#above the bay of angels | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bucks-babe · 7 months ago

Note

maybe angel!reader helping bucky thru a panic attack? like he thinks when he dies hes gonna suffer in hell for the stuff the winter soldier did and we calm him down and help him? u can add smut if u want but u dont have to !!

My Guardian, My Angel, My Love

Pairing: Bucky x angel!reader

Summary: For the first time Bucky gets to experience peace because of his sweet angel.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Angst?, actually a lot of angst, I don’t know how it got that way but it did, it gets happy though, fluff, smut (I can’t help myself), oral f!receiving, handjob, awkward sex talk, like really awkward, talk about heaven and dying, talk about life after death and immortality, angels based off of Supernatural but I changed a few things, blood, nearly dying, gunshots, reader doesn’t have a soul but can still love because I said so, reader knows when and how everyone dies but can’t tell them, reader has wings, 3rd person, age gap (reader is eons old), wings being a metaphor for sexual assault?, think Maleficent, no use of Y/N, so many emotions

A/N: This is not supposed to force any religion nor be an accurate representation of any religion. I din't go with panic attack, rather I had him almost die. I was feeling angsty

The moment Bucky’s knees hit the ground he knows it's over, that this is the end. He knew this was the way he would go out, on a mission, desperately trying to atone all his misdeeds. Tendrils of pain shot throughout his stomach, blood seeping through his fingers. When his side hit the ground, he knew it wouldn’t be too long before he went, limbs feeling too heavy. He couldn’t hear Steve screaming for help, scrambling for anything to stop the bleeding.

What Bucky did hear though, was a ruffle, almost like a flock of birds flying by, then a figure he’d never seen before stood above him. She’s here to take me. It didn’t strike Bucky as odd that she was the only thing that was clear, the rest of his view blurry and unfocused. He tried to speak, he really did, but no words came out, the breath leaving his lungs not enough to push any words out.

The woman crouches down, hand cupping his cheek with such softness tears leave his eyes, wiped away by Steve in the quinjet who seemingly can’t see her. “Close your eyes, my love. When you wake up, I’ll be there.” Fuck, this is really happening. Fear coursed through his body, scared of what punishment his sins earned him. I deserve to go to hell for what I’ve done.

A guttural whine passes his lips; Steve chokes back sobs next to his lifelong friend. “Shh, none of that, now. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, I promise. You can rest now.” All at once, the pain is gone. Bucky feels like he’s floating - it’s wonderful.

Bucky has no problem opening his eyes. What the fuck? This is hell? Well damn. The most wonderful sound meets his ears - a giggle, soft and delicate. “No, my love, this is not hell and you’re not dead.” She comes into view. She’s gorgeous. Wait, I’m alive! Apparently, Bucky says that last part because Steve’s gasp enters his ears.

“Yeah, Buck, you’re alive. Gave us a scare though, didn’t uh, didn’t know if you would make it.” Bucky doesn’t respond right away, too busy looking around for his mystery woman, only to be met with the walls of the med bay. “Hey, I’m right here, Buck, look at me.” It’s not the woman, rather it’s Steve.

“How long was I out? What happened?”

“A few days. It was touch and go for some time but you bounced back. When we were on the mission, Hydra had a sniper posted outside. He got you right in the stomach.” Bucky could hear the emotion in Steve’s voice, the fear of losing his best friend still leaving him shaken up.

“Well, they’re a pretty shitty shot if you ask me. Could have gotten one right between the eyes with one of those shit guns we got in the war.” Steve coughs out a laugh, turning into a belly laugh a few seconds later. Bucky would laugh with him, but the bullet wound in his abdomen says he shouldn’t. He still doesn’t see the woman, though. Maybe I just made her up.

A few days later, doctor Cho gives him the all clear to leave the med bay; however, he’s off duty for the foreseeable future and not any amount of his grumbling changed her mind. Still, Bucky hasn’t seen the woman. He feels a little crazy that he misses her, well crazier.

Slowly, he makes his way to his room. Steve offered to help but Bucky wanted to do this on his own, having been tended to his whole stay in hospital. He puts in his password on the keypad Tony installed when Bucky first arrived, when the fear that Hydra would come back and take him was too much to bear. His room is the same way he left it, except for a woman on his bed. Not just any woman though, it was his mystery lady.

Someone’s gonna have to put me in the cuckoo's nest. She laughs as if she can hear his thoughts. God, I hope not. “God has bigger things to worry about than such an inconspicuous fear as that, my love.” She sits up, facing him, the most beautiful smile gracing her lips.

“Can you hear my thoughts?” He feels like he already knows the answer, but asks anyway. If this woman is made up, of course she can read his mind. She just smiles and rises to her feet, walking over to him.

“What do you think, my love?” She tilts her head, a soft smile still resides on her lips. He feels so safe with her and she isn’t even real, just a figment of his imagination, a ruse to comfort himself in what he thought were his last moments. “I am very real, I’ll have you know.”

Bucky doesn’t know why, but he believes her. He believes this woman who showed up randomly on a field, who his best friend couldn’t see, and who disappeared without a trace. “How then? How did you do it?”

“Do what, my love?” She grabs his hand and leads him to the bed, helping him sit, finding a spot next to him.

“Save me, hear my thoughts, hide from Steve, disappear, get into my room, all of it. It’s not natural. Either you’re a ghost, or a mutant, or a reaper who was trying to take me. I don’t know, but you’re something.” Another laugh escapes her. He should be terrified of her, but he can’t find it in himself to be, her presence emanating calm.

“Well aren’t you a clever one? However, I’m none of those things nor did I save you. It just wasn’t your time yet. I’m an angel, though, to answer your question.” Bucky just stares, not believing her. This has to be a joke. “No joke, my love. If you want, I can prove it to you.” Bucky doesn’t even question why she calls him my love, the sound of it just too nice to stop.

Bucky just nods, words failing him. She rises to her feet, turning to stand in front of him. He hears them before he sees them, the same ruffle he heard as he lay dying. Then he sees them. A pair of dark wings coming from her back. She doesn’t spread them all the way, too big to fit in the small space of his room. “They’re black.” She throws her head back, a loud, beautiful laugh fills his ears.

“That was your first thought? You don’t like them? Personally I think they’re quite nice.” It was the first thing that came to his mind, the rest blank. Maybe he should have asked for more proof, but he knows she would never lie to him. He doesn’t know how he knows, he just does.

“I don’t know. I guess I just thought they’d be white. With the whole angel thing, you know?” She hums.

“There is a lot humans have wrong about us. I mean, plenty of us have white wings, but they come in many colors. If you can believe it, this isn’t even my true form.” Bucky is confused, she looks so real. A tangible human, someone he can touch.

“What is your true form then? Can I see it?” That’s a little personal to ask, dumbass.

“Well, that is a little complicated. Only one human has seen my true form and it didn’t go well. I thought she could handle it, but when she saw me, well let’s just say she couldn’t see from then on.” Bucky’s eyes widened, not expecting that answer. “Anything else you want to ask me?”

Her wings are still out, folded against her back. They look so soft. “Can I touch your wings?” Her wings shift slightly. If he wasn’t trained to observe everything and everyone, Bucky wouldn’t have known that she was uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t know-”

“That’s okay. An angel’s wings are very personal. They’re sensitive and even for an ethereal being, it's very personal - intimate.”Clearing her throat, she changes the subject. “I know your name, my love. Might I say, it’s very pretty, but you don’t know mine.” Bucky picks up on her attempt to move his attention away from her wings.

“What is it then? I can’t call you angel forever, however fitting it may be.”

“Well I don’t exactly have a name. I’m a cherubim. The only angels who have names are the archangels, the first borns.”

It was Bucky’s turn to smile.”My little cherub.” She doesn’t tell him that cherub is the plural of cherubim. Until this day, Bucky didn’t know that angels could get shy, yet here his sweet cherub is, shying away from his piercing eyes. He bets if he felt her face he would feel the heat on them. “I have to ask though, my little cherub, why did you come to me?”

She became serious, staring right into his eyes. “Because God commanded it.”

“What does God want to do with me? Out of all the people in this world, he chose me?” A pained look crossed her face and she walked over to him, kneeling in front of him like he was her God. Her hands ran up his arms, goosebumps rising at the pass of her hands. He almost stopped breathing - he could feel her hand on his left arm. He hasn’t felt anything with that hand since he fell of that train.

Hands still rising, she cups his face with both hands, making him look into her eyes. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” It wasn’t a question. She knew. “That is why he sent me. He sent me because you deserve it. You deserve to let go.” At that moment, Bucky broke down. Sobbing uncontrollably, somehow without pain in his fresh wound.

She pulls him into her, wrapping her arms around him. His face buried in her neck, arms clutching her back. She hesitates for a second, no one having touched her wings in thousands of years, yet she cocoons him with them, shielding him from the world. It only makes Bucky cry harder, her wings holding every bit of softness he thought they would. The comfort she brings unlike any other he experienced before.

Her arms rub his back as she coos to him. Soft words spoken into his hair. “Shh, my love, I’m here. Nothing bad will ever happen to you again. I will die before I let that happen.” The conviction in her tone sets him off more, unable to comprehend someone would do that for him without a second thought. A being, older than he can even fathom, is ready to give it all away for a mesley human. A speck of dust in her life. His entire existence no longer than a second when compared to hers.

That’s how it was for a while, Bucky’s sweet cherub staying with him. At night she would wrap her wings around him, keeping him safe. Bucky knows that her powers are the reason his nightmares are gone. At first he was glad that he could finally sleep, but then the guilt crept in. Why should he be allowed to forget the horrors he committed? Their families didn’t get that condolence.

When he told her this she wasn’t having any of it, wings jerking in annoyance. It was something that he picked up on, how when she experienced emotions her wings would move in different ways, always giving her away.

“I swear, my love, you’re going to make my wings turn gray with all this. I have lived a long life, longer than you can comprehend, so when I tell you that I have seen the best and the worst of this world, I mean it. And you, my love, are a good man. There is a reason God sent me to you.” Her wings surrounded him and he felt himself relax. “There is no quest to send you on, no mission that the world hangs in the balance of. It’s just you. A man who needs to see the good in himself.” Bucky hangs his head in shame, not meeting her eyes.

“You think your purpose is suffering for the things you couldn’t control? My purpose is to save you. My love,” she cups his face in her hands, wiping away the tears he didn’t know had formed, “I have done far worse things in my life. Horrific things, yet I’m here right now, with you. Please, let me take your pain away.”

None of this was easy for Bucky. No one has ever had their sole purpose be him. Back in the forties he took care of Steve, he stepped up when his father left. When he was no longer the Winter Soldier, Steve helped him, but Steve’s care never felt like this. Bucky knows that he’s fallen in love with her. He knows that she knows, but what he doesn’t know is if she feels the same.

What he doesn’t know is that she is fighting the same battle, the feeling of love is one she has never had before. It all came to a head one night, Bucky wrapped in her wings, her head on his chest. “Cherub?” She felt the vibrations in his chest.

“Yes, my love.”

“You said that we could be together for the rest of my life, right?” She did say that when he was worried that she would leave him after her mission was complete.

“I did.” One thing about her is that she never gave long answers to questions, not used to having to talk with humans.

“What happens when I die? Where will I go? I want you to be there with me.”

She sighed, thinking about how to convey her words properly. “When you die… you’ll go to heaven. It has already been decided. If you choose, when you go, I will be there with you for the rest of our existence, but you don’t have to make a decision now. My body will age with yours, follow you to the end of your life. When your time comes, we will leave and go to heaven where we will both be young again.”

Without hesitation Bucky answers, “I want that. I want you to be with me for the rest of eternity.” There was no doubt in his mind. Even though he met her a few months ago, he knew. “I have to ask, what is heaven like?”

She sits up a bit, shifting to lay on his chest, wings still cocooning them, keeping them in their own little bubble. “There is no one heaven. Not everyone who ever went there is in the same place. Heaven is made up of small pockets of personal heavens. People who lost their loved ones meet again, your happiest memories are relived, there is no pain or sorrow, you can have anything you want.”

Bucky felt the pull of his chest, emotion bubbling up. “Is my ma there? And Becca?” The words come out thick, a lump forms in Bucky’s throat. “Please, don’t lie to me.”

She looks into his eyes. “Yes, they are. They’re together and they’re waiting for you. I have seen them myself, right before I left to meet you. They talk very highly of you, my love.”

Tears fall from his face, the pain in his chest all the time at the greatest loss of his life eased slightly. “Can I talk to them?” He knows it's a long shot, but if there is a chance he wants it.

“I’m so sorry, my love, but I can’t. Even I don’t have the power to do that. If I could, I would.” A pained whine leaves his lips. “Hey, you know who is waiting for you too?” She waits a beat before speaking anyway. “Your dog from when you were a kid. He’s in his prime, always will be. His days are spent chasing rabbits around the yard.”

“Balto’s up there too?” A small smile graced his face, crows feet appearing by his eyes.

“Yeah. If it is any consolation, time passes differently up there. The longing you feel right now for them, they feel the same only it’s made easier by us.” Bucky only nods, staring into her eyes, seeing nothing but truth. His eyes flicker to her lips and back up. “You can, my love, I want you to.”

That was all Bucky needed to hear. Gently cupping her cheek, he guided her lips to his. There was no rush, no sense of urgency. They had all the time in the world and then some. Bucky never felt anything this good in his life and he was only kissing her. When she licked his lips, he opened mouth without a thought, brain clouded with love just for her.

He moaned into the kiss, the feeling of her tongue on his incredible. At his sound, Bucky felt her wings flutter under him. Breaking the kiss, he giggled. Bucky actually giggled. She reared her head back, slightly affronted by his laugh when she just kissed him.

“I’m sorry, my little cherub, it’s just that your wings tickled me.” She huffs and a second later, her wings are gone the only sign they were ever out is the small black feather on the bed. “No, cherub, don’t put them away. I love them.” She wasn’t really offended, but she wanted to tease him a bit.

Her wings were always out around Bucky, comfortable enough to reveal the most intimate and personal part of herself to him. He was the first human in thousands of years to touch them, but he was the only one to be wrapped in them. The only time they were touched was when a man cut them off her back. It was a time when she trusted humans, not knowing the atrocities they were capable of.

Her wings were white then, when she was pure and unknowing of the hate humans possessed. God crafted her a new pair. Of course she accepted them, but her feathers turned black, scared she looked to her father. When he said that it was because of the wrongs his creations did, it broke something in her, took away her purity, teaching her a lesson. Father never blamed her for it, he knew she would heal with time. It was part of the reason he sent her to the man she lays in bed with.

Bucky didn’t know this, he didn’t know how much she was betrayed by humans, only for her to trust him and him alone. She playfully glares at him before bringing her wings back out, sitting up on his lap. Gently, more gentle than he has been in years, Bucky reaches out to touch them. She lets him feel them whenever he wants, even wrapping him in them as he sleeps, but this was a completely different setting.

She was so vulnerable at this moment. Her wings flapped, a nervous tick of her’s, making Bucky pull away immediately. “Cherub, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She swallows before meeting his eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to touch them. It’s just that only one other human has touched them. There was a time where I was naive and innocent, not knowing what humans were capable of.” She pauses and Bucky sits up, back against the headboard and laces his fingers with hers, feeling the softness on his metal hand.

“It was a man, he had a family, a kid and a wife. They struggled to survive, trading their valuables for a slice of bread. Father sent me to help them, take away their sorrows. Said he was an honest man trying to make an honest living.” Bucky senses where her story is going, hoping that it doesn’t end the way he fears, but the pain in her eyes is palpable, a human emotion angels almost never experience.

He waits for her to continue, not forcing her to speak. “At first, they were grateful, having everything they needed. They had their health, food on the table, but the man grew greedy. He wanted more. One day, as I was watching his child in a field, keeping her safe from the horrors of the world, he snuck behind me with a sword he got from a blacksmith, sharper than any blade. He-he cut my wings right off my back.”

Tears fell from her eyes, not having relived that moment for thousands of years. Bucky felt his heart physically ache. She was sent to heal him, but it was his turn to do the same. “You know, my wings used to be white?” She looks into his eyes, red with tears. “When he hurt me, Father took me back to heaven, crafting me another pair. They were white but when he gave them to me, they turned black.”

A whine leaves her lips and Bucky pulls her into him, careful not to touch her wings. “Oh, my sweet little cherub, I’m here and I won’t let anyone hurt you again. I’ve never felt as content as I have with you, never so happy and I will do anything to keep you safe. I love you, no matter what you have done, I’ll still love you.” This only made her cry harder. Human emotions were foreign to her, but spending so much time with Bucky caused her to develop them. It was almost overwhelming, going from not having anything to having so much fill her body.

“Father said that it was because the man took my innocence, showed me the evil of the world. I’ve never seen him apologize for anything, yet that day he was broken, realizing that his creations, even the ones he thought were good, are capable of unspeakable atrocities. They will never turn white again because I’m ruined.” Tears welled up in Bucky’s eyes. His sweet cherub thinking she is anything less than perfect breaks his heart.

