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governmentintelligence · 3 years ago

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Hypothermia (happy birthday winter!!!!)

A/N: happy birthday @winterpower98!!!!! i made you angst :)

i saw all your notes from white tang au and honestly??? fucking love the vibes. i didn't do much with the Plot but i hope you still enjoy it :>

WARNINGS: hypothermia, it is cold, derealization/dissociation, choking, threatened murder/suicide, implied murder, implied blood, no happy ending

Words: 4041

enjoy!! <3

There were a lot of downsides to possession, but the one that Tang had expected the least was the cold.

That might also not be a fair description of the problem. He hadn’t expected to be possessed. No one ever expects to get possessed. Given the concept, though, he had some preconceived ideas of what possession would entail. A lot of them were more hands-on, like the visceral dissonance from physical form that came with watching his body move of its own accord. That was something he imagined when he thought of being possessed.

It was still striking, but it was something he’d expected, at least.

He hadn’t expected how numb he’d feel. How little and how insignificant it would feel to be sequestered away into his own head.

He hadn’t thought that she would invade his mind in the same way, echoing his own voice back at him. She perfectly mimicked his voice, his tones, his speaking cadence, such that even he couldn’t tell her apart on most days.

They would drudge up to the mirror in the morning, and Tang would stare into his ice blue eyes and have to convince himself that they weren’t always that color. Most days, he imagined himself staring at a stranger. Some days, he wouldn’t even be able to focus on his reflection. Those were the days he felt the most cold.

Mild Hypothermia Symptoms include shivering, increased heart rate, and mental confusion. Patient may seem dazed and unsure of themselves.

The Lady Bone Demon had been masquerading as a young girl, trying to find books at the library. In retrospect, it may have been on the nose for her to have been looking for a book on Dyatlov Pass. It was almost like a double emphasis on the ice theming, to be looking for another incident of people succumbing to the cold. Maybe even foreshadowing. Tang’s always been fond of stories.

The library was sprawling large. Tang had offered to help her find it. The library is quiet most days, so it wasn’t like he was busy.

He stopped by the shelves and, when he turned to direct her to the proper book, was struck by a gust of wind. It burned his throat like smoke, yet settled in his chest cold as ice, freezing from the inside out. The girl had just stood there, smiling coyly, knowingly.

Tang wasn’t sure what happened specifically after that, even if it had happened at all, because his memory picked back up with him walking to the help desk.

From there, it was a little spotty. He’d gone to sit at the help desk and found himself sitting down at his usual counter spotat Pigsy’s Noodles. Pigsy was sharp, much sharper than people give him credit for. Nothing could ever sneak past his snout, not MK’s poor sleep schedule and not Tang’s distant stare.

He could remember Pigsy asking if he was okay. Tang wasn’t very sure what he replied with, but he did remember that Pigsy’s banter was much softer afterward. He likely just thought Tang was tired. It was rare that he’d be this tired after work, maybe it was worrying. He didn’t know.

He couldn’t think, his head was so, so cold.

He’d wanted to bring it up, after the first day or two or three. He couldn’t keep track. Tang had definitely tried to tell Pigsy, though, at some point. Only to hear a voice in his head, and be unable to open his lips. His throat had tightened, too, like something was choking him. The ice burned.

Don’t speak, it told him. She, she told him.

That’s absurd, he’d thought back. He speaks a lot, thank you very much, and no two-bit voice in his head was going to tell him otherwise.

And yet, it did. He could just barely open his mouth, but no sound, no air, escaped.

Slowly, he’d just slurped more noodles, watching Pigsy’s back as he cooked. After a moment, once the thought to tell Pigsy had passed, so did his throat’s constriction. Tang was too dazed to try it again.

In hindsight, he should have. If only he’d kept pushing more, fought more, then maybe he would have gotten Pigsy’s attention before it was too late.

He’d been sleeping on the couch for the past few days, another idea that had settled in his head and he was too tired to fight against. His brain felt sluggish, as if trying to move through a storm, trudging ever forward against a wind that threatened to topple him. There was something warm wrapped around his back, glowing gold just out of the corner of his eye when he wasn’t paying attention, though Tang wasn’t sure what that was. He didn’t know enough about this soul magic to be able to identify it. Where would he have learned?

MK would probably know what was going on. He tried to tell MK, too, tried to signal that something was happening. He couldn’t remember if this was before or after he’d tried to tell Pigsy, but the same thing had happened. Tang’s throat had closed up and he’d been directed to eat once again. He had no choice other than to oblige.

His body wasn’t connected to him. It belonged to that voice he’d heard whisper to him. It was the young girl’s voice, at the library, but come now. Tang knew she wasn’t a random person. Perhaps she’d looked for him.

Perhaps she knew MK and was using Tang. It was morbid, but he would make a pretty good meat shield.

The first time that thought crossed his mind, he’d heard her laugh, a soft chuckle that was all too foreboding, and he’d known exactly what her plan was. It was before the cold set in fully, before his hands numbed beyond his recognition. He still had some control. But it was all too weak. His hands shook, so he hid them in his own sleeves, holding each other for warmth and because doing anything else would get her to hold him down.

Over time, it did feel more physical. He couldn’t move his body, not when he wanted to move it, but he could feel things being done to him. Felt Pigsy pat his back sympathetically when he’d explained that he was coming down with a cold, didn’t want to get him sick, too, so he’d sleep on the sofa.

She never introduced herself, not truly, but after long enough, Tang recognized her from legend. If it fed her ego, she didn’t acknowledge. But it was good to know who he was imprisoned by.

He felt phantom feelings, if that was even a possible thing. In his mind’s eye, when he wasn’t focused, he could see white shackles on his wrists. A glowing blue crack over his chest. But as soon as Tang tried to focus on what he was seeing, it would disappear.

Moderate Hypothermia Shivering will cease, though it will be replaced with increased mental confusion, slurred speech, and loss of fine motor skills. Confusion will include amnesia and slowed thought process.

“Hey,” Pigsy’s voice rattles him, gruff and angrier than he’d ever heard.

Tang feels his head lift. Now that he wasn’t actively fighting back at all times, he’d been allowed to feel his body’s movements. It was like the cold had solidified. Attempting to move his limps was impossible, but he could see his own body move, see his hand reach up to hold the underside of his own chin in a casual manner.

It was tiring. He wanted to doze off, but everyone knows sleeping in a snow storm spells death.

“Hey yourself,” he can hear himself speak, too, which was something he’d found he couldn’t do anymore.

“Who are you.”

The sentence hits Tang rough, the venom in Pigsy’s voice dripping, covered in anger, maybe even hurt. It was enough of a rattle to catch his attention, give him something to focus on.

Fiery anger. He cups the warmth and tries to focus.

His face shifts, eyebrow quirking up in an unimpressed, surprised look that he wasn’t making himself. He knew he couldn’t, this wasn’t his body anymore. Tang was just trapped, watching someone else, this demon, Lady Bone Demon, lift his limbs and walk him around.

It made him feel hopeful, almost grateful, that Pigsy had recognized the difference. A twinge of cold struck him over the reminder that he was a week late, maybe even longer, but, still, he was so thankful that someone noticed. And it warmed his heart ever so slightly to think that it was Pigsy who did.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tang’s voice says.

“You know damn well,” Pigsy growls back, and it was foolish of him to doubt Pigsy, to worry that he wouldn’t be able to help, to worry that it would be too late. “What’d you do to Tang and who the fuck are you.”

His head tilts again. “Well, aren’t you sharper than you used to be.”

Used to be? Tang doesn’t understand what the Lady Bone Demon is saying, but he knows it rattles Pigsy, because his eyes widen. His arms, which had been crossed at the confrontation, slowly lower. He’s scared.

Why would Pigsy be scared? Does he know this demon? How would he? Tang is confused by this reaction, watching with mounting anxiety. If his heart could race, he knew it would be racing right now.

Pigsy could get help from MK, and if he couldn’t help, then MK could get the Monkey King. There were multiple avenues to get help here.

“What’s wrong, Bajie. You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” are the words that Tang hears himself say, and they surprise him most of all.

Tang recognized Lady Bone Demon, after some time. He’d known what she was, where her origins lay in the stories he’d been told, thrived in, repeated himself. He wasn’t ignorant of her. So he knew this was quite the situation. He didn’t know exactly what she was doing with him but, given her antagonistic relationship to the Monkey King, Tang could make some assumptions. Probably some way to watch MK. Maybe watch the Monkey King himself.

Never in his fucking life did he expect Pigsy to get called Bajie.

As in, Zhu Bajie? Pigsy was that Bajie? There was surely no way.

Until Pigsy flinched, answered to a name that Tang only knew from legends. Snapped back at her in acknowledgement of the name.

What the fuck do you mean he was in a complicated relationship with Zhu Bajie.

She laughs, with his mouth, his voice, and Tang doesn’t know if she’s laughing at him or at the panic in Pigsy’s (Bajie? That’s fucking Bajie?) face. How convoluted.

Tang is kept warm with the tangled threads of confusion over these new revelations, which is probably to her benefit. She continues to use his mouth to talk to Pigsy, Bajie, apparently, and he turns inward. A slight cloak of warmth keeps his consciousness guarded, and at least his troubled confusion was something he could think about, rather than the gnawing cold.

How had he never noticed? It made more sense that Pigsy wouldn’t tell, he probably had things to preserve and to hide, if it were true. But how had something that large just….slipped past him? He should have noticed. He’d studied the journey’s legends front and back, hell, he’d recited so many of the stories to MK from pure memory. And yet he’d spent the past few years sharing a bed with one of the heroes from his stories.

That was something that Tang could focus on, at least. He wasn’t very interesting to the demon wearing his body, and thus she didn’t humor him with her attention. It turned out to be something almost in his favor, given how his mind had been completely detached from his body, watching and listening and feeling things but never being able to act upon them. Better than to have her focus, lest she turn his anger onto him.

It was nice to have something to think about that wasn’t the revulsion of watching himself as if in a dream, unable to do anything himself. In his mind’s eye, he had no limbs, nothing to move, nothing to do. He did his best to be unassuming to her.

At least thinking back on every interaction he’d ever had with Pigsy was giving his brain something to focus on. Maybe too much.

Remembering and living in memory gave him a good distraction from seeing how she was using his body to treat Pigsy, too. Whenever he was cognizant of it, Tang would notice what he was saying, the sharpness of her words. She’d purred, once, that the human body could only go so long without eating, and in that moment he’d felt the visceral hunger of his body.

He’d forgotten how long he’d been kept out, and he didn’t know how long it had been since he’d eaten. Had water. Even slept. He, in his mind, was sleeping. All the time, actually. But when he became cognizant of it, focusing on how his body felt, he realized exactly how exhausted he was. She was wearing him into the ground.

It was also probably beneficial for her, to have him distance himself from the pain of existing in his body. He could do nothing other than feel how it felt to be in his body, and Tang didn’t want to exist just for him to feel how painful it was to be starved, cold, dehydrated, and exhausted.

In a small act of rebellion, though, he paid attention to when Pigsy would care for him. Pigsy sets out a bowl of noodles, glare stifled by MK and Mei’s presence, posture stiff with unforgiving, unrelenting anger. And Tang’s body leans over the noodles in a quick, lurching motion. Because he is hungry. And the food is familiar. Is warm. There’s nothing like his favorite noodles when he hasn’t eaten. She’s silent for once as she picks up the chopsticks with his fingers.

Tang doesn’t know if he made the motion or if she did, to be honest. He is hungry and he craves the food set before him, but he isn’t a fool to think that he would be allowed to move.

While Tang eats, or, rather, she eats with his body, Tang is acutely aware of how Pigsy watches. There’s something in his gaze, as if he’s unsure of something, trying to correlate the action to the person he knows is there. Tang knows he’s smart. He trusts Pigsy with his entire life. If anyone can tell who makes the motion, it must be Pigsy, even if Tang himself doesn’t know.

Maybe that’s her plan. Maybe it’s beneficial, for her, to have Pigsy on the edge of his seat, recognizing Tang as trapped in his own body. It’s the hope of him still existing.

Maybe it’s cruel, to want to signal to Pigsy that he is, indeed, doing his best to exist. But he wants to. He needs Pigsy to know he’s trying to stay conscious. He hasn’t given up. He won’t. He’s fighting a losing battle, but he won’t.

