartbeat, and then he wasn’t looking at you anymore, but at something past your shoulder. You felt a chill run down your spine as you turned around to see what caught his attention.
A tall, broad-shouldered man was walking towards you. As his lean figure got closer, the tension grew almost palpable, and you could see from afar he had a small smile plastered on his plump lips. But it wasn’t comforting at all. Instead, it was vile, almost sadistic. Your head snapped to Yoongi again, and you saw how he didn’t move a muscle, fists closed tight and jaw clenched. That made you panic a little.
“Yoongi, what-“
“Y/N, go inside,” his voice was hoarse and restrained, like he hadn’t talked in weeks.
No, you wanted to say. That man, whoever he was, screamed bad news. He walked like a predator, and you felt like his prey. Though your self-preservation instincts were going wild with every step he took, something stronger made you want to stay. You knew he wasn’t here for you, but for him. And that sparked a need to protect him that you didn’t know to exist, nor where it came from. However, you just kept quiet and waited for the man to catch up, not missing the murderous aura emitted from Yoongi.
At last, he stood in front of you, reddish hair and twisted smirk still on his face. You could see him clearly now, and he was beautiful. The kind of beauty you’ve only seen once.
“Has anyone actually pressed charges this time, little brother?” His voice was deceivingly soft.
Brother?
“How did you find me?” Yoongi asked with an icy voice that almost made you shudder.
“Is that how you greet your elders? Father would not be pleased.”
“Well, you’re one to talk, aren’t you?”
“People are still hung up on that, I see,” the man chuckled. “Yoongi-ah,” he said, his feet taking him closer at a slower pace. Yoongi kept his ground, knuckles white from his balled-up fists, while you instinctively took a step back. That’s when they both seemed to acknowledge your presence. Yoongi’s eyes bulged slightly, his pale skin becoming ever paler, while the other wore an unreadable expression on his face.
“I told you to go inside,” he almost growled, taking your wrist in an iron grip and pulling you to stand behind his back. You didn’t understand. You didn’t understand any of it. Why did he seem so threatened by his own blood? The man was scary, sure, but was he actually dangerous? Your head was spinning, so you held onto his jacket to keep yourself vertical.
“Were you not planning on introducing me to your friend, baby brother? That’s just rude, you know how much I love meeting new people.”
“I’d advise you to be careful now, Jin.” The threat in Yoongi’s low voice was noticeable even to you, but Jin didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he relished on it. His little brother didn’t get all protective over just anyone, and the fact that he didn’t want the eldest to know about you pointed straight to a weak spot. One which he intended to take full advantage of.
“Easy, Prince, no need to get riled up,” Jin chuckled again, lifting both hands in a sign of peace. “What do you take me for?”
“Neither of us can deny your nature, can we, brother? It’s the reason why we’re here in the first place.”
“It’s true. Have you told her your name yet? Since you appear very comfortable sharing such details in front of her.”
“What are you doing here? I thought I had made myself clear the last time we saw each other,” Yoongi changed the subject, hoping you wouldn’t pay much attention to his question.
Jin’s face turned serious for the first time before he spoke. “They approached me, Yoongi-ah. It would seem that they need their Flam-“
“Quit it!” Yonngi growled. “Hold your tongue, I don’t want to hear any of it. You need to go.”
“Not until I have delivered my message.” The well-proportioned man stood his ground.
Yoongi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He could not have this kind of conversation in front of you – in front of anyone, for that matter. Jin was breaking the rules; an old habit of his. “Then I need you to wait for me at home. I suppose you already know where I live, don’t you? I’ll meet you there soon.”
“Alright then. Y/N, it was splendid meeting you. I do hope I get to see you again soon.”
Yoongi scowled as he watched Jin turn on his heels and disappear in the night. For all he knew, Jin would never get this close to you ever again. He was caught off guard today. He then turned around, black orbs scrutinizing you for a reaction.
There were many things going through your mind at that exact moment. Too many questions, he could tell. You looked at him in a grimace of confusion and horror.
“How did he know my name?” That was the first thing that popped into your mind. You hadn’t said your name, neither did Yoongi. “And who’s ‘they’? And did he really just call you prince? Is that a pet name or something?” You blurted out, sensing you wouldn’t have too much time to elaborate the questions the way you wanted to.
He looked into your eyes, face contorted in what you could only describe as a desperate hesitation, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a fine line. He was pondering his options. You knew that because, when he made up his mind, you could clearly see the taint of resolution.
“I can’t answer your questions,” he muttered.
“Why not?”
“I’m really sorry, Y/N. Please, just forget about this. All of it.”
“What are you talking about?” you were on the brink of losing it at this point. First Taehyung, and now this. He wasn’t making any sense. But his eyes spoke to you in ways he couldn’t. Only then, you understood. “No,” you said with a resolution of your own. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me right away, whatever it is, just don-“
“Y/N.”
“Yes?!”
“Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Listen to me just this once,” he groaned, stepping into your personal space. He twisted your hair in one hand, holding your face securely to his. When he rested his forehead on yours, your eyes gave into his wishes, closing on their own. “I’ll be gone for a little while, George,” your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt him. He gave you a light peck on the mouth, lips soft and moist, breath hot on your face. “I have to settle some things straight. Be good for me while I’m gone, yeah? Don’t do anything stupid,” he frowned.
“Will you come back?” your voice almost cracked, ‘cause you weren’t so sure of his answer. You felt foolish. You’ve only known him for a short period of time, after all. But the intensity of your feelings, though you couldn’t discern them clearly yet, scared you.
This felt horribly like goodbye – it was, at least for now – and you hated it.
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes,” you answered straight away.
“Alright,” he nodded. “Then I will.”
You didn’t dare open your eyes when he stepped away from you after one last chaste peck on your lips, nor when you heard him start the engine of his Triumph. But when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, you jolted slightly and your eyes fluttered open.
“Let’s get you inside, kid” Mr. Kim said softly, brushing away a lonesome tear from your cheek. “Then you can help me scold my boy for making us come all the way to the police station on a school day, how does that sound?” he tried to uplift your spirit, and you offered him a half-hearted smile.
||\\
“Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell;
And in the lowest deep a lower deep
Still threatening to devour me opens wide,
To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.
Oh then at last relent: is there no place
Left for repentance, none for pardon left?”
It’d been four weeks since the last time you saw him. A whole month since he’d disappeared completely. At first, you waited anxiously for him to reappear out of nowhere. For him to just slide into the classroom, like he’d done the first time. But as time passed by and the third week came, you grew worried. He didn’t get specific about how much time it would take for him to do whatever it was, but you imagined it would be one, maybe two weeks. But now, a month later, you were beginning to wonder if he’d even come back at all. If something had happened, if he was okay…
No. He promised.
You’d rather not dwell on the possibility of something going wrong – hell, you didn’t even know what he was doing or what was that strange conversation he had with his deviant brother in front of the police station. You had a few theories, though. Not that you’d ever utter them out loud.
Number one: mafia. Maybe not The Godfather sort of thing, since that seemed pretty outdated, but rather… Scarface, perhaps? So you had come up with the idea of Jin being a druglord; nothing more, nothing less. It made sense, to be honest.
Number two: well, number two wasn’t exactly clear on your mind, but had something to do with super rich parents and an insane heritage. He could be the prince of an empire, right? You didn’t know anything about his family, except that his brother was blood-curdling.
You just wished to keep your head in the right place until he explained the situation to you. If he explained, that is. Sighing, you tried to contain your derailed thoughts and get back to the real world, where Taehyung needed you to pay attention to Mamma Mia! for the nth time.
“Alright, that’s it. You didn’t even sing along during S.O.S and that’s where I draw the line,” he said, taking the remote from your hand and pausing the movie. It was a cozy night and you were both plopped on the couch wearing socks and sweatpants.
“When have I ever sang along during S.O.S, Tae?”
“I remember it vividly, we were eleven. But that’s not the point,” he retorted. You bit your lip and kept your eyes trained on the frozen screen of the TV, already sensing where this was going. “You’ve been like this for a while now.”
“Like what?” you pushed, trying to feign innocence. You were not in the mood for this right now. You just wanted to stare unseeingly at the TV and have some private time with your own thoughts until the movie was over.
He sighed. “Look, I can only guess what’s going on,” he scowled, but tried to compose his features into a serene mask before speaking again. “But I need you to not be in your own head for a minute.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I want to help,” he said, taking your hand in his. The touch was warm and familiar.
“I know, Marzipan,” another sigh. You took your hand from his carefully and got up. “I’m going to the store, you want something?”
“What, now? Y/N-“
“I just-, I need coffee and snacks if we’re pulling this off. If you want me to keep my eyes opened during Moulin Rouge, that is,” you pointed out matter-of-factly
Taehyung shifted in his seat, face contorted in confusion, wariness and a hint of hurt. “Do you want me to go with you? It’s late.”
“No, it’s fine. You can stay and plan ahead, I’m sure we’re not stopping at the next one.”
He watched you silently while you fumbled for your keys. When you found them, he muttered: “Don’t be too long.”
“I won’t.”
As soon as you crossed the threshold, the cold air of the night hit your skin, making you shiver slightly. You closed the door and hid your hands in the pockets of your sweater, bringing it closer to your body in a poor attempt to keep the warmth from escaping.
Walking towards the convenience store located a couple of blocks from your house, you let yourself get lost in headspace again. You knew you weren’t being fair to Taehyung. As much as you wanted to talk about this situation with him, you couldn’t. It felt like betraying someone who hadn’t even put their trust in you to begin with. Yes, it was unfair, and maybe you were being a shitty friend every time he tried to have a serious conversation about the subject and you brushed him off with an excuse, like getting coffee in the middle of the night.
You sighed, not really willing to wallow in guilt tonight, and just tried to focus on your immediate task. One step after the other, then one more, and you could already see the lights of a tiny single shop, the only one opened this late at night. It belonged to Mr. Newton, a sweet old baker who treated you kindly every time he was filling up for his cashier.
You entered the store and heard the little bell announce your arrival. Much to your surprise, Mr. Newton was working there that night. As he saw your expression of detachment, he frowned. So you tried to arrange your features in a polite smile before speaking.
“Hello, Mr. Newton.”
“Y/N, child, why are you wandering alone when it’s already this late?” he asked softly, though clearly concerned for your safety.
“Don’t worry, sir,” you answered, walking towards the cooler where they kept the iced coffee and taking two in one hand, as you went for the chips next. “Tae and I needed a little snack. Movie night.”
He nodded and you placed the items on the counter for him to scan.
“Well, then. Tell that kid to come by whenever he can. My wife wants to send some essential oils for Mr. Kim’s aromatherapy sessions,” just as he’d said it, he got a bit closer to you, as if the next words to come out of his mouth were a secret. “Truth is, she misses him. The boy is the only one who can stand her cooking.”
Despite being moody, you chuckled wholeheartedly. No one could be indifferent to Taehyung’s charms, it seemed.
“Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.”
As you went through your wallet to pay the old man, you heard the little bell once again. Mr. Newton greeted the new client, but you were too engrossed in finding the right bills to snap your head in the newcomer’s direction. However, the inquisitive sound that left the old man caused you to steal a glimpse, catching auburn hair and broad shoulders in their wake. You stood still for a moment, trying to recall why those locks seemed so familiar. Until it hit you.
“Jin?” you breathed, not loud enough for anyone in the store to actually hear you. Just as you muttered his name, he closed the door and turned left, disappearing from your sight. You gasped. “Keep the change, Mr. Newton!” you said – audibly, this time – leaving a ten dollar bill on the counter and grabbing your stuff as gracefully as you could muster, rushing to the door like your life depended on it.
“No running in the store, kid!” he tried to scold you, but could already feel the cool breeze as you opened the door and looked around, expecting to find his brother. Only this time around you weren’t scared, no. You wanted answers, heart beating fast at the possibility of hearing from Yoongi, maybe even seeing him… Okay, no, not the time for this, first things first.
When you realized he was nowhere to be found, you ran. Left. He went left. You passed by a few houses and almost tripped on a stray cat, turning your head to the side to check on it and apologizing profusely as you picked up your pace again. A few blocks later, you were already out of breath. You came to a halt and put both hands on your knees, gasping and feeling your lungs burn.
Trying to ease your labored breathing, you realized that you were probably going crazy. A halfhearted chuckle escaped your parted lips. You were disappointed, even if actually meeting the redhead meant trouble. Trying not to let frustration and melancholy get the best of you, you decided to just let it go and head back home. Even if it was Jin, he probably wouldn’t tell you anything anyway.
||\\
The snow under your feet was slippery as you got out of the library, leather backpack and navy-blue beanie on. You held a large cappuccino on one hand, careful not to spill it as you dodged passers-by and umbrellas every now and then. The streets were a little crowded that afternoon, and you were dying to get home and relish on Mrs. D’Angelis’ famous chicken noodle soup. Maybe she’d even grant you a warm glass of wine if you asked properly. You tried to occupy your mind with ordinary, day-to-day thoughts, trying to ignore the flutter on the pit pf your stomach.
During that entire week, you were constantly under the impression that something was off. When you were going to school with Taehyung, or grocery shopping for your mother, there was always that tingling feeling on the nape of your neck that told you that someone was watching. Then you’d turn around and nothing. No one was ever there. The uneasiness was uncomfortable, but you didn’t feel endangered, just really jittery. And your motto was: no better medicine for anxiety than tons of caffeine.
“Mom, I’m home!” you crooned, taking your coat off and discarding the empty thermal cup.
“In the kitchen, honey!”
The smell was splendid. You took a deep breath, already yearning for the hot meal, and kissed your mother on the cheek while she stirred… something.
“Uh, smells nice,” you praised, making your way to the fridge for a glass of water. “I’m shocked Tae hasn’t come knocking on our door yet. Maybe his flair is broken because of the flu.”
“Is Taehyungie sick, honey? Why didn’t you tell me?” she almost whined.
“It’s nothing, just a bit of phlegm. But I’ll take some of these,” you pointed to the pots, “for him and his dad later.”
“You really should. Now go upstairs and change before dinner.”
You mumbled a response and climbed the stairs to put on some good old band t-shirt and sweatpants. You didn’t notice the broad-shouldered frame behind the door, and as soon as you closed it behind you, you felt a cold hand covering your mouth, while the other held you in place by the waist. Your whole body tensed, eyes bulged and breath hitched. Fuck. You were prepared to let out a loud scream, but his whispered voice stopped you.
“It’s me, it’s me,” he shushed you. As a reflex, your muscles relaxed. “Gonna take my hand off your mouth now, George,” he informed, slowly moving his hand from your face.
Of course it was him. His smell was all over the place, his touch still left little electric jolts on your skin. You snapped your head and turned around to face him. You realized your memories could never do him justice. He was so heartbreakingly handsome, you could cry. Pale skin, shiny disheveled raven hair. You noticed the circles under his eyes were darker and he seemed exhausted. Regardless, when your eyes fell on his lips, your body reacted before your mind could.
Your hands made their way to the nape of his neck, caressing and gently pulling his hair. At the same time, you clasped your lips together on a desperate kiss. His surprise didn’t stop him from matching your frenzy, grunting as he sucked your upper lip and asked permission with his tongue, one that you promptly granted. Henceforth, your tongues performed an erotic, lewd dance as they fought for dominance, swirling and exploring each other’s mouths.
Only when the back of your knees touched the bed did you realize he was moving you towards it. He broke the kiss for a moment to mercilessly throw you on the soft duvet, and you let out a surprised moan when he immediately covered your body with his, mouth returning to yours. A primal need surged from within you when you felt one of his hands roaming at your side lustfully, gabbing tight on your ribcage, your waist, your hip. He hoisted your leg and you hooked it around him, holding back a loud moan when he pressed his erection to your groin. You could feel your panties drenching from the sudden contact, a new wave of desire making your core ache.
“Y/N-“ he tried to speak through heavy breathing, his lips never leaving yours long enough for him to finish a sentence. “Baby,” he groaned, obviously trying to say something, but you weren’t ready yet. You rocked your hips against him, earning another lecherous noise from his rosy lips as he closed his eyes shut.
You used that moment of weakness to knock him to his side, climbing on top of him as you clamped your thighs harder on his hips. His eyes went dark at the sight, a devilish smirk tainting his beautiful features. You didn’t give him time to say anything, taking his lips on another bruising kiss. His hands on your ass, squeezing and groping, and you felt him throb inside his pants. You moaned, a gush of wetness coming out as you clenched around nothing. You couldn’t form coherent thoughts anymore, pressing yourself harder against his bulge as you rolled your hips, searching blindly and desperately for a sweet release that was already so close…
“Hold it, baby.” His voice was stern, and he pinned both your wrists on your back, his hands seeming incredibly big when closed around them. He was sitting now, hot, labored breath hitting your lips, heightening your senses and sending shivers down your spine. You crumbled under his dominant demeanor, feeling an inconceivable need to obey, and instantly stood still. It surprised him as much as it did you, and you saw a smug grin plaster itself on his face. “That’s it. Be good for me so I don’t lose my mind.”
You let out a breath you didn’t know to be holding and weakly nodded, mind still clouded with want. He let go of your wrists and gently pecked your lips, sitting you down on the bed instead of his lap. Father knows he would be physically uncapable of having a proper train of thought if he didn’t.
“So… I guess we have a lot to discuss first, don’t we?” his smile was sheepish now, hands going through his hair in a nervous tick.