“My cherub, you saved me, now let me do the same for you. Let me heal you like you have me.” Leaning back slightly, she took his hands in her own, drawing them up her waist to her back, moving them to touch her wings. At his touch, she gasped, eyes closing forcing more tears to cascade down her face. The feeling of his gentle hands, hands that have done so much harm, resting on the most violated part of her body was something she never thought would happen.

She didn’t know she could love until she met Bucky, finally placing a word to the indescribable warmth that spreads throughout her body every time she thinks of him. “I love you too, my love. Forever and ever, til you die, til the end of time, in heaven and on earth.” They were both crying, neither experiencing the tenderness of love before.

He brings her down, kissing her with as much passion as he possibly could, tasting the mixture of both of their tears. Her arms clutching onto him, trying to get closer. He did the same, one hand running across her wings like he was trying to wash away the taint of betrayal his kind caused.

Shifting on his lap, she feels the bulge of his cock, half hard pressed up against her. Gasping, she pulls away. “Cherub, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, it just-.” She silences him with her lips, drawing a groan from him, subconsciously grinding down onto him. “Cherub, we have to stop, I don’t want to take advantage of you. You’re vulnerable right now, I can’t do that to you.”

Her hips stutter on his. “My love, I want to, I need to. Need to be closer to you, please grant me this.” His hands run up and down her sides, soothing the heat of her skin.

“Any time you want to stop, or don’t like something, you tell me. Okay? This is about me showing you how perfect you are.” She nods, kissing him one more time. Bucky’s hands slide up her shirt, resting on her soft skin, palms feeling the goosebump under his touch. Looking up at her for permission to take her shirt off, she nods.

Bucky did that with every piece of clothing, every move he made. Soon they were both naked, her wings splayed out on the bed, twitching in a way he never saw before - arousal. “My, my love, I have to tell you something.” He pulls his eyes away from her wings to look into her eyes. “I’ve never done this before. Angels, we don’t do this, I don’t know what to feel right now.”

Hands cupping her cheeks, he smiles at her, relaxing into his touch. “Do you feel safe?” She nods. “Do you feel like you have to do this for me?” She shakes her head. “Do you want me to please you?” She nods once again. “We don’t have to do anything with this,” he gestures to his throbbing erection.

“I want to, I just need you to show me what to do.” The thought that she trusts him enough to take care of her makes his cock pulse, aching for some type of relief.

“Let me make you feel good, okay? All you have to do is lay back and tell me how it feels.” She nods her head in understanding, worries slowly fading away. He kisses down her body, taking the time to swirl his tongue around his sensitive nipples, grinning at the small gasp it draws from his cherubs lips.

Going further down, his face is right in front of her pussy, smelling her intoxicating scent. “Keep your eyes on me, cherub.” She gulps. For a minute, Bucky just stares at her pussy, breathing her in, memorizing how wet she is before his tongue flicks out onto her clit.

“Oh, that feels good. Can you do it again?” She was so sweet, asking so kindly for him to deliver her pleasure.

“Of course I can.” And with that, Bucky dives into her pussy, restraining himself from devouring her. He groans into her cunt, already addicted to her taste, the moans she lets out are soft and breathy, yet it’s one of the most beautiful things he's ever heard, only competition being her laugh.

“My love, I don’t, what is happening to me?” Bucky pulls away from her cunt, reaching up to lace their hands together.

“Just let that feeling wash over you. It’s okay, I’ll catch you when you fall, I’m here.” He goes right back to her pussy, lapping her juices up, eyes boring into hers. She was twitching on the bed, hips bucking up to meet his tongue. Bucky chuckles when he sees her wings flap, not knowing what to do with the pleasure coursing through her.

Her orgasm comes as a surprise to her, never experiencing one before, nor knowing what they were. Her eyes shoot open, wings beating wildly, body almost convulsing on the soft sheets. Bucky pulls away, not trying to overstimulate her. He almost cums at the sight of her, it was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

It takes her a while, but she comes down, wings falling limp on the bed as Bucky crawls up her body, resting in between her legs. “My love, what was that? I thought I was about to die.”

Barking out a laugh, Bucky leans down. “That was an orgasm, sweet cherub. How did it feel?” She whines, not able to put what she felt into words.

“Like nothing I have ever felt before. It was incredible.” Her eyes close. Bucky is perfectly happy to hold her, not caring about his own orgasm, but her eyes shoot open, wide and curious. “Can you have one, too?”

Another laugh leaves him. “Yes, cherub, I can. It’s a little different from yours though.” Her eyes squint in confusion, clearly not understanding what could be different. “Well, for one, what I have looks a little different to yours, doesn’t it?” She nods. Bucky never thought he would be giving “The Talk” to an angel, but here he was. “When I have an orgasm, stuff comes out of this tip, right here.” He grabs his cock to show her.

“Can I see it? How do I make you do that?” It was Bucky’s turn to be surprised.

“Cherub, you don’t have to do that.” Her glare is enough to make Bucky continue. “Um, there are a few different ways. I could put it inside of you, that feels good for you too.”

“In where?” Bucky huffs, not in annoyance, but this talk is turning him off. Not that he’s mad at that, but the conversation feels like talking to a child, someone who hasn’t experienced anything sexual and it wasn’t exactly turning him on, it felt wrong to have this talk naked.

“In this hole right under where I was touching you. There is another one under that, but it’s different from the other. Or your mouth, but also a hand. Pretty much anything that could rub against that area.” Bucky felt his cheeks heat up. His cock was going soft right in front of her eyes.

“Can I do one? I want to see you orgasm.” Her eyes were so bright and eager, he couldn’t say no to his cherub. He nods, only for her to glance down at his soft cock. “Why is it smaller now? I think it’s kind of cute.”

This has to be the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to him. No woman has ever called his dick cute, or made a comment on its size when soft. He gets compliments on how big he is when he’s hard, but soft is a different story. He’s a grower not a shower. He has to admit, his encounter is damaging his ego a bit. “It gets bigger when I’m aroused, but if it’s not touched it gets softer.” He’s lying straight through his teeth, he can stay hard for hours without touching his dick.

“If you touch it, it gets big again.” She switches positions, having him on his back, resting between his legs, face right next to his cock. He feels himself twitch and she jerks her head in surprise, giggling at her own reaction. She begins to almost pet him, it feels good but not what he needs.

He reaches down, guiding her hand to gather the precum at his tip, slowly pulling it back down, tightening her grip on his dick. “Oh, wow, it’s getting bigger. It’s so hard.” Her amazement at something so simple as a dick getting hard is endearing.

Bucky grunts when he twists her hand. “I liked that sound.” Her words make him groan again, cock all the way hard. His hips buck into her hand and he lets her hand go, trusting her to keep her pace. It’s slow but firm, driving him insane. He wants her to go faster, harder, but this is about her, letting her discover at her own pace.

“Spit on the tip, it’ll make it easier to move.” She does so without hesitation. Bucky’s head flies back into the headboard, moaning at her soft hands working his cock. “Just like that, cherub, you’re doing so good. This feels incredible.” Bucky meant every word of it. Her hand honestly felt better than the full blown sex he’s had in the past. Maybe it was because he loved her with all his heart, or maybe it was because she was an angel, either way, Bucky didn’t have it in himself to care.

“You look so pretty like this, my love. I love this, making you feel good.” Bucky’s hips pick up speed, feeling his orgasm building up in the base of his cock.

“Cherub, I’m going to cum. Please keep going just like that.” She figures he means orgasm since he is jerking just like she was. The urge to make him orgasm was almost too much to bear, wanting him to show her how beautiful he was when he lets go. “Oh, cherub, I’m about to, oh fuck.” He moans long and loud, cum spurting out of his tip. She gasps at the force of it but doesn’t let up her pace. She had never seen anything more beautiful than her love in this moment.

He has to stop her, not knowing that he needed a break. “Love, I want to make you do that again.” She scoops some of his cum off his stomach with her finger and just stares at it.

“You can taste it if you’d like.” She eagerly licks her fingers, eyes bulging at his taste, dropping down to lick the rest of it off his body. “Come here, cherub.” He pulls her into a kiss, tasting himself on her tongue. He pulls the cover over their bodies, her wings instinctively wrapping around him.

“Thank you, my love, for always taking care of me. I was sent to save you, yet I feel that it’s the other way around.” Bucky doesn’t think so. He knows that she saved him. They fall asleep together and in the morning they will find that her wings are just a bit lighter than the night before.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky smut #sebastian stan x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes au

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personasintro · 1 year ago

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Mutual Help | #51

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.6k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

Never in a million years would you think you and Jungkook will go to work together. To the same workplace as if you were colleagues. In some way, you kind of are colleagues at the moment, even though you won't be exactly working together.

It definitely has some perks.

For example – you don't have to drive since Jungkook suggested you should go together in one car which makes sense and it is something you were planning to offer anyway. Jungkook's car is more comfortable of course, how can it not be for the money he spent on it, right?

You enjoy the freedom of not having to drive through busy Seoul to get to work. However, you still offer to drive once you see Jungkook yawning as soon as he sits down on the driver seat.

He even has the audacity to snort at your offer. "You driving my car? Nah, I'll pass."

You do feel offended, though you would never purposely try to drive his expensive ass car – too scared to get into an accident or scratch the perfect shiny exterior.

"Asshole," you grumble, "Didn't you offer your car when I got into the accident?" you point out, noticing Jungkook's grin which slightly falters at the mention of your accident. You know he's just teasing you, despite his morning tired state.

"It was a matter of life and death," he remarks, causing you to flick him off. "Sorry, angel. Hate to break it to you but you're not that good of a driver."

Angel... that's new. Even if it's his way of teasing you again, you can't help but feel the little fluttering in the pit of your stomach. It doesn't help that Jungkook has cleaned and dressed up nicely. His outfit is quite simple but knocked the breath out of you as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom, fully ready despite his tired puffy eyes. White button-up with black casual slacks – a total threat to your sanity.

"I am a good driver!" you argue.

Okay, maybe you're not a complete Michael Knight when it comes to driving but you're pretty decent. It took you a while to improve but experience helped a lot.

"You can't compare me to you!"

"I know, I know. I'm just teasing you." Jungkook adds teasingly, met with your annoyed huff as your back meets the car seat frustratedly.

For the rest of the drive, Jungkook takes it as his mission to make you laugh and he blasts old Justin Bieber songs, dramatically singing as you try to keep your laugh at bay.

"You're who I'm thinking of, girl you ain't my runner-up,"

He quickly shoots you a playful wink as you roll your eyes, nudging gently his shoulder as he keeps his eyes on the road.

"Just shut up and drive."

"Oh, that's a good song!"

"Oh god..." you mutter, staring from the window as your facade finally cracks.

Though as Jungkook glances at you, he sees your grin in the reflection and he knows his job is done.

Junho snatches Jungkook from you as soon as the elevator door opens, his nervous figure pacing around the place. His usual self nervous and on the edge now seems to be under control and you think it has something to do with Jungkook. Only because once he spots you and Jungkook, his eyes widening slightly before a welcoming smile stretches on his thin lips as he gives your friend a warm welcome. Not just you, but half of the staff witnessing this moment just gape at him.

Junho likes to kiss ass to everyone who works above him, especially any partners but you would never expect him to be so warm towards a photographer. It only proves he really loves Jungkook's work and is more than happy to have him on this project. So much, that he trusted Jungkook's offer of involving someone whose work he hasn't seen at all. Which reminds you Ester should be here soon, so she and Jungkook can get to work.

You assume once Junho is done kissing Jungkook's ass, he is leading him to the studio where they should go over the work once again before the models are prepared to have photoshoots.

There are many people, strangers who work for other companies, most of them make-up artists, agents. You've been here for three minutes and it's already looking hectic.

"Well, fuck me."

Turning sideways, you spot Yoongi glancing at retrieving figures of your boss and your best friend, similarly looking taken aback.

"Yeah, I know." you mutter, seeing him holding a stack of papers, wearing a gray suit.

"Asshole, we work for him for years and do most of the job and he never treats us like that."

You snort, not surprised by Yoongi's annoyance and irritation showing because in a way, you understand him. Junho can be very hard on all of you and he doesn't exactly treat you friendly, but he's not a bad boss. You're sure there are far worse bosses out there than just a simple man who's too greedy and ambitious for his own good.

"Shh, somebody is going to hear you." you scold him, mouth opening as soon as he thrusts the papers into your arms causing you to almost drop them. You glare at him but he's not even looking at you, sighing as Junho's figure disappears before he glances back at you.

"Like I give a fuck. Junho needs me, he's not gonna do a shit."

"You're too confident. Junho might need all of us," Yoongi rolls his eyes, "But he's got a temper."

"It would be his loss."

He's right about that but you don't tell him that.

"Why did you give me these papers?"

"Wake up, sunshine. You're at your work right now, chop chop."

And he simply walks away with no looking back which leaves your mouth hanging open, and you choke on the fit of curses that want to leave your mouth but you already hear your name being called, one of your colleagues rushing to you as they need your help.

Great. You haven't even got the chance to put your bag away. Fucking Min Yoongi and fucking Mondays.

Ester arrives a few minutes after Jungkook. He had to laugh at her petrified face when he politely excused himself to Junho, so he can help her get into the building since she doesn't know her way. It's enough she has to be nervous which only confirms once Junho so eagerly excuses him, leaving a few coworkers that are around completely speechless.

"Am I late? You said eight, right?" she asks him as soon as Jungkook holds the door for her to come in, chuckling at her anxious state.

"No, you're good and I did. I came a little early," he assures her and sees the sigh of relief she lets out, "Besides everything is just getting ready, well the final preparations but Junho, the boss I was talking you about," he says, momentarily stopping to make a space for people leaving the elevator before they both make their way in.

He pushes the button, turning to her as he gives her a comforting smile which she tries to return.

"He is gonna go over the things again with us and then we should get to work. We have a long day ahead of us."

She nods, not giving any sort of other reaction – her nerves getting the best of her.

Meanwhile you spot Ester and Jungkook coming in, getting to work right after – you're already swallowed by your own responsibilities and not having time for anything else.

Despite the day's business, it feels as if it's dragging painfully slowly. You don't get to see Jungkook in action, somehow he's always just a blur in the background and you're not phased even in the slightest when you catch a glimpse of him, doing a great work with models. He's a true leader, involved just as much as he can be as he naturally communicates with the models and Ester on the side, who seems to be in her natural habitat.

You don't know any other photographer besides your best friend but seeing how two of them work well together, both of them understanding each other right away makes you think they have a lot in common when it comes to photography. They joke a little, Jungkook helps her with her camera once it seems as if there's a little problem in the setting as he sorts it out for her – all of this you experience in a span of five minutes watching from the distance, some of your coworkers beside you as you wait for the shoot to end. Well, a part of the shoot anyway.

"He's doing a great job, isn't he?"

You almost flinch at the sudden presence of another body next to you, looking at Benjamin who hands you a cup of coffee. You see Lauren holding one of those as well, shooting him a last appreciative smile before she focuses on the tablet in her hands.

"Thank you,"

You thank him, not having the heart to decline his attentive gesture. You don't like to get through the day drinking coffee, it bites you back in the night as it follows with the hassle of not being able to fall asleep. But it's soon lunchtime and you haven't had the time to just sit down, even if it's for five minutes so you gladly take the cup from the coffee machine and take a cautious sip.

"You're like the fifth person who told that in a span of ten minutes." you chuckle causing him to do the same as he lightly shrugs.

"It's true, I had to be there for a few minutes and seriously, he's amazing. You must be proud of him."

There's nothing but sweetness and tenderness in his raspy voice and soft expression and you have to look away to try and shoo away the approaching guilt, still feeling like an idiot for lying to him. To be fair, he hasn't tried anything since then but still remained sweet and friendly. Jungkook is not your real boyfriend but he doesn't know that and ever since he heard the revelation, it's obvious he backed away. You're glad he's still the sweet guy you met – unfortunately, it makes it even worse for your guilt and the little white lie.

"I am," you respond, cutting your thoughts off before you can feel like a total loser.

No lies need to be told, not when it comes to Jungkook's talent and you being proud of him. You remember the beginning of his photography career. He has always been doing good, but it took a lot of courage to get a freelancer career right after college, praying he will have enough clients to pay his bills. In the end, it wasn't the smoothest start but he's nifty and ambitious which helped a lot in this journey.

Despite his parents voicing out their concern for his son, not that they didn't believe in him but their concerns weren't helping him to smooth his own concerns of the future, he has managed to pull it off.

"Photography is his passion." you add softly, not really sure why you just shared that because you're not sure if Benjamin even cares but he responds with one of his charming smiles.

You continue to watch the scene happening in the distance, noticing the tall model you remember from the company's party standing now alone, exposing her skin and legs to everyone's eyes. She's not phased about it, how can she? This is her job and she's used to it, having done a good amount of photoshoots in her lifetime. You know you couldn't just stand there in a bikini, revealing the curve of your ass and most of your ass-cheeks exposed to dozens of men. Nobody in your company is disrespectful and just as she's used to the eyes, you all are used to seeing models. It doesn't matter what gender.

Her blond hair is curled into big beachy waves, breasts pushed up in the bikini bra as she professionally poses for Jungkook's camera. He chats with her throughout it, both of them trying to figure out the new positions and concepts together as they share a laugh together before returning back to work.