He wonders if his body could live if not maintained, inhabited by a demon. He would very much like to not know if that was possible.

Tang doesn’t know if he makes sense, even to himself. His brain feels so fast and so slow. His thoughts race into each other and create nothing. At the very least, it keeps him awake and alert, but it does nothing to help his circumstances. He doesn’t know if it’s possible for him to do anything.

It’s impossible for him to do anything, she warns him. Her voice is cold, frost growing at the tips of his ears. His body feels like a snowglobe. Trapped and on display and invisible, all at the same time.

You’re never getting out, she whispers to him. He tries not to believe her.

Severe Hypothermia Respiratory and heart rates will continue to decrease. Patient’s skin will be cold and inflamed, and mental confusion delves into hallucinations and increased combative state. The body tricks itself into thinking the cold has given way to warmth.

Days. Weeks. Maybe a month, even. Multiple months. A year?

Tang doesn’t have a method to keep track of time.

He sees his body age in the mirror every morning, but he doesn’t know if it’s the passage of time or exhaustion. She plucks a hair from his head, turning it over on close inspection, and he sees that it’s white. A white hair.

Is he just growing old, or is he cold?

The Lady scoffs, tossing it into the bin, and he watches her turn around from the mirror. Then, he reminds himself that he cannot allow himself to leave his perspective. He has to keep track of what she does with his body through his own eyes. It’s a little difficult. She must have gotten rid of his glasses because everything is just slightly out of focus, too far away.

Pigsy keeps him alive. Tang doesn’t know if he should be calling him Bajie or Pigsy and it’s not like he’s going to ever get the chance to ask, so in his mind, he calls him Pigsy. That’s the name that slot comfortably into his mind, which conjures a figure of the familiar, like a hearth. He holds the thoughts and tries so hard not to let go.

It’s still hard to follow what happens. His consciousness does waver, blinking in and out like a dying light. He rallies against the cold, tries to tug at whatever it is in the corners of his eyes that glow with warmth, keep him the barest alive.

He knows she’s cruel to Pigsy, in his body. She sleeps in the same bed as him, holds him at night, gives him a kiss on the forehead in the morning. Tang wishes he could be as mad about this as he should be, but he can’t bring himself to feel moth other than tired. He wishes he could feel what it would be like to hold Pigsy like that. She’d long stopped letting him experience the outside world at all, even the edges of his vision blurred with the loss of his glasses and the cold burning his senses.

She tells Pigsy, one day, that Tang loved him. That it was a shame he never worked up the courage to tell him. Won’t get the chance, anymore.

Tang doesn’t catch his reaction, but he hopes Pigsy knows that he still does love him. There’s little left of him but he does.

The demon attacks keep happening, he keeps following MK with Pigsy. Sometimes Tang is cognizant of the damage and the barrage of violence. Other times, he keeps drifting, trying to stay alert while everything grows numb. His motivation and energy pulsates, though he can feel it growing weaker.

Something keeps him from fading completely, a warm buzz of strength at his more dire times that reminds him he has so many reasons to keep focused, keep alert.

He catches MK’s expression once. He doesn’t remember the context, or why, but his eyes were glowing. The Monkey King had taught him that, once. It allowed MK to see through the surrounding world, could see the souls of the people around them.

He sees me, she confessed to Tang. Much less a confession, actually, and much more a statement of truth. Maybe even haughty. Proud.

The jig was up, then. It had to be. Another pang of hope through his chest, just like when Pigsy had noticed.

Hope is warm enough to coat himself in, but it doesn’t stop the temporal dissonance, and Tang tries to focus once more. He’s seated at the bar of Pigsy’s Noodles, as he always is. MK is nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps MK noticing was only a dream. He’s been doing that, thinking up scenarios that had never happened. There was little else to do to keep his focus, because if he saw too much through his own eyes, he would grow sick of himself.

She liked to see his disgust at what she’d made his hands do, covered in blood every so often. He could have killed. She could have killed, with his body. He couldn’t remember if that was true, too, or just another hallucination. Another thing his brain thought up to try and keep him alert, as fake as it was.

Tang assumed this was another day. Just another day, easy enough to drift off once more. Conserve his energy. Keep trying to stay present. Or conserve his energy. A difficult decision, really, but the only one he’s had to make over and over.

Until a hand, a clawed paw, grabs his shoulder and whips him around. Tang’s body is yanked up and forced back. He hears a snarl of anger from his assailant, sharper than most sounds he’s heard lately, and in a visceral moment Tang realizes that he’s been pushed into the forefront once more.

For the first time in a long, long while, Tang feels the sharp slam too forcefully against the countertop. His mind screams out in shock, surprise as the tremor and pain at the motion. She hadn’t let him feel in so long that it might have been a mercy, to feel something so human as pain.

Outwardly, he can only feel his face fall into a smirk as she stares down at the Monkey King.

“Get out. Now,” the Monkey King’s voice is dark, threatening, teeth bared.

“Or? You’ll kill me?” Tang hates how confident the Lady sounds in his voice, like she were meant to wear it. “You’re welcome to try.”

It sounds distant from his own. Is that always how his voice has sounded?

“But you’ll have to get through my host first.” She keeps talking with his voice and the more Tang hears, the more he doesn’t recognize it. “And I don’t think your brother and his kid will be happy with that.”

She lifted his arms behind his head, casually leaning against the wall besides the counter. He wonders if it’s a natural pose with his body. It doesn’t feel natural to him, now that he’s feeling it. His shoulders feel stiff. Everything feels stiff, actually.

Everything feels cold, too. Why is he so cold?

The Monkey King glares, but the expression dulls, fades over the span of a few seconds. He looks shaken, even.

He knows what you are, now, she tells Tang.

Tang doesn’t even know what he is. She laughs at that. In his mind, of course. Right? Tang doesn’t know if he hears the laughter aloud.

Golden warmth wraps his shoulders again, careful and gentle, and he drifts away once again. He wonders if this is the first time his disciple has failed him. Curious, too, is the thought. Since when was the Monkey King his disciple?

Death to Hypothermia Bodily functions continue to slow until patient loses consciousness and, eventually, life.

The knife pressed against his neck was almost warm. It was warmer than anything else Tang had felt in a while.

He couldn’t remember what it was like to breathe. To be awake, himself. All of the days blurred together, distant from his own person as he watched the world move around him, body being puppeteered by his lady.

She liked that. It was deferring in leadership, the acknowledgement that Tang wasn’t in control. Was it giving up?

“Let’s not do anything hasty,” she says to the crowd.

Tang slips back, the frosty snow storm covering his view.

The knife against his neck is so warm, almost warmer than the wings draped around his back, golden glow the only color against the frozen backdrop of his mind. He hadn’t seen them up close, still just out of the corner of his own vision, but she had proudly chided him enough times that Tang knew what they were. What he was.

The Monkey King is scared, her voice purrs to him. I have you.

I have you now.

#fic #my shitty fic #my shitty writing #i forgot which one is the tag lmaooooooo #bad ending #i dont wanna put it in the tags lmaooooo #i hope u enjoy it #i didn't wanna overwrite ur plot #so i didn't do plot stuff #i just explored what it might be like to #you know #be frozen in your own head #love uuuuuu happy birth ur old now

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zeldasayer · 4 years ago

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Futile Devices — Chapter 5

A Javier Peña/Call Me By Your Name AU

gif by @pascalplease

Javier Peña x Reader

Summary: Everything has changed since your father’s book with Javier was rejected, just as you and Javier were getting close.

Warnings: SMUT — age gap (reader is of age), inexperienced!reader themes, gagging, praise (use of “little girl”), vocal Javi, squirting. Angst. 18+

Masterlist | Chapter 4

——

Vita Murphy was born on April 9th 1963 in Milan, Italy to American architects Connie and Steve Murphy, who met your mother by chance one afternoon at a market in town. Taking a liking to Connie, Daisy invited her and her husband to one of their legendary parties. Your mother and father loved to entertain and invite interesting people into their home for cocktails and Daisy's delicious cooking. Your parents celebrated every holiday, birthday, or life event they could think of, any excuse to dress up, string lights through the fruit trees in the back yard and drink in excess to your father's extensive record collection. As a child, you missed most of the parties, having been put to bed just as they were taking off, but when Connie and Steve arrived to your mother's 35th birthday after meeting in the market, and saw you sitting alone at your piano, Connie knew that next time she would bring her daughter.

Even at 13 you felt the pull that Vita had. You watched as she floated around your home, seeming even more comfortable in it than you were, stealing sips of wine and hors d'oeuvres before noticing you and asking if you had ever had your tarot cards read.

"It's my favourite game." You spat out nervously unaware.

Vita just smiled with a nod, "Yeah. Mine, too."

And from then on, you were inseparable.

"She didn't cry, she sang!" Connie always said about her daughter's birth. "It was the happiest day of my life."

Made in her mother's stunning image, Vita had the most incredible large eyes and long blonde hair she cut only once a year. Connie knew at a young age that her daughter was special, as a believer in the universe and the infinite lives a person could have, she knew her daughter was an old soul put on Earth to love and protect the new souls, the tired souls, those who were born somewhere and didn't know why they were born there. She knew it would be quite the burden for one girl, but she saw it quickly in her daughter that it was what she was meant to do. A healer, a listener, someone who understood what many feared no one ever could. Vita attracted those who needed her, and in that, unfortunately led to a large turnover in friendships. Vita was used to strong, short bursts of complete female unity, where she loved you undyingly and provided the support that you needed to pass through a difficult period of your life. But not with you, there was no passing through with you. Not even during your extended stays in the United States or even now that you are gone most of the year in college, could your friendship be weakened.

"It's because you were siblings!" Connie exclaimed in a tipsy state on a summer night long ago. "In another life."

"Do you think?" Vita asked, turning to you.

You believed in Vita and her mother's cosmic knowing, and relied on it more than you were willing to admit. "Of course."

"You were brother and sister." Connie said before taking a sip of her wine, and going quiet.

She always goes quiet — one moment she will tell you how your whole life is going to be and the next, just as she's about to get into the details, she switches off without any explanation, claiming she "doesn't really know this stuff, anyway."

It always makes Vita roll her eyes, because she knows that's not the case for she is just like her mother. Vita saw everything and found people she couldn't read extremely frustrating. Vita has this otherworldly understanding of people and a patience unmatched by anyone you have ever met. She knows how devastating it can be to be seen, but how crucial in life it is to not only be understood, but accepted. Vita also knew how often you spent up in your head, in your make believe world where nothing could hurt you. How your lust for life was so consuming it left you unable to move, too afraid to start because it always felt like you were doing it on your own. Your best friend once told you with tears in her eyes that she wished she knew what planet you were from so you would have the peace of mind that you weren’t completely alone, and you thanked her because sometimes that is enough.

Vita is the human embodiment of home.

So why can't you tell her what is going on? Why does your throat close up every time you want to talk about Javier in any capacity? Why does your throat close up when you think about Javier at all? A part of you wants to run barefoot straight to Vita’s house and up to her room, beg her to help you understand your own emotions. Why are you so enamored by a man who always makes it so hard to breathe? How he manages to make you so hyper aware of your movements, yet he isn't even looking at you. How he's never there when you want him but you would drop everything to be close to him once more. You would drop everything just to be what he wanted again and it makes you sick to your stomach. It's like watching yourself at 15 all over again, when you believed the most important thing you could be was desired. Hell is the mind of a fifteen year old girl, and you thought those days were gone forever.

The tension in the house doesn't make it any easier. You and Daisy tiptoeing around your father and house guest. The quiet meals, that used to be your favourite parts of the day now leave you cold even in the relentless summer sun. You spend most of the time, sitting across from Javier, staring at him. Waiting for him to look at you so you can ask him what's wrong with your eyes. To let him know that he can come to you, that you want him to. But he never does.

Christian and Javier lock themselves away in the library most days and your mother tells you they still haven't come up with anything new. You're startled every night when you're woken by their raised voices traveling through the halls and you hold your breath until you hear their roaring laughter and you know they must be drunk.

You don't see Javier much these days, but you don't see anyone for that matter. Resorting to lazy floats in the pool by yourself or reading alone in the cool living room to escape the heat. It feels as though, if you can't be around Javier you can’t be around anyone at all and sometimes you can make that make sense but most of the time you ignore the irritating notion that you may really be going crazy.