“Yes,” you breathed out. “What happened? I was so worried, Yoongi, you have no idea. I didn’t even know where you were or what the hell you were up to, I-“ you took a moment in order to stabilize your voice. You knew you were affected by his sudden absence, you just didn’t know how much until now that he was actually in front of you. “I don’t even know what the worst case scenario could be, but I bet my thoughts came pretty close,” you chuckled humorlessly.
“I’m sorry, I never meant to worry you. If I knew I’d be gone for that long, I would’ve told you before I left. I missed you so much,” he confessed, voice lower than before, and rested his forehead on your own.
“Tell me. Please, I need to know,” your brows furrowed.
“I met my brothers,” he paused, waiting for a reaction that never came. It’s not that you were not surprised by the information that he had other siblings, you just wanted him to finish it before you spoke. “Jin aside, I spent… years apart from my family. You could say that we didn’t leave things on the best of terms when I left father’s, so it was a surprise for me when I learned that they wanted to talk. Notwithstanding that it’s out of need, not love.” His heavenly features contorted in hurt and resentment, and you felt you own heart clench. You gave him an eskimo kiss as a sign of reassurance and he smiled timidly. “They offered to take me back. It’s… certainly a grand gesture for the likes of us,” he shook his head slightly and knitted his brows.
“Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you miss them?” you didn’t know why your voice was so small.
“Not anymore, no.” His gaze was intense and made your heart beat impossibly faster. “I do miss them. They used to be my whole existence, the reason for every breath of mine. But now… now everything’s changed.”
“What’s changed?”
“You.”
Your breath hitched. If it was anyone else, if it was any other situation, you’d laugh at the cheesy line. But this was him, and that, too, changed everything. That one word was enough to unleash butterflies in your stomach, enough of them to knock you breathless. The truth behind his statement carried a heavy meaning, one that you yearned for and that made you giddy. His onyx orbs were wary, and you wondered if he was blind to the utter relief plastered on your face. It was selfish, but you couldn’t help it. Not when it came to him.
“H-How come?”
He chuckled. “Don’t get bashful on me now, George, I’m pretty sure you understand.”
You tried to scowl, but the grin was insistent on your lips. “Alright, let’s put a pin on that. You still haven’t told me everything. What did your brothers want?”
“Y/N, there are certain things about me and my family that I cannot tell you. It wouldn’t be safe.”
“You don’t trust me?” you were mainly curious, but a hint of hurt could be heard, too.
“That’s not it. It just wouldn’t be safe for you.”
“Is your family involved in something… illegal? Is that why?”
“Not illegal, no,” he chuckled.
“Then I don’t understand.”
“I know. But please, George, don’t be stubborn about this one. All I’m asking for is a leap of faith,” his eyes were pleading as they bore into yours. Was he aware that he could probably convince you that the sky was neon green if he looked at you like that?
“It’s a big leap,” you mumbled.
“I know. Just trust that I have good reasons,” he smiled softly.
You sighed. “Fine, Romeo, keep your secrets. Just tell me if you get too deep into whatever it is that the Min’s are hiding. I care about your safety just as much as you care about mine.” You forced the heat back, secretly hoping that it did not reach your face in time for you to actually blush.
“Doubt it,” he grinned. “Dinner is ready, Mrs. D’Angelis will be coming for you soon. I should get going.”
Your face paled as you rushed to the wardrobe, retrieving some clean clothes from your drawer. “Wait,” you stopped on your tracks in the middle of the room, glaring at Yoongi through narrowed eyes. “How do you know that?”
“I have my ways,” he shrugged, then tugged his lips upwards on a daring smirk. “It’s a secret.”
“If you keep giving me clues I might just figure it out. Go on.”
He chuckled and stood up from the bed, walking languidly in your direction. He touched your nose with the tip of his index finger, tracing it’s way all up to your forehead, then coming down to your jaw, where he grabbed firmly. His lips were smooth and slightly damped as they softly touched yours in a chaste kiss. A ragged sigh of pure bliss escaped you, and you tried to fight the haziness.
“Bye, George,” he was still lingering when he spoke. As he broke the contact and turned to the window, you woke up from the trance.
“Stay,” you breathed out. He looked at you with a hint of confusion. “I-I mean, you can stay if you want. I can bring you some of mom’s soup and we can eat it here. But you don’t have to, if you’re bus-“
“Okay,” he deadpanned.
“Okay. Yeah, uhm… I’ll go change in the bathroom, you can make yourself comfortable.”
“Already am,” he said as he threw himself on the bed, bouncing a little. His countenance was amused and he eyed you intently, toying with the elephant plushie.
“Of course you are,” you snorted, carrying yourself to the bathroom.
That night, you both relished on your mother’s cooking while watching some old movie about Cole Porter on your laptop. You were sure that it wasn’t his cup of tea, but he payed attention to it nonetheless. After you were done, you offered to take the dishes downstairs, since your mother would probably have a stroke if she knew there was a boy in your room. You stopped by Taehyung’s to check on him and offer his favorite hot meal, but it didn’t take more than five minutes. You were on a hurry, and he knew better than to question it.
Back upstairs, you and Yoongi curled up under the covers and tried to find something interesting enough to watch for what seemed to be ages, your head resting on his chest and his hands holding you securely by the waist. It wasn’t long until you fell asleep, and only then did he leave, pecking your forehead gently before jumping out the window.
||\\
“Get in.”
“No,” you tried to end the discussion then and there. As expected, you failed.
“Y/N, you can’t go back on pinky promise. You should’ve thought this through.” His goal was to sound stern, but in reality you could see the hint of a pout on his lips. “It’s my birthday.” Okay, there it was. That was definitely a pout.
“No,” you closed your eyes shut and facepalmed – for good measure. “Don’t give me those eyes, I’m not looking,” the sound was muffled by your hands.
He wrapped his incredibly large fingers around your wrists and whined: “Come on, we’re already here. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Why on earth would you say that?” you instantly took your hands from your face and shot him a glare. He had the nerve to chuckle.
“You can’t possibly expect me to do this alone.”
“You can’t possibly expect me to do this at all,” you retorted, kicking the snow piled up near the curb, shunning away from his puppy dog eyes.
“You promised you would! I’ll do it, Marzipan. If you win this round, I’ll get a tattoo with you as a birthday present,” his voice was high pitched.
You snorted. “I was out of it, mental faculties completely fried. Drunk on power and merlot. Plus, I’m pretty sure you cheated, you could never beat me at Mario Kart,” you grumbled.
“I did not cheat,” he was outraged. “I’m a lawful man, I abide by the rules, and they are clear: a bet is a bet.”
You honestly have no idea why you let him talk you into this. Perhaps because you’ve been feeling guilty lately, and therefore didn’t have the heart to turn him down when he broke into your room to collect his victory this morning. It’s a good present, right? To get tattoos with your best friend? He had been trying to convince you since three birthdays ago. You hoped it would be enough to ease a bit of the weight on your chest.
Truth is, you had been spending too much time with Yoongi these past few weeks. After what happened when he showed his face again, it became routine that he came by almost every night when your mom fell asleep. You’d talk, watch movies, kiss… But what you enjoyed the most were those moments where you curled up in his embrace, face buried in the crook of his neck, and neither of you would say a word. You’ve always appreciated peaceful silence, but those moments were so much more. You felt truly connected to him, in a way you’d never felt with anyone else. Like you were both pieces of the same puzzle, cheesy lines aside.
Or when he would be the one to rest his head on your chest, blinking lazily as you twisted his silky, raven locks in your fingers. Perhaps those were truly your favorites, as you felt the incontrollable urge – need – to be protective of him, to never let anything disturb his serene, almost childlike countenance, so bare before you in the night’s veil. Before the sun came up and brought back the little wrinkle between his eyebrows.
During the day, you often returned to his safe haven – one that ultimately became yours, too. The waves breaking against the rocks, the salty breeze, the deep blue of the ocean, you had gotten acquainted to it all in a heartbeat. On occasion, you’d bring warm, fuzzy blankets, hot cocoa and books, spending an entire afternoon on your own personal eden.
You never meant for any of it to get in the way of your friendship with Taehyung, but counterbalancing proved to be harder than you first thought. Although you may have gotten too caught up, inevitably distancing yourself a bit, you were now eager to make it up to him. He was like family, after all. So here you were.
“Fine, have it your way. But I’m telling mom that you put me up to this,” you threatened. The snow under your boots making a crunchy noise while you crossed the street to get to the tattoo parlor.
“She won’t believe you. I’m a saint. I’m her Taehyungie.” He was beaming.
As soon as you got in, you saw a man sitting behind the counter. He was buff, and you’d bet that pretty much his whole body was covered in piercings and tattoos – mostly about dragons and snakes. Looks aside, his voice was warm and welcoming when he greeted you.
“Welcome, kids. My name is Eli, how may I help you today?”
All the drawings and pictures on the walls seemed to have detained Taehyung’s attention, so you plastered a polite smile on your face before answering.
“Hi. My friend over here came to get a tattoo,” you pointed at the boy beside you and he scowled.
“We both did,” he smiled at the receptionist.
“Alright. You have to sign a couple of forms before we get into details. You’re both legal, right?” the receptionist asked and you nodded. “Peach. Just a second,” he turned his attention to the computer in front of him, taking a couple of papers from the printer soon after. He handled you each a consent form. Before you signed yours, you exchanged a look with Taehyung, almost having a whole conversation – bickering – with him through knowing looks.
“Here you go,” Taehyung handed the papers to Eli.
“Cool. Do you guys have something in mind? We have a few drafts you can check out. But if you already know what you want, Hyunjin can draw it when you get inside. Don’t worry, he’s good.”
“I have something in mind,” Taehyung offered a bright boxy smile. “I guess I’ll just explain it to him, then.”
“Great,” Eli turned his eyes to you, realizing that you definitely had not made up your mind just yet. “If that’s the case, I’ll let him know that you’re going in,” he said to Taehyung, who nodded in response. When the buffy man went to the back, he glared at you through narrowed eyes.
“I’ll come back with permanent ink on my skin. You better not chicken out by the time I’m done,” he threatened.
“Hope you don’t regret it within the year,” you taunted.
“I won’t,” he snorted.
Eli returned a second later, excusing himself to lead Taehyung to the tattoo artist. In the meantime, you picked a binder that was resting on top of the counter to take a look at the drawings he’d mentioned, hoping to find something you’d actually like – or at least an inspiration. Most of them were very intricate, and although they were beautiful, you wanted something simple. Less is more when you’re tainting your skin for life because of a bet.
You were turning the pages with such disinterest that you almost missed it. It seemed unfinished, just a sketch, and you couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason as to why it caught your attention in the first place. It was a dragon intertwined in a circle, it’s countenance exuding fierceness and strength. Inside the circle, however, was just an unembellished arrangement of lines, one that was strangely familiar and alluring. 9-7-1-12-6, if you think about a clock.
“Oh, I see you’ve found Lee’s work. What do you think?” Eli pulled you out of your headspace.
“Uhm… Yeah, he’s great. His drawings are pretty authentic.”
“Uh huh, he’s been working on those for a while now. So, do you have any idea what you’re gonna get yet?”
“Not really. I mean, I liked this one,” you pointed to the page you were previously analyzing. “Do you know if it means anything in particular?”
“Yes! Actually, it does, but I can’t really remember what. I think it’s a sigil, though. You know, one of those thingies people believe to be magical.”
“Mhm.” You really didn’t know why you felt the need to purge those next words, but you were saying them before you could stop yourself. “This is it.”
“What? You’re gonna tattoo that?” Without even knowing what it means?
“Yes. I liked the dragon.”
||\\
His lips were soft against your collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps on their wake when he moved them lazily to your jawline, wet little kisses making you squirm and sigh. His index finger was tracing patterns on your bare thigh, caressing and examining as if he’d never done it before, as if you were a made of glass. The sun had graced you with its appearance for the first time in weeks, and you wanted to enjoy the good weather as much as possible, so you had convinced Yoongi to lay on the grass by your side.
“Tired of Miss Brontë already, love?” his velvety voice evinced his amusement.
“Can’t read. You’re distracting me.”
He chuckled lightly, delivering small puffs of air on the crook of your neck, and raised his head just enough to look at you, blocking the sunlight and making it possible for you open your eyes. Before he’d made his mission to disturb your concentration, you were reading for him, like people do with kids before they go to bed. It became a thing after the first time you did it, and now he picked a different book every week or so. When you’d asked about it, he just shrugged and declared that ‘It’s just nice. I like hearing you.’ This week, it was Wuthering Heights.
“Continue, please,” he adjured, laying his head on your chest as a demonstration of good will. You grabbed the book you’d previously set aside and opened it, leaving one hand free to play with his locks.
“That, however, which you may suppose the most potent to arrest my imagination, is actually the least, for what is not connected with her to me? and what does not recall her? I cannot look down to this floor, but her features are shaped on the flags. In every cloud, in every tree—filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day, I am surrounded with her image. The most ordinary faces of men and women—my own features—mock me with a resemblance. The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.”
His eyes were no longer closed, he was gazing at you.
“Do you pity him?” he suddenly asked.
“Heathcliff? I don’t.”
He nodded slowly. “So, you think there’s no redemption, then?”
“Not for him. He lived and died as an antagonist. Some might think his cruelty is just an expression of his frustrated love for Catherine, or that he conceals at least some virtue, a romantic heart. They expect him to be anything but what he constantly proves to be, they expect misunderstood heroes. But he himself acknowledges his sadistic nature.”
He stood still, seeming to be lost in thoughts while tracing invisible patterns on your shoulder and refusing to meet your eyes.
“Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?” he asked wistfully.
You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.
“I’ve never had to,” you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you. “Hey,” you dig your nails gently on the nape of his neck, asking for his attention. When he raised his head, the wrinkle between his eyebrows was there again. It worried you that, since he’s been back, it’s been a constant feature of his. Every now and then, his face twisted into an inscrutable grimace. “You understand, don’t you?”
A half-hearted nod was your response, and he built up the mask to conceal his discomfort once again.
“Enough vitamin D for you? I can’t stand the heat,” he grumbled.
“Yeah,” you chuckled, pressing your lips to his forehead and standing up, stretching a helping hand. “Where do you want to go?”
“My place.”
Which was code for: Your mom is home and I want to pass out on my bed nuzzling you.
“Whatever you want, grandpa.”
“Be a brat and I’ll hit the throttle,” he threatened, positioning himself on top of his Triumph. Sometimes he took full advantage of just how dreadful you found his two-wheeled vehicle. And it always worked. You snorted, climbing on the back seat and wrapping your arms around him. “Hold tight, George.” His warning was delivered with amusement, but you knew better than to take it lightly.
The fifteen-minute trip went as smoothly as it could, and even though you’d made sure to keep your eyes closed, you still felt dizzy and light-headed when he parked into the old building’s garage. He sensed your distress and got off the motorcycle slowly, careful when untangling you’re your arms from his waist and never completely breaking physical contact.
“Open your eyes,” he murmured, one hand on the small of your back and the other placed on your hip. You took a deep breath and your eyelids tentatively fluttered. His lips brushed your right cheek as he effortlessly lifted you and put you down on the floor, covering the entirety of your hand with his and making a beeline for the elevator.
Yoongi’s apartment was on the fourth floor, which happened to be the last one – the building was a small, fading-yellow rectangle in the middle of a quiet neighborhood. In a way, it suited him. Secluded and discreet. Perfect for a misanthrope such as himself, given that you’d never even bumped into one of his neighbors – and you’d been visiting quite regularly. On another note, however, it was uncannily unpretentious for someone like him.
He stopped for a moment on the front door, fumbling for the keys in his pocket. As soon as he opened it, you made your way to the couch, crashing with a sigh, face buried in the cushion. A minute had passed before he plopped on top of you, compelling a puff of air out of your lungs. You grumbled something about manslaughter, but the sound was muffled. He ignored you, making himself comfortable by nuzzling your neck and taking off his shoes using only his feet. You chuckled, making an effort to turn on your back so you could catch a breath.
“Sleepy?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair. He hummed a response, content with your ministrations. “I, uh… have something to show you.”
He raised his head from your throat, eyeing you curiously. “What is it?”
“Bedroom,” you commanded.
“Oh, I see,” he taunted, but stood up nonetheless. You rolled your eyes.
You guided him to his room and closed the door behind you. He leisurely sat on the bed, waiting cautiously for you to proceed. You sucked in a deep breath, growing doubtful under his gaze. Pushing all insecurities aside, you unzipped your shorts.
“Y/N, what are you doing?” he warned in a low-pitched, deep voice, orbs darkening considerably. You dismissed it, tiptoeing closer to him. He straightened his back and raised his eyes to meet yours, searching for any indication of what you intended to do. You pushed the waistband down, letting the piece of clothing pool on the floor, but he didn’t flinch, attention still focused on your features. When you hooked one finger on the hem of your white panties, he quickly snatched your wrist on a tight grip, brows knitting together. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, baby. You know that, right?”
Your chest swelled with warmth and affection. After the night he came back, things heated up a couple of times. Once he’d realized how tense and anxious you got at first, he began to hold back, withstanding your advances. You never verbalized anything, but he had a hunch, and pressuring you was definitely not on his to-do list. He was being respectful and caring, and although you shouldn’t accept nothing less, it made you feel safe. He made you feel safe, always.
“Let me show you,” you murmured, a soft smile blooming on your face. He seemed puzzled, but ended up nodding warily. When you moved your finger, slightly pushing the fabric down to expose your hip, he finally had the guts to jeopardize his restraint and look down. You didn’t know what you expected his reaction to be, but that certainly wasn’t it.