There are other models watching them, both female and male as the women seem equally attracted to Jungkook, despite there being male models right next to them.

All the men models are handsome, looking almost unreal even from the distance where you are standing. All of them are captivating and interesting looking in their own way, which makes them special and you know your company has done a good job at picking them up. You're not sure you've seen so many abs in your life like you're experiencing right now – even though most of them have thin robes draped over their shoulders.

Despite it all, you stare back at Jungkook and it's like no one competes with him. It's not even about him having an equally amazing body than the male models here. It's just him and for a split second you panic. You know you're attracted to him, that much is clear because you wouldn't be able to let your new deal keep going on for this long. But you're scared. So you hide your distress behind the plastic cup as you take a few sips of the coffee, letting more caffeine into your body.

"Don't do that."

Turning to Benjamin, you're met with his soft gaze once again and for a moment you think you see an amused grin spreading on his plump lips.

"Do what?"

"Well, at least I hope you're not comparing yourself to them." he says, pointing his head towards the models direction as you glance at them, met with the perfect skinny bodies and shiny skin while his eyes stay on your face, watching you attentively.

"I--no, I'm not." you assure him, but it comes out unsurely and way less honest than you intended.

Working here, you think almost every woman gets through the whole insecurity process at least once. Especially if you're met with gorgeous women on a daily basis but it comes out of inner insecurities in the first place. Eventually, if you're in a happy place with yourself, embracing your own beauty, it's not something you beat yourself over or getting on a radical diet, so you can even come close to them.

You're not envious and jealous, not at all. There are times when a woman can get insecure, or compare herself with literal models and by "a woman" you include yourself too. You think it's only natural in an environment like this but you're happy with yourself and you hope every single coworker of yours is too.

"Good, because you're pretty," he says, a serious tone laced with softness as you stare at him with wide eyes, not expecting the compliment but honesty too. "Ah, sorry have I crossed a line? I didn't mean it--I wasn't meant to be disrespectful towards your boyfriend. I just saw you looking at them and I thought--Ahhh, I'm sorry." he rambles as you watch him with your mouth agape before you let out a chuckle and shake your head.

"You aren't disrespectful," you assure him, still seeing the panic in his light eyes. "Thanks for the compliment."

He lets out a breathy laugh, "I hope I didn't come off as if I'm coming onto you or something. I know you're in a relationship,"

Your features turn guilt for a second and you know he catches the change, though he most likely mistakes it for sadness rather than guilt.

"I'm not like that!" he quickly adds and you laugh, shaking your head.

"Benjamin, please breathe," you continue to laugh silently, "I know. You're very sweet, thank you."

"Good, I don't want to be on bad terms with your boyfriend. He seems like he can throw a punch or two." he jokes, but there's a little fear and seriousness in his voice which makes you giggle.

"He can," you muse but quickly add, "But don't worry about him. He wouldn't punch you for calling me pretty, not that he has to know."

You give him an assurance that you won't snitch on him to "your boyfriend", even though it's not a big deal at all. Even if you had a boyfriend and someone else called you pretty, it doesn't mean they're coming onto you. And you appreciate Benjamin's concern, knowing he really didn't mean to come off as pushy or invading in any way.

"Good, good..." Benjamin sighs in relief, giving you a grin. "Who's the other photographer? Is she from our company?" He changes the topic.

"No, actually. She is Jungkook's friend."

Benjamin opens his mouth, an audible "Oh" leaving his mouth before another voice reaches your ears.

"Admiring your boyfriend, I see?"

And just like that, your own grin drops and you turn around finding Yoongi making his way to you. Can he be any more suspicious? He looks amused as fuck, finding his little joke (which is unknown to Benjamin) a little bit too funny and your expression of annoyance even more.

"No. I'm doing my job which can't be said about you." you remark back, watching his grin stretch even more which annoys you to the core while Benjamin stares confusingly at you and him, sensing the tension.

It's not like he is new to it but he's probably confused why you still bicker at almost every chance.

"Oh, admiring your boyfriend is your job?" he teases, or more like annoys the shit out of you as you bite your tongue. "Besides, I've been doing my and your job."

"What do you mean?"

"They're looking for you in the office. You're supposed to sort out finances with the team."

"No, I am not. I'm supposed to be here for a while until--"

"Doesn't matter," You're rudely cut off by him as he waves you off. "Get your ass there. You're lucky Junho isn't there and is busy admiring your boyfriend."

"Careful, you sound jealous, Min." you sing out, gulping down the rest of the cold coffee now before you bin it.

Brushing past Yoongi, you pat his shoulder just for the right measure to piss him off and seeing him narrowing his eyes at you annoyingly, you know you've succeeded. Throwing a wave to Benjamin, you leave the two of them there as you're on your way to find the fuck out what you have to do with finances.

The next time you see Jungkook is after lunchtime, he's joined with Junho and a few other people including Natalie, the main star of today's project and Ester. You heard Junho invited some of them to lunch outside, which threw you off a little considering he's been a nervous wreck about this project and you pictured him showing his usual temper. But at the same time, it makes sense he's suddenly a different man, trying to impress everyone he invited to lunch.

He never did that with any of his employees – not that most of you would go anyway, maybe strictly out of politeness and a fear of possibly pissing him off.

You've around five minutes to get back to work, meeting Jungkook's gaze across the room as he makes his way over to you, leaving the partners and agents alone as everyone is going their own way.

There has been barely any time to chat with him, or just make sure everything's good even though you know Jungkook can take care of himself and everyone is swooning over him. So once you're met with a gentle smile of his, you reciprocate it.

"Hey, where were you? I thought you'd join us for lunch." he says, stopping right in front of you.

"I couldn't, besides Junho didn't invite us and we still had some work to do." you explain.

By work you don't mean anything too important, just to make sure everything's ready on the next set so you can go home on time.

Jungkook's eyes narrow for a moment, an unpleasant look making its way on his face as he licks his lips. "Have you eaten?"

"Uhh, yeah. There is a buffet prepared for all of you but Benjamin actually ordered us a delivery."

You'd be completely fine eating toast or something light for lunch, as long as you get to eat something and won't stay hungry. Luckily Benjamin was kind enough to take it upon himself to prepare food for all of you, the people that were left behind in the company. Though, to be completely fair you were free to go eat out too, it's not like you have forbidden to do so, but all of you know it wouldn't be convenient today.

"You could've just told me." Jungkook says, sound tilting close to the actual scolding which makes you let out a breathy chuckle.

"Told you what?"

"Well, I could've taken you for lunch. I thought you guys would join us, I didn't know.... If I knew you weren't invited I'd just eat with you."

You smile at his concern, shaking your head lightly while Jungkook frowns even more. "It's fine," you laugh a little, "You can't exactly decline their invitation. It's only polite for you to go. It's no big deal."

"No, it's not... If I just knew..." he mumbles, "I'd decline them anyway."

Now that makes you laugh and Jungkook's lips twitch as he tries to hide a grin.

"What? I don't care if I'm invited or not, or what's polite or not."

"You're lucky Junho seems to like you a lot."

Jungkook shrugs, a cocky expression taking over his handsome face. "What can I say..."

"Don't say anything," you joke, "How's Ester doing?"

"She's actually very good. I knew she'd do a good job." he answers.

Nothing else can be said because Junho ushers everyone to get back to work. Jungkook sighs and gives you one last dreadful look which makes you giggle as he walks away.

The rest of the week goes exactly the same. You and Jungkook go to work together but you separate as soon as you enter the building, this time around Jungkook makes sure to take you out for lunch and Ester joins you, since she doesn't know many people and you wouldn't want her to be left alone when Jungkook is the only person who she knows the most. She actually comes out of her shell and gushes over this opportunity, thanking your friend a few times.

She's sweet, kind and friendly. In a way she reminds you of someone, she's very much similar to her – personality wise and you wonder if Jungkook sees it the same way.

After lunch, you both go doing your job and don't interact with each other (besides the soft smiles whenever your eyes meet) until it's time to go home. You catch up on the way to Jungkook's apartment, get ready to go to bed before you repeat the same process every day.

It's Friday now and you successfully finished this week with a great outcome that's seen for now. After working ten hours of being constantly on your feet and handling stuff, you miss the softness of your bed and Jungkook's huge expensive shower and you have to control yourself not to look grumpy in this nice bar Junho invited some of you to. Just the close circle of his employees and agents from the other company, to apparently celebrate this week.

You weren't as lucky as Yoongi who slipped away through the doors before another word could be uttered. The idiot is probably at home by now, or doing whatever you want while you're stuck in this bar, listening to Junho bragging about useless things.

Most people that were invited you don't know personally, nor you've a close relationship with or any at this point. Excluding Jungkook who couldn't say no because your boss insisted. Even Natalie has been invited, which doesn't surprise you as she charms everyone with her own charms around the table.

She's taking most of Jungkook's attention, the man having a casual conversation with her while you sit next to him like a grumpy cat, swirling your drink. Non-alcoholic drink to be precise and you already regret your decision not to drink tonight.

It's boring and not even when Jungkook tries to keep you entertained whenever he can, it doesn't help much.

You spend the time going through the entire week, lucky there was no drama happening regarding Yoongi or Benjamin. The last time Yoongi and Jungkook interacted with each other, your friend was ready to punch your coworker. Luckily, they never bumped into each other. And Benjamin? He has never questioned you about your relationship with Jungkook, probably thinking you're keeping it professional in the work which you would do either way – with or without a boyfriend. It ultimately made it easier with Ester as well, since she knows you and Jungkook are friends and you're glad it hasn't reached her eyes that you're "dating" Jungkook all of a sudden.

"You wanna go home?" Jungkook asks once he leans in your direction, close to almost brushing his lips against your ear as his scent fills your nostrils.

You've been here for only an hour but if anyone even talks to you, it's just boring conversation that leads nowhere. Damn, you really feel antisocial right now.

"Not if you don't want to," you tell him, knowing you both came here by his car. "I can just take a cab." You change your mind as Jungkook gives you a look.

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffs gently, "I'll finish the drink and we can go. It's boring anyway." he says the last sentence with a whisper, so nobody else can hear him which makes you bite back a laugh.

Is he lying? He looked like he's having a good time. He talked the most amongst the group which can't be said about you.

"Junho has offered me a job in the company."

Your brows lift up in surprise, Jungkook driving you both home as he lowers the volume of the music that's been pleasantly playing in the background.

"Oh."

"Yeah..."

You had a photographer that used to be employed in the company, but Junho decided to fire him because he "wasn't good enough". Of course you're no professional but you think he had the job done, so him getting fired surprised everyone at that time. That's why your boss stuck to finding a different photographer for each project, instead of employing someone.

"What did you tell him?" you ask.

"That I'd think about it."

"And will you?"

"I don't know," Jungkook chuckles, "It'd be less work for me. It's simpler than being a freelancer and having to sort everything out by myself. But I don't think it'd be a good idea regardless."

"Why not?" you frown.

As much as you complain sometimes about your job, you do like it and you'd be bummed out if you were fired for some reason.

"First of all, I like the fact I'm my own boss. I choose what I want to work on. Besides, I don't think it'd be a good idea if we worked together," he explains, briefly glancing at you to notice your curious gaze but before you can open your mouth, he jumps to explain further. "Friends working together is never a good idea."

"Well, technically we wouldn't work together. I don't really interact with photographers a lot, somebody else does."

"Well yeah, but I wouldn't want to come into your own workplace. That's your place."

"I'm pretty sure it doesn't work like that," you chuckle, "But I understand what you mean."

You find it sweet that he puts you first, even though you don't see a problem with him working at your company. If that's what he wants.

"Me and Jimin worked together."

"Yeah but you met there. You weren't already best friends. That's different. And you only did an internship there."

"Hm, I guess you're right." you hum.

"Anyway, I don't think I'm gonna take it. I didn't want to tell him straight away to look impolite or inappreciative."

"Just so you know, I wouldn't mind whatever you decide on." you assure him and the corner of his lips lifts up.

A minute of silence follows until Jungkook stops at the red light, drumming his tattooed fingers against the steering wheel.

"I'm gonna meet up with Hoseok."

Jungkook manages to shock you a second time within the past ten minutes but this time, your head snaps to his direction as he glances at you, a serious expression on his face.

You know he mentioned talking to him recently, but to be honest you completely forgot about that conversation and you'd never thought of bringing it up to him. That's completely his decision if he wants to talk to Hoseok. You know Jungkook deals with a lot of stuff that's eating him alive, no matter how better he seems to be and assures you he is fine. The betrayal he still feels from Hoseok's action is very fresh but there's at least the slightest amount of understanding, at least you hope so judging from your last conversation you had with him about this topic.

"That's great, Kook," you say, not really sure what to say – due to your shock and wondering what's the right thing to say. You don't want him to doubt his decision and you're glad he is at least moving on. "Did you wait the entire evening to drop all this information on me?" you joke and actually make him laugh as he drives off once the light turns green.

"Wanted to have you all to myself before I do," he jokes and you ignore the set of butterflies his words cause you. "I was thinking about it a lot... I can't promise how our conversation will turn out because I'm still hurt, and I don't think it's gonna go away any time soon... but, I'm willing to talk to him. So I texted him today before I could chicken out because I know I would."

"It's not gonna be easy to hear him out, you're still hurt. But just try to see his perspective a little," you advise him carefully while he stays silent, "However your conversation goes, remember you tried your best."

"Yeah." he exhales a sigh, nibbling on his bottom lip as he brushes his thumb across it.

He knows he has to talk to Hoseok either way before it's too late. He needs to deal with this while it's fresh.

The place they agreed to meet is Hoseok's apartment. At first, Jungkook was thinking about meeting him in a public place because the last time Hoseok was in his apartment, it didn't end well. So many things were left shattered that day. He is more calm now but regardless of that, a public place is not suitable for such a conversation they're about to have.

When Hoseok offered to meet at his place, he agreed. The conversation simple and blunt, straight to the point and it's ridiculous how awkward and tense it seemed even through the stupid texts.

For fuck sake, he even woke up early to have a morning jog just to come back and find you already preparing for your day with Maya. He has barely eaten, too distracted to properly function and with each mile he gets to the final destination, he feels his stomach in knots.

However, he walks to his door with utter confidence knowing he has an upper hand in this. And meeting Hoseok's brown soft eyes full of sadness and regret makes him actually soften. But then he is reminded of what he has done to him and if it weren't enough, the pictures that fill his apartment – pictures of his friends and among them Kiko – he is reminded he is in this position because of her.

Not only she ruined their relationship and possible future, she has also managed to ruin his friendship with Hoseok. A friend he has had for years.

But is he selfish to put all the blame onto her? Clearly, it wasn't his fault what happened. It does feel bitter to know she got involved with more people and he wants to be so mad at her. A part of him still is. But then he looks at her wide smile he fell in love with and tries to think what pain she went through alone. Even though she has done it voluntarily, it still doesn't feel better to know she was in pain. Still is.

"Do you want something to drink? Water, juice or I can make you a drink?" Hoseok asks once the awkward greeting is over, motioning Jungkook to sit down on his couch as he listens and peels away his eyes from the memories in a form of framed pictures.

"Water is fine."

He drove here and even though he could easily drink and call a cab, it's better to stay away from alcohol. Not that he is scared to flip out or something because Jungkook isn't the type to turn aggressive if drinking, but it tends to strengthen emotions. He needs to have a clear mind for this.

"Sure, let me get that for you and then we can talk." he offers him a crooked smile and Jungkook knows it's just a mask to hide his own nervosity.

Hoseok has always been collected, the fun one in the group alongside Taehyung but he could still be stern and serious – definitely more than Taehyung. But he has never seen him like this but it only makes sense. Hoseok has never ruined a friendship with anyone. He is friends with anyone. Well, if he doesn't count the awkward interactions you had with him.

He comes back within a minute, placing the glass in front of Jungkook as he thanks him but doesn't reach for it just yet. Though his throat starts to feel dry, he feels it tightening as he's not sure how to start.

"I'm sorry," Hoseok blurts out suddenly, "I know I said it so many times by now but I can't look you in the eyes without saying it again. It feels awful to feel this tension and awkwardness between us, I know it's my fault..."

"No, it's not..." Jungkook mutters, ignoring the subtle surprise on Hoseok's face as he nervously brushes through his dark hair, staring at the younger. "At least not entirely,"

Hoseok's face drops but he nods in understatement.

"I was so mad at you. I felt betrayed by my own friend and having to come to terms with what happened--it's still hard and it's not easy but I think I'm getting better at understanding you and... her,"

Hoseok's features turn soft, not daring to say a word. Not yet at least.

"It sucks because I'm still mad, a part of me is and I don't think it's gonna go away any time soon," he repeats the words he said to you in his car yesterday, "But Y/N made me think about you more... well at least to try and see things from your perspective as she would say. She actually made us an example,"

He chuckles at the memory.

"And I understood if Y/N came up to me and asked me--asked me what Kiko asked you as her best friend. I would do it in a heartbeat. I would be there for her and keep it a secret because I respect her that much. I think it would be so fucking hard to keep such a heartbreaking secret, but I would do it for her. I guess I was selfish to see things from only my perspective. I was too consumed by the anger and heartbreak."