But what was supposed to happen? Javier would fuck you and realize right then and there he couldn’t live without you? It’s so embarrassing because it’s true. You can't talk to Vita because you're embarrassed to admit you wanted to be more and tonight after another lonely dinner where you might as well have been eating alone — you dumped your dishes in the sink and slipped out to the back gardens for your abandoned childhood swing set. And you finally cried.

“Fuck!” You scream up at the sky and you kick your legs back.

As you create your momentum, swinging back and forth you can’t help but succumb to your own erratic emotions and you wonder why it has to be this way. Why can’t you just be happy with what you have? Why must you always need more? Why is it so goddamn exhausting to keep yourself neutral? You’ve never felt sad, only despair. Never angry, only full of rage. You’ve never been embarrassed, you only know humiliation. And you hate to think this way because you always search for your brain for a time you were truly happy, but you always come up empty.

Something is always missing. Something is always missing and you’re always alone but you can’t even be upset because you do it to yourself.

It feels like you’re taking the world on by yourself simply because you are. Because you feel like you need to, this is your burden and yours only. You must suffer to be rewarded for one day you will be able to walk in the sun and be alright.

But to what end? When will you be rewarded?

You want it to be Javier. Just being close to him feels like the reward. The energy you feel just sitting next to him, those eyes you want to swim in, the perfect angle of his nose and the voice that drips from his lips. It must be him, but he won’t even talk to you.

You spend the evening locked in this thought, the concept of the reward — you can convince yourself it isn't real but your heart aches for it knows it is the truth. Which is why Javier is so difficult. He is the one and it makes you dizzy with excitement, but you’re not sure if you can trust it. There is this pull of doubt at the corners of every thought because he still doesn’t know you. Though he could. If he just said the word, you’d spill every story, every thought, every idea you’ve ever had. How you long for more. More life. More love. More sex. More understanding. To truly be alive, not just living. Who could understand that better then him?

——

You like the way the cold ground feels under your bare feet as you walk back up to the house in the darkness. You feel lighter, now that you’ve cried and the house that sits quiet and empty is suddenly comforting. This is your life, your home. Javier is just a tourist and he should be so lucky to exist in the same space as you. But maybe this is you just channeling arrogance as to not be so sad, focusing on what he’s missing instead of your desperate need for him to actually see it.

“Claude?” You hear from the living room at the first creak of the wooden stairs.

You tiptoe through the corridor and into the living room to find Javier taming his fluffy hair with a yawn. Your jaw tightens.

“I’ve been waiting for you. I fell asleep.” He says and you just stand there, crossing your arms over your light blue summer dress. “Can you come sit?”

Shit.

“I don’t know Javi, I’m tired.” You shrug.

“Look, I just want to apologize.” He says, standing up and turning toward you, “We had sex and I haven’t spoken to you since and that’s fucked up. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widen, but he doesn’t see because he looks down like he’s ashamed. You believe him. Gliding across the living room, you watch him in his usual ensemble — tight black t-shirt, soft cotton pants and his thick black framed glasses, and sit back down with him, on your side.

“It’s just everything with this book, I’ve never felt this kind of anxiety.” He says, his eyes cast down, resting his head on his fist propped up by the top of the couch.

You nod for you understand, but it hurt. “You didn’t even look at me this week.”

“I know.” He sighs, “I know, but I really am sorry. Please believe me when I say I’ve missed you.”

You look up at him, biting your cheek to contain your excitement.

“I miss you even while we live in the same house.” He says, looking away. His hand fidgets against his knee. “If you’re not at breakfast, or you spend your day here, reading in the living— I miss you when you aren’t around me.”

You wish there was a way to burn these words into your brain so you could have them at any time, to hear his voice say these things to you. This validation that he has felt the same after these long, horrible days of practically ignoring each other.

Bringing your hand to his cheek, you turn Javier’s gaze back to you, and study him as you feel the fine hairs of his beard under your fingertips. He looks tired, even behind his glasses you can see the deep longing for rest in his eyes. You don’t think he’s used to rejection either.

Javier leans into your touch with a soft hum and you could almost lose your breath from the tenderness. You want to hold him, bury your nose in his hair and tell him to rest with you. Just laying together, his big body between your legs and head on your stomach, until the inevitable rising of the sun. You can hardly bring yourself to imagine how beautiful Javi must look by the light of the morning.

“Come here.” You whisper, though it’s barely audible, as you rise up on your knees so you are flush against his side, looking down at him. Before you kiss him, Javier kisses you, and your hand floats down from his cheek to wrap your arms around his glorious neck.

Javi wastes no time, his one big hand dragging up your spine to squeeze the back of your neck, holding your against him. And with the other, letting his thick fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass. You can feel the desperation in his skin, and you want all of it, this exquisite juxtaposition of feeling both safe in his arms but that he could also crush you with his desire.

What was life before this? Before Javier’s thick moans into your mouth, his heavy wet finger tips tracing. He takes up all the air in the room and you don’t stop him. He is everything.

You break off the kiss for a moment and remove his glasses. “I missed you too.”

“I’ve only touched you once, but I have spent every day thinking about you. Kissing you. Having you.” He says, pulling you impossibly closer to him. “It’s all I’ve wanted, every day.”

“Why didn’t you tell me.” You ask, and you can’t help the confused look on your face but Javier doesn’t respond. You search his face anyway longing for something heartfelt, like he was locked up in his head, consumed by his feelings for you, like you were. Instead, he kisses you again. Swallowing any upsetting feeling you’ve had since you’ve touched him last.

Kissing Javier is a soft pleasure all in its own, but you want more. More skin. More contact. To ache around him again. To show him how much you truly missed him.

“Let me take care of you.” You whisper, your palm trailing flat down the man’s chest. You get lower and lower, kissing along the beautiful exposed skin of his neck, dragging your hand down the soft black fabric until you reach the drawstring of Javi’s pants.

“Are you sure?” He asks, and you feel his body stiffen as he looks around.

You nod, pushing your legs out from underneath you so you’re laying flat on the couch, your face practically in his lap. “Just relax.”

Javier lets all the air escape from his chest as you pull on the pants and he lifts his hips so you can get them down his thighs.

He watches you with heavy eyes, his mouth falling open as you kiss up the underside of his length, hardening under your lips. Swirling your tongue around the tip, you rest your head on Javier’s lower abdomen lazily, feeling him grow even more in your hand as you stroke him.

“Shit..” He says through his teeth, smoothing your hair back out of your face for you.

You continue to take your time teasing him. Humming in delight as Javier can barely contain himself, thrusting up into your hand shamelessly. He keeps his eyes closed, hands in your hair and you can feel the relief radiating from him. He was desperate for touch.

“Oh, Javi.” You coo, as his head falls back on to the couch, fucking up into your hand and you swear you can hear him whimper. This feeling of power over Javier is absolutely intoxicating, to feel so disconnected from him all week then to have him almost pathetically trying to relieve himself with any bit of human contact you’ll allow him.

“Look what you do to me.” He growls. “Fucking your ha-and...”

Javier reaches around, taking his length from your delicate grasp and pushes you lightly into his pelvis.

“You’re so fucking — soft.” He grunts, tapping his throbbing head against your lips before dragging his cock along your face.

You smile, letting him. Revealing your tongue for a moment to tease him once more.

“Thought you wanted to take care of me.” He says, his voice tight and you feel his hand in the back of your hair as he continues to run his length along your face. Grinning as his grip tightens, he doesn’t hurt you, it’s just about the control.

“I do.” You moan, as Javi softly pushes and pulls your head in a rhythmic motion, just hovering over him.

“Open your mouth.” He mumbles and you do what you’re told.

Javier motions your neck down, pulling you slowly over him, taking just his head in your mouth. “Is this okay sweetheart?”

“Mhm.” You whimper around him, your thighs involuntarily rubbing together, searching for some kind of relief from the arousing pull of his voice.

“Yeah? F-Fuck your pretty mouth.” He grunts, thrusting up slowly, stretching your lips to accommodate his thickness. You close your eyes, focusing on the fullness, calming your breath to take him.

“Stay just like this.” Javier sighs, his other hand tangling into your hair to keep you in place and you hum in agreement. Then he thrusts — quickly like he’s actually fucking you and it comes as a surprise but the moan that drips from his mouth almost instantly is enough to make you squeeze your thighs tighter. You have never felt a high like this, being exactly what Javier wants.

You dig your finger nails into his thighs as he takes you, a blunt, bruising force to the back of the throat and you can’t help but gag.

“That’s a good girl.” He says, “Taking my dick in your hot fucking mouth. I love that sound.”

You gag once more and Javier pulls out to you gasping. Spit suspended from your mouth to his cock and you watch it for a moment before grinning up at Javi.

“You’re so fucking cute.” He shakes his head in disbelief, wiping the saliva from your mouth.

“I’ve never done that before.” You smile, looking down slightly embarrassed as you wonder if you were even any good.

“You keep saying that...” Javi’s voice trails off as he pulls your dress up to knead your behind. You love having his hands on you, playing with you. “But you’d never know...”

You try to suppress your satisfied smile, flattening your palms around the base of Javier’s shaft, you take him back in your mouth.

“Fuck...” he exhales long and slow, grabbing a rough handful of your ass before pushing you down on to him, taking him completely down your throat and keeps you there. Your eyes water, and your leg kicks out before he lets you breathe again, coming up for air with a cough you look up at him and he looks down at you like the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

——

Javier pulls you back up against his side, and he looks up at you as he’s slumped down into the couch. You wrap your arms back around his neck, fluttering your fingers through his hair and he nuzzles your chest, pressing his lips into your skin. You wish he was like this always, soft in your arms.

Javi hooks a finger into the top of your dress and pulls down, freeing your breasts, nipples hard in attention and he takes one in his mouth. Your cradle his head as he sucks on the buds and you let your own fall back slowly, relishing in the feeling of his tongue and his lips, the brushing of his moustache and the digging of his nose and how sweet he looks in your arms. This is too much, you’re going dizzy.

Javier helps you pull your dress over his head and his lips quickly return to your nipples. His big warm hands squeezing your bust harshly, alternating with his teeth scraping the sensitive flesh and completely pressing his face into your chest. Even as you climb into his lap, on top of him completely nude, his tongue doesn’t give up until you pull his face up to yours for a kiss.

He tastes like everything you want to drown in and it’s heady, like a force you must fight before it completely consumes you, but you don’t want to.

“Fuck.” You gasp, grinding your hips along Javi’s length, desperate for more.

“Oh, god.” He chokes, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “Are you going to fuck me this time, sweetheart?”

“Yeah..” You whine, reaching between your bodies.

“Yeah? You’re gonna bounce that wet little pussy on my dick?” His voice shakes into your neck, and it’s such a contrast from his stern “Get on your bed.” from days ago.

You nod, kissing up his jaw in this sudden codependency, his need to feel every inch of you as you both fall back into the couch.

“Relax, Javi. Let me do this for you.” You coo, sinking down on to him. You hum from the incredible stretch and Javier groans right into your ear.

“That pussy is so fucking tight.” He says, out of breath. “Don’t move.”

You obey him, stilling in his lap and Javier lifts his head from the safe space between your neck and your shoulder and he looks up at you.

“What if I just held you here like this.” He says, almost to himself, his hands coming up to your ass. “Stuffed full of my dick and I didn’t let you move.”

“Javi...” You whine.

“Would you still be my good little girl?”

“Javi...” You whine louder, your chest feeling like it’s going to collapse, Javier’s fingers digging into you and he gives you two small thrusts.

“You love being my good girl, don’t you?” Javier whispers, pushing your hair behind your shoulders.

More than anything.

“Yes.” You gasp.

“I know you do.” He says, guiding you slowly up and down. “Just sucking my dick made this pussy a dripping mess.”

“I love it.” You groan as the sound of your skin against his gets louder as you work your hips for him.

Javier looks a moment away from possession and it just fuels you, for you have him where you always want him and you want this to be the death of him.

You still again, but only for a moment to steady yourself as you get up on your feet.

“Shit..” Javier sighs, before he turns you both with your arms wrapped around him, his back now against the arm rest and his legs straight out along the couch. “There you go, baby.”

You reach behind you, finding your balance with your grip on his knees and you pull your hips up.

“Oh my fucking god.” Javier gasps, running his hand down his face and you push your hips down slowly, watching him and in this moment he is really yours.