His breath hitched and he paled, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. He didn’t move a single muscle, whole body tensing up. It was as if he couldn’t fully comprehend the sight before him, like he couldn’t believe. He composed himself soon enough, but you could still see the glint of shock in his eyes. It didn’t make any sense.
“When did you get that?” his voice came out flat and a few octaves lower than usual.
“A couple of weeks ago,” you frowned. The tattoo that marked your hip was now almost fully healed. You were doubtful in the beginning, but now you kind of grew fond of it. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you know…” he cleared his throat, fingers twitching. “Do you know what it means?”
“Not exactly,” you confessed sheepishly. “The tattoo artist said it was a religious symbol and… Truth be told, I’m not even sure why I did this. Just felt right,” you mumbled, realizing then that you probably sounded a tad out of it. You held your lip between your teeth, unsettled.
“Yes. It’s the sigil of one of the seven archangels, love. It’s… Michael’s… sigil,” his jaw clenched, but his tone was now softer. “It’s used to invoke strength and protection. The ancients believed that, if you will it enough, he will be able to hear your prayers and, perhaps, be of assistance,” he laid his hand flat on your skin, stroking the symbol with his thumb, oblivious to the little jolts of electricity the simple gesture sent through your body. An unfamiliar mixture of dejection, despair and awe flashed through his onyx eyes, and you wondered what it was that he wasn’t telling you that could’ve possibly elicited such reaction.
“How do you know all that?” you wanted him to focus on something other than whatever it was that poisoned his thoughts.
“Father taught me,” he shrugged.
It’d been a while since he last mentioned his family. But you knew he was thinking about them whenever you saw the accentuated wrinkle every time he furrowed his brows, or when his muscles felt so tense to the touch that he was akin to marble against your skin. He was worried, he had been for a while now. And it scared you. You needed to know.
“Yoongi…” the uncertainty that laced your tone made him squeeze your flesh encouragingly. “Where is he? Your dad.”
“Home,” he stated tersely.
“I know, but… Where is home? And what about your brothers? I know you said you don’t speak to them anymore, you just never explained why.”
“We’ve already talked about this. They’re home, too. Y/N, just forget it,” he shook his head, avoiding your gaze.
“Why do you build this wall between us every time? It’s frustrating. I can help-“
“You can’t,” he deadpanned, breaking off any contact when he got up, making his way to the door. His demeanor screamed for you to back off, that he had no interest in continuing the conversation. But you were done being left in the dark.
“Why is it so hard for you to trust me, huh?”
“I already told you that it’s not a trust issue,” he raised his voice. “Why can’t you accept that I don’t want you to get caught up in the middle of my mess?”
“Well, I am caught up in the middle of your mess!” you roared. “You were gone for an entire month and have been on edge ever since you got back. Something’s going on, I’m not stupid.”
“Jesus Christ, Y/N,” a deep growl escaped his throat. “It’s none of your business, if we’re being honest here. They’re my problems, I’m the only one who can fix them – hell, not even that.”
“If you could stop being such a jerk for a second, you’d realize that they became my problems, too, as soon as I fell in love with you. But you’re so far up your own ass that we can’t even discuss things without yelling at each other,” you spit the words. “Do you know what it’s like for me to watch you struggle like you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders? Especially when my hands are tied,” you stepped closer to his figure, heart hammering on your chest after your little speech. It was nothing but a whisper when you said, “You’re not alone, you idiot.”
His whole expression softened, and you could recognize a faint smile on his velvety lips. Taking a deep breath, he closed the distance between the both of you and let his hand rest on the column of your neck.
“I am an idiot,” he nodded, visibly calmer. “And you’re stubborn, you know that?”
“Might have heard something about it,” you grumbled.
He hummed. “Forgive me. Could you?”
“Maybe. Will you… I mean, I just wish you’d open up a little. I’m scared, Yoongi,” you confessed.
“Me, too.”
“I know. That’s why.”
He shook his head and lowered it until his skin touched yours. “I’m scared of your reaction, baby. I don’t know if you’ll want me once you discover the truth,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.
“I’d say you’re safe. Unless your family is trying to coerce you into becoming a real life Michael Corleone. You didn’t shoot anyone in the head, did you?”
He chuckled wholeheartedly and took a step back to maintain eye contact and mock you properly. “That’s your theory? That I’m a mobster?”
You looked down sheepishly, before answering nonchalantly in a small voice, “One of them.” He couldn’t help himself, even though his hand was pressed tight against his mouth and his eyes were glistening with unshed tears of amusement. He tittered.
“May I know the others?”
“No,” you glared.
“Oh, George, what if I ask nicely? What if I say please?”
“Not even then.”
“How about pretty please?” You shook your head, trying to pass through him to get to the kitchen, but he encircled his arms around you from behind before you could grasp the knob. “And what if I tell you that I am, too?” he breathed in the shell of your ear and you held your breath for a second. You didn’t need him to vocalize what you already knew, but you felt butterflies fluttering anyways. Still, you kept your ground, suddenly very conscious of the fact that your shorts were still pooled on the floor near the bed.
“Closer, goodfella. But not enou-“
The loud bangs on the front door cut you midsentence. You felt Yoongi’s body stiffen before something that sounded terribly similar to a low growl broke out of his throat.
“Get dressed and stay here,” he ordered, authoritative. He didn’t spare you a glance before exiting the bedroom, and you felt a dreadful feeling claw up your insides, piercing your gut and making you nauseous. Pulse thrumming viciously under your skin, you fetched your shorts and wiggled it up, fastening the belt with shaky hands. Stop overreacting, you told yourself over and over, growing more anxious by the second. You couldn’t understand why, to be honest.
Taking deep breaths, you forced your fidgety fingers to stay still as you fell limp on the soft mattress, eyes closed. Your mind wandered to the safe haven: cotton clouds and baby blue sky, the smell of the grass, the books scattered around you and him. For a minute, you could truly take the edge off. Until you heard the noise of glass shattering on the wall.
Getting off the bed as fast as you could, your head spun. You opened the door quietly, careful not to expose the presence of another person in the house, and made a beeline to the kitchen. While you looked franticly for something that could be useful as a weapon, you tried to stay attentive to the sounds. They were muffled, but you could discern at least two voices, apart from Yoongi’s.
Alright. Great.
As any sane person who’s watched more than a few movies would do, you went for the most obvious choice. Knives. Better safe than sorry.
Almost counting your steps, you tiptoed your way to the living room. The voices were not very loud, but you could easily understand what was being said now that you were closer.
“It’s imperative that you return with us now,” a dulcet, almost high-pitched voice uttered softly. “I am sure you are aware of your responsibilities. It’s time.”
You stayed hidden behind the icy-white wall that separated the two rooms, gripping the hilt of the knife so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Maybe you shouldn’t be eavesdropping, that was clearly a family matter. Maybe you should lock yourself in Yoongi’s bedroom and do as he said. But the truth was that you were far too curious – and now far too enchanted by the childlike voice – to stop yourself from prying.
“I believe you have already forgotten about the current state of affairs, then? Father exempted me from my duties as soon as he banished me from the Gates and sent me to exile,” Yoongi spit. You could see it clearly in your head as he ran his fingers through his hair in annoyance. He sounded… different. You didn’t have the courage to tilt your head and steal a glance, afraid they’d catch the motion.
“Father warned you about the consequences of your stubbornness, Michael, but you were very much unyielding in your misconceptions,” the second person said, gruffy and curt.
“It is not a misconception to care for our own flesh and blood.”
Wait. Michael? Had he been listening to your conversation earlier? If the man wasn’t so deadly serious and the air so dense, you would’ve laughed – although you felt that it was probably not the right time to let out a full-throated guffaw to mask an anxiety attack.
“Our own flesh and blood abused his role as a persecutor and bent the rules for his own selfish purposes. Azrael is fortunate if Father ever forgives him, albeit we both know he will. Brother, I know you hold the highest regards for truth and justice, but it was not your place to question an order.”
You could hear the crude man pacing around the room as he spoke. Hoping to stay unnoticed, you sneaked a peek. The first person you landed eyes on was not at all taller than you, and you supposed that was the first man you’d heard. His hair was silvery, almost platinum blonde, styled in a way that evinced his beautiful forehead. The way he carried himself was elegant and graceful, like a ballerina, and his appearance suited his youthful voice perfectly. The second figure to catch your eye, though, was the complete opposite. Tall, lustrous olive skin and brown hair, he was intimidating at first glance. His steps were heavy on the floor, nearly clumsy.
“Perhaps there lies the problem. We are never to question, even whilst we deem fit. Azrael is the embodiment of corruption and amorality; it’s consensual, we are well aware. No matter how devious, he is needed. Casting one of the Seven out ought to never be an option. Be that as it may… There are only five of us within the Gates now. Was I supposed to receive graciously the task of exiling our own brother?”
You were growing considerably annoyed by their choice of words. Why the hell would they be talking like your great-grandparents? All cells in your body were telling you that it was supposed to be cringey, but in reality it was nothing but alluring. Charming. And that’s where all the annoyance came from.
“It is unwise to go against His instructions. Are you a rebel at heart, Prince?” The man stopped his pacing to let the words tumble out of his mouth, venomous. You could tell by Yoongi’s countenance that he was about to lose his composure, and in a way you were yet to see. His body were trembling slightly in fury, and his lips were compressed together in a well-defined line. You were astounded, however, by his eyes. In that moment, you couldn’t move even if you intended to. They were tinted in a deep violet, just like you had seen before at Jin’s encounter, except that, this time, they hadn’t gone back to black.
“This has nothing to do with the Rebellion, Raph-“
“Then why disobey? Do you plan to defy Father as well? It would be entertaining to watch you fight your antithesis for the throne of the underworld,” he chuckled.
It all happened in an instant, but for you it felt like slow motion. Yoongi was convulsing within himself, as if attempting to refrain a great deal of energy from breaking free. Once you saw blood oozing from his closed fists, you knew it was a lost battle. But never, ever, could you have foreseen what came next, what kind of energy – power – exactly he was trying to repress. For a very brief moment, everything stood still. If you had been able to avert your eyes from him, you’d see the silvery-hair figure shudder. You’d see the faint smirk on the lips of the man who caused Yoongi’s outburst, even though he was, deep down, a tad terrified. But you did not have time, nor will-power, to pay attention to anyone but him, ablaze amethysts shooting daggers at the man before them.
Then everything came crashing down. Your beliefs, the world as you knew it, it was all taken away ruthless and abruptly once you saw white feathers rip through black shirt. You gasped audibly, falling to the floor with a dull thud as the knife clinked at your feet. None of them noticed, too entranced by the interaction that unrevealed itself. Yoongi got to his prey at an unhuman speed, grabbing him by the throat and caging him against the door. The horrid sound was enough to make you wince through your stupor, and, if it were anybody else, their skull would have cracked. The man, however, only clenched his jaw to suppress a whimper.
“How dare you speak ill of your Leader like this?” as his voice went down a few octaves, Yoongi’s hold tightened visibly. The man-child seemed as ready to meddle as he would ever be, though still too frightened to actually move. “How dare you, brother, mention the Chief of the Heavenlies in the same breath as his nemesis? Mere one hundred and fifty years, Raphael, and you already built the temerity of being impertinent towards me? Or have you simply forgotten who I am?” his wings were whooshing, as if he was preparing to – quite literally – take flight at any given moment. They were stupendous, bigger than he himself, and so snowy-white, so untainted. Truly immaculate, contrasting with his raven hair.
His angelic features, albeit glorious, could never outstand the magisterial way to which he spoke, imposing authority. Like he was born for it. Everything about him in that moment urged you to bow before his feet, and you weren’t even the one holding his darkened glare. It was entirely alien to you, a facet of him you could barely conceive, let alone process. Raphael undoubtedly recoiled at his words, but tried to conceal it.
“Then show me. Do your title justice and lead us to victory, as I know there is no wrath nor passion greater than yours. Not for a moment have I forgotten who you are, Flaming Warrior, but you certainly have.” Raphael spoke, and it fell to the ears like a prayer.
As Yoongi’s wings retracted once again, you breathed what seemed to be the first intake of air in hours. He slackened his grip on Raphael’s throat, who then bent over in a fit of coughing. The boyish man’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he let out a sigh. Of course, the little truce was bound to be broken the minute one of them laid eyes on you. It happened to be the blonde.
“Michael, there is a human on your floor,” he whispered, resembling a kid more than ever with his eyes wide open. “Why is there a human on your floor?” he snapped his head, shooting the question directly to Yoongi’s face, and you saw his body stiffen. “Oh, Father! She’s heard our names! Brother…”
“Silent,” his voice was gruff, and he turned to scrutinize your figure. You weren’t sure of how you looked from the view of an outsider, but you felt… Shock, maybe? Fright? You didn’t know who and what was in front of you, and all you could think was how come his eyes are pitch black now?
“Yoongi, we violated the law,” the man you now identified as Raphael said.
“Namjoon,” his eyes never left you as he spoke, “take our brother home and certify yourself that he does not mention today’s events within the Gates.”
“B-But the protocol-“
“Does not apply to her, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi cut him off, “If you still need me to fight by your side, that is.”
He seemed appalled by the perspective of that being an option. “Needless to say, brother, of course we do!”
“That means I am in charge, then. So, at your superior’s orders, will you be able to keep this to yourself?” Yoongi craned his neck to glance at them through his peripheral vision.
“If it is what you want, brother,” he mumbled, averting his gaze to the floor in respect.
“Well, that being the case, I fear we might have to end this dreadful visit already. Notify our soldiers that I am to be expected soon.”
“Yes, sir,” Raphael responded with a worried frown tainting his beautiful face. He touched the cherubic-like man on the shoulder and they both left the apartment.
Yoongi’s feet were glued to the floor, the same spot he’d been standing since landing eyes on you. Your breathing was labored and hitched; your throat so dry that it felt like sandpaper. He took a little step forward, slowly stretching one hand in your direction. You let out a low whimper, recoiling until you were almost balled up, knees pressed tight against your chest. He immediately withdrew his arm and flinched.
“I told you to stay in the bedroom.” His voice was flat, it wasn’t a scold.
“W-What- What the hell just-“ a sob broke through your throat, and only then did you notice hot tears striking your cheeks. “Y-Yoongi,” you weren’t sure of what to say, let alone if you were actually able to choke a whole sentence out.
“Are you afraid?”
Yes.
Fuck, yes.
Were you afraid of him, though? Granted, his whole countenance while exerting power over someone else sent chills through down your spine. But that was not the man standing before you now, no.
“Who are you?” you asked, trying too hard to keep a clear head.
He straightened his back. “My true name is Michael,” he muttered.
“You know that’s not what I asked,” you objected.
“Yes,” he sighed, “I know. Can you keep an open mind?”
“An open mind?” you scoffed. “I’m here, aren’t I? After seeing a pair of wings growing out of your shoulder blades.”
“You are,” he chuckled humorlessly. He then walked tentatively in your direction, sitting on the floor as well when he deemed close enough. “I’m one of the Seven.”
Your face twisted in confusion. Your brain was trying to deny what your subconscious already knew. “Go on.”
“My brothers and I… we are one of Father’s first creations. Have you ever heard of the seven archangels, George?”
“Yeah,” your voice was nearly inaudible.
“It’s easier for you to understand, then. We are responsible for maintaining harmony in Heaven. That, occasionally, includes keeping things in order between the Gates and Earth,” he paused, searching for anything in your face that would require him to stop. “I am… let’s say, of great importance to keep the balance between our worlds, including the nether regions. You might have already gathered that I’m their leader, so to speak. I am in charge of all heavenly troupes, every single one of Father’s soldiers is under my command, as well as I am under His. In times of war, I am indispensable. That’s why they call me Warrior Prince; amongst other things.”
“So it’s… all real?” your voice almost cracked. “Hell, heaven… God?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“Then why are you here?” you murmured under your breath and his expression darkened.
“Immortality can make you petty. Do you remember meeting Azrael? I guess you know him as Jin. Azrael is… unique. Known as the Persecutor, he was the first reaper to ever exist – created before I was, even. He harvests human souls in due time and delivers them to a realm that suits them best. Paradise, Purgatory or Hell. My brother can be misunderstood very easily; his job has brought to the surface a sadistic persona. We all deal with evil from time to time, it was born in our home, but… Azrael is death, it’s a heavy burden to carry. Infinite lifetimes dealing with the worst sentiments a human can ever experience is bound to leave some scars. He can be mischievous and quite a pain in the ass, to be honest,” he huffed, “but his loyalty is admirable. So, when he made an egocentric mistake, Father reunited us all to discuss the best course of action. Much like a trial, if you will. The point is: they banished him to live amongst his… victims for a certain period of time. I could never agree to that, I believe every single one of the Seven serves a purpose, we are all needed to maintain natural balance.”
“So you rebelled?”
“No,” he scowled. “I’m not a rebel, I’m… a nonconformist.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“Not for us, it’s not.”
“Okay. Then what happened?”
“It’s a long story, if you want me to explain it correctly.”
“I do. And you’re everlasting, so I bet we have some time to spare.”
“Right,” he snorted. “My people is a bit traumatized when it comes to defiance, you probably know why.”
“Because of the devil, right?”