He hates how Hoseok gives him a pitiful look. He hates when people pity him and that's when he usually chooses not to be vulnerable in front of anyone. He deals with his stuff alone

"And it's totally understandable, Kook," Hoseok says slowly and softly, "I can't imagine what you had to go through and I hate myself for not telling you anything since I knew the truth from day one."

"I know it wasn't easy for you either," Jungkook tells him, finally having the courage to look back into his brown eyes. "I think it would be worse if you actually didn't feel bad." he tries to joke and it helps to soothe out the tension in the room, as Hoseok chuckles but it comes out dryly.

"Ever since I've known," Hoseok says hesitantly, eyes glancing at Jungkook as the younger slowly nods at him to silently tell him it's fine to be honest and open. Even if it might hurt him. "I told her to tell you. She even told me she regrets telling me and dragging me into this. But I'm glad she did, only because she was alone. I know she chose it and I know you're the best thing that happened to her, I encouraged her to tell you before it's too late. To talk to you before she–"

He sets his lips into a tight line as Jungkook gives him a saddened nod, knowing what he is referring to.

"I told her you'd take care of them. I told her even if she decided she doesn't--whatever she decided, you would be there for her every step of the way. But she was so stubborn, she wouldn't listen to me and she panicked. Before she knew, it was too late. When she broke up with you--I scolded her for not telling you the truth but she told me it will hurt you even more than the lie,"

He knows, she told him and it's still hurtful to hear this thing all over again.

"But she put your well-being first. And then you guys got together again and I still told her to tell you because one way or another, you will find out and then she will lose you. I think that intimidated her the most and she caught herself into this web of lies. She loved you so much that the thought of losing you again scared the shit out of her. She regretted her decision and--I know you probably don't want to hear about her or hear her side because what she did–-it was her decision and she had the right to do so. But she still hurt you... a lot."

"No, it's fine. I think I need to hear all of it to be able to fully move on." Jungkook swallows, hearing his heart cracking but something tells him he really needs to hear all of it.

"She started going to therapy shortly after..." he motions with his hands, still not able to say it out loud because it is too painful. For him as well. "She wasn't doing well, Kook. I know you probably don't care–"

"I do," he cuts him off gently, "I don't like the thought of her suffering, despite all."

"Because you have the biggest heart," Hoseok says immediately, cringing at his words which makes both men chuckle a little. "You really do."

"I just don't get it... we were doing so fine. We talked about our future. So what if it happened way sooner than we planned? She wasn't planning to break up with me. Does she think we couldn't be a family? Does she think we couldn't raise a child together? As a father of the child, I had the right to at least know that she is pregnant. Fuck, we had sex just a few days before she broke up with me. Knowing she was pregnant at that time--"

"Nobody would change her mind. Not even you, Jungkook," Hoseok reminds him softly, "I know you think you would... but she was too stubborn. She was depressed and sure of her decision. It backfired and she is gonna live it for the rest of her life. She lost you for good."

Jungkook swallows, wanting to reach for the stupid glass of water but he doesn't want to look weaker than he already is.

"How--How is she?" he asks carefully. Tone perfectly slow and wary, he's not sure if he wants to hear about her but a part of him wants to know.

He hasn't seen her and nobody talked to her in front of him, which is understandable and he knows it was better that way.

"She's in Japan at the moment," Hoseok smiles sadly, "She is with her family and needs to heal. It fucked her up a lot. I think even more because she blames herself knowing it's all on her."

"I...I'm sorry to hear that."

He really is. No matter what happened between them, it's not easy to hear how much she is suffering. He doesn't want her to suffer for the rest of her life. He's not that bitter and bad to actually wish that.

"She will be better," Hoseok says, though Jungkook is not sure if he means it or tries to persuade himself, or both of them. "At first she tried to hide her true emotions, she thought I couldn't see she's faking it... it always ended up with her losing it. It would take hours to calm her down."

"I'm... I'm glad she had you." he says, knowing he wouldn't be able to be that person to her.

Or maybe he could but he's not sure if he was capable, considering his own heartbreak and demons.

"You were the one she wanted," Hoseok admits softly, "But nobody would ask you of that. She really hates herself for hurting you."

"I know," Jungkook sighs, "I don't want her to hate herself."

"Maybe you could tell her that? Maybe in the future? I know it's a lot to ask and I don't want to make it seem as if I'm pressuring you. You've got every right not to see her anymore because I know how much that must hurt. I think you both aren't ready to see each other and most importantly, talk. But maybe the right way to heal is to heal each other?" he asks unsurely.

He definitely doesn't want to push Jungkook's buttons, he already appreciates him being here and this conversation going smoothly, even though it's sad and heartbreaking all over again.

"Maybe," he mumbles, "I'm healing slowly but I guess you're right. I'm not ready though. It still hurts. I can't help but think what if... and all that. I imagine what my life would look like if she didn't... but I guess it happened for a reason?"

"Yeah," he nods slowly and gives him a saddened smile, "Maybe you just weren't meant to be for each other."

"I'm not sure if I believe that," Jungkook frowns, "We loved each other. If she said the truth, things could be different. I wouldn't leave her no matter what."

"Of course, I don't doubt your love," Hoseok reminds him, "I'm sure if things were different, you'd still be together. But I'm glad you're healing. I'm really sorry for what you had to go through. I wish I could change it."

"Maybe it happened for a reason," Jungkook shrugs, though he is still not sure if this is his fate. "I'll have to live either way."

"You look well." Hoseok tells him, searching Jungkook's face. He doesn't look as broken as he once did.

The memory of Jungkook's indescribable face when they last talked together still haunts him to this day. It made his guilt even bigger each time he thought about it.

"Y/N helped me a lot. So did Taehyung and Jimin..." he explains silently. "She made me see things that would take me way longer to realize."

Hoseok smiles and a few moments of silence follows as Jungkook stares at his intertwined fingers.

"Hobi," Jungkook calls out softly to his friend, Hoseok's eyes sparkling at the nickname as a relief washes through him. "I'm sorry for almost punching you."

"No, please, it's alright. I get it."

"No, I was aggressive. If Y/N didn't get between us, I would have punched you. I really wanted to."

"Do you want to punch me now?" He jokes and makes Jungkook's mouth twitch as a playful gaze washes over his eyes before he slowly shakes his head.

"No."

"Good, it would definitely hurt like hell," he chuckles, "But yeah. It was crazy of her to get between us. I told her she shouldn't have done that when I was leaving."

"God, if I punched her accidentally I would've never forgiven myself,"

If that happened, he knows it would be technically your fault because who the fuck gets between two men that are about to fight? Well, between a man who's about to punch the other one.

"She saved the day, though. Didn't she?" Jungkook cracks a smile as Hoseok laughs.

"Yeah, and my face too. Remind me to thank her later."

"I will." he laughs and the air suddenly feels lighter than before. It's still a little awkward but as he stares at Hoseok's joyful face, or at least way more relaxed than he looked in the beginning, he feels relief.

"We are good, yeah?" Hoseok asks unsurely, suddenly turning nervous again as Jungkook stares at him for a second.

And then his lips stretch into the slightest smile, unspoken forgiveness lingering in Jungkook's big and dark eyes. "Yes. We will be."

Once Hoseok stretches his hand to him, Jungkook takes it and is surprised when Hoseok gives him a crushing hug.

"Don't overdo it." Jungkook jokes, slapping Hoseok on his back as he pulls away with no regrets.

Maya looks beautiful in every dress she tries. It does make you emotional to see her in her possible wedding dress, and you have a hard time not to tear up. It's definitely the champagne's fault the woman that works in the shop gives you.

You've lost count how many dresses she has tried so far, each of them unique and beautiful in their own pretty way. Maya has no idea what style to go for, so she picked various styles and has managed to look good in each of them.

You're enjoying this, not only the champagne with a strawberry in it, but it's something new and it's safe to say you've never been in a wedding salon to be a part of the process of picking a wedding dress with your friend. It does distract you from the thoughts of how Jungkook is doing. You do check your phone whenever Maya is in the fitting room.

You don't know what you expect. A message of Jungkook losing it again? A message that everything went well? You know meeting Hoseok is a big deal for him, regardless of how he tried to hide it this morning.

"Crap, there's not enough time. Can you try the dress for me?" Maya pulls you out of your thoughts, your eyes directed on the wedding dress she's wearing at the moment once the woman informs you there's another client coming soon.

It's the last piece Maya has to try, the sleek dress hanging on the hanger for her to try. Just getting out of each dress is taking a lot of time and you think you've got enough time. Apparently you don't and you can already see the stress on Maya's face. This is a big deal for her and this process does make her feel nervous, because she wants everything to be perfect. Even though she tries to look carefree and relaxed.

"Me?"

"Yeah, there's not enough time for me to try it." she whines, sending a glare to the door where the woman working in this salon disappeared. Well, it's not her fault Maya chose too many dresses to try in a span of two hours.

"But our bodies are different," you remind her, "It's gonna look different on me than on you."

"I just need to see how they look on the body. I don't really care whose body it is."

"Oh, okay." There's not enough time to think this through and you stand up, wiping your palms against your jeans as you walk towards the white dress.

The woman comes back from the door, seeing you grabbing the dress as she rushes to you and takes it from your hands to help you. "Let me help you," she smiles kindly, "Are you trying it for your friend?"

"Uhh, yes." you smile nervously and let her lead you to the fitting room.

She helps you to put them on and surprisingly, they fit amazingly. You'd still need a pair of heels because the dress is too long. You walk out of the fitting room, chuckling at yourself.

"Yah, I'm not sure."

Maya looks in your direction, hopping off the circled stair which is placed for brides to stand to see the dress more clearly, since the mirrors surround one side.

"Wow," she lets out, grinning ear to ear. "Don't do this to me girl. You'd be a prettier bride than me."

"Oh, please." you roll your eyes at Maya as she helps you to step on her previous spot.

It's the moment when you turn around to fully look at your reflection under the bright lights that your mouth falls open. Your hair is down, the soft waves you made yourself in the morning actually make you look less casual with this dress on. It's got blouson sleeves, the skirt thin but flowy. It looks like a dress for a princess. You feel like a princess and you can't stop looking at yourself.

"God, you're so beautiful," Maya whines next to you, "I love the dress. How you feelin'?"

"Weird?" you chuckle, "I've never tried a wedding dress before. Obviously." you snort at yourself.

"The dress suits you," the woman joins your conversation, complimenting you as well as your cheeks heat up at their compliments and eyes widened in awe. "You look like a princess."

"I want to look like a queen at my wedding." you joke as both of them giggle with you.

"Let me take a picture," Maya says and hands you your phone to unlock it for her since you've been taking her pictures on your phone, so she can decide on her choice later.

She said like ten times on each dress that "It's the one" and all of them are beautiful, so deciding will be hard for her.

You hand her the phone back and pose for her, even throwing a peace sign as a joke as you laugh together. The owner of the salon, whose name you unfortunately forgot when she introduced you, takes a picture of you two before you have to rush to get out of the dresses so the other client doesn't have to wait once she gets here.

Just as you thank the owner, grabbing your stuff, the other client arrives just in time as you get out of the salon.

"Fuck, it's gonna be so hard to choose." Maya complains but the happiness on her face is clear as the day. "This was so fun. Thank you for coming with me."

"Don't mention it, it was so much fun," you tell her, letting her intertwine your arms together. "Here, let's get an ice-cream and look at the pictures!"

She doesn't refuse, both of you stuffing your face. The entire dress is trying to make both of you hungry.

Once Maya goes to the bathroom later on, you check your phone to see no notifications. You open the chat with Jungkook and jokingly send him a picture of you trying on the dress. You'd show him later anyway but you do want to ask him how's it going.

You're about to lock your phone, thinking he's not going to respond right away and there's a chance he is still talking to Hoseok. Surprisingly, he replies right after you lock your phone.

Kook: 😳

You snort at the emoji, thumb hovering over the screen before another message pops up.

Kook: are you trying to tell me something?

"🙄 what?? No compliments?"

Kook: are you getting secretly married?

"Lol yes"

Kook: who's the lucky guy?

"Not you 😜"

Kook: ouch and here I thought we said we'll get married together if we are not married by the age of 40

"I guess you aren't that lucky then"

"They told me I look like a princess 😎"

Kook: you do

You unawarely bite your lower lip as you stare at his text, wondering what the tone of it is. Deciding that you're not sure what to reply next, because all of this is just a joke, you start typing.

"How's it going with Hoseok?"

Kook: great actually

Kook: I'll tell you at home

Kook: see you until then princess ;)

You send him an emoji of rolling eyes, knowing he must be cackling behind the screen. Putting away your phone, you smile at approaching Maya as you fall into another friendly conversation as soon as she sits down.

Jungkook is in the shower when you come back, the day with Maya dragging longer since you decided to go for a walk and then have a late lunch together before you parted ways. She still hasn't decided on her dress but she still has some time, a few weeks or months. Nobody expects her to choose one on the first day.

You change into more comfortable clothes, grabbing yourself a glass of lemonade when Jungkook joins you in the kitchen.

"What's up, princess?" he teases, greeting you once you turn around to spot him wearing his sweatpants only, hair wet from the shower. He is doing this on purpose, doesn't he?

Not letting yourself to look too affected for various reasons, you roll your eyes at his teasing. "Keep teasing."

"Or what?" he presses, a scent of shower gel and shaving cream filling the kitchen as he leans against the kitchen island, smirking at you.

You clench your jaw, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your sweatpants. "How did it go with Hoseok? Show me your hands."

He rolls his eyes, chuckling a little. "Good, actually," he responds, shaking himself out of the amused mood as he turns serious. "We talked a lot. I'm able to understand him more but... yeah, I think it's going in the right direction."

"That sounds great, I'm glad." you smile and Jungkook returns it.

"We hung out for a little longer and then I went to work out to process it. I feel... surprisingly lighter and more relaxed."

"He is your friend, I can imagine you want to have him in your life."

"Yeah..." he mumbles in thought before he glances up just as you drink the lemonade. "How was your day with Maya? What's with the wedding dress?"

You laugh, "We were running out of time, so Maya asked me to try the dress for her. All the dresses were so beautiful, Kook. So many various styles and materials."

"You had fun, I see."

"I did."

"Did she pick one?"

"No, there were too many and she still has time to decide. We took a picture of each dress, so she has the pictures to choose from. But the prices, oof."

"Isn't she renting the dress?"

"She is, but it's still expensive. We talked about her wedding plans and the money they're about to put in it, fuck. I mean I know organizing a wedding is expensive but the prices she told me--I'm not sure if I'll ever get married." you laugh and Jungkook amusingly rolls his eyes.

"You will." he assures you.

You know you will. You're just joking but the money you need for a single wedding is still a lot. Mind blowing.

"Oh," you suddenly remember, reaching for your phone on the counter as you unlock it. "I wanna show you something."

"What? Another wedding dress?" He jokes as you thrust your phone into his hands, eyes trailing your face amusingly for a moment before he looks at the screen and his features freeze before a slight frown makes it on his face. "What's this?"

"I found this on the internet." you explain, standing next to him as you peek at the screen, a familiar image and text on it.

"Are you moving out?" he asks, surprised.

"I told you I'm searching for apartments and I found this. Look at the pictures, the apartment is so cozy and the rent is actually very good. It's even closer than the building I lived in before. Look, look," you tell him as you swipe the pictures to show him how the building looks from the outside. "Doesn't it look western? It brings me back home. It even has a balcony!"

Jungkook looks at the pictures, reading the information that comes with the ad.

"I didn't contact the person yet, I wanted to show you first. But I think I'm gonna try it and have a look. What do you think?"

He hands you back the phone as he looks a little taken back, which you do notice and it makes your excited features fall down a little. He meets your gaze and suddenly relaxes as he gives you a smile.

"You should try at least."

"Would you come with me? I mean... if you're free that day."

"Yeah, sure. We can check it out together." he assures you and you sigh in relief.

"What's wrong?"

He frowns, shrugging. "What?"

"You look weird. Do you not want me to move out?"

"Do you think I want to?" he asks dumbfoundedly. "I told you you can stay as long as you want." he reminds you.

"No, no that's not what I meant. I know I can stay. But we both know I can't stay here forever."

"Why not?" Jungkook's lips curl as he sits down on the chair and pulls you between his spreaded legs. "I got used to having you here,"

And his hands roam down your lower back as you shiver, looking down at him and how soft his skin looks.

"It's gonna be sad not having you around."

You snort, "You make it seem as if I'm moving to another country," you joke, "I will still be around. Have you grown attached to me, hm?"

Jungkook rolls his eyes, "You know I enjoy your company."

"Mhm, company," you tease as he grins at you, eyes sparkling. "Or something else, don't you?"

"It's not just about sex." he frowns a little as you snort.

"Okay," you nod, knowing that's not what he meant. "But it does make things easier, doesn't it?"

"It does," he agrees, "How will I fuck you? Will we have to make sex apppoitments or something?" he whines and it causes a bubbly laugh rip out of your throat as your hands play with his hair at the back of his head.

"Oh, how awful." you tease and he groans, hiding his face into your stomach as you keep laughing.