Fighting through the burning in your arms and your legs, you give him everything you’ve got. Mewing in the pleasure of seeing him underneath you like this, needing you like this. Submitting to the grinding of your hips and the wetness that aches around him. You wish you could see yourself on top of him, your chest bouncing, skin glowing in sweat so he knows exactly what he could have, whenever he wanted it.

“Your pussy is so fucking pretty.” Javier says, his thumb dragging across your mound and down to your clit, that is begging for attention and the moment his fingertip grazes the sensitive nerve your legs clamp together. But he doesn’t stop. Even as his length falls from your body from the increased height of your hips, Javier’s hand doesn’t retreat from the soft thighs it’s wedged between. Circling your clit over and over, your arms buckle and you hold your breath. You thought you had the power but even on top of him you’re just putty in his hand and he knows exactly what to do to make you sing.

“Are you going to squirt for me again?” He rasps, his other hand pushing you down into his lap. “I want to watch this pretty little pussy squirt all over me.”

“Put it back.” You gasp, trying to force your legs open.

“Yeah, baby? Do you need my dick?” Javi teases, pushing at your thigh to open up for him again. He finally eases his dizzying pressure on your clit and holds you just above his pulsing head, slick with you. Running his tip along your folds, you try to sink down on to him, but he keeps you suspended.

“Beg me.” He demands. “You know I love the way you say my fucking name.”

“Please, Javi.” You whine, grinding your hips into nothing. “Please, I love your cock so much, give it to me.”

You push yourself up and fall forward so your hands are on his chest, “Please, Javi. Make me squirt again. Only you know how to fucking do it”

“Oh, fuck.” He groans, pushing up into you sharply despite your yelp. “Anything for my good little girl.”

Javier pulls you down, flush against his chest, still clothed against your’s nude and he wraps his arms around you. He smells like amber and fresh linens as always. Summer. A sunset. The breeze off the ocean and wine. Safe.

His grip around you tightens as you inhale him, pounding up into you as he finds your ear, and his voice is like syrup, “I’m going to take care of you sweetheart. Going to make this pussy cum. You tell me okay? I want to see it. Want to see you fucking soak me. Don’t by shy, my good little girl. Give it to me.”

“Fuck, Javi.”

“You’re so fucking incredible. Taking my big dick in this perfect little pussy. Let go, Claude. Cum for me, angel.”

You groan lewdly and Javi’s hand comes down on your mouth.

“Shh. Shh. Shh.” He warns, and you sigh into his palm. Angel.

This pace is overwhelming, and as he’s restricted your limbs there really is nothing you can do but take it, trying to keep your thighs from clamping together every time Javier brushes that incredible spot within you. Your moans getting longer, from an even deeper part of your throat every time. Your core twists and tightens as he brings you there, unlike anyone else ever has.

“Javi, now!” You exclaim, barely recognizing the screech in your voice and Javier pulls out. His lap wet with you.

“Oh that’s a good fucking girl.” He says, kissing the top of your head as you fall to his side. “That’s so fucking hot.”

Your house guest’s impressive length twitches in his hand as he strokes himself, his nose buried in your hair as you nuzzle his chest in hazy delight and he keeps whispering, “Fucking you is such a dream. You make it so hard not to just nut in that tight fucking pussy.”

You hum, lifting our head up and kissing him softly. “Cum for me.”

“Yeah?” He swallows.

“Please, Javi.” You sigh.

“Where?” He asks, stroking himself harder.

It takes all your strength, but you slip silently off the couch and on to your knees. “On my face.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He says, getting up quickly.

Javier takes your chin delicately in his hand, stroking himself with vigor with the other, and you display your tongue for him, feeling the weight of his cock on it instantly.

“Such a good girl, letting me cum on your pretty fucking face like this. I don’t deserve you. So fucking— pretty.” He groans, with everything left and in this moment you have him, again.

——

You wake in your bed, and you know it’s late because you’re hit by a wall of heat followed swiftly by disappointment when you realize you are, once again, alone. With your arm spread out at your side, you know you are going to be met with nothing but empty sheets and you still feel it at the pit of your stomach anyway.

You sit up with a sigh, back to normal you suppose. Another day of existing separately, but together with only your lost puppy sense of self and a fascination for this man to sustain you.

Then you see him. Javier leaning up against your balcony door with his coffee, wearing only his pyjama bottoms. He hears you stirring and looks back with a smile, “Good morning.”

——

Tags: @pascalisperfect @thefinalgurl @we-are-like-a-timebomb @ssppoorrkk @headsindreams @kehrite @nerdyknightwritersblog @tangledlove27 @chipotle-pour-moi @jokersdoll @zea-is-amazing @someplace-darker @kaylaylaylayla @spacenerdsebby @forever-rogue @fionnthebandersnacc @colourmeinblue @longitud-de-onda @dogsinspace @spitmillk @staellula @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons @leo-moon @mandoandyodito @bonkybaaarnes @sadthotsonlylove @ah-callie @astrolo-galaxy @lockedoutofmyotherblog @hayley-the-comet @boybalm @casjason @mrsparknuts @blushingwueen @ignimbritetcax @benakenalove @fioccodineveautunnale @exrebelshocktrooper @pascalisthepunkest @sav-a-nna @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @solarwars @cumberbitching @rae-gar-targaryen @tabalugax @lokiaddicted @roxypeanut @ezraslittlebirdie @thisainttheway @none-of-your-bullshit @mand0-l0rian @assaultsofthought

Love, Zelda

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #javier pena #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #au #call me by your name #cmbyn fic #cmbyn aesthetic #narcos

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myelocin · 4 years ago

Text

a house, turned to a home | kenma k.

synopsis: pondering about the potential joys in the what ifs of life. you, him, a ring, and some groceries in a cart that you know by heart. a crib, some nightlights, and the image of a house that was built for the purpose of it becoming a home.

characters: kozume kenma, you, +mentions of a babie lmao

genre: fluff, slice of life, domestic!au, parenting!au

wc: 1400+

a/n: i did NOT know i accidentally deleted this but ksdjfh,,, also hi @haiikyuuns

kozume kenma had never been a fan of the unpredictable.

not exactly the little details in life he knows he can overcome with strategy, but rather the one-sided unpredictability. the surprise parties kuroo always threw him years back, his parents giving him the shifty eyes when christmas rolled around and a box looking awfully like the gaming system he’d been eyeing wrapped under the christmas tree with his name written in his mother’s familiar handwriting.

the sentiment, of course, had always been received with gratitude from his end.

but he liked life like this. he liked how his day was planned from start to finish—not in the intricate details of the schedule you have on your planner, but a little more like the bullet points on the sticky notes he keeps posted on the corner of his pc.

a schedule like he knew point a, then b, until he eventually hit z, but reading the little notes under it wasn’t really a necessity. because after all, kenma still did appreciate the little serendipities that came with the unknown.

like now; instead of settling in bed and catching up on the sleep he knows the both of you desperately are needing, you’re at the twenty four hour supermarket pushing an empty cart through the empty aisles by the produce section. kenma says it’s because he was bored, and you looked to be having the same dilemma as him.

partly, you think, it’s true, but really you just like grocery shopping with him.

you know the pantry as well as the refrigerator back home is well stocked, but watching kenma stand in front of the cereal aisle has a familiar warmth settling in your chest. you already know what he’s going to pick; always going for either the lucky charms or cinnamon toast crunch, but always picking the box behind the one pushed to the front because he claims that it was less manhandled.

he always says it too with a grumbled sort of whisper, so you laugh every time he puts it in the cart and shoves his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

and much like you, kenma likes these unofficial sort of dates as well. he likes the fact that whether he walks in front, beside, or trails behind you who pushes the cart, you always slow your pace and turn to look at him with the same kind of smile always so constant in your face. the kind of smile that reassures him every damn time that he’s loved.

love, like the feeling that wasn’t wasn’t quite foreign nor familiar to him over the years. he knows his parents love him, his friends, that cat he always left food out for in the neighborhood—himself towards his passions.

but with you, love was trickling.

like getting in the shower and feeling the water slowly trickle on the top of your head and pool there momentarily before it cascades down your body and engulfs you as if it were a waterfall. you had always been the steady presence in his life that he never knew he craved for this much. and unlike the other times—this time,with you, he was never terrified.

there never came an instance where he was afraid of the drop that was the inevitable on the other side of the high he was riding. he knew heartbreak could truly be as present as the love that has his body succumbing to the will of the universe in seconds but it doesn’t terrify him.

he knew that neither of you were fragile like that.

but as he passes through another aisle: where the baby food, wet wipes, and cribs looked like it would fit right in inside that empty room of the house the two of you just bought—kenma bites his lip. his fingers fidget a little inside the pocket of his hoodie—something you can clearly see, so you smile, a soft kind of smile you know you reserve just for him and push the cart a little forward so you’re standing shoulder to shoulder and staring at aisle 12.

“what are you thinking of?” you ask.

you keep your eyes trained on the box of lucky charms in the corner of the cart, next to the carton of eggs that’s surrounded by a few packets of the brand of marshmallows you’ve been liking a lot more lately. you feel his shoulder jump, not really much of a flinch, before you hear him chuckle lightly and explain that he’s just thinking of nothing much.

you smile again; you know him more than he gives you credit for.

“wanna look around?” you ask.

kenma’s already chuckling because he sees you take two steps forward towards the aisle before you could even wait for his answer.

having kids, he thinks probably is something that’s in the schedule. he thinks that it’s most likely written in a planner, though, and not in one of the sticky notes he scribbles a rough draft of his day on.

because raising kids is a lot, kenma comes to realize. truth be told, the two of you had no problem in the financial aspect of raising your children, but at the same time he knew that it was just so much deeper than numbers on a checking account, or a zero balance on his children’s tuition account.

he chuckles because the thoughts are already beginning to consume him before he even has a chance to sit down with you and talk about having children of your own.

“ken,” you call. “look.”

when he turns to face you, he’s smiling. you’re pointing towards the animal shaped nightlights on display beside the crib, your face lit up in a way he’s never seen before. personally, he thinks the lights would look in place next to the crib he saw just a few steps before in that empty room he keeps thinking about.

suddenly, he sees you, glowing and ethereal in the middle of a room, a bundle in your hands and a finger by your lips as if to tell him to hush, because a baby’s sleeping. something catches in his throat as his eyes widen in the smallest fraction. a few moments pass, and as he’s still listening to you speak about which light would look good with which other one, kenma realizes that he could get used to this.

used to coming here, in this aisle more often—maybe not when it’s at this hour of the night—talking over which furniture would look the best with whatever’s already bought and set up in the room. he doesn’t really like building the do-it-yourself cribs, but he can see himself sitting in the middle of the floor and assembling the pieces anyway.

something in his chest blooms, and when you look at him with the glint in your eye looking so much like his, kenma has his breath stolen just like that.

this, he thinks to himself, was definitely not in the sticky notes. this was definitely something that belonged to a well thought out and properly detailed planner.

“do you wanna try?” is the question he hears you ask though, and even though the background music that comes across the intercoms of the grocery store is still playing low, he hears your voice and the message it carries clear as day.

you’re smiling at him in a way that’s so sure, and so filled with love that kenma just knows this isn’t a question you’re pulling out of thin air. you’ve always been the one to hold on to the longer planner after all, so when you said that you were ready, he knew that deep down he has been too.

love, like it trickles—truly. because in a second he’s walking down the aisles and putting his usual box of cereal in the cart, and in the next—it’s this. it’s where the truth he knows he’s carried for a while is finally being laid out in the open for him to face.

and it looks beautiful, kenma thinks.

truly as beautiful as the look on your face as he relaxes his shoulders and says, “we did buy a house with extra rooms in it for a reason, right?”

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blueprint-han · 4 years ago

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at eleven night, find me ↠ hjs.

genre: sorta platonic au? ; fluff, just petting Jisung’s head as he falls asleep on your lap 🥺

⇥ warnings: none at all.

wc: 1.3 K 🤡 (sighs why am I like this)

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not aim to represent the activities of the real Han Jisung, nor does it represent JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

type: drabble

network tag: @stayverse @districtninewriters @inkidz

part of: the url drabble game; requested by @sleepylixie (requests for this are closed now!)