“Lucifer deeply despises all of his nicknames. But yeah, he’s the reason. A very long time ago, Father decided to expand our family. My brothers and I were content, but when He presented the idea of more… more of us, more love, we agreed on the spot. See, He was never, ever, the tyrant your kind makes him to be. Until Lucifer, that is. He was… exquisite, my brother. From his birth, each and every angel to exist used to say that Father got inspired by me when creating him, but in a very distinctive way. As much as possible, we were the flip side of each other, although extremely similar still, if that makes sense. With time, our bond grew stronger; we became inseparable. Almost everything we did was in each other’s company: from training in the fields to reading manuscripts under the sunlight. My brothers and I didn’t have much to worry about, it was a very peaceful existence. We had not come to know sin yet.
Needless to say, it did not last. Because we were oddly alike and yet so different, comparisons were nearly inevitable. I didn’t mind them back then, so I thought he would never take it to the heart either. I was wrong. Lucifer distanced himself slowly but surely, and with each passing day, he tried harder to triumph over me in a childish competition, one that existed strictly in his head. He’d become resentful, and his animosity soon spread like wildfire towards the others, too. None of us were able to comprehend a feeling we had never experienced ourselves, so it took us years to make sense of the situation. By the time we did… I guess it was already too late.
When Father created your kind, the hierarchy became even more apparent: only us, the archangels, were allowed to interact with humans – even so, only to a certain degree and always serving a purpose. Father wished your… species to stay untouched by our graces. Masterpieces, as long as kept apart, he had said. You see, your people got it terribly wrong. Lucifer was never jealous of humans – in fact, he holds deep contempt for them. He was jealous of us, of me, because my new responsibilities evinced that we had different roles on the chain of command. If rancor was his first sin, fury came to be the second. He endeavored to make a point of how unfair it was of Father to ‘play favorites’ and provide the Seven with greater might. My brother was a very shrewd, intelligent being, but his envy made him blind to a lot of things.
Lucifer used the following years to spread his beliefs right under our noses, and therefore was able to gather a herd of angels who succumbed to blatant lies just as much as he did. That was the beginning of the rebellion. His ability to lead was remarkable, but he could never be a true leader – not that he intended to, anyway. The reason is pretty obvious: my brother did not care the least about those under his directions, they were means to an end. His main goal was to dethrone the Seven, and for that he forged a deadly weapon: the flaming sword. The uprising initiated a war that none of us were ready for, not even him. For seven days, we fought. For seven days, we continuously killed our own. I suppose you already know the end to that story.”
You were so fascinated by his narrative that you’d already forgotten the reason he brought up the subject.
“I think so,” you said. “The real thing is actually so… different from everything I’ve ever heard.”
“I know. Tales never accomplish the whole truth.”
“But what does that have to do with the reason you’re here?”
“Like I said, my kind does not tolerate defiance after everything that happened. When Azrael was sentenced, I didn’t exactly make an effort to hide how I felt about it. They didn’t take it very well, so if you ask any of them why I was exiled, they’ll say it was for disobedience. When, in fact, it was because I reminded them too much of him,” he sighed, and you both fall into a pregnant pause. “How are you taking this?”
“I’m not sure. I guess I just didn’t have enough time to process yet.”
“I know,” he twisted a strand of your hair in his slender index finger.
All of a sudden, a realization fell heavy on your heart.
“Is your time up?”
His brows knitted themselves together. “My time?”
“Yeah. You said you’d stay here… for a predetermined amount of time. Is that why they came to get you?”
“No, George,” he let out a puff of air from his nose, “that’s not why they came for me.”
“Then why?”
“Think about it. Why would they need their General for?”
You shook your head, trying to make sense of what he was telling you. Oh.
“You said you were indispensable in times of…” your whisper faded to an end.
“War,” he completed.
||\\
“While they adore me on the throne of hell,
With diadem and sceptre high advanced
The lower still I fall, only supreme
In misery; such joy ambition finds.
But say I could repent and could obtain
By act of grace my former state; how soon
Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay
What feigned submission swore: ease would recant
Vows made in pain, as violent and void
For never can true reconcilement grow
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:
Which would lead me to a worse relapse
And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear
Short intermission bought with double smart.”
There was a thin layer of snow covering the streets once again. The friction between the tires and the asphalt was barely there, and if the circumstances were different, that would be your main concern. The wind howled as you cut through it like bullets, and you tightened your embrace around his waist, somehow enjoying the numbing air of a cold late-afternoon. Eyes wide opened this time. When he finally parked in front of the porch, you quickly hopped down and took the helmet off, placing it in the seat you had previously taken. Before you could say or do anything, Yoongi seized your wrist with a leather-gloved hand.
“I’m positively opposed to this,” he blurted in a last attempt to change your mind.
“I know.” You tried to free yourself from his iron grasp, but to no avail. It was getting easier to read his features, and you could tell he was still unsure. But you were not. “Yoongi, it’s my call.”
“Don’t I have a say in it?”
“Ultimately… no.”
“Want you to be safe, that’s all. Let us be reasonable about this, why don’t you?”
“I thought you understood better than anyone that I don’t get to be reasonable about this,” you sighed with impatience. “Please, I—”
“Okay,” he loosened his grip. “I’ll wait here.”
“Okay.”
The light was off in the living room, your mother wasn’t home yet. You told yourself that it was better this way. Making a beeline to the stairs, you went over the little list in your head once again before entering your bedroom.
Set of clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, laptop… What else?
You looked around, the baby-blue walls somehow mocking you, an excruciating reminder of simpler times. Memories of your childhood swirled inside your mind. All the times you and Taehyung would play hide and seek, the squeals he’d let out whenever you caught him off guard, how he was certainly faster than you, but would let you win a childish race every now and then. The familiar scent of caramel and coffee roaming around the house in the wee small hours of the morning after movie nights, your mom’s chocolate chip pancakes for lunch on Sundays. It all felt like a lifetime ago.
Hauling your backpack across your shoulder, you had a weird feeling that that was it. That was goodbye. Although Yoongi had promised you’d be back safe and sound in a couple of days, you knew things could go wrong. It was a pondered decision; you were aware of the risks, he’d made sure of it. Still, leaving his side when there was a real possibility that he might not get out alive was just… not conceivable. Logically, you understood that, if things went south, you would not be able to do much. You did not care much for logic these days, anyway.
[Cheers Darlin’, by Damien Rice]
Stepping out of the room and shutting the door as quietly as possible—for no apparent reason—you hopped downstairs two steps at a time, making sure to avoid staring at other parts of the house that could trigger another episode of nostalgia. Too focused on the task of trying not to focus, you missed the six feet tall barricade blocking the entrance to the living room, crashing into it face-first. If it wasn’t for the unrelenting grip keeping you in place, you would’ve certainly hit the floor.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the flat baritone voice resonated throughout the empty space.
Of course. You closed your eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before even contemplating lifting your head to make eye contact.
“Do you need something?” in a poor attempt to shield yourself, you parroted his dead intonation.
“Do I need something,” he hummed. Then he chuckled, fists clenching around your forearms. “Are you leaving?” he spat. “What about your mom, huh?”
“It’s just a couple of days. I’ll call her.”
By the scowl plastered on his face, your dismissive attitude hadn’t worked the way you planned it to. You had to do this quick, like ripping off a bandage. If anyone could give you a run for your money in this situation, that would be Taehyung. You knew he’d try to persuade you into staying, so you couldn’t risk it. For both your sakes.
“I see,” he remarked. “Were you planning to tell me you’re running off with your boyfriend or you’d just leave me to figure it out on my own?”
His venomous words burned out of his mouth at lightning speed, tainting his tongue with a pungent aftertaste.
“You know I would never do something like that,” the hurt that laced your voice was evident, but, maybe for the first time, it didn’t make him feel half as bad as it should.
“Do I?” he scoffed. “For the past few months, it feels like you’ve already left. Wouldn’t make much of a difference if you actually did, I guess.”
That did it. You felt tears well up in your eyes, but you were determined to not let them fall.
“Okay, I’m not doing this,” you whispered, not trusting your voice enough to speak properly, and pulled your arms out of his grasp roughly. You darted for the closed front door, feeling sick to your stomach at the thought of spending another minute inside the house. He clutched your shirt tightly, as if it was a lifeboat.
“Wait,” his fists clenched tighter. You could sense him getting closer, but you didn’t have the guts to turn around and face him just yet. He buried his face on your right shoulder, holding your hip now, nails bound to leave little crescent moons on your skin. “M’sorry,” he mumbled. “I hate this.”
Your heart ached. You hated it, too. Pushing Taehyung away was never your intention, but you finally came to understand all the times Yoongi had kept a safe distance before. To keep you safe. You couldn’t risk it, not with Marzipan.
“It’s fine, Tae.”
“It’s not,” he shook his head, brushing his nose on the fabric of your blouse. Inhaling deeply, he moved to the nape of your neck. You shuddered. “None of this is fine,” a peck on the bare skin of your neck, and your entire body tensed.
“Taehyung…” you warned.
“Don’t,” he begged, turning you around. You were adamant on avoiding his gaze, so your eyes kept darting between your feet and your hands. “Don’t go.”
While he rested his forehead on yours, one hand on your cheek and the other thumbing your collarbone, you knew what was about to happen. You knew, and, still, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him. You knew, but it was Taehyung, your best friend. Marzipan, the little boy from the house next door. Boxy smile, disheveled hair, sweet-toothed Taehyung. How wrong could it be? You were saying goodbye to a part of your own soul. How wrong could it be?
When his lips touched yours, soft and ravenous, you really wanted it to feel right. But the answer to your previous question was: too wrong. You loved him, yes. But he wasn’t him. Didn’t taste the same, didn’t feel the same. His movements weren’t slow yet demanding, his hand wasn’t drawing invisible patterns on your lower back, his smell wasn’t musky enough. It just didn’t feel right.
“Tae,” you tried to end the kiss, but he led his mouth back to yours like in a trance, nibling on your lower lip. “Taehyung, stop!”
By the end of it, you were both panting. It dawned you how big of a mistake you had just made, and guilt made you nauseous. Neither of them deserved what you’d just done, neither of them deserved to have their hearts broken because you were such a fuck up.
“I-I’m so sorry, Tae,” your voice cracked. He was about to answer, but you didn’t want to hear it. You couldn’t breathe, your skin was on fire and there was a big, nasty lump in your throat. You bolted out the door, only to be met with Yoongi’s inquiring gaze. It seemed to have broken a damn, and heavy tears tumbled down your cheeks. He rushed to meet you halfway, brushing the tears away as soon as his hands reached your face.
“Hey,” he shushed you. “What happened, baby?”
“Can we go home, please?”
The crease between his furrowed eyebrows deepened, but still, he chose not to pry any further.
“Of course, love. Of course we can,” he softly muttered, although still hesitant to take his hands off you.
You climbed onto the familiar grey motorcycle and hid your damped cheeks on his jacket. The beast rumbled, gaining speed as you cut through the air. The ghost of Taehyung’s lips on yours haunting you the entire way back.
#bts fics#bts fanfic#BTS suga#yoongi x reader#min yoongi#jeon jungkook#kim taehyung#kim namjoon#bts angst#bts smut#fallen angel#fallen angel au#bts reader#bts you#bts fluff#bangtanarmynet#ficswithluv#park jimin#jung hoseok#kim seokjin#two shot
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a little (just under 2k) playground scene with Lip and Ian as dads, as per @pink--and--white's request. i apologize to all actual parents in advance.
“How the fuck did we get here?” Lip asks through a huff of incredulous laughter.
Ian shades his eyes from the sun, turning to his older brother with a look of mock concern. “Your memory that bad already, old man? We drove here.”
It earns him a stinging smack on his thigh.
“Asshole,” Lip retorts back. “You know what I mean.”
Ian’s eyes flit back to the scene before them. “Yeah, I do,” he confirms a beat later, his voice more earnest this time.
This, by far, isn’t a new feeling. Lip’s had the exact same thought pass through his mind countless times in recent years, always in a momentary flash of warmth that filled up his whole chest. It happens all the more often now over the most mundane shit, though.
The first time was, probably, when Freddie was born. Then Ian got married, and Al came along, and Liam got to a good school—and after that followed every other quiet (not literally) evening when the whole family gathered up in the kitchen.
In those instants, Lip would stall himself for just a second, getting lost in the overwhelming sounds and visuals, and think, what the fuck.
He’s getting soft. That’s it, most likely. He’s getting soft and sentimental, going on with his extremely unexceptional life, wondering how in the hell did a piece of shit like himself get so lucky, and slowly becomes someone he’d gladly punch in the face not too long ago.
It hits him hard again, this strange sense of pride and wonder, as he sits next to his baby brother on a bench overlooking a kids’ playground.
This one’s the real deal. Everything here is child-proof and clean, with no syringe or dogshit in sight. Frank or some random homeless guy aren’t lying in a drunken coma by the swing sets. There’s not even one bullet hole in the slide. And maybe it’s not so hard to admit that this is actually pretty nice. That this is them now.
Still, the whole thing is, without a doubt, totally ridiculous. Here they are, Lip and Ian—the college dropout and the ex-con, the true sons of the South Side—sneakily munching on their kids’ packed afternoon snacks.
“Dumb luck, I guess,” Ian answers Lip’s question after some musing and takes a sip from Toe’s pink-colored juice box.
Lip hmms before he bites into a baby carrot. “For us, or them?”
“For us. Definitely.”
They’re just two regular dads who carry around lunchboxes and always have a wet wipe or a pack of tissues at hand, ready to blow noses and wipe off residue chocolate from chins and hands. There aren’t enough words in the English language that would describe how incredibly ridiculous this is, because once upon a time, not too long ago, still, Ian wore a jumpsuit with Dav on the nametag and believed this was it for him, and Lip thought the only way to get through life was by drinking himself through the ordeal.
How the fuck did they get here?
“Freddie! Hey, Freddie!” Lip calls out to his oldest, who hangs upside down from the monkey bars, effectively ignoring him. “Fred!” he tries again with an annoyed sigh, and the boy finally remembers how his ears work. “Can you help your cousin on the slide?”
“Okay!”
With a swift motion, Freddie pulls himself up again to grab hold of a bar, unhooking his knees in the process, and jumps down into the sand with practiced ease. He then immediately gets into a run, coming behind the red-headed girl in black overalls who’s been trying to climb the gentle ramp on her own.
“What was that about?” Ian inquires amusedly.
“Early puberty, I think. He doesn’t want us to call him Freddie anymore. It’s Fred. No Fredster, no Fredtastic, definitely no Fredosaurus. Just Fred. Apparently, I went to bed, and my son turned into a middle-aged man overnight.”
“Oof. That’s rough.”
“Yeah. The next thing I know, he’s gonna get a neck tattoo and his first STI. Al, buddy!” His younger son Alvin, at least, seems to have no trouble with hearing. “You need help? Want me to push you?”
“No, I’m good!” the blond kid shouts back from the swing, and to prove his point, he pushes himself harder off the ground to gain momentum.
Lip scratches his forehead. “They don’t need me anymore,” he comments darkly. “I am officially a bother.”
“You’ve always been a bother,” Ian notes before he stuffs his mouth full of grapes. “Come on, Lip. Freddie’s eight. He’s not exactly packing his bags to leave home. He’s still very much a daddy’s boy.”
“I don’t know, man. When I remember what I was already doing when I was his age….”
“Yeah, but that’s different. They’re not like us. They don’t need to be, and that’s a good thing.”
Ian’s right, but the concept of normal as something desirable, something he doesn’t necessarily need to rebel against, is something Lip may never fully come to grasps with. And neither does Ian, even if he says otherwise.
“We might be getting a dog,” Lip says after a while, pausing before he sinks his teeth into a cheese stick.
“No way!” Ian smirks at him. “Look at you, perfect American family and shit.”
Lip snorts at that. He and Tami are pretty damn far from perfect. “You not thinking about getting a pet? A friendly rottweiler for Mickey, perhaps?”
“No. First, I gotta talk him into having another kid.”
That takes Lip by surprise. He knows Ian absolutely adores his little girl, his mini ginger twin that everyone got to call Toe, short for Tomato, but he also knows the whole story behind how she came to be.
“Oh, yeah? You’d like another?”
“Yeah,” Ian admits, and as his eyes drop to his lap where his fingers fiddle with a paper straw, Lip realizes he sounds ashamed about it.
“Not as easy as poking holes in condoms with you guys, huh?” he jokes to release the sudden tension.
“Hah. No.”
“You told Mickey yet?”
Meeting his brother’s eyes again, Ian gives a noncommittal shrug. “I hinted.”
From experience, Lip knows that hinting in Ian’s case almost exclusively means Mickey is fully aware of his intentions and just chooses to ignore them before Ian confronts him head-on.
“Hopefully, you’ll have another girl,” he tells Ian after a quiet moment filled with children’s high-pitched screams and the steady screeching of a swing set. “It’s a lot more physical with boys. These two are already fighting like we used to.”
“Doesn’t really matter when you’re raising a Milkovich,” Ian remarks before yelling: “Hey, Toe? You wanna have a sip of your juice for me?”
The girl waves at them eagerly as she slides down the bendy chute. Getting to a run right as her feet touch the ground, she comes to a jolty halt in front of them, taking a good, hard look at the juice box as if only now realizing what’s expected of her.
“No, thank you,” Toe then peeps and skips off again.
“Polite,” Lip appraises.
Ian gives a low chuckle. “Fuckin’ weird, huh?”
“With Mickey as her dad? A little.”
They watch the kids play for a few minutes. Ian offers to exchange a cheese stick for three grapes, and Lip negotiates it up to five before agreeing.
“You think he’d be against it? Having another kid?” he asks Ian mid-chew.