He pinches your ass and you yelp, scolding him right after as you're interrupted by Jungkook's ringtone. He reaches for the device, staring at the screen as a low "Fuck" makes it out.

He groans and you look at the screen, seeing "Mom" written on it.

"I was supposed to call her but I forgot." he explains before he accepts the call.

"Yah, Jeon Jungkook! You don't know your mother's number?" Mrs. Jeon scolds him as soon as she realizes Jungkook has accepted her call, even before he can utter a single word.

You hold back a laugh, watching Jungkook pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm so sorry, mom. This week has been busy and--"

"So busy you can't contact your parents?" Mrs. Jeon continues to scold him as Jungkook shoots you a glare, ready to slap your ass as you dodge it just in time. "Jungwon told me you'll call me and I've been waiting."

"Ah, I know. I'm sorry, mom," Jungkook sighs disappointedly at himself, "I'll make it up to you."

"You will!" she agrees, "I want you to come visit. The last time you were here was for Christmas. It's spring already, spring Jungkook!"

You can't hold it back and you laugh out loud, slapping your hand over your mouth as Jungkook's mouth twitches and he tries to hide a grin. His mom says something as Jungkook sighs.

"It's Y/N. She's here with me."

You hear something muffled, now that her voice isn't as loud as Jungkook sighs. "Wait a second,"

And then he turns on the speaker and places his phone on the counter.

"Okay, she hears you now."

"Y/N, my sweetest girl! Is my son annoying you? Is he cleaning after himself? I heard you live with him, I hope he takes care of you."

You giggle, Jungkook pursing his lips as he looks annoyed at his own mother.

"Hi, Mrs. Jeon!" you greet her cheerfully, stepping closer to the phone so she hears you more clearly. "Don't worry, Jungkook is the nicest roommate."

"I'm happy to hear that. I raised him well!" she praises herself and Jungkook snorts, causing you to elbow him as he shrugs.

"You did." you agree with her, smiling as she asks you how you are and how's your work. Simple and friendly questions you gladly answer.

In the middle of your conversation, Jungkook sneakily starts to caress your ass down your thighs, shooting you a grin as you turn around to glare at him.

"--you need to come to Busan too! Jungkook-ah, take her with you. We need more girls in this household."

Jungkook snorts, "I don't know if Y/N wants to, mom."

Mrs. Jeon stays silent, waiting for your answer. "I mean... if I'm free I'd love to see you and Mr. Jeon again." you reply politely.

"See, Jungkook? Even Y/N wants to see us."

"Mom," Jungkook groans, hand between your thighs as he caresses your inner thigh.

You hate to admit how wet you already are from his touches and he is not even touching your clothed heat.

"I said I'm sorry. You really gonna torture me?"

Mrs. Jeon snorts, "Yes."

"You women are something else."

"Y/N dear, slap him for me."

"Mom!"

You start laughing, Jungkook dropping his hand off your leg.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Jeon. I will punish him." you joke, not realizing how your words sound until it's too late but Mrs. Jeon doesn't put any thought to it as she laughs and supports you.

Jungkook glares at your amused expression that you give him, something flickering in his eyes. "Keep talking," he warns you with a low tone, so his mother doesn't hear him.

You stick your tongue out at him.

"Mom, I will try and come this weekend. I'm sorry for not calling sooner. Say hi to dad from me, okay?"

"You better come this weekend. We miss you and it's been a while. Haru has been talking about her uncle, I'm sure she will be happy to see you again."

"I was just babysitting her, mom." Jungkook reminds her dumbfoundedly.

"And? That's why she can't stop talking about you. Why do you sound so annoyed, Jeon Jungkook? I hope you're not because she is your niece, just wait–"

"Alright, mom. I love you and I will see you next weekend. Bye, love you." And he hangs up before she can say anything else.

He leaves you speechless and you laugh, slapping his shoulder. "That was mean!"

"She was mean too!"

"Genes." you shrug simply and walk away from him.

"Yah!" You hear behind you.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts au #jungkook scenario #personasintro

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kidasthings · 6 months ago

Text

Echoes of Eden by Kida

Noa x Mae - #illbewithyoufromdusktilldawn

Chapter 4: https://www.tumblr.com/kidasthings/751482584388829184/echoes-of-eden-by-kida?source=share

Chapter 5

“I think we are being watched.”

A pair of brown eyes widened in alarm and Mae’s companion stopped mid-chew.

Mae held a single digit up to her lips, signaling for silence. She motioned up towards the branches above, indicating the problem was coming from that direction.

The one being shushed lifted his head, turned it sideways, and listened attentively.

“Hear that?” Mae whispered.

The telltale sign of talons on tree bark broke the quiet. Scritch, scritch, scritch.

The woman’s friend flared his nostrils, agitated.

Both listened for a bit more, but once the woodland symphony resumed, Mae relaxed. The small vellus hairs on the back of her neck no longer stood on end; her suspicions on the origin of the voyeur were further confirmed when she heard the distant cry of a hawk in the northern skies.

Mae reached out, smoothing her palm down her horse’s long neck. The animal began to resume chewing, head held high, ears pricked. “It’s gone.”

Biscuit let out a whuff of relief and dipped his head to the ground. He began lipping at the short grass surrounding the tree she had tied him to; the tired woman made a mental note to relocate him. Earlier, she had made a short visit to the meadow where the other horses were stationed to let Biscuit drink. The horse had readily consumed half the contents of the water basin before Mae surmised that the old idiom wasn’t holding its weight in … well, water.

Apparently, you could lead a horse to water and make him drink.

..If he was thirsty enough.

Mae untied Biscuit from the live oak and led him towards a pepper tree with long, sweeping tendrils. There was enough room on one side to provide good shade, while on the other the sun reached the earth and produced deeper, thicker grass. The human adjusted the length of the lead so her mount could access both sides, tying it off in a tree knot.

She patted his flank approvingly. “Just stay there until we can get you to the stream.”

The bay gelding merely snorted and swished his tail before presenting her with his hindquarters.

One side of Mae’s face hitched up.

It was late in the day now, and the longer shadows cast by the setting sun had her weary bones aching for some sort of relief. It would be nice to get out of her stiff, grimy clothes and take care of a few hygienic necessities. Travel never smelled good on anyone. While scouting for more water sources for Biscuit, Mae took the time to circle the perimeter of her camp and radiate outward.

She had briefly considered the lake, but that was too exposed for her needs. She needed a smaller outlet, something more private and easily accessible. Not two-hundred paces further south did she hear the soft burble of a brook, upon initial inspection. Following the sound to the southwest, she came across a small stream that further widened the longer she walked. After forty minutes or so she discovered a small falls where eddies of swirling water pooled momentarily at the top. Here the water was a little over mid-waist deep.

A perfect spot for bathing. Success.

Mae took comfort where she could; she was not one who could access a bunker or underground hideaway. Those options had been revoked once she discovered her immunity after taking up with her parents’ mission to stop a simian despot bent on acquiring old human technology. Sure, she still assisted her people who lived in the bunker near the ruins of the city once known as Los Angeles, but they would never allow her back inside.

No humans, immune or not, were ever allowed inside once they left. It was too great a danger for those living within the bunker to risk exposure.

She remained a vagabond, not part of this natural world or the sheltered one she grew up in. Mae had been sentenced to die the moment she stepped outside with her parents; their mission to end Proximus Cesear and his machinations had been ultimately successful.

For her, anyway.

Not so much for her parents. After escaping capture from the coastal ape kingdom, both had bled from their noses for many days. Soon they succumbed, destined to become mute, dumb beasts, but her father had not allowed it.

Mae could still hear the double pop of a silencer in a meadow not too far from their campsite. She had arrived far too late at their shared camp after bagging a deer for dinner.

Aggrieved, she had no time to bury them; Sylva and his hunting party started hunting her.

Mae found she had to stifle a choked sob. Shaking her head, she willed the memories to the back of her mind and shifted her recollection to more current events.

Not long after, starved and desperate, she came across an ape village and decided to steal to survive. Her stomach had turned on itself for days, her body was frozen, and she thought nothing of taking a horse blanket and some cooked fish.

And then she found Noa. Or he found her.

A ghost of a smile skated across her lips, and she retraced her steps back to the waterfall, leaving her current campsite at the edge of the village – and in Biscuit’s capable hooves.

A little reminiscing did wonders to shorten the walk, and soon she stood before the inviting pool of water at the top of the small waterfall. Mae turned in a full circle, debating just how comfortable she was with bathing.

The air was warm, if a bit humid. The forest was still filled with birdsong, and the rough rumble of the falls lulled her into a sense of safety she rarely felt anymore.

Mae removed her short jacket first, confirming the outline of the key remained in her interior pocket. Her hand brushed across Caesar’s medallion on the way out, causing her to wince.

Quickly, she neatly folded the outerwear and reached for her tunic next. It slid easily up and over her head, revealing an off-white chest binding. From there she shimmied out of her pants, slipping them off leg by leg. Beneath that was a simple, woven undergarment that was the same shade as her binding. It was said that once upon a time these things were made of softer material like cotton, but agricultural practices had been severely stunted when the last of the non-feral humans were driven underground. Other plants that grew easily under artificial light, like hemp, had taken their place when it came to creating clothing.

Tellingly, she left the medallion hanging from her neck.

Once everything was set out against a warm, flat rock, Mae took stock of her lean form. She ran a hand over a jutting hip bone, the piano keys of her prominent ribs, and the deep indent of her collarbone. Scars littered her body, some still forming from the previous few months. Beneath her untrimmed fingernails, grime collected. Mae’s eyelids lowered, a frown forming on her face.

The first step into the swirling waters felt like pure bliss. Mae sank down, eyes fluttering shut as she sat in the water with the sun-warmed boulder at her back. The water was cold, yes, but it made her feel temporarily weightless. She felt her body relax, buoyed by the strength of the current. It was not long before she was ducking down below, fingernails scratching at her scalp as she scrubbed her greasy hair.

No soap, but she did her best to improve upon hygiene with what was available. She scrubbed at her skin furiously with sand from the streambed, starting with her arms to the very tips of her toes. When she resurfaced with a great gasp of air, a fluttering of wings not a few feet away alerted her to the fact she was no longer alone.

Mae’s eyes rounded out in their sockets, then normalized when she realized it was Noa’s eagle, Sun. He perched on one of the low stones edging the opposite side of the stream, cocking his head at her as if he might deduce the reason for her impropriety. Mae bit her lip and splashed at the bird half-heartedly.

“Go bother someone else,” she said, effectively dismissing him. She propped herself up against the rock at her back, upper arms spread out with elbows at right angles, forearms pointing down. She shook her wet hair, sending water droplets scattering in the air like iridescent prisms.

The eagle hopped forward a couple of times, shifting his head so that he gave Mae a side-eye.

She returned it, then laughed a little. “Did he send you here to spy on me?” she asked, feeling a rare moment of levity.

The eagle opened his beak.

“Yes.”

Mae spun around in the water.

Now at her back, Sun hissed and took to the air. Noa stood on the grassy bank before her, so close she could see the amusement in his expression. He held out his arm, and his bonded eagle alighted there, wings unfurled for balance.

“Noa!”

Noa said something in muted tones to the bird on his arm. Sun ducked his head, puffed his feathers, and nipped warningly at Noa’s closest ear before leaping off the ape’s arm. He became airborne quickly, swooping past a stunned human woman still partially concealed in the stream. Gaining height, he was soon lost to the clouds.

Noa watched the bird until he was nothing but a small dot in the sky before relaxing both shoulders and approaching Mae with open curiosity. Her discarded clothing did not escape his notice; the brunette, on the other hand, seemed to have forgotten she was only partially clothed until that last, terrible second.

“T-Turn around!” she stuttered, dropping to the deepest part of the pool. She made a spinning motion with her hand to illustrate her request, the other strapped firmly over her chest.

To Noa, a creature that did not burden himself with the concept of nudity, the entreaty was odd indeed. “Why?” he asked, frozen mid-step.

“I-I don’t have my clothes on! It’s not right,” Mae informed him impatiently, making that circular motion with her finger once more in the air. “Turn around.”

Noa looked exasperated, but also intrigued. For the first time he glimpsed Mae without clothing, save for a few scant pieces. She was oddly designed, especially for an ape: the human female sported two prominent mounds on her chest that remained there without the need for lactation, a hairless body with pale, soft skin easily cut like the underbelly of a fish, and a strange, flat face. Other oddities included the long terminal hair growing from her head, the lack of a rounded, pink rump that signaled estrus, and short forelimbs on vertically statured body.

She couldn’t climb, wasn’t very strong, and her small, flat teeth didn’t allow much room for eating tough meat.

She was so unlike an ape that he could only come to one possible conclusion.

Mae was ugly.

And yet –

..she wasn’t.

There was something hypnotizing about her large, crystal blue eyes and her animated features. Each expression was more generous than the last, conveying most of her emotions all too clearly. This was not as easy on one of his kind, whose features were less mobile in quality. It captivated him, repeatedly, trying to read the minute moods that drifted over her countenance like cumulus clouds on a windy day.

There was a grace in her. Not unlike that of a deer, her long legs allowed her to move with a fluidity none of his people possessed.

There were other qualities that he found admirable, too. She was intelligent, frighteningly so, and the depth of that intelligence was still a mystery to be solved. Despite her ever-changing face he could not always decipher what she was thinking, or what she might do next. She was a conundrum. He could trust her in some things, but not in others. She had saved Soona’s life, but then endangered all of their lives. For Raka she might have laid down her own. Would she do the same for him?

What did it all mean?

Puzzled and deeply uneasy by that dangerous line of thought, Noa turned away. He heard Mae step out of the water and imagined the water sluicing down her hairless body as she stood.

Behind Noa, Mae shook out her clothes with trembling fingers and hurriedly dressed. She had not expected him to find her here, not in her wildest dreams. Grimacing, the human woman removed her soaked chest binding and tossed it on the drying rock before she pulled on her tunic and jacket. Double-checking on the presence of the hidden key with a quick pat, Mae kept her piercing eyes on Noa’s furred back as she stripped out of her wet underwear.

Noa began to turn back around.

“HEY!” Mae shrieked, one leg in her trousers as she hopped awkwardly on the other.

Noa jumped, but obediently (and quickly) turned his attention back to the tree line.

It took a few more minutes, but Mae eventually got her pants up and secured at her waist before she collected her wet bindings. She hated being naked beneath her clothing, but there was nothing that could be done about it.

“You can turn back around,” Mae stated crisply.

Noa shook his head, turned, and shot her a small, gentle smile.

Mae found her mouth run dry.

“Uh,” she began intelligently, “what are you doing here?” She could feel her heart rate pick up, running a breakneck race with the thoughts galloping through her head.

“Sun,” Noa said, pointing to the darkening navy blue above them. “He led me … here. Are you … alright?”

“Of course.” The reply was brusque, and inwardly Mae winced when Noa looked taken aback by her tone. “I mean, I wanted to get clean.” She motioned sheepishly at the stream.

Noa nodded, swallowing. Despite the fur covering his throat, she could see his version of an Adam’s apple bob a couple of times.

“Are you sleeping … out here?”

Mae found herself dropping her eyes to the ground before her. She smiled wistfully. “No, I’m staying at the edge of camp, near my horse.”

Noa opened his mouth as if to protest, but instead he looked away and switched tactics. “Come,” he told her simply, motioning over his shoulder for her to follow as he started heading for the forest. “I will … walk with you.”

“I’ll be fine, Noa,” Mae said, a little annoyed that he thought her unable to find her way home. She clutched the damp bindings to her jacket, transferring the wetness there. That only served to annoy her further, so she made a sound of frustration that had Noa glancing back over his shoulder with a raised brow ridge.

She shook her head at him, motioning for him to lead the way. He did, and the two advanced back to the game trail that led to the edge of the stream. They walked quietly through the woods, fireflies winking in and out of existence like dying stars. The crickets and frogs began to sing, a mulled chorus that accompanied them on their journey. A fox ran across the trail before them, a flash of red that dove beneath the underbrush. It was such a clear, pure night that Mae could not help but to take in a deep, steadying breath. Noa moved ahead of her, not too far, and she took the time to examine him from behind.

He was such an anomaly, really. Mae didn’t know many personalities as altruistic as his. No, scratch that, she knew of no one as selfless as he. It was an undeniable dichotomy, that unselfish nature found in none other than an ape rather than a human being. It had her questioning the best and worst qualities in her own species, comparing them against him, a monkey.

And yet, not.

Mae could not consider Noa conventionally attractive in any sense, not with that low brow, flat nose and body coated in thick hair. She could not understand her body’s reactions to him whenever he was near, the heightened heart rate and awareness that made her want to lean closer. It was terrifying, those reactions, and more than a little deviant.

Shit.

She couldn’t be attracted to an ape, surely. It had to be his giving nature, the security and trust he so blindly offered repeatedly that drew her like a moth to a flame.

She looked up to him and valued noble qualities that were hard to come by in a world where humanity had fallen. It was as simple as that.

Mae tipped her head to the side, a fall of dark, damp hair falling over one shoulder. Overhead, the dark shape of a nocturnal bird spread its wings and soared over them both. She swore she could hear the hoot of an owl.