↯ note: okay so fair warning, I wrote this in 2 hours at midnight whilst I was sleep deprived, so if it’s bad that’s why. :(( Hops you like it though, and I’m willing to redo it if you didn’t <33 🥺😔🥀 ⇥ dawn.☀️

The annoying rooster that popped out of your antique clock did it’s usual routine at 11 pm, though it was surprising of you to anticipate the loud shrill of the bell when it did so. You weren’t even sleepy, just on edge with wanting to meet your friend after a long time.

You’d admittedly missed Han Jisung, your best friend a lot. His presence every evening beside you, his cute pouty eyes and the way he’d fill his cheeks with food, making him look like the sweetest, cutest squirrel. He wouldn’t let anyone touch his cheeks, but he’d make an exception for you, especially because he’d secretly love it when you’d cup his cheeks and swoon over how adorably red he’d turn when he was shy.

There was no wrong happening that kept the both of you separated this week, just that you were busy with your thesis and he was busy with his music assignments; and overall the week had reduced you to a tired, grubby state. You so desperately wished to just let go, relax and have a fun time — and it was going to happen soon enough, you figured. Han Jisung had every which way of making you laugh, even if he did basically nothing.

How did you meet? It wasn’t a very special entrance, you just found that he sat alone at lunch, decided to approach him, talked to him for two days and viola, best friends. It sounded too good to be true on paper, but something about Jisung just… clicked. You shared mostly the same interests, and even if you didn’t, neither of you were unwilling to try new things. It was one hell of a wild experience to be with Jisung. Or Sungie, as you called him.

The lighting of your room was practically dim — owing to the “cozy” effect you were trying to create. Warm light splayed through the lamp placed on the wooden table — an antique one again, because you were a huge fanatic of antiques. The air smelled oddly of cinnamon and apple pie. Everything was just perfect — now you just needed one person to step through that door.

“Y/N!”

And almost like it was fate, a heavy weight threw itself on your back, scaring the shit out of your senses as you shrieked loudly.

“Agh!... Wha- Jisung!”

You slapped his arm, causing him to recoil in shock as he rubbed the area, a pout on his lips. “What?”

“Couldn’t you’ve rung the doorbell?”

“Couldn’t you’ve remembered to lock the door?” Jisung said, walking around the couch to plop down beside you. He’d changed his hair color, gone from a dirty ash blond to a jet black that complimented his skin tone more according to your preference. You’d had no time to keep up with yourself, let alone Jisung, so you figured you’d missed quite a lot of stuff.

His eyes still sparkled the same way, but his eyebags had gotten more prominent, and he seemed dull, like he’d missed out on days of sleep. Which you were sure he did. His hair fell over his eyes, however, masking how tired he truly was, but you could see through the mask very, very clearly. You also took a moment to admire how pretty he was, because admittedly, Han Jisung was drop dead gorgeous.

You succumbed to the temptation of running your fingers through his hair, strands soft on your skin as Jisung yawned at the action, the sound oh-so-pure and delicate. Tucking them behind his ears, you splayed a gentle smile on your lips as you watched Jisung take your hand in his.

“How was your week, love?” Jisung asked, leaning into the backrest of the couch as his eyes were close to fluttering shut, more because of the way you were running a thumb across the back of his hand.

“It was okay, I guess.” You shrugged, reaching for the glass of water that was on the center table, relief running through you when the cool water rushed through your throat. You didn’t even know you were dehydrated, figuring that you were most likely distracted from Jisung’s arrival. “You look sleepy.” You pointed out as a matter of fact, noticing the way Jisung’s eyes were barely peeking out over his heavy, drooping eyelids.

“Yeah, I had to stay over at the studio a bunch of times so I’m sleep deprived, you could say.” His voice was raspy as sleep threatened to consume him when you reached out, lacing your hand through his hair again. You weren’t quite sleepy yourself, because you tended to be more of the night owl. Jisung looked absolutely ethereal in this lighting, honey caramel skin almost glowing in the faint light, accentuating his features.

It was always a common habit for you to run your hands through his hair and vice versa. You never remembered who picked up the habit, or when you picked it up, but it soon became an addiction to have Jisung’s fingers massaging your scalp slightly. And it was the same for him.

“Hey,” You slid a hand underneath his head, his warm cheek resting against your palm as Jisung opened his eyes only lightly to look up at you. “You’re gonna end up with a sprain if you fall asleep here.”

“But I haven’t talked to you in so long…” He murmured, nuzzling into your touch as he yawned yet again, and your heart fluttered in your chest. In all honesty, you didn’t know if your feelings for Jisung diverged from platonic affection, or if it was just your mind, and honestly, you didn’t really care either.

All you knew was that Jisung was here, you were here, in this moment, together. That was all, and that was enough.

The boy was taken aback for two seconds when you silently pulled him down, letting him rest his head on your lap before he got an idea of what you were implying. Throwing his legs on the couch Jisung snuggled into a warm, comfortable position. One of your hands tangled into his tresses again, while the other one was intertwined with Jisung’s slender, shorter fingers.

“Mmh,” He hummed in content, placing a soft kiss onto your thigh which led you to shiver. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby.” You immediately replied, not an inch of hesitation in your voice.

“Tell me about your week then, love.” Jisung murmured, and you chuckled. Anyone could see how far drifted into sleep he already was, and honestly, a part of you loved how adorable he got when he was sleepy. Sleepy Jisung was more clingy, more whiny, and made your heart swell so much faster — it was almost unreal. He was just plain adorable.

You were tempted to ask him if he’d even stay up to hear the whole story, but nevertheless, you began reciting your hectic week, filled with all the fun memories, the stressful ones, the sad ones, all of them. At times you raised your voice, which jerked Jisung awake, but he’d just hum in content before falling back asleep, which would in turn only make you coo over how cute he was.

Jisung couldn’t help it either, your hands in his hair and your soft hand engulfing his own was admittedly too much for him to keep his eyes open. It was such a soothing feeling, at this place he felt his heart at peace. Relaxed. He could banish any negativity from his mind just by hearing your voice, now.

When you finished, Jisung was huddled into a ball, having fallen into deep slumber as you continued patting his head. The gentle smile that always found itself when Jisung was like this creeped back up to your lips, your eyes fluttering close as you simply took in the delicateness of the moment.

It was almost midnight now, and even though you and Jisung had barely talked, you felt as though you’d communicated for years, simply by hearing each other out. Your friendship wasn’t the kind that could be found anywhere — it had to be made, and a part of it was gifted. It was the best gift, really.

Because when the clock struck eleven night, you knew you could always find him, no matter what.

↯ note: 🕯️ ignore me this is just a small prayer that tumblr doesn’t make me battle the tags yet again 🕯️ may the tumblr gods be in my favor atleast this once ;-; 🕯️ ⇥ dawn.☀️

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authoressskr · 3 years ago

Text

Ruby Dragon Surprise (i)

Characters: f!Reader, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Clint Barton, Mercy (*previously Y/N in Bucky’s Dragon Soulmate Story*), mentions of Peggy Carter

Warnings: Language and no Beta :: Notes: This particular story will probably be three parts, cause Steve is emotionally constipated :: Word Count: 4849

I went with a dragon!soulmate!au, which I hadn’t seen before, but I did have a nifty dream about it that spawned this whole idea. He’s still an Avenger. Events are basically still the same (not exactly the same...people are alive who died in the mcu), just with dragons. ‘Cause who wouldn’t love a dragon companion?? This will be an ongoing series with different Avengers finding their soulmates with their dragons.

Howlite and Hearts (Bucky)

Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION.

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and very appreciated! -+-

Since men emerged from caves, began using tools and reshaping their environment, they have been intrigued by the draconian terrors of all shapes and sizes that roamed the world. The first records of man and dragon working together are from Mesopotamia, pieces of shattered pottery pieced back together showing a dragon standing beside a woman. Assyrian artifacts depict water dragons helping farmers in the field. Egyptian murals show dragons protecting the Pharaoh and his family, others showing different breeds of dragon fetching books from inside the Library of Alexandria.

History is dotted with famous dragons and their bonded humans; King Arthur and his steel-colored dragon, Excalibur. William Shakespeare and his dragon, Bard. Cleopatra and Bucephalus, named after Alexander the Great’s legendary steed. Abraham Lincoln and his dragon, Crusoe.

Over the centuries, dragons have become smaller from the giants painted in mythology, old texts and wall murals. The biggest dragon these days are about the size of a large crocodile, with the biggest recorded in the last decade almost as big as a hippo. Height varies on the type of dragon - with the tallest one balancing on its tail, hits almost eye level with a giraffe.

Classes have been taught for centuries about dragons and the bond between them with humans. Dragons will sometimes die right after their human counterpart and vice versa. Dragons who have lost their counterpart will sometimes live, seeking out their counterpart’s soulmate to stay with their draconian mates as well. It is not an uncommon thing - especially after times of war - for soulmates to have both dragons if one has died.

Dragon pairs will usually have the same colors and markings, even though they will often not be the same type of dragon. Dragons may look similar to the human eye, but a dragon will know it’s mate no matter what. It has not been determined how the dragons know their mate almost instantaneously, but after millennia humans have begun to follow the dragon counterpart’s knowledge in this area. Marriages of alliance and royalty have often been changed or dropped when one party finds its soulmate. In the same vein, marriages have also been arranged due to this circumstance as well. Cinderella is the most referenced fairy tale of this, with Cinderella having the same sapphire and gold colored dragon as the prince (*Dragon color varies by region and culture).

Soulmate bonds are some of the strongest bonds in our world. Both between a dragon pair and between a human pair. And on the flip side of the Cinderella story, dragons will attempt to push their human partners together if the human counterpart doesn’t seem interested or could result in a rejection.

On the same page, a rejection of this bond - always by the human partner - can have devastating consequences. This broken or unformed bond may result in: at first, flu-like symptoms but can build up to more serious symptoms such as feeling weak or run down, tremors and/or tics, varying weight loss, chest pains and even very mild seizures have been documented. Usually the bond is mended or solidified before it comes to these more serious issues. There are also historic rumors of deaths from broken hearts due to rejections, which has yet to be scientifically proven. The aforementioned symptoms may require hospitalization.

To date no dragon has succumbed to any symptoms from their human counterparts due to the rejection of the bond, which dragon experts seem truly puzzled by due to the strong bonds that can be formed between a human and a dragon. Rejections, however, are rare and scientists aren’t yet sure of all possible symptoms associated with a rejection of a bond. Touch, however, is shown to remedy these symptoms in trials and is known to be a powerful connector between a human and it’s dragon partner as well.

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If there was one thing Steve Rogers knew, it was that Peggy Carter was his soulmate.

He’ll admit he doesn’t think of it as often as when he came out of the ice, but he does still think about it - about Peggy - every few days. More so when Bucky, Sam and himself are out for lunch or when he and Wanda may be grabbing some coffee, because that is when he sees soulmates together.

The way soulmates look at each other is different. Like they don’t just see the person before them, but everything they are and could be; all rolled into everything they love.

And he’s envious of that look.

He knows he hasn’t received it. And he truly believes he hasn’t given it either. Sometimes he chalks it up to not being actual bonded soulmates with Peggy. Because he knows that the love that was blossoming would have turned into that loving, enraptured gaze he always longed for.

It’s the thought that gets interrupted when his cell rings on the way back from their morning run. He quickly switches his coffee cup to his other hand to fish the phone from his pant pocket, revealing Tony’s face on the screen.

“Hey, Tony.”

“Need you, the bird and the metal popsicle back here asap. Got a hit on a Hydra offshoot. Wheels up in 30.”

“Got it. We’re just a few blocks from the Tower now.”

“Pick up the pace then, old man,” And the call ends. He looks at Sam and Bucky before tossing back what’s left of his coffee and throwing it in a nearby trash can.

“Mission. Wheels go up in 30.” Sam sighs at his words.

“Morning calls are rare, man. Must be big.”

“Hydra,” Bucky mutters with a shake of his head before polishing off his own coffee. “Come on. Gonna take most of that time to get the scalies ready.”

“You know,” Sam mutters with a smug grin as they all continue towards the Tower, “You’ve picked up your soulmate’s habit of calling the dragons weird names.” Sam tosses his empty cup and dodges a swat from Bucky.

“Jealousy is an ugly, ugly thing Sam…”

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Steve shifts in his place in the rafters, Rak wiggling on his back in response to peer over his shoulder down at the HYDRA agents. He nods at Bucky, who is perched across the building, just above the exit.

“Where’d you find this one?”