“I mean, I wouldn’t blame him, after all the shit with Terry. Maybe with a second kid, he’d think there’d be twice the damage he could do. Dunno,” Ian surmises uncertainly. “I know how hard it was for him to even want a kid, and I get why he was scared. Don’t get me wrong, I’m shitting myself every day when I think of the ways I could fuck this up. But he’s a great dad. You saw him with Toe. She’s obsessed with him. The way she laughs at everything he says makes you think he invented comedy or something.”
Lip’s aware that their conversation turned sort of serious once again, but he can’t help not breaking into a smile. “Sounds like you’re kinda jealous of your husband there, Ian.”
“Oh, I hate his guts,” his brother confirms, only partially kidding. “I’m a fun dad, too, you know.” As if on cue, a figure coming their way catches his attention, and Ian nods to where his daughter’s playing, telling Lip: “Okay, watch this.”
Mickey gestures at Freddie with a finger to his lips, coming around the slide just in time to catch his daughter in his arms with a victorious roar.
“Daddy!” Toe announces the good news to everyone around with a loud squeal.
Ian gives his brother a pointed look.
“Fuck, man,” Lip huffs with mock seriousness. “You tellin’ me she loves her dad? What a nightmare.”
“Yo, lunch ladies.” Mickey suddenly approaches them with Toe at his hip. “How ’bout less chit-chatting and more kid-watching? Think I’d remember if I left my kid with a giant fuckin’ bruise on her forehead this morning.”
“Yeah. She’s had a bit of a scuffle with Alvin earlier,” Ian says, reaching out to soothingly rub Toe’s calf as if said scuffle and the tears it brought weren’t already long forgotten.
“The hell’s he doin’ fightin’ someone half his size?!”
“She started it!” Lip counters weakly.
“Okay.” Mickey’s mouth hangs open for a minute before he finds his figurative footing again. “I guess she had her reasons for that. And you should teach your kids to not fight dirty.”
“I go play now,” Toe informs him then, putting a stop to his rant and his bad mood in one go.
“Yeah! You do that!” Mickey replies as he puts her down, matching her level of enthusiasm. She heads for the extensive pirate-ship-like construction this time, watchful cousin Freddie already on her heels, and Mickey drops heavily next to his husband, letting out a prolonged groan into his hands.
“Tough day?” Ian asks needlessly.
“Igor’s a fuckin’ idiot.”
“Told you he was.”
“And I agree, so drop it, a’ight? Hey, by the way.”
“Hey,” Ian echoes before they exchange a quick kiss.
Mickey notices the juice in his hands then and perks up. “That raspberry?” he checks after he’s already snagged the box for himself, taking loud slurps from it to get every last drop. He finishes off with a belch. “Fuckin’ love raspberry.”
Lip finds that anything he’d say at that moment would only spoil the natural fucking beauty of it, so he just appreciates with a private snicker.
“Daddy! Daddy!” Toe yells from the top of one of the pirate ship’s smaller slides. “Come play!”
Mickey pats at Ian’s thigh. “That’s on you, man. I’m beat.”
Putting his fun-dad face on, Ian heaves himself up without a complaint. “Hey, jellybean! Do you think your dad can fit on the slide, too?”
Toe shakes her head vehemently, giggling as she watches Ian jog toward her. “No, daddy! No! No!”
“What, you don’t think I can?” Ian asks again, halfway through his climb up on the board. “Well, take off your socks now because they might get blown off! I’mma fit!”
“Daddy!” Toe howls with laughter as he bumps his head on one of the low railings.
Beside Lip, Mickey imitates the reaction, both his hand and the phone he’s holding with it to record a video visibly shaking. When he notices Lip staring, his grin falters a little.
“These two jokers,” Mickey complains after he ends the recording. “She always laughs at everything he does like he invented comedy or some shit.”
Lip answers with a knowing smile, his chest feeling full of warmth.
Seriously, how the fuck did they get here?
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JP vs. Localization in Fire Emblem Fates: Revelation
(Okay, for real this time lol)
Again, here’s a link to my sources post.
Fortunately, this route follows suit in terms of good localization quality after Conquest. It’s the shortest out of all the posts, since I don’t really have a lot to talk about. Mostly subtle line changes, references and a few key points of information that were cut out. I also went through Hidden Truths and Heirs of Fate to see if I could add stuff from those on here, but there were no big problems that I found.
Once again, the main part of this post will all be put under the cut. If a chapter isn’t covered, it means I didn’t think there were any differences worth talking about.
I’ll use localized names for characters and locations, unless I feel the need to do otherwise.
I’ll be using she/her when referring to Corrin in this post. (I flipped a coin to decide the gender lol)
Also, note that after Chapter 14, the translation of this route on Fateswartable ends, so I mostly relied on the English patch done by Serenes at that point forward. (I also used PegasusKnight.com as a reference to fall back on if I needed it)
Chapter 7
-A minor gripe I have with localization. The JP version compares Touma (Valla) to hell constantly. To jump ahead a bit, I believe in the JP versions of the End of All Sky/Land/Below tracks are even called The End of All Roads Heaven/Earth/Hell. The Vallites are also often called demons in the JP version, and Anankos himself is known as the ‘Invisible Demon Dragon’.
Another cool thing I just thought of too, is a connection to a popular Japanese short story. Zelda fans might be familiar with the story, “The Spider’s Thread”, which inspired the Ancient Cistern dungeon in Skyward Sword.
The beginning of the story has Buddha walking through paradise (heaven), before coming across a pond. The pond is filled with crystal clear water, and covered with water lilies/lotuses. As Buddha gazes further into the pond, he begins to see the depths of hell.
Sound familiar? “Azura is walking through Hoshido, before coming across a lake. The lake is filled with crystal clear water, and when she gazes into the lake she sees the fallen kingdom of her birth. Valla, the kingdom associated with water lilies/lotuses in the game, has been turned into hell itself.”
This association loses its meaning a bit when the comparisons to hell are a bit toned down, as well as when the Buddhist inspirations were kind of supplanted in favor of Greek renames. It’s not supremely important to the plot as a whole, but it’s something interesting I wanted to bring up.
-In the JP version, while explaining what happened in Valla, Azura eventually says “Using the art of manipulating people’s souls, he (Hydra/Anankos) made the people kill each other.” This bit of the people killing each other was cut in localization.
Chapter 12
-In the JP version, when Corrin asks Flora if she knows anything about dragons, Flora says “Sorry, I don’t know…The ancestral dragon of the Ice Clan has already perished and isn’t part of the legend. I don’t know what role it plays, sorry…” Localization makes her response “I'm sorry, but I can't think of anything... They've been gone so long that we don't even have tales of dragons in the Ice Tribe. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more assistance...”
So, the JP version explicitly says the Ice Dragon is dead (I believe Fates’ second artbook mentioned this as well), whereas the localization only says the First Dragons have been gone for a long time.
Chapter 16
-There’s not really much of a problem that I have with what Ryoma says about Corrin “having leadership qualities at a young age” but I wanted to do comparisons regardless cuz the word choice might lead one to different conclusions. In localization, Ryoma says this:
Ryoma: Huh... So she told us the same thing... I don't think it's in Corrin's nature to lie. And there's a leadership quality about her that just attracts followers. I remember being jealous of her as a child, in fact. Even at such a young age, she displayed the characteristics of a ruler. Silly to be jealous of her, right?
In the JP version, Ryoma says this:
Ryoma: Oh... So, she told you the same thing. …Corrin isn’t one to tell lies. She’s been like that since childhood. She’s always genuine and honest... She has this mysterious appeal that draws people to her. Seeing my younger sister with the qualities of being a ruler... Honestly, it makes me feel envious. …What a ridiculous thing to say, right?
Again, I don’t necessarily have a problem with how it was localized, but some might. The localization version might have people think that Corrin somehow was a fantastic leader at such a young age, but JP is more clear that it was about the qualities she had at a young age that would be valuable as a leader.
Chapter 19
-A minor gripe. In the localization, Azura says that Anankos uses his magic to send Vallites to Nohr and Hoshido to stir up conflict. In the JP version, she says he uses magic, along with the help of a body of water. That’s why whenever you fight Vallites outside of Valla proper, there’s a body of water nearby; Hoshido’s lake (and the ponds shown in Hinoka’s CQ battle which are in the capital) for Chapter 5, the sea for BR chapter 11, the burning falls for BR chapter 21, and the city for Rev chapter 13. Similarly, the consequences of being a victim to the curse are described as “turning into sea foam” in the JP version. Localization as a whole kind of toned down how much water has an influence on the story.
Chapter 23
-Probably the pettiest gripe I have lol. As Arete is fading away from Azura’s arms, Azura has a different reaction in localization and Japanese. In localization, Azura says “Mother? Mother!” while a voice clip of her in-battle pain cries plays. In the JP, she says “*Sob... Sob*…! Mother... Mother...!”, while a voice clip of her crying plays. Her crying voice clip I don’t recall hearing anywhere else.
This is one of the few times in the you get to see Azura express a heavy and heartfelt emotion, since her rough childhood caused her to remain guarded and stoic around everyone. The equivalents to this scene in other routes is her death scene in Birthright, and her crying with Corrin over Ryoma’s death in Conquest; a normally unflinching and aloof character breaking down is a rarity, and indicates that the cause of it is something to take note of for the character as a whole. Localization softened this aspect, and I take issue with it, despite it probably seeming trivial to most other people.
Chapter 24
-When Corrin is questioning the phantom Mikoto, an exchange happens. In localization, part of it goes like this:
Corrin: But this can't be... Are you truly my mother?
Mikoto: I am. Even as a puppet of Anankos, my spirit at least remains my own.
Corrin: I... I believe you.
In the JP version, it goes like this:
Corrin: It can’t be... …Are you really my mother?
Mikoto: Yes... I became an Invisible servant, controlled by the Invisible King... Even so, I am your mother.
Corrin: …………
Again, a minor thing that I don’t personally have issue with, but replacing Corrin’s silence with an admittance of belief could make some believe she has “reverted” back to being too naïve.
Chapter 26
-While Gunter is relaying his past, an exchange happens. In localization, it goes like this:
Gunter: I ask myself that, every day. I cannot understand the minds of royals. To you all, we commoners are little more than pawns in your schemes... Or weeds to be killed on a whim.
Corrin: That's not true...
Xander: Is that how people view the royalty?
Ryoma: Such an impression would easily breed powerful resentment...
In the JP version, Corrin, Xander and Ryoma don’t say anything. They just remain silent.
Endgame
-Not a major problem so much as a general thing about the game, but I can think of like... at least three memes that Treehouse inserted into the localization. Now I like memes, but there is no better way to date your media nowadays. One of them was Kana’s “That’s dragon for I love you” which tbh, is kind of cute and isn’t the most well known meme so I guess I can let it slide. Another is Felicia saying “I had one job!” when she messes up in the dining hall, which isn’t that big of a deal since the dining hall is very optional.
The last one I can think of is why I put this specific grievance here, and it’s during Corrin’s speech before facing Anankos.
Corrin: We won't back down! This is my... This is our destiny! Ready your weapons! Fight for your friends! With the Seal of Flames... With the Fire Emblem on our side! We fight for our world!!
Yeah, she says “Fight for your friends” which is everyone’s favorite Ike line from Brawl. Now, this isn’t even a totally inaccurate translation either, but it kind of just... makes the moment funny for the player when it’s supposed to be commanding and serious I guess.
But yeah, not the most important issue by far, but something I’d thought to mention. Hell, it’s not even that bad compared to how they made Peri’s, Effie’s and Hisame’s quirks into exaggerated and tired jokes. And the Beruka-Saizo support. Never forget.
-When Azura and Corrin are by the lake and discuss the latter’s plans to rule, Corrin says this in localization:
Corrin: I'm going to make Valla a wonderful place! In honor of the true last king and for Queen Arete. And everyone who fought... I promise to make them all proud.
In the JP version, she says this:
Corrin: I’ll make the Invisible Kingdom (Valla) into a great land. For the previous monarch, Queen Shenmei (Arete)… And for all of my allies who fought beside me. I promise.
So, JP version only mentions Arete as the reigning monarch of Valla. Which makes sense, cuz unless there was some wild “keeping the bloodline pure” shenanigans in Valla, Arete being the Queen keeps in line with what we know about the rest of Valla’s history. Arete was royalty from birth, as was her sister Mikoto. Arete is the one who passed down Lost in Thoughts and the pendant to Azura.
#fire emblem#fire emblem fates#fire emblem if#fe14#corrin fire emblem#azura fire emblem#ryoma fire emblem#xander fire emblem#hinoka fire emblem#camilla fire emblem#takumi fire emblem#leo fire emblem#sakura fire emblem#elise fire emblem#hoshido#nohr#valla#meta#treehouse localization#stop calling the route revelations that's not the name gdi
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Drabs, I know that you usually draw Fleur with slightly darker blonde hair than Narcissa. Was it a choice so that it’s easier to distinguish them from each other or was your Fleur maybe slightly influenced by the actress from the movie who had darker hair?
In the books Fleur didn’t seem to have much description other than having long silvery hair (waist length?) and having this glow around her. So like with Narcissa, what works have influenced your design of Fleur?
It’s fascinating sometimes to read the artist’s perspective and your previous reply to the anon about Narcissa has been very interesting.
Thank you!!! 🥺
I was actually pretty embarrassed over how enthusiastic I got over the whole hair thing, but I'm glad it made some sense at least 😂 And now that I've been given even more reason to talk about it... (Let's face it, I shouldn't even be allowed on this website to begin with, ya'll have been way too nice to me.)
Only click on keep reading if you want to read Some Nonsense.
I did consider Fleur's actress when I thought about her hair color. Though I pictured it to be something of a mix between movie Fleur and Elsa’s (from Frozen) hair. But the way I drew Fleur's hair, the way it falls across her shoulders, that was more of... well, I imagined Fleur to have effortlessly perfect hair, like she doesn't seem to need to style it so much because it's already whimsical as it is, what with her being part-Veela. There were a lot of fanfictions that helped me to sort of see a better image of Fleur in my head so really, I owe it to all the talented writers out there!
It's also the same with Narcissa's case. Though I decided to give her paler hair, compared to Fleur's, because I wanted to emphasize that air of vulnerability Narcissa has—this image she conjures, like she's this fragile thing made of glass, which typically in fanfiction is what Narcissa uses so that Voldemort would overlook her a lot, hence why she wasn't given any "missions" or "tasks" while Voldemort was in Malfoy Manor. Slytherin preservation. This "fragile" image was something Narcissa capitalized on and maintained perfectly, but in post-war Cissamione fanfictions, she no longer has to put on that façade—she starts living for herself, but the quiet sadness about her never really goes away.
I really did struggle at first, I had to find a way where I could draw them without confusing people and myself.
So, again, I sifted through a lot of canon and non canon material about these two characters which funnily enough made me see some kind of parallel going on between them. I know. Fleur Delacour and Narcissa Black. Parallels?! It's nuts. But again, this is only within Fleurmione and Cissamione fanfiction, and it really helped me to draw them better. (At least in a way that made them distinguishable from one other at first glance, I’d like to think.)
These 'hair scenes' are mostly the bits where Hermione "first" sees Fleur. Hermione is entranced, a little curious, sometimes she feels indifferent, but the general theme is Hermione immediately finds Fleur beautiful—which probably explains why Hermione in fanfiction sometimes thinks Narcissa could be part-Veela like Fleur. And as you can imagine, that's where my struggle began.
You'll see what I mean in a minute. And just like last time, remember that this part comes with spoilers.
🔹 In Fighting is our form of Flirting by InsomniacAndBi in Chapter 2 Hermione sees Fleur for the first time. This is the first Fleurmione fanfiction I've ever read, and also the first time I've encountered Fleur's character. Tall, bright blonde hair, won the genetic lottery, aristocratic features, face held in a scowl, floats into the room with effortless poise, immediately starts demanding things out of people... Sounds vaguely familiar, doesn't it. Like some other blonde we know.
"Non!" A voice from the doorway said. "This is not what was agreed."
For a moment, Hermione thought about ignoring it but turned to glance over there if only to quell her curiosity. A girl stepped into the room and Hermione's phone call was forgotten in a moment. She knew that it wasn't nice to stare but Hermione couldn't help but do it because, in all honesty, this was the prettiest girl she had ever seen. She was definitely taller than Hermione was, with bright blonde hair and...clearly she had won the genetic lottery.
Her skin practically glowed and it looked so smooth and soft. It made Hermione wonder if she used those fancy beautification charms or had a very lengthy skincare routine. Or maybe, just maybe, this is what being rich did to people's faces. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that this girl was rich - like extremely rich, like even rich people thought she was rich. That kind of rich. That was the type of rich that this girl was.
Also, only super rich people curled up their lip like this girl was doing.
She breezed into the room like she was floating and Hermione hastily ended her phone call and promised to call back later.
"This is not what was agreed," The girl said again and Hermione felt incredibly small sitting in front of her. Not to mention, the girl's clothes screamed 'I'm rich and I know it' and Hermione's screamed 'I'm so out of place that I might as well be a bull in a China shop'.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione managed to get out when it became apparent that the girl was waiting for her response.
"You are English." The girl looked shock for a moment at Hermione's accent before shaking her head angrily. "This is not what was agreed."