Chewing her lower lip in contemplation, Mae concluded that she was just too tired to be considering these abstract, impossible thoughts.

After all, humans and apes were not the same. Humans and animals did not mix, no matter how smart they were. Noa was other, another species, and she should not be humanizing him.

Noa slowed down now that they were closer to the village. “You can stay … with me … in case of rain?” he offered, pointing upwards.

Mae saw no clouds, but his offer threw her off.

“You want me to stay with you?”

“It is safer … than outside in the woods.”

Mae chewed the inside of her cheek. It would be nice to be out of the wind and elements. Without realizing it, she blurted, “Okay.”

Noa gave her a tight smile, then made a motion with his hand to divert left.

-And Mae was left standing there, adrift like a buoy at sea, unable to understand why she was the beast and he the beauty.

Notes: Last preview chapter to be posted to Tumblr! If you want regular updates, please read the story over on AO3: Echoes of Eden - Chapter 1 - Kidasthings - Rise of the Planet of the Apes (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

#kingdom of the planet of the apes #mae #noa #mae x noa #nomae #planet of the apes #noamae #kotpota #rise of the planet of the apes #monster romance #slow burn #kotpota mae #kotpota noa #kotpota fanfic #kingdom of the planet of the apes fanfiction

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vividwritinglove · 1 year ago

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his boat - Carlos Sainz

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pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr x fem!reader

words: 1.8K

warning: smut (minors dni)

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Now you are lying here. In the blazing sun, in a skinny bikini, on the most beautiful boat you've ever seen, in a bay of a Balearic island. You could not have imagined a more beautiful summer. In general, five weeks ago, you didn't expect to experience such a summer at all. And that with him, Carlos Sainz Jr.

You met him in a nightclub in Budapest at the after parties of the Grand Prix. He was the one who saw you first and immediately took the initiative to approach you. A casual conversation turned into a playful flirtation, which ended in a hot make-out session. After just a few hours, he desired you so much that he had to see you again! He wanted you. He needed you.

For you, it was a harmless fling that might end in a one-night stand. No kiss in the morning, no hard feelings. You enjoyed the moment and let yourself go. And before you knew it, you were smitten by him! Never before did you get this kind of attention. He made you feel like the most beautiful woman on earth. The sweet nothings he whispered in your ear with his strong Spanish accent would haunt you for months. You were sure of it!

He took you back to his hotel room and quickly it was clear where it was going. But he didn't just take what he wanted. He gave so much back. He was very attentive, immediately noticed what your body reacted to pleasurably and applied it conscientiously in the following rounds. Rounds, several. This man had the highest sex drive you have ever experienced. It is still a mystery to you how you kept up with him. Probably the curiosity and the secrecy he brought with him.

There was no thought of sleep and as soon as the first rays of sunlight fell into the room, you squirmed out of his arms and packed up your belongings. Your cell phone lay on a nightstand cabinet right next to him. As you were about to reach for it, his hand held you back by your wrist. Earlier, he had been sound asleep, so you look at him, a little startled.

"Stay." he murmurs in a raspy morning voice, with tousled hair and a sleepy dreamy look on his face, "At least for breakfast."

And breakfast turned into dinner, another night once again filled with lustful and mind-blowing sex, leading to another breakfast including a day on the golf course. He invited you to the Grand Prix in Belgium. You declined, your plane was going back home the next day and your work was already waiting for you. You exchanged numbers and wrote animated messages since you parted ways at the airport. You weren’t looking for anything. Men like him only break your heart. So stick to: Only sex, no hard feelings. You kept telling it to yourself.

The messages became more intense. More intimate. Until he wrote how much he missed you and couldn’t wait to see you again. You would be lying if you said you didn't like it. He wanted to get to know you and remained persistent. After Spa was the summer break and he wants to spend it with you. Only with you. All alone. He persuaded you with the tongues of angels. He's damn good at it. And in the end, he succeeded. You requested a workation and before you knew it, you were already spending the third week with him on Mallorca.

He pampers you from head to toe. Takes you out to the best restaurants, goes shopping with you, shows you his favorite places on the island and night after night you have uninhibited and passionate sex. It feels like a dream. Almost too good to be true. You enjoy every second of it. Like now, when you're tanning in the Spanish sun on his boat as your peace is suddenly disturbed by cold drops of salt water. You wince and pull your new sunglasses off your nose, "Hey!" you exclaim indignantly. You blink up at him, and he stands triumphantly above you, blocking out the sun. His facial expressions were barely visible because of the shadows. More drops of water roll off his well-toned, tanned torso and continue to land on you. He runs a hand through his hair and tucks it back.

"I don't want you to get burned..." he warns you, presumably referring to the sun.

"I won't." you reply confidently, but you don't really know what you mean by that.

Carlos runs his fingers over his mouth. He can't deny it. He is crazy about you. You've flashed him and he needs you in his life. Slowly, he gets down on his knees and settles between your legs. Gladly, you open them invitingly and grant him the space he needs. He leans forward and props himself up on his forearms next to your head. Immediately, you sink into his warm brown eyes, which seem so dominant and caring at the same time. His nose lightly touches yours and as soon as you feel the contact, you close your eyes and lift your chin. With a grin on his lips, he kisses you. Gently, almost tentatively. Rarely has anyone kissed you so well. His kisses taste salty from the seawater. Your hands wander into his wet curls as your kiss intensifies. He moans into your mouth and breathes your name excitedly. You want more. You want him. Now. In the middle of the day, on this boat. You don't care if or who sees you. Fortunately, today Carlos has headed for a bay that no one but you have visited so far.

He will follow your request. Immediately. His lips wander and now they caress the sensitive skin of the crook of your neck. In response, you wrap your legs around his middle and draw in a sharp breath as his wet and cool swim trunks touch your inner thighs. You feel more than just that. Greedily, you bite your lower lip as you feel his already stiff cock against your clothed core and you know what to expect. Carlos, on the other hand, continues to kiss your neck undisturbed and now goes down on your body. Starting between your breasts. With his hands, he parted your bikini top and caressed your two nipples. Meanwhile, you could no longer suppress a moan and lift your chest lustfully towards him. A sign for Carlos not to stop. On the contrary, he must take it to the extreme. His mouth wanders further down from your breasts to your belly and now lingers at the cuff of your bikini thong. He looks up at you and sees how you continue to bite your lower lip and squirm with pleasure under his touch and kisses. Grinning, he lets one hand wander up to your breasts again and grabs one of them hard. You moan louder now and press your thighs together.

He takes advantage of the moment and inserts his other hand into your thong. First he only lightly strokes your Venus mound with his fingers, then he goes with two fingers through your already wet folds. Again, you moan loudly and your grip in his hair becomes more hearty. "Carlos, please..." you beg for a release. Quickly, he strips the piece of fabric from the thong that is annoying for him from your hips and replaces his fingers with his tongue. Greedily, he sucks your clit into his mouth. Again and again he looks up at you and this time your eyes meet. He is so eager to give you the pleasure of your life that you are unbridled by his passion, which drives like electricity through your body. He adds his fingers and continues to watch you. You were about to explode. He knows exactly which buttons to push on you to get you where he wants you to be. Whimpering and begging for more. He loves to see you like this.

"Need you inside me. Now." You sigh demanding and it sounds like music to his ears. You don't have to tell him twice. He straightens his upper body and quickly strips his swim shorts off. He moans in release as his cock is finally freed from the now too tight shorts. You prop yourself up on your forearms and can't take your eyes off his beautiful body. Everything about him is perfect, as if he were made for you. He positions himself in front of your core, slowly and gently enters you and places his hands on your hips. Your hands run over his upper arms. His skin feels warm and soft under your fingers. He starts to move and quickly finds his rhythm, which gives you this special feeling. His thrusts become faster and stronger. Just the way you like it. You grip his upper arms harder as the knot in your abdomen tightens. By now, you are moaning together. Some strands of his hair have fallen into Carlos' face. Over and over, your eyes meet. His eyes are almost black and have something animalistic about them that makes you go crazy. You want to feel him more intensely, so now you put your legs on his shoulders. Carlos understands immediately. He loves this position. He wraps his arms around your thighs to keep you close to him. His rhythm increases again and lets you see stars.

His gaze continues to be directed at you. Your pleasure satisfies him more than anything. As you let your eyes roll into the back of your head, he loses all restraint. He squeezes his arms so hard now that you swear he will leave bruises on your thighs. But you don't care. You would wear them with pride. His thrusts become messier. It won't take him much longer and neither will you. The knot is about to burst.

"Carlos, I... I..." you gasp out, but you're lost for words. "Cum with me, Bebé." he hisses through his teeth, dropping his head back into his neck now and a loud howl escapes his throat. He looked so damn sexy right now. That sight makes you climax immediately. Your legs tremble and exhausted, you let them slide off his shoulders. Carlos is also out of breath. With a satisfied smile, he leans forward again, laying on top of you and burying his face in the crook of your neck again. His weight on you just feels divine.

Your nails roam in gentle circular motions over his broad shoulder blades. You hear a satisfied sigh and enjoy this intimate moment with him. "I wish I could stay here forever..." you whisper in his ear. He turns his head to look at you. He smiles at you, the sun's rays falling into his eyes, making them look amber, almost golden. "Join me. Next week. To Zandvoort." His previously demanding look now changes to a begging one that you can't resist. You have to grin and say, "I'll think about it..." already knowing your answer is yes.

#Carlos Sainz #cs55 #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz one shot #f1 x reader #f1 smut

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elenthyaolyenths · 6 months ago

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The Night We Met (Haunted by the ghost of you) - A Good Omens One-Shot

for Ineffable May 2024, Day 27: "Flashback".

Tags: One-Shot (1800 words), Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Bittersweet, Crowley Loves Aziraphale, Post-Good Omens (TV) Season 2, Based on the Lord Huron song; cw/tw alcohol

Read on Ao3

Summary

A few years - decades? - after the Non-Pocalypse. After a certain angel's return to favour as Supreme Archangel.

In an anonymous pub, a lonely demon hears a certain song, and slowly lets himself drift into old memories. Those recollections, the best as well as the worst, hurt like hell, make him wish he was dead.

But it doesn't matter, because he can't really die.

It doesn't matter... because it will only last a few minutes.

Excerpt:

A few guitar chords, and only that. Unfortunately, sometimes it was all it took for Crowley.

The alcohol on his tongue turned into a new bitterness. One of those surprising, yet not unpleasant, kinds of tastes. Eyelids shut, his head reclining on the back of the old leather seat, and he let the music take him away — for a few minutes of inner drift, nothing more.

The pub’s materiality around him seemed to fade away, blurring. No more anonymous night owls quietly drinking here and there. Summer nights long gone, heavy and thick outside, kept at bay by the flickering lights of dirty lanterns, and the old sign’s icy neons above the counter.

Oh, how humans could be surprising at times. How easily some of them knew how to bottle an entire world, an entire time span, an entire experience in a few minutes of music....

I am not the only traveler Who has not repaid his debt Take me back to the night we met...

Continue reading on AO3

Thanks to @goodomensafterdark and @blairamok !

A big BIG THANK YOU to @captainblou for their translation and their amazing paintings on AO3!

My Good Omens illustrations: [Previous] [Next Day] [First Day]

❤️‍🔥Support me on Ko-Fi❤️‍🔥

Masterpost (Art Gallery, news, NSFT links)

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ao3 #crowley #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #fanfiction #david tennant #michael sheen #elenthyaandgoodomens #ineffable lovers #my art #my fanfic writing #ineffable may 2024 #ineffable spouses

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mosaickiwi · 8 months ago

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Fall Unto Me (part two)

Got too silly. Have some more Angel!Angel and Demon!Ren cause the bot came back and wormed into my brain to post it. Part one here if you haven't read it yet hehe.

cw// religious themes

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

The quiet cabin where Ren lived was a stone’s throw from the flowering field you found them in. The devil graciously opened his home, even guiding you around the town you now knew was called Corland Bay. Each morning when you wondered about leaving, he brought something new to pique your interest and put off your departure. The time seemed to fly by and soon you hardly spared a thought to leave.

You'd quickly grown accustomed to his constant presence over the past month. He was never far from your shoulder at any waking moment. The uneasy feeling from when you met was completely gone, replaced with a strange sense of comfort. He had only shown kindness to you, after all. To call a devil your friend was laughable, you knew. But no other word quite fit.

Still, you wondered how he had come to live outside their realm. Every time you questioned him the conversation slipped away to another topic. It must've been odd to discuss with an angel, you naturally assumed.

So you stopped bringing it up after a few days, instead choosing to inquire about the changes in the plants you so often admired. Some had begun to wither, and new buds sprouted up seemingly overnight in their place. A strange new array of flowers that Ren promised would tower over your head and his in due time.

“I think I'll like these flowers more than the others,” you told him one late afternoon.

You were lying on the porch, your head resting against his thigh as you watched the endless rows of flora sway in the breeze. Their focus was on you, though you didn’t notice. You could feel the faint trace of constellations drawn along the bare skin of your legs. The human clothes he’d gotten for you were a little different from the robes and tunics donned by servants of heaven, but they were just as comfortable despite the lacking fabric.

“I couldn't begin to imagine why,” he mused, his tone teasing as if he already knew your answer.

You explained regardless. “You told me some will grow as tall as they can, even following the sun’s light. It’s rather interesting.”

“I’m already as tall as they'll be.” His tail flicked into your field of view, casting only a slight shadow until his face obscured your vision further. "Is a devil not as interesting as a flower to you?"

The rapidly changing sky above caught your attention before you could respond in kind. Clouds blotted out the sun, tinting the world below in a murky gray. All the signs were there. Heavy clouds, a drop in temperature, and a strange smell in the air—petrichor, it was called in the books Ren had read with you by candle light on quiet evenings. It was a change you'd been waiting for ever since learning about it.

Bursting with excitement, you rolled from their lap and darted from the safety of the covered porch, the answer you meant to give them already long forgotten. Ren followed on your heels in the dirt until you stopped.

“It's rain, isn't it?” you wondered aloud and turned back to them for confirmation.

“Humans normally stay inside when it happens, my angel. But yes. Rain.” He nodded with a smile, enamored by the way your eyes curiously sparkled before you looked away. His pale hands came up to shield your face when the first drops began to fall.

Tiny thumps of something suddenly bounced off your hair and shoulders, seeping into your clothes. His makeshift shield seemed to be doing its job as you looked all around with wide eyes. Minuscule puddles of water and earth formed around your feet. The sea of flowers still swayed before you, though a few weaker ones fell out of sync as the rain pushed them to and fro as it pleased. You could even hear something akin to chimes when drops pattered over the roof of their home.

You spared a glance up towards the sky, quickly changing your mind with an unwelcome gasp at the spray that tickled your face. Quiet laughter came from behind and you turned to look at your companion once more, shaking off their hands.

Ren appeared unbothered by the dozens of small droplets beading down his forehead to his chin, until you reached forward to wipe them from his face. The heat of his skin stood out to you, and you let your hand linger, rubbing your thumb back and forth over the drops that kept landing on his cheek.

A dull ache began in your back.

You took an innocent step towards him. The light shower of rain was slowly chilling you to the bone, so it only made sense that you sought out their warmth. A warmth that felt as familiar and welcoming as your heaven. Gentle hands wound their way around your waist, guiding you back to the shelter of the porch only a few feet away. With the curtain of his fingers gone you expected another torrent to stream down your face for a brief moment. Instead, all you felt were stray drops falling from his hair.

Relief washed over you almost immediately in their embrace. Every so often you’d feel homesick like this. That sharp, almost stinging lance of pain where your wings were hidden away—yet it always faded as soon as he comforted you. You couldn’t understand why their presence brought such solace to you.

“I’m ready to go inside,” you suddenly said.

Your gaze wandered up to Ren's unreadable blue eyes as he answered, “Are you?”

“Yes… I think so.” But you made no move to leave, instead letting your eyes follow the slow crawl of a droplet down from his cheek to the corner of his lips. Their pale pink color reminded you of the sunset that left you empty only days ago.

It was a dreaded feeling you couldn't bear to feel again.

Without even thinking about it you leaned up to kiss them for the very first time. A faint stutter of surprise to his breath, and then he kissed you back. Part of you expected it to burn, to sting, do something when you mistakenly sought out affections you knew were meant only for a bonded pair—especially from a devil of all creations. Yet there was nothing to punish you for now.

The fluttery haze to your body didn’t wane at all, only blossoming at their touch. Until a gentle nip of fangs at your bottom lip had an entirely new feeling thrumming to life in your heart. You pulled back just to breathe for a minute, running your tongue over the spot that stung in a way you belatedly realized you liked for some reason.

Guilt and confusion battled in your heart at the thought. “Heaven will need me home soon,” you whispered, avoiding their watchful gaze for a long while as you toyed with the still damp strands of his hair.

The devil waited in silence, running one hand in an unknown pattern on your back until you managed to look upwards. “...Do you truly wish to return, my love? Won't you at least stay until the flowers bloom?” The words were desperate, but his voice resigned. As if your answer was already set in stone.