“Get this - a museum.” The blonde HYDRA agent cackles, leaving the brunet nodding, a serious look on his face. A loud clang of the door reveals two more HYDRA agents, dragging another person between them while a third agent follows behind with a tactical machine gun held tightly in his grip. If body shape is anything to go on, it’s a woman. A curvy and buxom one. Bucky quickly types out an update in Morse code to Natasha who is stationed outside with Sam and Tony as the brunet drags a heavy wooden chair into the middle of the room.

They toss the captive into the chair, zip tying their wrists behind them before pulling off the thick bag from their head. If looks could kill…

“Now, Miss, we are going to ask you a series of questions -”

“Fuck. Off.” Steve’s eyebrows shoot up at the venom in her tone.

“You don’t seem to know who we are.” Her jaw clenches as she looks away from the salt and pepper haired man who dragged her in. “Come now. I don’t want to injure you more than necessary…”

“Right.” She snaps, looking down at her lap with a sigh. The tall brunet who helped drag her in shifts to stand behind her, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking her head back. Her gasp makes Rak hiss in his ear, Steve feeling his claw tips through his suit. He tilts his head to rub it against Rak’s, offering that silent comfort to calm him down.

“Now, Miss, the first question is: You work in the nearby museum, correct?”

“Seeing as that’s where you took me from…” She gasps again as the hand tightens in her hair, bending her head back a little more. That’s when she notices Bucky in the rafters - quickly closing her eyes and sniffles loudly.

“What are you working on there?”

“Paleontology mostly. But when I started there I worked in the geology department. I’m a floater between departments since I don’t have my full degree yet.” The man relaxes his grip a little, pushing her head forward towards its normal position again.

“Rocks and bones.” The older agent chuckles before rubbing his hand over his graying beard. “Do you do anything else in the museum?”

“I assist only in the two departments. The only reason I help the geology is when the woman who regularly helps is gone cause she’s having a rough pregnancy.”

“Now we know that’s a lie. You spend a lot of time in the accounting office.” Her head is pulled back again so she’s looking at the ceiling again.

“I’m not sure you lot are aware that each department has a budget. I have to submit forms every month about the spending. Plus, one of the accountants is my friend.”

“So you are saying our intel is wrong?”

“Look, I’d like my head to stay attached, but yes, your intel is shit. Probably someone just looking not to be in the position I’m currently in.”

“So the museum isn’t looking into the dragons ancestors?”

“If they are, then I don’t know about it. I’m a peon!” She yanks her head from the man’s grasp and struggles in the chair.

“Little cherub, you are a terrible liar.”

“Listen asshat, I am keenly aware I’m a terrible liar. So I tend NOT to lie. Especially to someone who has tied me to a chair and has a fucking gun!!” He sighs, giving a little shake of his head before his hand shoots out and backhands her, making her head snap to the left. Rak’s claws pierce through his suit, smoke curling from his nostrils making Steve tense under him even more. He holds his hand up in a stopping motion, Bucky cocking his head slightly before Steve gestures over his shoulder at Rak.

“Woman, HYDRA has been looking for you for awhile.”

“Seems like a waste of time to me. I can’t have anything HYDRA could possibly want. Except maybe morals.”

“We don’t need morals in HYDRA.” The blonde grunts out from his leaning place against the wall.

“I’m aware. Ya ever think that’s why SHIELD and the Avengers whip your ass? Resign you to the shadows like the phantoms you are.” There is a loud enough explosion that everyone turns towards the exit, the men all tensing. “AND YOU KNOW WHAT? YOUR SIGIL OR WHATEVER IT IS MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKING SENSE! HYDRA MEANS 5! WHY DOES YOUR SYMBOL HAVE 8? AND DO YOU ALL KNOW THAT THE HYDRA WAS DEFEATED???” Her head is sent sharply to the left again, blood trickling from her lip at the contact.

“WHO FOLLOWED YOU?!” The older agent snaps at the blonde and brunet who they saw first.

“NO ONE, SIR!” Bucky drops down just as Tony comes through the back exit, making Steve shimmy upright before he begins across the beams in the rafters to cut off their retreat.

He drops down with a dull thud, blocking the HYDRA agents as planned but the brunet with the machine gun has it pointed under the woman’s jaw.

“She’s not so sassy now,” The man in charge smirks out, stroking a finger down her cheek. He glances behind, seeing Bucky, Tony and Natasha behind him.

“You know, nasty little fellows such as yourself always get their comeuppance.” Her words loud and clear as her gaze slides towards the older agent, the muzzle of the gun digging harder into her skin at her words.

“Snarky little bitch, isn’t she?”

“I like snark,” Tony mentions, looking to Natasha who just rolls her eyes. “But that’s because I’m just so good at it.”

“Release the girl, unharmed, and we’ll take you alive.” Steve offers, Rak’s nails digging into his shoulder once more as smoke begins to curl out of his nose again.

“How about no?” The agent whom had been silent this entire time speaks with a sneer, his little blue dragon’s head popping from a pocket in his utility pants.

Bucky lets loose a single round to the knee of the agent with the sub machine gun, making him buckle and the gun drop from his grip. That’s when Tony blasts the salt and pepper haired man past Steve as Natasha cuts the woman free, only for the woman to rush past Steve and the other agents deeper into the warehouse. Rak jumps from his shoulder and flys after her, prompting Steve to sigh as Bucky runs past, following after her and Rak.

“Does she realize the exit is the other way?!” Tony yells through the comms, taking a stance by where he’d entered to fend off dozens of incoming HYDRA. Two men run towards Steve only to stutter to the ground as electricity surges through their bodies.

“Thanks Nat.” He grunts before rushing through the doorway to find his best friend, his dragon and the directionally impaired woman.

:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxx:::

You’re trying desperately to remember the turns they’ve dragged you through, looking for the spot where they had separated the two of you and tossed a bag over your head. A man moves to grab you, only to be attacked by an aggressive ruby dragon. It then scrabbles up your legs and perches itself on your shoulder, urging you on with a little grunt. You tread a little more carefully after that, but no less urgent, a scream clogging your throat as someone grabs your shoulder from behind before slipping a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t scream.” You nod as the former Winter Soldier comes into view. “You know, the easy exit was the other way.”

“I’m aware. But they tossed my dragon in a big plastic looking box then I got the bag and drag treatment.”

“This warehouse has two floors in the front half, did they take you upstairs at all?” A shake of your head is all you can manage before the dragon flits from your shoulder and begins running down the hallway. “I guess we follow Rak then. You stay behind me and if I tell you to do something -”

“Consider it done.” You agree before gently pushing at his arm to get him moving.

Rak doesn’t stop until he’s about two hallways off where you all stopped, hissing and sending several fiery breaths towards the small side dock where HYDRA agents were loading up your dragon.

“Velma!” Her answering screech is enough to get you moving, Sgt. Barnes hand shooting out to keep you behind him. He’s got two of them shot and Rak is mauling another when you see a silver blur knock out the other two. It’s only when you turn to your right do you see Captain America snatch his shield, holding it for a beat before turning to look at you. If looks could lecture...you’d be in for a loooong one.

But as he gives you that look all you can think of is that now all the douche HYDRA agents are now k-o’ed, so you rush over to the giant box, sticking your fingers through the big air holes to stroke at her muzzle, Rak chirping at Sgt. Barnes, who steps around your crouched form and snaps the two heavy duty locks off with his metal hand. Your dragon bursts from the cage and tackles you, curling herself around your chest and neck as best she can as you coo reassurances to her.

“We gotta go,” Steve takes hold of your elbow, helping you up as you heft Velma off the ground, her wings wrapping securely around you as you follow Captain America back the way you came. Rak is riding on his shoulder and moving his ruby head back and forth between you and the hallway ahead. The Black Widow joins you halfway back and takes point, an emerald green dragon with beautiful iridescent wings in shades of purples, blacks, greens and a few splashes of a pale yellow shimmer brightly even in the dim lights of the warehouse hallway. You let out a soft grunt, hefting Velma a little higher as your arms start to tire. “Almost there. I can carry her, if you like?” He doesn’t look at you when he offers, simply continues looking forward at his measured pace beside you.

“I can manage,” Your pride answers before your tired arms can get a word in, a smile twitching at his lips at your answer, which just makes your pride suddenly all the more determined to do it yourself. He moves forward when you all get back to where the attack began, Natasha taking his place before Falcon glides in through the hole in the wall.

“It’s all secure to the jet,” He reports as he lands. “Tony is circling the outer gates to make sure they don’t have anything else - hostages or weapons.”

“Alright. Let’s get her on the jet. We’ll look her over and call into the compound for the doctor to be ready when we arrive.”

“Already done,” Natasha confirms and they all move in a protective box around you and Velma, Falcon now on your right and Natasha on your left as the good Captain takes the lead and the Sergeant keeps his place in the rear.

You’re herded - there is no other way to put it really - onto this very expensive, military-looking, and slightly futuristic jet. Falcon gestures to a seat and you kneel in front of it, carefully dislodging your draconian partner before taking the seat. Her scaled head nudges your open hand, reminding you that you’ve both made it.

Safe echoes in your mind and you nod, meeting her light amethyst eyes.

Safe, you reply as she climbs awkwardly into the seat beside yours, laying her head on your thigh.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

“Baby,” She coos to the dragon, a shiver going up his spine at the softness and care in her tone, her hand sliding easily over it’s red scales as Sam returns to her side with a first aid kit.

“They do anything else besides these?” Sam asks gently, his finger brushing softly over her cheek where it’s already beginning to swell. A shake of her head is all she manages, “Okay, I’m gonna clean it with an alcohol pad.” Sam swipes it across her cheek and around the left side of her mouth to get off the dried blood. When he dabs just under her lip she hisses and so does Rak, her own dragon tensing up and curling it’s upper lip just enough to flash the tips of its teeth.

“Down, kids,” She mumbles out before Tony struts onto the jet.

“All clear. Let’s go home.” Tony sits beside her as the jet begins to ascend, both men’s gazes dropping to her free hand which is gripping the edge of her seat. “I’m Tony.”

“Y/N.”

“Dragon?”

“Velma.”

“Velma,” Tony repeats with a chuckle. “I like it. Suits you both. This is Jericho.”

“‘By faith the walls of Jericho fell’…is that right?”

“Exactly! ‘See, I have delivered Jericho into your hands’. My mother insisted that I know the Bible. I just liked the idea of marching and horns defeating a strong enemy. No bullets, no bombs; just faith.”

“Kind of goes against the initial sort of images of yourself, huh?” Tony leans in slightly, a grin flirting on his lips.

“Have you been talking to my wife?” She leans in too, their foreheads nearly touching.

“I think I’d remember talking to her.”

“She is very memorable.” He agrees, leaning back in the seat before waving his finger at her chest. “Buckle up. We should be there in about twenty or thirty.”

“Do you need anything?” Steve asks, Bucky’s eye popping open from his resting place in the corner and a tiny twitch of his lips making him want to glare at his best friend.

“No, thank you.” Steve nods, moving to the front to talk to Natasha when Rak flits to the floor and scurries over to her, his head tilted to one side with his begging eyes on. Steve moves to turn back to stop Rak from bothering her. “Get up here then,” A smile dancing in her eyes as he chirps happily, leaping easily into her lap and shaking his wings out before carefully settling down, his snout resting beside Velma’s.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

You’re just nodding off when the jet lands, carefully tapping Velma and then Rak to wake them before stretching, wincing at the soreness in your face and neck.

Steve walks by you as the bay door opens before he whistles, Rak’s head perking up from the seat beside you, but he doesn’t move. This doesn’t seem to sit well with Steve, who glares at his partner like he’s betrayed him.

The dragon begrudgingly jumps down and stands at the Captain’s feet, an outstretched hand drawing you from the curiosity you felt watching Rak and Steve. You’re met with storm blue eyes and a small, easy smile.

“Come on, kid,” Unclicking from your seat, you accept his hand with a hushed thank you. You are hardly off the jet before a white marble blur nearly takes James down, his laughter ringing out before a woman appears just after, helping him up and the two of them disappearing into the building. You’re caught at a crossroads of sorts...Do you follow? Isn’t that a bit presumptuous?

“Are you Y/N?” You’re startled from your thoughts by a woman with thick black hair piled atop her head in a white lab coat.

“Yes?”