🔹 In Oath of Silver by i_shall_wear_midnight immediately in the first chapter, when Witcher Hermione first meets Fleur, it's something Hermione quickly notices. Vivid sapphire eyes. Silvery blonde hair that shimmered in the torchlight. And once again, right off the bat, Fleur is pushy. She wants things done her way. It’s just so cute how she doesn’t even let the fact that Hermione is a Witcher, an extremely dangerous outcast in society, get in the way of that.
(I'm sorry for this but I just have to gush about Oath of Silver. Hermione as a witcher is just so fitting for her character; she possesses that natural eye for detail that remarkable witchers have, witchers like Geralt and Vesimir (a skill that gets even more honed through the Witcher Trials). Hermione even has Geralt's dry sense of humor, a bit rough around the edges, brilliant, snippy without really meaning to (because she asks a lot of questions and would rather get to the point), but has a good heart.)
The witcher figured that would be the end of her human interactions for the evening, but only a few minutes later, the stunning newcomer from before appeared before her. Upon closer inspection, Hermione couldn’t imagine she wouldn’t be conspicuous in any group of people she happened to find herself immersed in. The woman was looking back at her with vivid sapphire eyes, and silvery blonde hair that shimmered even in torchlight. Her attire was travel-ready, but elegant.
“Bonsoir. You are a witcher, oui? Or perhaps a ‘witcheress’ is more accurate? I am not familiar with all the terms…” She watched the beautiful stranger patiently while she fumbled through Hermione’s professional title. As if the distinctive, amber colored cat-eyes hadn’t given her away, the brunette mused wryly. Eventually, the blonde gave up and sat herself down at Hermione’s table, her medallion twitching faintly as the stranger got settled. Hermione filed that away for later. Her new dinner buddy seemed to be oblivious to the curious and concerned looks now being thrown her way at boldly taking a seat at a mutant’s table.
“I came from Ellander,” she began in a non sequitur. “The temple, and spoke to the priestess Nenneke, who told me about you.” Hermione continued eating her second serving of stew and waited for her to get to the point. “I would like to hire you as an escort as I travel back to Toussaint.” The witcher finally put her spoon down.
“Sounds like you ought to be asking some mercenaries to be your bodyguards,” she responded, eyeing the bow the woman was carrying on her pack meaningfully.
“A pair seems doable, and I’d prefer you.”
“I’m not a bodyguard.”
“Yes, technically, I am aware,” she replied, beginning to show signs of impatience.
“Then why are you soliciting a monster-slayer?”
🔹 Witnessed here in Time and Blood by whistle.the.silver is probably the most interesting one because it uses the concept of Veela hair as a wand core brilliantly. Again, this comes with huge 🛑spoilers🛑. Read the italicized words at your own risk. I can't add the entire clip here, as the topic of Fleur's hair is littered throughout several other chapters. But this story shows us a Fleur who is willing to do anything in order to protect Hermione during the course of the war.
My memory is a bit foggy, I haven't read this story in months, but here's what I remember:
This takes place during the time of Shell Cottage, where Fleur is married to Bill and takes care of Hermione. Fleur didn't expect to fall in love with the young brunette and, as the Golden Trio's time in Shell Cottage comes to an end, she worries over Hermione's safety. Fleur, using magic only known to the Veela tribes, does her best to offer Hermione protection in any way that she can--even going as far as to study what Lily Potter did so Harry could live. At one point, Fleur cuts her own hair with a length now roughly above her shoulders to give Hermione a new wand. But this isn't the only bridge Fleur is willing to cross to make sure Hermione survives the incoming battle. Fleur's grandmother, Ron, and even Bill himself, is a little sceptic over the propriety of Fleur's actions, but Fleur is determined to do whatever it takes to make sure Hermione makes it out of the war safe and alive.
So that was a lot to wade through, I know.
But if you've skipped all those parts for the sake of missing spoilers then let me go ahead and explain why the parallel between Fleur and Narcissa are there. Sure, it's plain to see that they have similar physical characteristics, but they're also similar in other ways.
In Witnessed here in Time and Blood, Fleur is willing to do whatever it takes to protect Hermione during the war: sacrifice the secrets of the Veela, make Hermione a wand, make her marriage and friendship with Bill suffer, be scrutinized by her Veela tribe, etc. And didn't Narcissa do the exact same thing during the war to make sure Draco made it out alive? They both chose to 'betray' everyone else for the sake of this one person. Not to mention, in Extinction by rubikanon Narcissa even makes Hermione a wand. (I’m telling you, there are so many parallels between these two ships and I can probably list more but I'd rather not make this post longer.)
Here, I’m just going to go ahead and say it—it’s almost like Fleur and Narcissa in fanfiction have the same love language.
A glaringly obvious difference between them is their upbringing, and we could argue that this why Fleur tends to be more open with her emotions while Narcissa tends to be more carefully guarded with hers. And I don't know if writers realize these parallels but as someone who's a huge fan of both characters and as someone who makes the occasional fanart of them, it's a pretty difficult detail to ignore. This crazy conspiracy all started because I had to find a way to make both characters look distinct from one another... It's just so interesting that writers from two different ships unknowingly make these parallels with two completely separate characters who are often at the opposite ends of the seesaw.
But again, let's take a look at Extinction by rubikanon. (I know. Extinction?! AGAIN?! Always.)
Spoiler warning!
🔹 Extinction by rubikanon has a marvelous take on this, as it turns out Fleur and Narcissa are actually good friends, and if I remember correctly, occasionally exchange letters (I’m unsure about this bit, I might have read it in a different story). They just get along remarkably well; I imagine they both share a kind of mutual respect for each other, a quiet understanding for the way the other woman carries herself: poised, meticulous, they pride themselves in their work, they both know how to handle an Ocean Of Secrets™, they're both accustomed to being under the spotlight of the public eye, and they’re both dedicated to their loved ones. Needless to say, Fleur and Narcissa are both giddy over the prospect of being with someone they love and adore, and end up meticulously planning numerous (I think it was hinted) double dates (Fleur with Bill, and Narcissa with Hermione) with the same kind of endearing enthusiasm that leave Hermione and Bill with no choice but to agree to the whims of their respective lovers.
(Scene seen in Chapter 23: Build Up Your Defense 2 of 2)
Narcissa and (Hermione) I were sitting together on one of the couches when Bill and Fleur arrived later. They showered Teddy with kisses on his little cheeks. He'd gotten past his clingy phase and adored us all, struggling to walk around the room by bracing himself on everyone's knees.
Suddenly Narcissa reached up and grabbed onto someone's wrist behind her head. "Don't even think about it," she said.
"That's just scary. How did you know I was there?" George stood up from behind the couch, a toy spider dangling from his hand. Teddy shrieked with laughter.
"She has eyes in the back of her head," Draco said.
"Mothers," George grumbled, sitting down close to Angelina. "Dump her, Hermione. I need you to date someone more prankable."
Fleur looked in surprise at the two of us on the couch. "Oh, la vache! How did I not know zees? You are lovers?"
"We're dating," I said mildly, though we really were lovers. In every sense. I glanced at Narcissa and bit my lip as heat spread through me. My imagination started planning a middle-of-the-night rendezvous.
"No wonder she (Narcissa) was so adamant about healing that curse," Bill said thoughtfully.
"Adorable! Simply adorable!" Fleur exclaimed, sitting down on Narcissa's other side. "We must go out for a double date next week, all four of us. We'll dine at L'Escargot!"
Narcissa's eyes lit up.
"Oh, no," I said.
"You won't have to eat snails," Narcissa said. "Please, mon amour?"
"French doesn't work on me."
"Please?" She kissed my cheek again and again. "Please? Please?"
Laughing now, I pulled her in for a kiss on the lips and said, "Yes, alright. But only because I have fond memories of trying new foods with you."
"As do I," she agreed.
Then we realized everyone was staring. Narcissa cleared her throat and straightened up, blushing. Draco made a face. Ginny looked a little more favorable. Harry held in laughter, and Andromeda hid her camera.
"Adorable!" Fleur declared again.
🔹 Also, I just have to add Sugar and Spice by waltzlikeits1698 because Chapter 4: Happy Birthday, Harry is absolutely hysterical. During Harry's birthday party, Hermione sulks in a corner because Fleur has apparently been avoiding her. Ginny decides to do something barking mad, something Hermione typically falls for.
“Ooh, someone’s grouchy,” Ginny teased, retracting her arm and facing Hermione fully. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” Hermione insisted, although even she could hear the pout in her voice.
“Sure seems like it,” she snarked, summoning two shots and offering one to Hermione with a waggle of her eyebrows. Hermione pulled a face and Ginny shrugged before downing both, one after the other. (...) “You know, I spotted a tall, blonde drink of water hanging around the stairs.”
“What!?” Hermione exclaimed, whirling around and leaning out of the room to look at the staircase. Sure enough, standing at the bottom and resting a slender hand on the bannister was a tall, blonde witch who made Hermione’s heart stop with her mere presence. She had started forward before she knew it, her heart taking up an even quicker beat as she crossed the few steps and reached out a hand to clasp her elbow. The woman turned, that beautiful blonde hair catching the candlelight as it moved in one long sheet.
Hermione retracted her hand in horror, her eyes widening. “Mrs Malfoy!?”
Narcissa Malfoy raised an eyebrow at the witch who had practically accosted her. “Miss Granger. Can I help?”
What was she even doing here?
“Uh,” Hermione said dumbly, “sorry, I just… need the loo. Can I-?”
She gestured lamely to the staircase. Both women stared at the perfectly reasonable gap that Hermione could easily pass through. The moment stretched on.
Slowly, Narcissa returned her inscrutable gaze to Hermione, who squirmed uncomfortably in response. She then took a small step to the side and gestured for Hermione to pass. She did so and, as she turned the corner of the staircase, sent a deadly glare at Ginny, who was practically pissing herself with laughter.
(...)
Fleur had arrived. Hermione couldn’t explain exactly how she could tell, considering she had been in the duplicated bathroom for the last ten minutes after humiliating herself in front of Narcissa, but she knew it like she knew that it was levi-O-sa.
(...) (Hermione) She tried to avoid eye contact with Narcissa on the way back down and was thoroughly unsuccessful: the witch had physically reached out and laid her own hand over Hermione’s on the bannister, forcing her to stop and look up. Then, with an intention behind her eyes that Hermione had neither the brain capacity nor the energy to delve into, she said “It’s Ms Black now.”
Then she had released Hermione’s hand and turned back to her conversation with Andromeda and two wizards Hermione didn’t recognise.
Come to think of it, there were a lot of people Hermione didn’t recognise.
Anyway, long story short, this is the result of reading both Fleurmione and Cissamione—
But RIGHT. At the end of the day, again, these are just some crazy little things I picked up on and I may or may not be right, no one has to agree with me, everyone can disagree with me. Actually, yes feel free to disagree with me. I need to get out of this damn site and you know, touch grass.
Okay. Well. I'm gonna stop here now. So. Bye. But thank you anon for this lovely ask!! I’m really touched that you wanted to know what inspired the way I drew Fleur 🥺💕💖 But still. So sorry for this massive word vomit!! 😂
#fleurmione#cissamione#fleur delacour#narcissa black#narcissa malfoy#hermione granger#stupid rants#drabstuff#yall im telling you im the mad scientist but remove all the science
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Stop the World || Alex Turner || Request
Pairing: Post-TBHC!Alex x Virgin!Reader
Genre: fluff, smut
Warnings: first time/loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, cute lil petnames like doll, handjob, protected vaginal sex (wrap it before you tap it plz), where can i find a man like this?
Word Count: 2.9k
A/N: pre-rona times obviously. thank you for your patience, my dear anon! i hope this was worth the wait!
In which your first sleepover with your boyfriend of 7 months leads to your first time.
There were no words in the English language that could really describe your past few months with Alex. All of your boyfriends before him were terrible - self-centered, only ever talked about themselves, cheaters - but Alex was so different from them that you were nearly convinced he wasn’t human. He was always a gentleman, always ensuring that he would respect whatever boundaries you set in place - whether it be discomfort with PDA, or having to tell him you were not yet ready to take the “next step” in your relationship, he was always respectful towards you.
And that brings you to your first time spending the night at Alex’s house, roughly seven months into dating. To say you were nervous would be an understatement - you knew that you were ready for whatever may happen once you two were under the covers of his queen-sized bed, but you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming amount of butterflies arising in your stomach as you neared his house, your overnight bag sitting in the passenger seat beside you and you gripped your steering wheel. You took the familiar turn into the driveway to the gate that led to the high-class neighbourhood in which he lived, filled with white two-story houses that were a bit too close together for your liking, pressing the four-digit code into the keypad before driving into his neighbourhood towards his house. As the distance between his house and your car closed, the butterflies in your stomach fluttered more and more rapidly, until you parked your car in his driveway and your chest felt heavy.
It’s just one night, you thought to yourself. Everything will be ok.
You dragged yourself out of the driver’s seat of your car, walking around to gather your bag of belongings from the passenger’s side before trekking towards his front door. Your hands were shaking lightly, your head feeling a bit fuzzy, and you began to fear that your nerves would ruin your quality time with your beloved boyfriend. But when you saw him open the front door, presumably after hearing your car door be slammed shut, you felt your nerves begin to melt away - not all of them, but you definitely felt a lot better than you did during your car ride.
“Hey, baby,” he greeted as he neared you to take your bag from you, his long hair tied in a messy bun with a few loose hairs flowing in the cool breeze. “How was your day?”
You were relieved that he wasn’t bringing up any of the pressures you felt regarding your night with him, and that he was going about conversation in his regular manner - whether or not he could sense your tenseness, you weren’t sure, but you still appreciated the normalcy. You carried on the conversation as he led you inside his house, which you always thought was a bit too big for just one person, and smiled as he turned to face you and bring you into his arms. You were enveloped in his warmth and distinct cinnamon-like scent, nestling your face closer to him as if you were scared of losing grasp on this feeling.
He always made you feel so warm inside.
Your afternoon together went as per usual, with him listening to your gossip about co-workers, and you listening to new demos and song ideas that he had come up with in the gaps between visits. But as the night drew closer and closer, and you stood behind him with your arms wrapped around his torso as he prepared dinner, you felt your nerves come back. You prayed that he couldn’t sense the sudden tenseness in your body, or the mild shaking of your hands.
“What’s wrong, love? You feel tense,” he said, concern laced in his tone of voice.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lied in response, hoping that he wouldn’t ask any further questions.
“You sure?” he asked, as if he could see right through your lie. He moved over to dump the pasta into the strainer that sat in the sink before turning to look at you as he spoke, leaning against the counter. “Seriously, what’s going on? Are you nervous to spend the night with me?”
“I…” You lowered your head in shame, staring at your minor scuffed boots. “Yeah. I am.”
“Love, you know I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, right? We don’t have to do anything like that if you don’t want to.”
“The thing is that I want to. I really want to. But I’m just scared, because, y’know, it’ll be my first time doing any of that stuff, and I don’t wanna mess it up,” you admitted, unable to look at your boyfriend as you feared his reaction to what you deemed an overreaction.
“It’s fine to be nervous. If you’re really ready to take that step, then I promise I’ll be gentle,” he said. He turned away from you to divide the pasta into two bowls and cover them with meat sauce before placing them at the table - again, the table was quite big for somebody who lived alone, but you figured it was because he had company over quite often. You two tried to move past the awkward conversation from the kitchen, instead going over your respective work affairs with laughter and smiles.
By the time the sun had completely set, you were both immersed in watching a random sci-fi movie that he picked from his extensive movie collection, though your mind was noticeably elsewhere, your eyes on the screen, though you were not processing a single thing that happened. You were weighing your options, going through each pro and each con of sleeping with Alex that night: you could either wait and just put off your nerves, or you could do it now and not have to worry about it in the future.
“Alex, love, I think I want to get it over with,” you said. You could feel him tense up beside you, though he quickly relaxed himself so as to not worry you.
“Are you 100% sure?” he asked. “I don’t want you to feel pressured.”
You swallowed, trying to breath slowly and deeply to calm your racing heart. “Yes. I want to do it.”
He reached forward to grab the tv remote from the coffee table, the screen going black at the push of a button, before he stood up and reached out his hand to assist you in standing beside him so he could walk with you towards his bedroom.
The room followed a neutral theme with paintings depicting a variety of different autumnal nature scenes, and a few fake plants littered the window sill. He had a king-sized bed with very simple beige bedding, a few throw pillows centered on the mattress decorated with various stitched patterns in varying colors to stand out against the monochromatic setting surrounding. Unsure as to what you were supposed to do, you turned to face him as he approached you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” he asked, his already thick Sheffield accent growing thicker and his voice had become a bit deeper, softer.
“I am,” you nodded, looking deep into his dark brown eyes, seeing that his pupils had blown out as your eye contact continued on, before you felt him walking you backwards towards the bed until your knees hit the mattress, causing you to fall backwards onto the thick comforter.
You watched as he unbuttoned his off-white button up, untucking it from his chocolate brown trousers and tossing it off somewhere, followed by the plain white wife beater he wore beneath it. You assumed you should follow after him and began to remove your own clothes, unbuttoning your blouse and throwing it to the side, followed by your pants.
“You’re so beautiful, doll,” he awed, a small smirk forming on his lips as he dropped his trousers to his ankles before stepping out of them. You could see that he was hard beneath his black boxers, and evidently he was quite big, which made you feel a bit nervous, but you calmed yourself by reminding yourself that he would take care of you. “I promise I’ll be careful, ok?”