You carefully nodded at his words. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if you were even capable of leaving. It scared you more than your god's surefire chastising about the sin you'd just committed. But it has to be then, you wanted to convince yourself. Or you feared you’d break your vows and never leave him.

He accepted with a heart wrenching smile, took your hand and led you up the few steps that were slick with rain. Your fingers tightened achingly around theirs as he opened the cabin’s door.

Beneath the steady drumming of rain, you didn’t notice a bell had been faintly tolling from somewhere far above you.

#14 days with you #14dwy ren #14dwy redacted #cw religious themes #momo writing #o boi #heyyyy angelll #it's me the devil #angel!angel says feeling feelings feels bad!!!#except when it's good!!!#this was in rewrite hell sorry #the original thing was 3 parts but i cut a lot cause some bits didn't hit right in my brain #i am my own worst enemy #i mean i'm super happy with how it ends here bc ominous yearning and longing angst?? love her #if i decide to write more it'd be the absolute last one #and then infodump #or i could infodump now teehee!! shout out to the people in my askbox waiting for 4 months pls forgive meeeee

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syneilesis · 1 year ago

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I started something with Gabriel from What in Hell is Bad? and in a game about devils and demons, I just had to latch onto the homicidal angel 😂 I don't know if I could finish this, so I'm posting what I already have. Warnings for religious sacrilege and dubcon. This is supposed to lead to revenge/hatesex, but I ran out of steam before it even happened lol. For reference, this is how Gabriel looks like. An incentive for me is that he's voiced by Tamamo Azul Tsumugi Amano Haru. Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

There's something to be said about the pure and divine, tainted and in chains. It's the control, perhaps. The power over one that is seen as untouchable, grander. Superior. That blinding radiance—smudged into ambiguity. Doubt. Beauty in the sullied.

Gabriel looks at you with incandescent hostility in his crystal-glass eyes, and a frisson of thrill runs down your spine. You bite your lip to keep the grin threatening to escape at bay.

“Child of Solomon,” he proclaims, still proud despite his tattered armor, despite his enchained limbs. His bruise is a stark cloud on his cheek, and the blood on the corner of his mouth still drips. “The last thing you'll see before I kill you is the joy I'll feel striking you down. Remember that.”

You hum. “Just empty words from someone who can't even move his legs.”

Propped against the wall, arms raised and shackled, Gabriel remains beautifully defiant. He jerks against his restraints as if to lunge at you, but the only freedom he's afforded is the manic hatred fracturing his stubborn resistance. Almost mocking, you kneel, his hips between your legs, and trace the blood that lines his chin. When he moves to retaliate, you grab his jaw and hold him firmly, admonishing.

When he first appeared to you, long ago, Gabriel had said, in that melancholy voice of his, that your death is nothing personal. But now, his savage transformation lights the blood in your veins, the bright, acrid taste of his loathing, his current helplessness.

So you kiss him.

It's all teeth: unforgiving and merciless in the face of his rage. He attempts to bite you but your hand grips his face in warning.

He ignores it, and you growl, an iron-tang sting on your lower lip, which you lick off above his darkly crescent stare.

“The fact that you're here, captive, means that your God has abandoned you.”

He bares his bloody teeth like a beast.

That doesn't deter you; in fact, it elates you, that hot rush of satisfaction shooting through your veins. It makes you lean towards him, your lips a hair's breadth away from his own. And then you ghost along, upward, until you can whisper directly in his ear: “I am your God now.”

His fury almost destroys his chains, but you're assured of their strength, so you only move slightly backward to avoid his attempt at an attack.

You don't miss his full-body shudder before that.

He trembles under your palms, harsh twitches when your skin comes into contact with his, and you draw a line at his sternum, remembering how his weapon drew his own blood and marked you, his forever prey.

You tear at the remaining fabric of his clothing. The cacophony echoes his rasping breaths.

Between your legs, his arousal strains against his trousers.

#my fic #fic #what in hell is bad #whb gabriel #whb gabriel x reader #whb #whb x reader #what in hell is bad x reader #tw dubcon #tw religious sacrilege #nsft

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comfortless · 10 months ago

Note

hi angel! i have to tell you that ‘All That You Don’t Want’ was incredible- such a lovely, sweet tale! i keep revisiting it! would you consider writing a second part? or even a role reversal?

Roach Head

lich! König x fem necromancer! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. abduction, injury, mentions of insects (reader is the world’s worst necromancer), forced proximity, pining, violence/regicide, major character death, questionable morality, fluff, smut, a lil angst.

notes: i am so sorry you have had to wait so long, anon. ): though… i doubt that i will ever write a continuation of ATYDW, take this sickly sweet… (almost) role reversal, instead!

wc: 6.7k.

It’s an odd thing that, after finally having the blindfold removed, the first thing you notice are the cobblestones beneath your bleeding palms. Not a single one is in disarray; not cracked or crumbling from being used as any other common footpath. No, each stone is in it’s place, lain complete with not a single splintering crack or a sharpness to it from being broken. All pristine and smooth beneath your stinging scrapes.

Just like the cobbles, the air feels untouched here. There’s no stink of manure or spoiled food from the cramped streets of the inner kingdom. There are no roars of fighting men nor the baying of beasts, a lack of giggling women batting their eyelashes to lure those with jingling pouches of coins into brothels. You can’t even detect a breeze. Twisting onto your side, your eyes catch on the extending limbs of sturdy trees, and oddly… not a single leaf flutters or moves. The air is still.

There is only the absence of everything.

You should think it a blessing after your abduction, after being thrust into the back of a dusty carriage drawn by two massive horses.

You could almost swear you had seen the devil in their dark eyes, hellfire deep in those dark pits and you had known assuredly they would be chauffeuring you straight into the darkest circle of Hell. That was, until a thick, rigid cloth was tied around your head, forcing you into complete darkness. Your assailants had done well to bind you and leave your aching body only capable of wracking with sobs against the hard wood at the bottom. Every jolt of the wagon had caused you to flinch, to scramble as best you could, resulting in an array of bruises and your still bleeding hands from fighting at the ropes.

There had never even been a chance to fight back; you never even saw them. Even now as you raise your throbbing head to glance about, there’s no sign of the men that have left you here, in this silent place. Your heart almost seizes in your chest when you realize you can no longer even hear the cantering and whinnying of those dark, stoic horses.

You know that nothing good comes from silence.

It’s one of the first things that you came to learn as a fledgling witch. Quiet rarely ever bodes well. The prey animals in the wood all scurry to hide amongst fallen leaves and well-packed nests the very moment that a predator draws near, and you, still green with your admittedly lackluster talent in reanimating were little more than a fawn in the eyes of any beast.

A groan leaves your parted lips as you force yourself to your knees, ignoring the incessant sting of bruises and how your vision blots from even the barest of exertion. Your binds must have been cut free when you were abandoned here, you realize, as you twist around to crawl.

That’s when you see it— the glory of what lies before you.

Rather than being dumped into some desolate street for the vultures to find and pick apart like any common carrion, the men with their frightening steeds had left you at the steps leading up to a beautiful castle of sorts. The stone bricks and marbled towers above you, spirals of darkened blue shingles descended into gilded turrets, the rampart casting a shadow over all that settles beneath. There’s a flag there, too, positioned just outside of the wooden door leading into the heart of it all. The rich, blue fabric is torn in places, the tassels frayed, bare white thread visible near the paling center making the crest practically invisible.

Something draws you to it, that singular rotting thing in this bright, sterile void. Your feet move quicker than your thoughts as you pad up toward the flag, eyelids squinting as your palm dances over the canvas. The strangest thing happens as you finally make out what remains of a wolf’s head amongst the rips and splintering threads— the wooden door begins to move. It’s not one of those fancy, well crafted ones with those mechanisms you couldn’t fathom in the King’s keep, this one has to be pulled open from the inside.

You watch, lips pursed as the door continues to slowly creek open until finally, you can make out the small courtyard beyond it. A fountain, long since dried up sits at its center, and even with what you imagine must be little care in such a desolate place, the plants are all in bloom; petals of vivid blues and gentle purples fill your vision.

Amongst them, stands a shadow of the purest black, from the opaque veil shrouding his head to the soles of his boots. The cloak he wears is heavy, finely stitched with that very same blue crest embroidered into its chest, the stitching in equal disarray as the flag adorning the stone wall.

You’ve seen specters before. They haunt the kingdom in every nook, crawling over the tops of buildings, invading your dreams with threats of what will come to you if you don’t reanimate something, give them any body to inhabit and puppet so that they might just have a taste of the pleasures of being human once more. Greedy, malevolent things that make you feel ill from a mere glimpse.

This one is entirely an unknown.

He does not crawl from your gaze with the gait of a wary spider, he stands rigid, daring even as those eyes like sapphire lock onto your form. Not a word is uttered between the two of you, yet you feel a pull, one that curls at the bones tucked into the flesh of your legs, pushing and pulling you past the threshold as though an unseen dog were nipping at your heels. You don’t fight it. Your bare feet cross over smooth stone and your stare remains wistful on the figure until he simply strolls away.

That’s it. That’s all it takes before you’re snapped out of your trance and the wooden door swings heavy and violent behind you, closing and locking without a hand to guide it. Then it’s back to the nothingness, the silence.

You should be very, very afraid. In a panic, even as your hands flatten over the wood and you realize that there are no handles from inside at all. You are entirely trapped here, short of finding a way to carve through it or climb up the rampart and risk snapping every limb on your descent. Thing is— you are not afraid, at least not enough to do anything so rash.

A calm settles here, electric and tickling as it feathers unseen through the cool air.

You stay in that courtyard for a long time, admiring every flower and shrub, some you recognize and others you do not. The empty fountain is not empty at all; you find that the marble ring is filled to the brim with riches— gold coins, shimmering stones, all twinkling beneath the yellow glow of the sun overhead.

Inside of the castle is more or less the same, each corridor bathed in the glow of soft candlelight, highlighting paintings in gilded frames that must have taken months to complete, treasures you have only ever heard of seated on polished wood and fine metals. Like walking through a dream. Though your hands itch to pocket something, anything to take back with you when you find the will to escape, to free yourself from the reality of your little shack at the corner of the market that you share with a dozen other witchlings, you don’t touch anything at all.

Following a branch to your right, vast and equally laden with treasures, eyes darting from one shiny thing to the next until the tightly woven, ornate rugs beneath the soles of your feet wind to an end and you instead find your footing on smooth stone tiles.

You find yourself in the throne room, where the specter sits, lofty yet misplaced upon the soft, rolling velvet. That pull, like a lead drawn too tight, pivots you forward, one foot before the other until you’re kneeling at his feet. The figure remains still, watching you with that somber, unrelenting stare even as you reach up to take his gloved hand into your own, kissing along each knuckle until the hand coated in blackened leather moves to cup your face.

This is no king, you know it in your very bones. The dark veil stained by teardrops tells you everything, of a life trodden by deceit and pain untold.

“I know what you are, hündchen.”

The voice startles you, a rasp, alive only in the way that fire lives, crackling and swaying with each lilt. You must have flinched back, the spell weaved around you broken with all of the subtlety of a lightening strike, your elbows dig almost painfully into the rough tiles below, eyes locked to the veil.

Your own voice doesn’t come for a time. When it does, it comes tight; meek and quivering, almost absent entirely as though your own body refuses to bring a ripple to the quiet that has engulfed you.

“Why have you brought me here?”

The feeling that curls up in the hollow spaces within your chest when this enigma pulls you to your feet with a sudden curl of his hand over your wrist feels familiar. It’s not unlike how you felt when accidentally resurrecting that old mantis found dried beneath your bed. It had attempted to chew through your hand, but being so small it hardly seemed a threat, just offensively waving it’s front legs at you until you scooped the critter up and locked it up tight in an old trunk. Some strange tide of wonder, and it takes a moment for you to push it down enough to realize that… the specter is still stood before you, his grip still tight, not saying a word.

Why it brings a swell of warmth to your face should have you questioning your taste in men rather than what he may or may not have done.

“Sorry, I just—“

“You are hurt, hündchen.” He interrupts, turning your wrist over to inspect the flecks of dried blood littering your palm. It’s not the worst injury you’ve ever had, in fact, you had very nearly forgotten it even existed— just a few scrapes from a rope tied far too tight.

You shake your head, biting back that surge of… something, that furry something that crawls from the fluttering organ behind your ribcage and down into the pits of your stomach. That feeling is also familiar, you felt it the first time you laid eyes on that pompous, boy-man serving as heir to the throne in the castle, at least, until he turned his head to look at you and your ilk with thinly veiled disgust.

If the specter sees scum before him, the veil does well to conceal it.

His eyes seem to only light up the more he appraised you, rubbing his thumb over your scrape with such a gentle touch that a shiver rips down your spine.

“I see…”

He guides your wrist back down to your side, delicately trails his fingertips up to your shoulder and… that’s it before he draws away and steps right past you. That’s all the touch you’re given and you find yourself, humiliatingly yearning for it. There should be nothing but contempt scraping at your skull and yet you feel treacherously endeared by this strange, strange faceless man living in this lonely castle.

The risk of this being some bewildering trap weighs heavy on your mind; you’re far more intelligent than some scrappy undead insect, begging to be tossed into a dusty crate, after all. You had heard of the way other lands treated necromancers: shunning them, chasing them from villages, and in far more dreadful cases— leading them to kneel before a headsman for decapitation.

You center yourself, force your mind to conjure up any evidence of some magical foul play only to be left with the knowledge that these feelings are entirely your own.

This man does not have the sticky aura of one dripping magic from his palms like thick globs of honey. He seems almost vacant, devoid of even anything making him human, while you stand transfixed and lacking even the sensible reaction of fear.

You can only find comfort in his gentle hand, in his stare like an unholy flame.

So, when he guides you to what is to be your dwelling you mouth does not part to argue. You’re led to a room larger than the entirety of the cluttered home you shared with the other witchlings. Everything within is worth more than even you, and something about it stings, sharp and sudden like ant’s venom seeping into skin.

From the canopy bed, draped over with thick velvet curtains to protect from the chill of a winter’s night to the neatly polished wood of varying furniture, it all feels so rich— so foreign.

“You didn’t have to prepare all of this for me… I don’t even… why am I here?” You’re rambling, searching every corner of the room with a flitting gaze as if some small patch of dust will provide you with the answers.

Your specter only laughs as he nudges you towards the bed, now your bed, the motion only sending another question to the forefront of your mind.

Were you bought? Meant to warm some peculiar stranger’s bed without even the grace of having the knowledge to prepare?

Perhaps your concerns should have drifted as to why you were not entirely opposed.

“Sleep.”

The simple command leaves you stifled entirely, all confusion and tentative excitement dispelled in an instant.

He wants nothing from you, only to extend a foreign cup spilling over with generosity to one who would not admit it was ever even needed.

You find yourself nodding your head, unaccustomed to the kindness of a forgotten thing like him. In truth, you’re unused to anything but bickering between the other ladies in the witch’s house, the cobwebs stretching without end caking the ceiling, the scuttle of crawling legs over your flesh as you pulled your threadbare blanket over your body to shield you from the cold. From stark poverty to this… it claws at your eyes, steels your mind— man or ghost, it mattered not; your heart sang while your mouth remains pressed into a stiff line.

When he leaves you, your body cloaked in the softest gown you’ve ever worn, burrowed beneath sheets of the finest silk, that unknown thing in your heart seems to spill over, rushing through your veins like honeyed wine.

You dream through the eyes of someone else that night.

A woman kneels at your feet with tears in her dark eyes. She hasn’t slept, the thick, dark patches just above where her cheeks rise make it evident, and she’s pleading with the you who is not you; this woman tells you that she wishes to go home, that she could never be a part of what you are or are not.

Even in dreaming you feel your jaw tighten, sure that your nails have splintered from the shooting pain in your fingertips as your hands tighten over the hard wood of your seat. The not you speaks for you, his voice coming warbled and distant. You can not make out the words, but seeing how this pleading woman’s face seems to morph into an expression of terror, you’re grateful to not know what’s been said.

Nothing becomes of her. You watch as she strolls away, unharmed. This other you, however, is. It’s the tingling of so many unseen legs parading through your chest; spiders in a downward course to burrow in the shadow of your belly. The discomfort rings out as you feel this body rise from its seat, out to the courtyard with a fountain. The flowing water subsided the clambering of spider limbs inside, just enough for this body to pull a ring from its pocket and cast it down into the clear water.

You watch the ring seat itself at the marble bottom, the gentle flow of water causing small ripples to crest over that tiny band of silver until you wake.

Confusion twists itself into curiosity as you free yourself from the sheets, padding out of your room still only adorned in the thin, white fabric of the gown. Morning light filtering through each window of the castle carves a path where the candles have long since been blown out. The only darkness here is with your captor, all tall and shadowy, and you find yourself considering the fact that perhaps you’ve been sucked down into some strange afterlife, one where you and this specter would remain in a silent stasis for all time. You find that you don’t entirely hate the idea, either.

Most of the rooms in the castle are dull. It’s not that there isn’t plenty to look at, but a cluttering of what’s expected, all gold and ornate, only proves to bore you. There is little mystery to be found in riches.