“I’m Dr. Hale. Natasha and Tony told us to be expecting you.” She gestures you forward, opposite to where the Avengers disappeared to. You follow obediently, with Velma trailing behind you, also looking to where they’d all gone. “Do you have any medical conditions we should be aware of?”

“No.”

“High blood pressure?”

“No, but if it’s high I was just taken hostage and then backhanded twice before having a gun shoved against my jaw while they tried to take my dragon.” She makes a face, eyebrows raised and fighting back a smile before she manages a big nod.

“Understandable...well let’s check all that. Was your dragon injured?”

“I ran my hands over all of her and she’s not injured that I can tell.” You look down at her, purple eyes alight. “You hurt, baby?” Velma shakes her head, her tail twitching slightly when she does so.

“Perfect. We’ll just check you over and then Tony should come get you.” All you can do is nod, following her into a very white and metallic exam room.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Steve’s voice can be heard through the door of his room, he’s sure of it.

Rak has snapped at him twice so far and nearly set his comforter on fire because he ordered him to stay put while he showered. Steve knew where he would wander off to and he told Rak he needs to let the doctor do their job and check them over. He had angrily settled down when Howl had come into the room, the bigger dragon tossing himself down onto Rak’s bed - successfully luring Rak to him and calming the little spitfire down long enough for Steve to get a shower.

Once he was out of the shower, Rak started up again, a stare off ensuing between the two of them while Howl looked on in amusement.

“I said no!” Steve snaps at the wyvern before clenching his jaw so tight he’s sure he hears a pop. Rak opens his mouth, flashing all his teeth only to snap it closed when Bucky’s soulmate sticks her head in.

“Sorry. I knocked, but you must not have heard...I was just looking for Howl.” Howl’s whole body shakes as he wiggles his way happily to her. “Tony just went to get the woman from the infirmary, just to let you know.” Steve scowls at her as Rak begins to follow Howl out the door.

“Hey! Best behavior. And you need to cut the whole hissing, snapping and fire at me, you little gas ball.” Rak snorts, almost giving an eye roll as Steve blocks the door. “Shoulder.” He points for emphasis, his partner huffing as he slowly climbs up onto his shoulder. “And stay there, do you understand?” He turns his ruby head away and Steve’s mind wanders to the impossible...but he quickly shakes that thought from his head.

When she enters the room with her dragon, her cheek and lip swollen a little more than an hour ago when he’d seen her.

Wanda gasps as she enters the room, looking from Rak to Velma, Rak doing the exact fucking opposite as he was told - flinging himself from Steve’s shoulder and running towards you and Velma - before giving a little squeal.

“I’ve never seen a dragon soulmate pair meeting!” Steve looks in confusion from the dragons to Wanda and then to the woman, the room now deadly silent except for the soft, contented growls coming from the pair of ruby dragons curled around each other at Y/N’s feet.

“What - no, that’s not - that’s not possible.” Steve snorts in disbelief after he manages his oh-so eloquent words. “No. She’s not my soulmate,” The words tumble from his lips before he has a chance to really think the situation over but his eyes still see everything.

They see the hope that was blossoming in her soft eyes and they see the confusion flash through those pretty eyes before the hurt makes the light die out in them, her eyes dropping to the floor quickly.

He opens his mouth to refute his own words - to apologize and take it back - when he sees Bucky glaring at him.

After all, hadn’t it been him who had told Bucky to go after his dragon and his soulmate? Who had told Bucky he’d give anything to be in his shoes? And now that he was, he had just rejected his soulmate.

You could hear a pin drop as he stands there gaping like a fish before managing to firmly close his mouth.

She’s staring at their dragons, snouts pressed along side each other with their wings touching, tails twined together before she looks up and blinks rapidly. He knows she’s willing the tears away and it physically hurts him to see her avert her eyes.

Clint steps forward, whispering in her ear before offering her his arm. Clint takes her past him, both of their dragons trailing eagerly after her and both blatantly ignoring his very existence.

“All clear boss,” comes a familiar accented voice, Steve can feel all of his family’s eyes boring into him before Natasha speaks up.

“What the actual hell, you dumbass?”

“My sentiments exactly.” Tony pipes up from behind her.

“Didn’t you say you wish you were in my shoes?” Sam just harrumphs at Bucky’s words from where he’s sitting on the couch by Bucky and his soulmate.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” Wanda mutters among the other comments, worrying her bottom lip.

“It’s not your fault, Wanda,” Mercy soothes from the couch, hand gently squeezing Bucky’s as her dragon Cloud moves from her shoulder to Bucky’s, sensing his tenseness.

“Clint’s giving her a tour. She’ll be staying here until we can find out specifically why Hydra was after her. That should give you enough time to pull your head out of your ass,” Tony states while shoving his long sleeves up a bit on his forearms, hitting Steve with a “Sweet Jesus” side eye that Steve was all too well acquainted with.

“It just came out!”

“Like diarrhea…” Pietro says loudly from the kitchen, tossing a handful of grapes into his mouth. Steve glares at the male Maximoff, whom he literally didn’t even realize was in the damn kitchen.

“Again, it just came out. I didn’t even think about what I said!”

“That is abundantly clear,” Howl crawls into Bucky’s lap at his words, big eyes pleading to his human dad for pets to calm them both down, tail twacking Mercy who just rolls her eyes playfully at his needy and loving response to Bucky’s mood. Bucky smiling oh so softly at Howl and Mercy, as he strokes the oversized dragon taking up his lap.

Steve watches that and he aches for it. Those knowing looks to share with his soulmate.

But Peggy is gone.

And he doesn’t know where to go from here with this woman. Or the fact that Rak is completely convinced that Velma is his mate.

Because he is pretty sure she isn’t.

‘Pretty sure’ isn’t going to cut it for everyone else though. It definitely won’t be enough for Rak, that little gas ball of betrayal.

Steve was well and truly fucked.

Tagging: @moonbeambucky @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers au #authoressskr writes #dragon!soulmate!au #marvel fanfiction #steve x reader #part i

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years ago

Note

hi! i really like your writing and was wondering if you’d recommend other authors that you enjoy or even specific fanfics you like? i’ve only just started getting into the steve/tony fandom and want to follow more people! thank you!

Hi there and welcome! We’re glad to have you here!! 💙

I’m more of an MCU kind of gal myself but if you’re interested in the comics, I highly recommend checking out the below authors and fics:

Living in the Future by Closer: Eighteen-year-old Tony Stark is the boy genius who woke Captain America, and now he's stuck with him. That's not a bad thing, but between Steve's wide-eyed wonder at the new world and Tony's little fanboy crush, the awkwardness just keeps happening.

@blossomsinthemist: seriously one of the best smut authors I’ve ever read with lots of feelings, trust me, you won’t regret getting into their works

@sineala: been writing Marvel since approximately 2014 (though if you like their works, it’s worth reading their other stuff as well even if you’re not familiar with the fandom, it’s all that good) and has written a lot of the classics including Like a Comet Streaming On and Slipping off the Page into Your Hands

Stars Fading, but I Linger On, Dear by Chibisquirt: A Soulmate AU where people meet their soulmate in their dreams. Of course, not even that solves all the world's problems, especially if one or more of the soulmates has a secret identity...

MCU and Ambiguous Fandom:

@festiveferret: has written so much and I can pretty much guarantee that you’ve stumbled across something that they’ve written at least once, writes both on tumblr and on ao3 but everything they post on tumblr is also cross-posted to ao3 so you don’t have to go digging through their blog to find ficlets

@no-gorms: has literally the most interesting AUs, I always read whatever is new pretty much the moment it comes out, can promise lots of feelings and happy endings

A Series of Learning Experiences by @riotfalling: In which Tony finds out that his tiny artist boyfriend is not a nice boy. In the best possible way. (Riot doesn’t write much Stevetony but what she does write is amazing)

Heart in Hand by janonny: Or the story where Tony, an Omega, holds a much belated Courting Ceremony. Steve joins up and loses his mind a little.

@maguna-stxrk: writes lots of fluff here on tumblr

@omg-just-peachy: widely acknowledged as the inventor of fluff

@itsallavengers: no longer as active but writes the most heartbreaking angst with a happy ending, you will feel so many things, has written classics like Versions of Reality and Nobody Panic, Everything’s Fine

@aurumacadicus: I’ve said before (I think on the stuckony reclist) that her version of Tony is my favorite but I’m going to say it again: seriously, fantastic Tony

Finding Pack by @naferty: In a world where pack means everything from status to fame to survival and to family, newly pack-less Tony Stark is trying to survive after those he once trusted betrayed him, and starting over by searching for a new pack to take him in, but with his age and status weighing heavily on his shoulders finding someone to take a chance on him might be easier said than done.What pack wanted an old infertile omega in their ranks? Certainly not the famous Avengers pack led by the equally famous Captain. (one day this fic will be finished and when that happens, I will scream for three days straight)

@sabrecmc: hmmm yes, especially check out Celestial Navigation and The Prize (also has an incredibly comprehensive rec blog, @sabrecmcstonyficrecs)

Sunrise by NotEvenCloseToStraight: Nomad is a soldier forced to do Hydra's bidding. When his mission takes him to the castle and to the bed chambers of Prince Antony Stark, Nomad is faced with a choice-- to finish his mission and finally earn his freedom or to save the last piece of his scarred soul and let the beautiful Prince live.Antony is trapped in the Palace, his life controlled by his Uncle, the Sovereign Stane. He yearns for a life beyond the palace walls but when the Nomad breaks into his rooms with blade held at the ready, Antony thinks all is lost--and then the assassin hesitates.Steven and Antony are two souls together in the moonlight, two lives on the cusp of ruin and as the sun rises over the palace, perhaps they will be two kindred spirits, finding freedom in each other's arms.

take my heart clean apart by mistymountainking: Tony comes home exhausted after an SI event. Steve acts as welcoming committee. It's an old, careworn routine they've perfected over the years, but tonight ends up going in a very different direction.

Dear Mr. Fantasy by @pineapplebread: Tony writes letters to his past loves to get over them. They’re all but meaningless by this point, but he keeps them hidden anyways, never to be seen or read by anyone else. Until one day they all mysteriously get sent out.His deepest secrets are revealed and he scrambles to do damage control, striking a deal to enter a fake relationship with Steve Rogers who just wants his ex back. Tony conveniently forgets to mention that the only love letter he still means is the one he wrote to his fake boyfriend.

slipping through the years by often_adamanta: The plane crash and subsequent ice might have killed him, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t still around, haunting those he cares about. And since the only person who can see him is Tony Stark, death sure isn’t going to be boring.

Insomnia by Scavenge4Dreams: Its 3am. Do you know where your Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist is?

rough enough for love by silkspectred: The first time they had sex was right after their first kiss. Steve dropped to his knees and then Tony reciprocated after making Steve lie down on the bed. The second time it was Steve that initiated it, slow handjobs under the hot spray of the shower, and Tony looked surprised by it. Like it was weird that Steve wanted it. Wanted him.

I’m a Grown-Ass Man by not_applicable: or, 5 Times Steve Carried Tony and 1 Time Tony Didn't Mind. At all.

Containment by D: After Tony ends up severely injured from a surprise attack, triggering a flashback and putting him in the hospital for emergency surgery, the Avengers come together in worry for their friend and teammate and are disquieted by the intensity of Tony’s reaction. Between the flashback and the sedatives, Tony’s mind revisits key moments in his life while the team bands together in support of each other and their injured friend, letting SHIELD handle Tony’s attacker, they remain where they are needed, even if Tony isn’t awake to truly realize this. And through it all, Steve makes a decision that will change things with Tony.

His Fate Will Be Unlearned by scifigrl47: Tony Stark spent his childhood making weapons, filling the hole his father left in the world when he succumbed to alcohol, grief, and his own demons. At the age of fifteen, he ran away from home, and made it as far as MIT before all of his responsibilities caught up to him. Now seventeen, he just wants to finish his degree and escape from everything connected to the Stark name. Steve Rogers crashed into the icy North Atlantic in the 1940's, sacrificing himself to save the world. He never expected to wake up, and now that he has, he's not sure he's glad. The US Army has other plans for him, but for now, Steve is slowly learning to live life in the 21st century, and taking classes at Boston College. He's beginning to suspect that there is no escape. Boston College is on the T's Green Line. MIT is on the Red. The two lines meet at the Park Street Station, and so will Steve and Tony.