“Ok,” you sighed out, your voice a bit shaky as he climbed on top of your nearly bare figure, pressing a kiss to your lips as he trailed his right hand down to play with the hem of your underwear right next to your heat. You felt the familiar tingle of arousal between your thighs as his fingers neared your sex, until you felt the pads of his fingers rubbing against your sensitive clit over your black underwear. You whined, bucking your hips against his hand and begging for him to further. “Please, I want your fingers. Please, Alex.”
Alex smirked against your lips, his hand pushing past the top hem of your panties until he was met with your soaking core, running his fingers through your arousal before bringing them back up to your clit to begin rubbing small circles over it. He kissed your neck softly as he listened intently to your sweet moans, taking in how your hips slightly rocked against his hand and your chest heaved. You felt a finger prodding at your tight entrance before slowly pushing in, your walls contracting at the odd intrusion - it was only something you had experienced on your own, but this was the first time somebody else had touched you this way. You never wanted to forget the feeling of his long finger thrusting against the soft spot within your walls. Ever.
“How does that feel?” he asked in a husky voice.
“S-so good,” you moaned out. “M-more. Another finger. Please, Alex.”
A second finger slid into your tight hole, a slight burn accompanying the stretch, but it wasn’t something you were completely unfamiliar with due to your own exploration through late nights on your own. His thumb still toyed with your clit as he thrusted his middle and ring finger against the internal sweet spot, leaving open-mouthed kisses, and every so often a hickey, on the skin of your jaw, neck, and collar.
You finally felt comfortable moving your own hand towards his body, a moment of confusion evident in the way he faltered for a bit before he realized what your intentions were, letting out a low groan as he felt your hand wrap around his hard member.
The two of you lied there, wrapped in each other’s warmth as you worked in tandem to prepare for the main event. You both momentarily forgot that you would be losing your virginity that night, though you were shortly reminded when a third finger plunged into you. Your thighs were shaking, the familiar knot growing in your stomach (notable quicker than when you were on your own.
“Alex… I think I’m gonna cum,” you whisper, unable to raise your voice in fears of being embarrassingly loud.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxed. “Cum around my fingers.”
He groaned as he felt your walls tighten around his fingers, the motions of your hand around his cock pausing as you cried out his name, shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body as you came harder than ever before.
“You look so beautiful when you cum,” he said, pulling his hand out of your underwear and removing your own hand from his. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”
“I want you, Alex. I’m ready, I promise,” you said, still breathless from your orgasm. Although you were weak, you were still able to remove your bra and underwear; now your bare body was on full display as he worked on removing his own underwear, his large cock springing out from the cloth confines. From jerking him off, you could already tell he was well endowed, but now that you could actually see the member, your worries came back.
Is he gonna fit? How badly is this gonna hurt? Should I still go through with this?
“Doll,” he calls out, interrupting your train of thought. “We don’t have to do this.”
“I-I want to. I’m just nervous it’ll hurt,” you admit, leaning on your elbows and looking up at him, trying not to be distracted by his bare state.
“I prepped you, but if you’re nervous, I can do some more,” he suggested as he walked over the the nightstand beside you, opening the singular drawer from the dark wooden table, grabbing a silver packet - obviously a condom - from the disorganized drawer, before looking at you with concern.
“No need. I’m just nervous. Were you nervous your first time?” you asked with curiosity.
“Of course I was. But, I was also a horny teenager who was desperate to knock boots, so… Are you sure?”
You nodded quickly, watching as he tore the condom wrapper over and placed the piece of latex over his member before he climbed on top of you, holding himself up on his forearms. His member was resting against your lower abdomen, his lips pressing soft kisses to your next as he tried to soothe your worries. Before you knew it, he was grabbing his cock and lining it up with your entrance, asking you once again if you were ready, before proceeding to push forward. You cringed at the intrusion, a whimper leaving your swollen lips upon feeling the burning stretch of your walls as he pushed his hips closer towards your own, his thick length filling the tight virgin canal.
“You doin’ ok, doll?” he asked through a grunt. It wasn’t necessarily an unfamiliar sensation for him; however, it had been a while since he had been intimate with somebody on this level, and he had not been with a virgin in quite some time. Your walls felt so warm around him, so tight, and in that moment he felt so lucky that he had the high amounts of self-control that he did, because the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.
“Y-yeah,” you whisper with a tremble, and you could feel the sting of tears forming in your eyes; you attempted to blink them away, but they only hazed your vision and trickled down your temples onto the Egyptian cotton pillowcase. “Keep going.”
He nodded at your wish, kissing you gently to distract from the ever growing pain between your thighs, whispering to you to keep breathing and stopping every few pushes to make sure you were reading to continue. He eventually bottomed out, and you felt as if you were able to finally breathe normally, melting into his touch as he brought a hand to your face to wipe the tears off of your flushed face.
“You’re doing good,” he praised. “Let me know when you want me to move, ok?” He ran a large hand through your hair, kissing you all over your face as you calmed down.
“I’m ready, Alex. Make love to me,” you pleaded to him, grabbing his biceps to brace yourself for the upcoming main. He slowly began to pull his hips away from yours, steadily dragging his cock out of your sopping heat before he pushed forward again at a matching pace, intently watching your reactions to make sure he wasn’t hurting you too badly. The pain was unlike anything you had experienced before, but you welcomed it with open arms and the knowledge that it would soon fade into something more desirable. So you waited. You waited with tears until the pain subsided, whimpers and sobs of pain derailing into breathy moans and cries of his name as you held him so closely that he felt as if you feared letting him go.
You felt as if you had reached the ultimate euphoria as you felt him thrust into you, though you were certain he was not going as hard as he normally would in fear of harming you - he was always so gentle with you, and he wanted to take care of you now more than ever so as to not make your first time unpleasurable.
He felt as if you two were made for each other in every sense of the word - it was the way your hands fit perfectly together, the way your lips felt against his, the way your laughter made him feel as if his heart was going to grow so large it’d explode, the way your small sounds of pleasure filled his ears as he filled you in a way he hadn’t filled anyone else.
The familiar knot was slowly tying itself in your core as he began to speed up his thrusts, the burn had subsided completely and now you felt as if you were weightless and floating as he pleasured you. Then his fingers had once again made their way between your bodies to make contact with your clit, rubbing circles in the same manner as before. Many soft sounds filled the room, such as his low grunts, and your quiet whimpers, and the bed creaking ever-so-slightly as he rocked his body against yours.
“I’m close,” you whisper against his skin as you wrapped your legs around his lower torso, the knot now too noticeable to ignore. Your orgasm washed over you almost instantaneously, your body shaking as you came so hard that you swore you saw inverted stars against the white-hot flashes behind your closed eyes, a loud cry of his name leaving your hips as he overstimulated you.
“Fuck,” he moaned out, the constricting of your walls bringing him closer to the edge; and before he knew it, he too was finishing, filling the condom with his hot seed. He rolled off of you, collapsing on the bed beside you as he came down from the intense orgasm. “Well… how was that?” he asked after the brief moment of silence.
“It was… amazing. Thank you, Alex.”
“Why are you thanking me?”
“Because I can.”
#alex turner smut#arctic monkeys smut#the last shadow puppets smut#alex turner fan fiction#alex turner one shot#arctic monkeys imagine#arctic monkeys fan fiction#arctic monkeys fanfic#alex turner imagine#the last shadow puppets imagine#The Last Shadow Puppets One Shot#The Last Shadow Puppets#arctic monkeys#alex turner#og work
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Light Up The Dark
Part 4 | No matter how it ends
pairing: bartender!tom x famous!reader
warnings: smut +18 miniors dni, swear words?, drinking, mention of anxiety crisis, let me know if anything else!
words: 2.8 k
a/n: english it’s not my first language, so i’m sorry for any mistake! If you want to be tagged in the next chapters let me know!!
PART 4 if you want to read other parts click here!
Y/n opened her eyes slowly. A wind blew in through the window along with the sunlight that hit her bare back lightly. She lifted her head and looked around her: she was in a room that wasn't hers, in a bed that wasn't hers. Suddenly memories of the night before invaded her mind. She had actually gone to the waiter's apartment after an anxiety attack, it hadn't been a dream after all.
She realized she was alone in bed, for a moment she thought Tom had left her again, just like he had last time. But she smelled coffee from somewhere and the noise of someone stirring something in the kitchen. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for a t-shirt that was on the floor wearing her next.
She went to the bathroom and after a few minutes she came back to the bedroom a little afraid. She was doubtful whether she stayed or simply wore her clothes from the night before and left. She didn't want to disturb Tom in his routine and at the same time she didn't know how to behave after having slept with him again, after all it was the first time she truly slept with him on the same bed and wake up together, the last two times she didn't have to deal with it.
She decided to go to the kitchen, if he wanted to throw her out then so be it. She went down the hall and stopped at the door facing a scene that made her smile: Tom was preparing pancakes and putting them on a plate over the sink, whistling some music. He was wearing only sweatpants, no shirt and his hair a little messy, which made her smile even more at how wonderful he looked.
- Is this all this for me? - she asked making him startle a little turning towards her. He looked her up and down smiling right away and leaving her shy.
- Sure sweetheart. - He said taking the last pancake and turning off the fire. - And this all is for me? - He asked turning and leaning on the counter of the sink looking at her.
-Dork... - she said, crossing her arms and avoiding looking at him. - I hope you didn't mind borrowing one of your shirts.
- No problem darling... Besides, you look great in it. - He said raising a suggestive eyebrow and Y/n smiled, leaning away from the door and sitting in one of the benches.
- I'm flattered... Well, you're also are looking very good with your cooker... - She looked at him again, analyzing his bare chest. - Style...- She finished the sentence and he smirked approaching with the plate of pancakes and taking a cup of coffee, placing it in front of her right away.
- Thank you Miss Y/n Y/l/n, writer of Well of Truths and Curse of 18th House. - He said making a small bow making Y/n laugh.
- Hm... - she said eating a piece of her pancake. - You know about my books now?
- Let's say I did some research... - he said taking a sip from his cup. - You know, I wanted to know if you weren't the owner of a mafia or something to have so much money, maybe I was sleeping with the enemy. - He said sawing his eyes and she rolled hers laughing.
- Of course, of course... - she said also taking a sip of her coffee. - And did you read it?
- Not yet... I'm terrible at reading, but I confess that the synopses are very interesting and a little terrifying.
- They're not THAT terrifying... If I gave you a copy of them you'd read them? - She asked looking at him and Tom smiled.
- I think it's a good idea darling... - he said eating a piece of pancake looking at her intently. - Are you already planning our next date?
- That's not what I meant…- she said feeling her cheeks heat up. - Just... I mean...- Y/n wanted to beat himself up because he was getting lost in words like that.
- I know what you mean... I'm just messing with you. - He said smiling even more openly.
-Ha-ha... Very funny -she said ironically. - Just because you saved me yesterday I'll give you a discount. - She said putting a strand of her hair behind her ear.
- Speaking of that... Are you feeling better? - he asked now in a serious tone.
- Yes I am... - Y/n said sighing. - It was just a scare, I should already be used to all this, but anyway, thank you for helping me... - she said finishing her coffee.
- No need to thank me for anything, and you don't have to get used to it, because what they did was wrong so don't feel guilty for feeling bad... - he said looking at her getting up and going to the sink.
- Yes, you are right. But, I don't know, sometimes I wanted to be invisible somehow, not have to deal with any of that. - She said with her back to him washing her dishes and Tom approached her.
- Darling…- he said in a low voice putting his arms around her waist and leaning his chin on her shoulder. - I'm sorry you feel that way... - he give a small kiss on the curve of her shoulder and neck making her shiver. -But think on the bright side...-now he was kissing her neck. -I'll be here to distract you from these moments...-he finished kissing below her ear.
- So... - Y/n started to say, finishing washing her mug and drying her hands on a towel. - You mean I'll be able to use you whenever I want?- she asked now turning towards him and putting her arms around his neck, while Tom still had his hands on her waist. Y/n bit her lip watching him closely and he smiled.
- I'm at your disposal love... - he replied tilting his head to the side and taking a small bite on her neck, making Y/n moan involuntarily. Tom then squeezed her waist tightly and pressed his lips to hers, giving her a breath-taking kiss. She couldn't deny it. He was her addiction, his touch was like anesthesia for her skin and it scared her, but in a good way.
After a few minutes kissing Y/n pulled back a bit and he continued kissing her face and neck while she closed her eyes.
- Tom... I need to confess something... - she said between sighs. - I mean... It's weird, but...- He stopped kissing her and looked at her closely, paying close attention. - I kind of... I feel inspired when... - she started to say, but was embarrassed to continue, especially since he was looking at her so closely.
- When what? - He said smiling encouraging her to continue.
- When... We got... You know? - She said wanting to hit herself for looking like a embarrassed teenager.
- When we fuck? - Tom said raising an eyebrow smirking and Y/n wanted to die because he said out loud.
- Well... Yes... - she replied, averting her eyes from his and running her hand over his bare chest lightly, making Tom put one of his hands that was on her waist higher, lifting his shirt a little.
- What do you mean inspired? - he still smiled and approached his face to hers.
- When we... have sex... I kind of get inspired to write... I mean, I know it's weird... But, I kind of tested it and when we didn't, my block comes back and well... .When we did yesterday, today I woke up with even more ideas for my book... And that's exactly what happened the other times too... So... - she said and Tom looked at her curiously. For a moment she felt pathetic for saying that, it sounded crazy, but that was what was happening and she needed to tell him that.
- Got it... So you mean I'm your... - he said making a thoughtful face. - Sex amulet or something? - He gave her a little chuckle.
- Well... Yeah, I think it's like that... - Y/n said shrugging. She didn't know if he was just making fun of her, or if he even believed what she was talking about, but at the moment she didn't care.
-Hm... So you're stuck with me darling...-he said giving her a peck and taking her leg up to his waist. - Because, how will you manage to finish your newest best seller? - he said smiling and Y/n felt her breath quicken.
He was right. She was stuck with him, she had no escape. And to tell the truth she was enjoying it, she loved having him whenever she want to escape her writer’s block. In fact, she loved having him anytime, period. Even though she didn't know much about him, he still made her feel good and that was what mattered.
- Yeah... I think you're right... - Y/n said passing her hands from his chest to the back of his head. -I think I'll have to use you until I finish...-she said smiling looking into his eyes.
- You can use me all you want sweetheart. - He said husky close to her mouth and then colliding his lips again kissing her intensely while Y/n tangled her fingers between his already messed hair, making Tom squeezed her leg viciously and pulling her closer.
But as they were making out a low song started to play, causing Y/n to stop kissing Tom after a few seconds.
- I think it's my phone. - she said softly, numb as Tom now attacked her neck.
-Let it ring...-he said against her skin and y/n bit her lip.
-I can't, it could be important...- She said pushing him lightly and Tom snorted stopping kissing her.
- Ok, ok... - he said releasing her and she left his arms towards the sound coming from the room.
After searching for a few seconds she ended up finding her phone under her clothes on the floor and answered it without seeing who it was.
- Hello?
- Finally! I thought you had died, been kidnappe or something like that! - Milla yelled on the other side and Y/n made a face.
- Milla! Sorry! I got distracted...
- Distracted? Sure... I've been calling you a thousand years ago!You forgot your interview today? By the way, are you ready? - She said and Y/n put her hand on her forehead. She had completely forgotten about the interview she had today with one of the most reputable magazines in the country. It would be to talk about her career and promote the movie that would come out about her book, things she wasn't prepared to talk about.
- Milla... Sorry... I really forgot... But give me 15 minutes and I will be there in the studio ok? - Y/n said picking up her clothes from the floor with her phone hanging.
- Ok 15 minutes and nothing more young lady! -she replied andYS/n laughed at how she looked like her mother.
- Okay, okay... See you in a bit. - She said hanging up the phone and then pulling her dress over her head. She sat up in bed and grabbed her sandals and looked up to see Tom watching her leaning against the door.
- Going so early? - He said pouting and if Y/n wasn't so professional she would drop all her tasks for the day just to stay there.
- Yeah... I forgot I had an interview today... - she said finishing putting on her sandals and getting up taking the rest of her things.
- Sometimes I forget that you are little famous... - he said smiling and Y/n approached, facing him.
- Hey! Watch your mouth, my book will even become one of the best movies ever made. - She said jokingly making face of diva and passing him, going to the front door with Tom laughing following her.
- Okay, the best writer in the universe. -He said taking her arm making her turn towards him. He smiled pulling her closer and kissing her one last time.
- Hm... - Y/n said against his lips. - Enough, otherwise they'll kill me. - She said separating their lips and moving away from him.
- Wait! How are we gonna find each other if I don't have your number darling? - Tom asked while Y/n press the button of the elevator.
- Don't worry Romeo, I have contacts... - Y/n said winking and Tom smiled with the nickname, shaking his head. The elevator arrived and she walked in seeing the door close not taking her eyes off him.
She smiled to herself. She just didn’t prove her "theory" but she even had told him about it. He made her so comfortable that she felt she could talk to him about anything, that he would never judge her. Even though he was completely full of himself, even though he enjoyed seeing her embarrassed in his presence, she felt that he would never do anything to hurt her. Even though she didn’t know nothing about his personal life. And to tell you the truth, it was better to leave this way, at least for now. She didn't know where this was going, so the less she knew about him, the better.
After nearly half an hour she was in the recording studio listening to Milla freaking out about her being late. Y/n was sitting in a chair while one of the assistants dried her hair and someone else was doing her makeup.
- Girl, where were you last night? You said you would prove a theory and then it just disappeared? - Milla said curiously after a while and Y/n smiled discreetly.