None of it is of importance, anyway. It’s him you’re seeking out, and oddly enough, you find your specter in the courtyard staring down at the cluttered fountain. He shifts in place as you take to his side, fingers curling into loose fists momentarily before he offers you a small greeting by way of running a hand along the back of your neck, petting you as though you truly were only a puppy.

You shiver beneath that warm touch, seem to melt against him before collecting yourself enough to straighten up.

“I did not sleep well,” he says quietly, the look in his eyes tells you that he dreamt through your own. He had seen the decay and filth of the king’s city, perhaps even those angry, little things that you brought back to bite and sting and pinch.

“I didn’t either.”

You recognize that faint, strange smell when you move just a step closer to him, like dust and forgotten things. Not quite rot, but similar, a comfort for you as it’s all your fate has ever allowed for you to know. Yet, this is not one of your reanimations. Only a man.

A man, only, like you; touched by the rot.

The realization crosses your face by way of a widened glance, a sharp intake of breath. It stings again when he turns away from you, drops his hand back to his side.

“Will you walk with me, hündchen?”

“Sure.”

It’s no less strange pacing along at his side than roaming about the castle with no idea where he is. The specter still feels worlds away, even as your arm brushes over his, your fingers occasionally ghosting over his gloved hand. While the vivid blue of globe thistles and hydrangeas entertains your vision, that patient stare of his remains trained on you, even as the quiet settles over the garden once again.

In a way, you feel as though you’re being courted, even as the questions remain scurried and fluttering in your mind. The ghost, the man, whoever he is, refuses to sate that curiosity of yours even as you bring it up to him again. Why? He only responds in an almost boyish laugh that pulls at your heart, infuriating and delightful all the same.

You share a meal, something you’ve no idea how he managed to scrounge together or had the time to prepare at all. He’s been at your side all morning, yet the fruit pastries and tea are served warm as you seat yourself across from him at some grand, oak table. That sparked tingle of magic does not feather off of him as it does with your sisters, but you know without a doubt that he must have it. You glower at him a bit, lips pursed and brow pinched as he sips at his tea, not beneath but through the fabric of his black veil.

“You will have to explain what’s going on at some point,” you huff, pushing your plate away as if to make a show of it. No more accepting his gifts, even if your stomach growls in protest. “Especially if you’re trying to court me.”

It’s cute how wide his eyes go at that, his cup of tea nearly slipping from his hand. The surprise wears off almost immediately, his eyes narrowing in what you imagine must be amusement as you’re left feeling a bit humiliated. Your gaze flits over to the candles adorning the table as you nervously drum your fingers against the lap of your dress.

“Court you?”

“The gown, the walk, the food… is that not what this is?”

“Nein, hündchen…” He pauses to sigh, setting the cup against the table with a dull thud. “It’s better that I did not.”

You think to question him further, but hold back the words bubbling in your throat, sullenly picking at the food on your plate instead. It feels like courtship, would look like courtship to anyone else, but then again… you’ve never quite experienced it for yourself, either. You’re no noble lady, and it feels a bit silly to imagine yourself roaming a place like this with him as your suitor. For all you know, he could be some king from a neighboring kingdom, only offering you respite out of pity after falling from that wagon.

More likely, all of this is just some strange dreaming.

When your lunch is thoroughly picked apart on your plate, the cup emptied, you shift out of your seat and offer him a curt little bow of your head and move towards the door.

— — —

Your days are filled with him— the drab specter you’ve taken to calling König, King, simple and befitting a name as you can give to one without one. No one else lives here, at least that you can see. Not even the rats or scuttling insects you were used to dare to take up residence within this castle. Yet, you remain taken care of and well-fed. You walk at his side every morning and part ways after minimal conversation in the evening. It’s so simple yet odd it almost makes you feel uneasy.

The dreams remain through the eyes of another. Some are combat, and you don’t care for those, looking down to see blood on steel and settling with the odd sense of guilt that you’ve killed someone, even when the you who is not you does not seem to pause. In fact, he often laughs in those dreams, drinks his wine from a golden goblet while he polishes the thick mace in his lap, trousers stained with blood that is not his own.

Others are dreadfully dull. You watch as knights with long swords and silver plates circle around you, your muffled voice shouting demands of what you can only imagine must be tactics and plans for a war you would only ever be apart of in the late hour with your eyes closed.

Your unease nearly doubles on the fourth night, when you wake with a start, pulled from a dream where you see that same woman from the first wailing over a bloodied corpse to find König looming over where you rest. The curtains of your bed parted with what little moonlight filtering inside bathing him in an unearthly, bluish glow. As usual, he doesn’t breathe a word, only stares as you slowly peel back your sheet to sit up and face him fully.

“Is something wrong?,” you ask in a whisper, rubbing your palms against your eyes as you force yourself to pull through the haze of sleep.

“Du bist schön wenn du schläfst,” he hums. “Even having a nightmare.”

“You said you were not courting me.”

“I’m not, hündchen.”

He offers you a hand that you readily accept, hardly having time to marvel over just how cold his skin feels without his glove before you find your cheek pressed to a broad chest. Your breath catches in your throat, heart hammering with the urgency of a cricket’s song.

“You didn’t sleep well either?”

“Nein.”

“Maybe we could sleep together?,” you offer with a laugh that sounds stiff even to your own ears.

You expect some other quip about the status of your peculiar relationship, not a sigh, not the way König gently lowers you back into bed and climbs in to follow, not at your side, but rested with his head over the swell of your breasts. You’re almost certain your rib cage will bruise by the pounding in your chest this infatuation burdens you with.

He hums contentedly at the contact, props his chin up on the valley between your breasts.

“Warm,” he murmurs.

You reach to pull the blanket over you both without a word, staring up at the velvet curtain as you try to force yourself into a state of calm indifference.

It lasts for all of a single breath; König shifts, stroking over the fabric of your gown, bunching over your hip. His touch makes you shiver, too cold, as though he doesn’t have any body heat at all. Your arm settles over the expanse of his back, pulling him just a tad closer as you relax into the feather-stuffed mattress.

“Ja… I like this.”

“I do too...”

So, you sleep, so intertwined with one another that your body heat melts away the frigid touch of his own flesh with no discernment for where you end and he begins. Your dreams are absent in his presence, replaced by a solace you’ve never known as a comfortable stillness settles over you both.

When morning comes, an unhurried sun casting a dull glow through the arched window in the room, you’re pleasantly surprised to find him still here. You’ve shifted in the lack of dreaming, finding your positions opposite to when sleep had taken its hold; your head rests on König’s chest now, comfortably slow. He doesn’t feel as cold, though…

König does not breathe.

You hurriedly rise, throwing the covers off of you both and shove at him with a panicked urgency, desperately searching for any sort of reaction from him to ensure he hasn’t passed away in his sleep.

It’s not a corpse’s silence that you’re met with but an annoyed huff of breath as he grabs at your wrists and tugs you back down.

“Was..?” Your specter only sounds annoyed as he gazed down at you, keeping your trembling hands steady in his unyielding grip.

“You weren’t breathing! I thought…” You trail off, the words catching in your throat as you realize just how ridiculous that you sound. Of course he wasn’t dead. Even if he were a reanimation, no magic in the entirety of this kingdom would allow him to retain so much of his soul.

König only laughs at that, closes you in an embrace that sets your pulse racing again as he carefully maneuvers you below him. When he had become so familiar mattered not, you wouldn’t dare to complain. It’s achingly comfortable, brings a sigh from your parted lips as you fall back into that perfect, placid state of contentment.

“Hündchen… you worry too much,” he huffs, caging you in as he relaxes with his face pressed back to the divot between your breasts. “So many questions… too many concerns, ja?”

“I would not fret so much if you would just explain a few things.”

“Geduld.”

Though you do pout, make a show of your irritation by exhaling heavily, his tone harbors a calm finality. You’re not so sure that any reasoning for all of this would matter much at all anymore; whether it be a dream or some gentle corner of an afterlife you’ve found yourself tucked within, you only find that you never wish for it to end.

— — —

This dream is worse than any before it.

You feel your vessel’s emotions tenfold; a clamor of disquiet and rage, vicious and searing. The air is still and silent but heavy with the scent of iron. From the blurred view that you’re granted, the shapes of cadavers are easy enough to tell, all lain twisted in glistening pools of their own blood.

Your vessel isn’t moving, though you will your thoughts to encourage him to do so, he remains in place, a pillar destined to topple.

You don’t want to see it, yet waking eludes you.

The sounds of hurried footsteps fill the quiet, a shout to your right that you do not even have the capability to turn towards. Cursed are hissed, warbled and unfamiliar, only recognized by their venom. You know that this is the end, a brutal, grisly one for your counterpart and for these dreams in their entirety.

When wicked steel carves it’s way into your vessel’s middle, you feel how tightly he clenched his jaw to bite back a howl of agony, take the subdued, shooting pain spreading through him as though it were your own. Try as you might, you can not wake; forced to be a voyeur to this stranger that you’ve grown fond of’s gruesome demise.

The vessel’s head is tugged forward, forced to kneel at the feet of the brute who has buried a dagger into his side. A sneer paints the man’s face as your counterpart’s veil is thrown away, and you recognize it— that same shroud of black, stained with imagined tears as it falls to a small heap onto a bloodstained floor.

König.

You wake with a start in a haze of utter confusion, catching your breath as the truth of it all crawls down to settle someplace within you. A cold sweat settles over your skin, bringing with it the rise of slight goose pimples and an incessant tremble.

The specter is just as you had suspected in that brief moment between bonding and sleep, dead and long-forgotten; a corpse made man again. This isn’t some silent kingdom, but a well-preserved crypt.

It hurts.

You wash your face in the water of the small basin at the corner of the room, change from your bed gown into a dress of a drab gray. Even to yourself, mourning a truth that’s been glaring you in the face since your arrival feels misplaced and odd, but that horrible sadness does not subside.

At least, not until you pry your door open to find König waiting just on the other side. He cocks his head at you, gaze softening in a silent understanding as your hand is fitted into his own.

The morning walk is less quiet this morning, a single dove could be heard cooing, hidden beneath the green of some sprawling alder’s leaves. König speaks to, explains some without giving all away. He tells you what he can remember, the details of his failed courting of the foreign princess with dark eyes and a petrified stare, the plot against him that dwindled out into a curse that’s left him here, but never an estimate for how long.

You listen in a perplexed silence, clutching his hand just a bit tighter as each questioning cobweb is swept away with a low voice droning out a story better left untold.

When he finishes, with your free hand sifting it’s fingers through the petals adorning a hydrangea shrub, you think to tell him one simple truth: “I can’t bring you back.”

It startles you when he suddenly pulls you in, resting his chin atop your head and curling those broad arms over your shoulders. The embrace is tight, a certain desperation in his touch as though he almost fears the thought of you pulling away. Strange from a man you now knew had not even feared his own death.

“Nein. I just want to be understood.”

And you do understand, perfectly, as only one also touched by the rot could.

— — —

There’s never a night that you don’t find yourself asleep with König mere centimeters away, if there is any gap between at all, anymore. He feigns his breath until you’re fast asleep, takes to playing human enough to not worry you any further, even after you explain that it doesn’t, not any longer. Always, you wake to his head buried against your chest, listening to the fragile beating of your heart until you stir to wake him. Your hands rove over his veil, but never question what he hides beneath it. You already know without seeing— the wicked, sprawling scar from where his head was once wrenched from his body.

A necromancer and a lich, of all things. If the bards in the King’s city were to ever know, your story would be passed from tavern to tavern until it became little more than the stuff of myth.

The thought occurs to you when you wake, huffing a drowsy little giggle as you repeat your morning ritual, fingertips grazing over the dark fabric obscuring König’s face until heavy eyelids languidly part to focus his attention on that mirthful expression painted across your face.

“I have changed my mind,” he declares some moments later as he nuzzles in the divide between your neck and shoulder, unhurried and gentle as he always seems to be with you.

“Hm?”

“I will court you.” A statement that would make most with a better grasp on the disparity between what’s living and dead flinch back in horror. Though, where most would consider corruption, you only take it as further confirmation to your mutual devotion.

“You already have been.”

He falls silent at that for a moment, trailing a cold path of chaste kisses along your jaw, lazy and soft to a point you can feel the grin beneath his hood.

Finally, he hums in agreement.

“Then I should have you, hm?”

He drags a palm down your thigh to your knee, the pad of his thumb bunching up the fabric of your gown as he presses against you, tracing small circles.

Your mouth feels dry when you part your lips to speak once more. The words falter, engulfed in a far more desperate flame; someplace far off, in the back of your mind you can hear them echo, bouncing from cavern walls.

“Hündchen..,” he rasps quietly. Maybe he’s thought it too, that this should be far more innocent, but the way he furiously tugs your undergarments down to your ankles belies his interest far more than some ideal, ancient telling of courtship would ever allow.

“You want to..?”

König laughs, whether it’s at your words or the surprise on your face, you didn’t know. Despite your nudity, he doesn’t look at you down there, his eyes remain locked on your face. There’s something wild and uncanny about them, something bordering on madness. His breathing is heavier, as if he’s fighting back the urge to bury his head in your cunt and breathe you in, and you’re almost certain that after all of your yearning he could bring you to ruin from a puff of breath alone.

He echoes your question with barely contained amusement, until you breathe out your consent. You sound just uncertain enough to prompt him to pull away briefly, raising up to look you in the eyes as his own narrow in search of any signs of apprehension. Finding none, a heavy palm meets your chest to push you to lie down in full as his head dives between your thighs without hesitation.

The feeling of a wide tongue slipping over your slit prompts an immediate reaction— a sharp cry that has you slamming your palm over your mouth in an effort to not break the peace settled over this place.

Every lick is slow and deliberate, a far cry from enough stimulation to properly get you off. It’s as if he’s doing this to prepare you rather than bring you to ruin. His tongue thrusts into you at a languid pace, fucking you open with heady muscle rather than the cold touch of his fingers. For that you’re grateful, but it just isn’t enough.

König huffs another chuckle against your sex when you whine and buck your hips, desperately searching for a friction that just isn’t being supplied. His hands press against your hips to hold you in place, the pads of his thumbs circling against your abdomen as he tries to set you at ease.

“Be patient,” he mumbles as he raises his head, bottom lip slowly raking over the hood of your aching clit. You find it difficult to comply, but in a way you feel fortunate to even experience this much. Who else could say that they were being fucked by the tongue of a titan and be believed? His lips close around your sensitive bud, tongue languidly circling over it, kissing you there as gently as he can manage. The very moment a moan is pulled from you, breaking the silence of his concentration he tears back to lick far further down than you were prepared for, before climbing over you instead of allowing you a release.

The taste of you lingers on his tongue when your face is pushed beneath the veil, an urgent probing as he thrusts the muscle into your waiting mouth, sampling the mixture of your saliva and slick. A palm is splayed over your thigh, forcing you to open yourself to him despite the strain.

He proves he’s less patient than he pretends to be; that’s all of the preparation that you get.

A breath later you feel yourself speared open, the girth of his tip slipping into you with involuntary resistance. Your gasp is met with a keening groan from his open mouth, quickly stifled as he bites into the side of your neck. Each thrust is shallow, the head of his cock spreading you meticulously until you’re nearly in tears from your own impatience. His body temperature is far cooler than your own, and you feel as if you’re more of a mess than you’ve ever been prior as his own precum mixes with the arousal already freely dribbling past your swollen labia.

You kick your leg out, force your hips in a different angle to push him in deeper only to have his grip tighten and his teeth dig into your flesh. Again and again, until you’re a babbling mess beneath him.

“König… please..,” You manage to choke out, voice small and barely audible over the obscene sounds pulled from the wetness of your cunt.

Immediately, your pleading is answered with a slam of his hips, the thick cock forced to its hilt inside of your pulsing walls. König’s head lolls back, his free hand curling over your hip as he grunts. He isn’t making love to you, but fucking into you like a man possessed. A palm fitted over your mouth wouldn’t silence the obscene sounds of sex, nor the bed creaking beneath your combined weight as he pumps into you; each drag is pure rapture as he fills you entirely.

The repetitive spearing of your sweet spot brings you to a near-painful orgasm, trembling cunt only sucking him in further with each pulsing wave of bliss. The quiet is forgotten entirely as you whine out your praises between wanton moans and breathy cries.

He kisses you, proper and sweet when he comes. The thickness of his seed floods you, spilling out onto the sheets below as he fucks it back into you, his pace never slowing until the throbbing of his cock comes to an abrupt end.

The hand holding your leg in place retreats to gently brush your cheek, his thumb grazing beneath your eye until you reach for his wrist to pull it down to kiss over his palm. He returns your kisses with a breathy laugh before pressing his forehead to your own, kissing from the tip of your nose down to your chin.

“I do understand,” you whisper against cool flesh.

“Ja… because you were made for me.”

You don’t disagree.

This morning is the first you’ve caught sight of a breeze, gently pushing at the curtains lining the bed, the first you’ve heard of any semblance of life beyond yourself. When your eyelids flutter shut, relaxation prying away any residual tension, you almost think you can hear the pounding of a second heart— one you can only think to wish together with your own.

#könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #konig x you #cod fanfiction #könig #konig #and now i sleep for 40hrs farewell everyone everywhere

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