-Mil... I'll tell you everything later, because it's a long story...-she replied while Milla was checking her phone.
-Well...- she said looking at the screen. - I think it's a really long story, because... - she said making a face and Y/n turned a little confused.
- What? What was it?
- There are pictures of you all over twitter... And on gossip sites too... - she said giving her the phone for Y/n to see and she took it from her hand, feeling a shiver. For a moment she had even forgotten about yesterday's mess.
She knew her photos from the night before were going to be on the internet, but even so, she still felt a shiver from seeing it. The headlines talked about how she had "run away" from fans and her picture was stamped all over the covers. Not only did her face appear, but Tom's as well, leading her to the back of the bar. At least nowhere said they knew each other, just said he was just a local employee who had "saved" her from the crowd of fans.
- I knew this was going to happen... - she said taking a deep breath and handing the phone back to Milla.
- And you don't tell me anything? Are you okay? Where did you go after all this mess? - Milla asked and one of the assistants entered the room asking Y/n to accompany him to the interview room.
- Mil, I'm fine, it was just a little scare ... I'll tell you everything after ok? - She said standing up and following the assistant leaving Milla with a raised eyebrow looking at her.
She knew that all it would explode, for a moment she was afraid to expose Tom to all of this, as much as she liked to be with him, she was afraid to put him in that whole mess. She would have to be a lot cautious now, no matter how that "relationship" would ended.
taglist: @petesrparker @usuck @cam-blog98 @lolooo22
#tom holland#tom holland fanfic#tom holland imagine#tom holland smut#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland x y/n#tom holland x famous!reader#bartender!tom#waiter!tom#waiter!tom x reader#tom holland series#tom holland angst#tom holland fluff#tom holland x writer!reader
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In my defense- it's not my fault! It's the numerous incorrect quotes' fault! I can't be blamed for writing it! 😔
Percy was distracted. Well, that wasn't new, as he was distracted most of the time when he was in school, as his ADHD made it difficult to concentrate and his dyslexia made it extra hard to even keep up with the mandatory readings.
But that time, he was even more distracted than he was in any other lesson. No matter what he tried, he couldn't focus on anything else other than him.
His soothing voice, his soft, mortal body, his handsome face, his salt and pepper hair, his enthusiastic gestures…
He was hot for his English teacher.
While he met with literal Greek gods and powerful demigods, something about the extraordinary ordinary looks of his teacher made him hot all over.
For Percy, he was perfect.
While Mr. Blofis was not the most popular teacher in terms of good looks, for Percy, there was no competition. He was flirted by the sun god, Apollo, he regularly saw the messenger god, Hermes, he sparred with half naked, sculptured bodied demigods-
And all he wanted was a middle aged mortal man, who had a thing with his mother.
He sighed in frustration, both because of his thoughts, and because he could feel himself getting harder and harder the longer he stared dreamily at his teacher.
To his frustration, nothing could change his predicament. He was getting a boner in the middle of his English class, which was not fun, to say the least. So, when Mr. Blofis asked them to start reading the next chapter of their current reading material, he snapped.
"Isn't it your job to teach this stuff? Why are we reading this in class, why don't you teach something more useful?" he snarked. The whole class boo-ed, gleefully waiting for the teacher's response. While he was a pretty bad student, he never started the conflicts. He answered them, of course, he sassed with everybody, even with the teachers, but he never started one, so this was an interesting moment for everybody.
Even for him, as he didn't even think that he was going to say something.
"Mr. Jackson, you stay here after school," was the teacher's simple answer. He didn't even look annoyed or angry at him, just… disappointed.
Fuck.
Percy huffed in frustration, but gathering the last of his survival instinct - which was called Annabeth Will Maim Me If I Keep Doing This -, he just nodded, and stayed quiet.
After his classes, he walked towards the English classroom, ready to waste even more time in the school he hated. His mind was a mess, his body was full of repressed energy. He just wanted to end his day.
He knocked on the door, and when he heard a confident "come in," he stepped into the room, eyes locking with his teacher, who sat on his table, relaxed.
At the sight, Percy's mouth watered.
"Mr. Jackson, please, close the door," the teacher waved. Percy did so, but hesitantly shuffled his feet in front of it, wondering whether he should just run, or try to survive the next hour. "Now," Mr. Blofis smiled, and he motioned Percy closer, "we should talk about your behavior."
Percy gulped.
"And what if we just… didn't?" He asked with a weak grin, already knowing the answer.
"Mr. Jackson… Percy," the teacher sighed in disappointment. "You are a good kid. You would be capable of so much more! I know that you don't like to cause problems, that the problems find you, so what happened today?" Mr. Blofis' caring, soft voice, compassionate speech left him breathless. Percy was unused to this. Gods and demigods expected him to do extraordinary things, but nobody told him that they believed in him. They just told him to do it, or else.
"I…" he started, throat dry.
"Come on," the older man patted the desk next to him, showing the green-eyed demigod that he should sit there. Hesitantly, he did, secretly enjoying the warmth of the body next to him. "What happened today?" Mr. Blofis asked again.
"I… I wanted… I was frustrated," Percy stammered, trying to find the right words.
"You were frustrated by…?" The man sitting next to him prompted.
"By you," the young man blurred out.
The teacher blinked.
And blinked.
And blinked, while Percy was silently freaking out.
A strange kind of tense silence fell over the room. The demigod was avoiding eye contact, hoping that his teacher would misunderstand what he said, and would not take his words the way he meant them, but. Paul knew Percy didn't hate him - so the only logical conclusion was that he liked him.
"So you caused a scene in the classroom because you were distracted by me?" The man sounded amused. Percy glanced towards him from the corner of his eyes, but when he saw the strangely flustered sight of his teacher, he snapped his head towards him. He didn't look disgusted, or angry-
He looked flattered.
Maybe even hot and bothered.
Percy grinned, his confidence returning. "I can't stop thinking about you in class," he confessed his tamer thoughts, waiting for a reaction. He got what he wanted.
Mr. Blofis' lips parted to wet his dry mouth, his pupils widened. Jackpot.
"When you stand in front of us, so confident and hot, I can't take my eyes off of you. I want you all over me. Touching me, kissing me… fucking me," Percy whispered into his teacher's ear. He waited, and he wasn't let down: as he breathed out the last few vowels, a big hand grabbed his tight, so deliciously close to his crotch. "I want you to kiss me, Mr. Blofis'."
The young man didn't have to wait for too long; he was immediately silenced by foreign lips pressing against his. Even he was surprised by the needy whimper he gave out as his deepest desires came true. His surprisingly strong teacher pulled him from his place, closer to the older man, and he immediately melted against him.
He felt as big hands traveled down on his body, exploring everything through his clothes, and finally finding their place on his round ass, grabbing him, pulling him closer.
"You are going to kill me," Mr. Blofis' whispered into his mouth.
"Yes, I am," Percy answered in a confident grin, and instead of getting his fill with passionate kisses, he smirked, and went down on his knees.
The older man's eyes widened, reflexively snapping his head towards the door in fear of somebody seeing them in this compromising position, but didn't resist. In fact, he spread his legs wider, letting his student fit better between them. Percy bit into his bottom lip, as he unbuckled the belt and freed the mouthwateringly hard cock from his pants.
"Such a good boy," the teacher purred, as Percy wrapped his lips around his head. The older man's groans encouraged Percy, who vigorously bobbed his head up and down on the erect cock. The thick pre-cum filled his mouth, and he couldn't hold back his moan at the taste. He wanted to taste the real deal, so bad!
Before he knew it, his head was held down, his teacher's cock deep in his mouth, cum spurting down on his throat. He couldn't breathe, his mind was foggy, and black spots danced in front of his eyes, but it was so worth it. Absolutely worth it.
Letting the flaccid cock out of his mouth, he slumped against the man's legs, gasping for air. The closeness of the other man relaxed him, even if he didn't cum, he felt floaty, happy, a feeling that wasn't familiar to him, not even after masturbating.
It was something else entirely - and he wanted more of it.
"You were so good for me, Percy. So good for your teacher," the man whispered as he gently stroked the boy's fluffy black hair. Percy smiled contently against his legs, and said,
"We should do this again. Soon."
#percy jackson#paul blofis#paul x percy#paurcy#pjo fanfic#tw: age difference#tw: teacher student#smut#lime#rare ship
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Behind His Mask
Words Count: 1973
Pairing: Childe x Lumine
Warning: it contains intense fighting scenes, blood
Here we go again, an angsty fanfiction about Childe and Lumine. For these past days I’ve been CONSUMED by this pairing and all I can think is that writing angsty story for them just becauseeeeee. And again, english is not my first language so bear with me >_< enjoy!
***
He pushed them, they went away. It’s fair. It’s how things should be done.
He also pushed her. He pushed her so badly, he even did wicked; he lied, he betrayed her, he even broke her faith in him. He showed her his bad side.
Yet,
She stayed. She smiled. She put up with everything he did.
She’s too good to be true. She’s too perfect for someone like him.
She’s…
Unreal.
Lumine knows sooner or later, she needs to confront her biggest enemy in this quest given by Zhongli. Her enemy, he is someone who is now carving the biggest scar in her life, pushing her away because of the perspective that has been given to him, made him believe that he’s wicked.
Yes, dozens of times, she wanted to run away from him but she just couldn't do that. Somehow, deep down in her heart, she wants to believe… in him.
And today, she’s trying to not let her faith be shaken while she’s seeing Childe一now finally一standing in front of her, showing her that he’s her enemy she needs to beat in order to complete the quest.
“Well… what do we have here?” His voice sounds different. It’s not the voice of Childe she knows. “Finally, the time has come. I don’t need to explain anything, don’t I? Let’s just start the battle, then.” As he was saying that, he forms a water blade each in his hands. The sound of water along with the groans of the whale.
“No. I want an explanation.”
“No. You don’t need one,” he said. “You’ve already seen the facts but you just want to believe in your own thoughts and opinions.” Childe walks forward, he lifts up his right hand and makes a slashing move towards Lumine.
All she needs is just one second. She dodge her way and try to balance herself while aiming her right hand forward, palm facing directly to Childe, ready to cast palm vortex. She’s shocked by Childe’s sudden movement, but she tries to calm herself. She’s now looking at him, and trying to convince herself that this is still the man she knows. But all she sees is that the warm smile is now replaced by a cold, distant smile. “You have no idea who I am, do you?” His eyes were cold and lifeless. There’s anger, rage and… guilt. “Why are you holding back?” He asks with his husky voice. He raised up his eyebrow and gave her a smirk.
“I demand an explanation, Childe,” meanwhile, she takes her sword from her back. “Now.”
“I told you since we first met,” He is now moving again and striking her with his blade, twice. Which makes her now tossed to the side, dealing high damage to her body. Pain creeped up through her palm, making her unable to cast anything except fight him with her sword. “I am a bad guy. But you don’t believe.” Before Childe can do anything, she gathered up her stamina and stood up then ran to the center of the Golden House.
“The truth is, I was just going to aggressively ignore that part until it goes away,” she said. Suddenly, a burst of wind fills up this space. Soon enough Childe sees a hurricane come right towards him, but he doesn’t have enough time to escape from it. The pain it caused is not high enough to stop him so as soon as he freed himself from the grasp of the hurricane, he took out his bow and shot her with six consecutive water arrows. Her body is now marked with Riptide Blast which deals more damage to her body.
“That’s definitely not going to work!” He shouted. He now changes himself into his delusion, which is an electro and casts his homing attack. A purple-ish ring of electricity appears around her body. Before it can deal anymore damage, she runs and attacks him with her sword, once, twice, thrice. Cancelling his moves.
Childe seems tough but now she’s sure that she’s dealing enough damage to him. And that makes her heart ache. But she is still attacking him, half of it represents her anger towards Childe. I hate you. You hurt me. I want to kill you so badly. The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down her face. She feels the muscles of her arms tremble like a small child caught stealing those delicious fried radish balls. Her walls, the walls that hold her up all this time just… collapsed. Ruined. Destroyed.
Her sword is making clanging sound when it met with Childe’s water blade as he tries to defend himself. With her endless attack, she is now slowly pushing Childe to the wall. I can't stop... I can't stop. Why can I not stop crying? She thinks to herself. Her vision is blurry, but she still can see expressions Childe makes. Eventually, she now pinned him to the wall. Panting, she stopped attacking and now looked at him. Her right hand holding a sword pointed to his throat, ready to slit it while her left arm held him in his chest. “All this time… you made me feel so many… emotions,” she muttered between her breath. “I was sad, confused and angry… but I couldn’t understand why,” She pressed her sword gradually into his throat. “But why does it have to be you? Why, Childe, why?” She just broke down. The sobs bursted out, ripping through her throat, muscles, and guts.
She didn’t care anymore. All she wants is just to stop this nonsense, go back in time and choose not to follow him after he saved her from the Millelith guard. She would rather not meet him. Or she would rather not come to Liyue at all.
Next, all she knew was she dropped her sword with a trace of Childe’s blood and pressing her forehead into his chest while grabbing his armor with both hands. She cried. And cried. And cried. She can’t hold it anymore, she chooses not to. The pain came out like madness in the form of a scream. She thought if she acted like it didn’t matter, then it wouldn’t. But turns out the more she pretends, the greater pain she gets.
“I don’t want to put up with everything you did anymore,” She whispered.
***
Memories are the worst form of torture.
And Childe couldn’t agree more with that. You can heal the pain from physical torture with herbs and medicine fom Bubu Pharmacy but you can’t just cut you head off to get rid of things you don’t want to remember. Even though you really want to do that. Even though that ‘thing’ is the most beautiful thing he ever experienced. The thing that he will never, ever dare to dream in his life. And that’s exactly what he feels now.
The muffled sobs wracked against his chest. The world turned into a blur, and so did all the anger he tried to keep. Except for those damn memories. Instead of forgetting it, it keeps playing in his head, rewind itself, filling his mind with a picture of her smiles, her cheerful expression, her flowing hair, her beautiful golden eyes and conclude with the sound of her footsteps, keep coming back to him even though he pushed her away.
Childe, I’m back! Are you feeling better now?
Childe, I hope you don’t mind if I come back here.
Childe, let’s go! You won’t think I’ll leave you here alone, will you?
Childe, I was being too pushy yesterday, wasn’t I? Sorry, I’ll try my best not to do it again if you don’t like it.
Childe…!
Childe!
...Childe!
He tries to shrug that off. He doesn’t want to remember anything at all.
Childe looks down where he sees her bleeding head, probably from one of his attacks. That girl is still burying her face in his chest, clutching his clothes, begging him to stop all of this, while he tried so hard to not lift up both his arms and bring her to his embrace. The sound of her footsteps played again. Stop coming back. Just… stop. I didn’t deserve you. His head now swarms with new formed-regrets.
“I regret a lot of things,” he finally opens his mouth. The heaviness was in his limbs as much as his throat. He sounded tired. “Having this kind of conversation tops the list.” He pushed Lumine from himself just to see her face, now red and wet because of tears. He tried to look away but his eyes were stubborn. “Now let’s finish this game and一”
“Is this a game to you?”
“It’s nothing more than a game with reward,” He forms the electric polearm. Ready to fight her. He’s bleeding, but he doesn’t care. “You should’ve slit my throat. Now I won’t give you another chance.” As he said that, the mask that he keeps on his hair flies over to cover his face entirely. His mind is now consumed and so all of his action. The anger form in a mask is now a safe haven to protect him from the regrets. With this anger, now he can freely do anything he wants. With this anger, his fear of hurting someone he cherishes is now gone.
“I give you the chance to kill me, but you don’t,” With the mask on, his voice has now changed drastically. “This is what cost you for thinking that I can be tricked by your actions!” That gravelly voice is now filling up the entire Golden House, making it tremble a little. Without hesitation, he comes towards the weaponless Lumine and attacks her with his electric polearm. He didn't mind electrifying, slashing and stabbing her with his weapon. Lumine tried nothing to defend herself, she’s now beaten, smacked, thumped and all of her body is screaming with ache but she keeps doing nothing. Because she knows; nothing is matter for him right now. He had been titled Eleventh of The Fatui Harbingers for a reason.
Behind his mask, it pained him to let out all of his attacks to her yet soon enough… a little bit more energy in a form of purple flash and waves combined into one deadly attack should be enough to kill her, giving him a sense of satisfaction amongst agony to end all of this.
Childe is now casting his final spell when suddenly a burst of wind blows away his mask, exposing his rough face. At that time, his eyes locked to Lumine who is now strengthless, her eyes are half closed, and she’s bleeding everywhere. It was Lumine who blew the wind for the last time and made him realize what he did to her.
“Do… it…” She said under her breath.
“No…” The anger is now gone, his emotions are back, his eyes now filled with fear, anxiety and guilt. He threw his polearm and kneel beside the girl who did nothing but good things to him. “What did I do… No…Lumine, no…” He has seen so many deaths, he never truly cried. But now, he’s unable to speak, unable to breath. The world around him becomes darker. The weight in his chest locks in his throats. A token of sorrow and misery. He bawls and screams, and that is more than crying. It sounded like a desolate weeping that comes from a person drowned in the sea of regrets. His tears mingled with the rain outside Golden House which suddenly showered the entire Liyue and his gasping wails echoed around that place.
“Childe一” She whispered, and coughed a little bit.
“All this time,” he cuts her sentence. His voice is now trembling with agony. “Why are you doing that?”
“Doing… what?”
“Treating me…” He sobs, again. “Like a person.”
She smiles. “Because you are.”
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