The Twice-Told Tale by arysteia: For someone he'd hero-worshipped for so long, Steve Rogers in the flesh is a pretty big disappointment. For one thing, he keeps looking at Tony as though he reminds him of someone else, and even if he never says anything, Tony's pretty sure it's his father. A lifetime of not measuring up to Howard's expectations is more than enough, thank you very much, and he's certainly not going to make an effort to live up to any of Steve's. Steve's pretty clearly failed to live up to his expectations, in any case, and that's not hypocritical at all.

Like Gene Kelly in the Movies by lyra_wing: Everything Tony Stark does is a dance. And it's super confusing for Steve.

bedrock and brick by lyra_wing: Immediate sequel to the movie, wherein Tony builds Avengers Tower. Or plays interior designer, take your pick.

#stevetony #fic recs #long post #alle answers #Anonymous

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moondustis · 4 years ago

Text

songs for you (m)

pairing: nakamoto yuta + reader genre: smut, angst, fluff / friends to lovers, 70s, band!au word count: 10k summary: A story about dreams, music, groupies and falling in love with your best friend. It’s the 70s, baby, live a little. song rec: miss you - the rolling stones / woman - harry styles / grow up - paramore

You don’t remember much of your childhood, just flashes and weird memories that pop in every now and then. That’s what happens as you get older, you guess. But here’s something you remember:

Nakamoto Yuta, three years older than you, walking inside your house with his mother holding his hand. You had seen the woman before, a very good friend of your mom from a long time ago, but the scrawny kid by her side was something new. And in your young age, nothing seemed more intimidating than a boy older and taller than you.

It didn’t go very well, let’s just put it like that.

But still, for some reason, after that day the boy sticked to your side like glue. A friend you could say, even with the age difference and the intimidating stares. It was like Yuta got himself a permanent place on your life, always teasing you, but also always making sure you were okay.

As a teenager, you remember daydreaming of travelling the world. Finally getting away from the too small town you lived in and away from all the stupid closed minded people that wanted to know about everybody's business. You remember Yuta showing you songs that you never heard before, Bowie, Fleetwood Mac, Hendrix, the list would go on and on. It was like music became a little world you had built for yourselves, where you could be who you truly wanted to be.

The both of you had always dreamed of something more, something exciting and that made your blood rush with adrenaline. You wanted to live, experience the things you only heard about in the records Yuta played for you and what you saw on the telly at late night at his house.

That’s something you had been thinking about a lot these days, while you watched roads pass by through the windows of the barely comfortable tour bus. Because, somehow, you had made it, your dreams had come true and at the age of 20 you got to go on tour with your band and finally see the world you had only fantasized about, even if it was only a few cities not that far from yours.

The band, put together by none other than you and your best friend, consisted of four people: you on the guitar, something you had learned by watching Jimi Hendrix too much, Taeyong on the bass, Doyoung singing, Johnny on the keyboard and last but not least, Yuta as the drummer. Oh, and you couldn’t forget about Taeil, your self proclaimed manager that didn’t gain anything with this job but the opportunity to travel with you all.

And with punk and classic rock influences all over your songs, you were not half bad, had gotten the opportunity to tour for a reason and could even make the small crowds that gathered to see you sing along, achieving an even smaller amount of fans that proclaimed their adoration for you.

It was literally the start of a dream come true, but for some reason you had been feeling weird the past days. Like your mind just started wondering out of nowhere, like it is now, and you started to think about things that made a lump form in your throat. Because see, it was great, the music and all the perfoming, the parties and the small magazines, but you didn’t feel happy all the time. You wondered if 16 year old you would be proud.

A loud clash spurs you out of your trance and brings you back to the studio you’re all in, trying to record a new song. Yuta looks at you with an annoyed expression as the plate on the drums still stirs.

“Wake the fuck up, you’re daydreaming again.” He says, without real bite to the words, but still mean enough to make you snap back. “We only have one hour left and the song is not even halfway finished.”

“Sorry.” You murmur, guitar feeling heavy but comfortable as you reposition it. Taeyong starts counting and then the melody of the familiar song you had all finished writing yesterday starts. Your fingers find the guitar strings with ease and you let yourself go with the music.

❀

There were few things better than making music with your best friends. Travelling to different places, standing in front of a crowd no matter how small and performing, the money you managed to split among yourselves, they were all great but nothing came close to being in a studio with the people that became your family while you did the thing you all loved the most.

It’s a small studio this time but the atmosphere is good, with velvet walls, tiled floor and low lights. The smell of weed is intoxicating and you feel high after not even that many hits. Maybe it’s just the joy of being in the moment.

The small sketchbook you take around with you everywhere stays placed on your lap with possible lyrics written all over it in a messy way, because when inspiration hits it’s impossible to keep an organized mind. Your head stays tilted back, eyes closed as the melody Taeyong is playing and your own thoughts fill your head. They come and go with no rush, something that is rare because usually you’re all over the place, overthinking until you get a headache.

Taeyong hums something to go along with the bass and a smile forms in your lips at how good it sounds already, good enough to have your eyes opening as you write down the things your mind provides. These days it’s mostly about the same things, finding yourself and the overwhelming feeling that came with it, even more when you did it while discovering the world and you recent acquainted opportunities. But they are also about something that you like to ignore. You knew very well it was there, would be too obvious if you didn't, but pretending you didn’t was better. Safer.

Johnny plops down next to you on the leather couch, a silly smile on his lips as he tries to take a peek at your writing. “What is it you got there? Another love song?” He asks just the tiniest bit teasingly, making you blush because that’s the exact subject you would like to avoid.

Love, what a weird thing isn’t it? Both in concept and in practice.

You had once thought you would never fall in love, too independent and doing well on your own. But that’s the thing about it, you don’t really get to choose when or if it’s going to happen. Love strips you down of your free will and there’s nothing you can do but succumb to it.

Were you in love, though? That’s a good question, really. You weren’t one to think you knew everything about it and had it all figured out, because in reality the mere thought of it scared you. But there’s this feeling on your chest that you can quite find another word for.

“Maybe.” It’s your answer to Johnny’s question. “But it’s none of your business.”

He laughs when you poke out your tongue at him, nudging your shoulder playfully. “It is when I’ll be also playing it live.”

He’s right but you won’t give out the privilege of letting him know that. Not that you would have time, because Taeyong is calling him to go over the melody together and soon you’re on the couch by yourself again.

You ponder getting up as well to play a little, on hopes to find the right notes to fit the raw lyrics you had, but your body feels lethargic enough from being high and you decide against it.

Closing your eyes again you only open them when the couch tips again, this time Yuta sits down close to you. Closer than Johnny had and you can smell his cologne amidst the strong smell of weed that's in the entire room.

“What you up to?” He asks, arm resting behind you on the couch and the gesture makes you feel small. He smiles, glancing down at your notebook and flipping through the pages gently.

“Just… writing and stuff.” You feel higher now than you did before for some reason.

He hums, looking straight ahead now, but you continue looking at him. “You’ve been really quiet lately.” He points out, no beating around or questioning. It must’ve took a lot of thinking from his part to finally say that to you, because talking about anything that could become too personal was far from his strength.

“Yeah, I think I’m probably just homesick. Or something like that.” It’s not a full lie so he falls for it, nodding as if indicating he feels the same.

“Missing your mom’s cooking, huh? Can’t say I’m not either.” He jokes and it makes you crack a smile. “But I get that. But most times when I start to get homesick I remember I got you.”

He says it still looking at Taeyong and Johnny as they play. His voice is calm, slightly slurred when he adds. “And you’re practically home to me.”

His eyes move to you then, a smile on his lips as his arm pushes you closer in an almost hug. He acts as if he just didn’t say something that makes your heart somersault in your chest.

Like he didn’t just say something that made you think you were in fact, in love.

❀

The adrenaline that came with performing in front of more than twenty people was something unmatched. You jump around the stage, playing like it could be your last time with fingers a little red from the guitar strings but you couldn’t care less, not with the music playing so loud and your heart beating so fast.

Yuta smiles wickedly when you stand in front of him, hands moving as fast as yours as the drum and guitar mix together. You smile back, thrilled and beyond excited that you get to do this with your best friend every night.

The best friend which you had been nurturing feeling you didn’t know how to deal with for. What a messy situation, because for one there was an unsaid rule that you shouldn’t have any sort of romantic relationship with your bandmates. And secondly, Yuta just wasn’t interested in you like that, he had his groupies to keep him busy.

Groupies that don’t take long after the end of the show to gather around him as you walk outside the venue. And you would really like to say that it doesn't bother you, that you couldn't care less, but you can’t. Because you hate it and think it’s a little pathetic how Yuta whispers something to a girl wearing barely anything and how it makes her giggle.

But even more pathetic is the fact that you seem to be bothered by it only because it’s him. All your other bandmates had girls all around them too, Doyoung especially with a different girl under both of his arms. Hell, even you had a small share of men and women that tried their luck approaching you and no one seemed to pay no mind.

When it came to Yuta’s groupies though, it made you almost livid. With how obnoxious they were and how he gave then smiles and flirted like a man with a very defined goal.

You manage to play it cool, though, had mastered the art of pretending by now.

❀

You're sitting on the hotel bed, the only light coming from the outside lamps and the moon shining bright, but it’s enough for you to be able to write the words down on your sketchbook. Inspiration always striked at late nights for some reason, probably because of the loneliness of it all.

You’re playing the guitar mindless, trying to find the perfect melody to fit the lyrics you had just gotten out, when there’s knock in the door. And it would be weird if you weren’t already used to it.

Putting the guitar aside you get up from the bed and tiptoe to the door, peeking on the fish eye to confirm your suspicious. Yuta stands there, hair falling to his face and wearing a shirt that has too many buttons open. He smiles when you open the door, charming and familiar. “Hello there, sweet cheeks.”

Rolling your eyes, you move out of the way to let him get inside your hotel room. “That’s the worst pet name you could ever come up with.”

He makes himself comfortable, plopping down on your bed and taking a lot of space with his spreading. “Don’t lie, I know you like it.” His voice is convinced and you won’t bother trying to change his mind.

“Can’t sleep?” You ask, changing the subject as you move to sit on your previous spot. Now, closer to him, you can smell the faint smell of his cigarettes lingering underneath the cologne he probably applied so you wouldn’t notice. Smoking was the way he found to deal with the annoying thoughts that filled his mind at night, resulting in an awful case of insomnia. Not that he would admit that.

“Sleep is for the weak.” He says nonchalantly and you scoff.

“Yeah, yeah. Real artists live on coke and music, is that it?”

He laughs now, amused while he scratches the exposed tattooed skin of his stomach. “That’s the spirit. We’re already halfway there, might as well, huh?” He jokes and you just roll your eyes, kicking him lightly on the shoulder.

“We can't have that stuff around us. One line and Taeyong will be climbing up walls.”

“Taeyong? Please, we both know the one climbing walls would be you.”

You laugh out loud this time and he follows, shaking his head. Times like these, where it was just the two of you, felt too much like when you would stay in his room to listen to records and talk about things that didn’t really make sense.

When your laughter settles down Yuta moves around until his eyes land on your sketchbook and he takes it to read what you’ve been working on. You don’t protest because there’s no reason to, he knows your thoughts almost as well as you do.

He hums, eyes roaming around the page and lips turning a little. “This is good.” His voice is genuine and it makes you blush, praise was something weird to take.

“I’m still working on it, though.”

“Hmm, let me know when you finish it then, we can work the melody together.”

“Of course, can’t make a song without my favorite drummer.” You say it in a funny voice as if you’re joking but he knows it’s nothing but the truth. The first song you had made with him was at 17 and now every time inspiration struck he was always either by your side or on your mind. He called it a connection, a deep one that many artists could only dream of happening. Musical soulmates he had called it once and you agreed, it was like you were just in tune with each other.

You play a little of what you had so far to him, the clock blinking red when it hits 1AM but neither of you bother.

When you get tired of playing you decide to press on the matter. “What were you thinking about?” You start, voice low as if to not scare him off. “That made you lose sleep.”

He must be feeling calm because he lets the words fall out. “Taeil suggested that we make a song with pop influence.” He says and you grimace. “To reach a wider audience.”

“That’s fucking stupid.” Is all you say because it’s what it is. Pop had nothing to do with your style, never had and never would. Not that you hated it, but it wasn’t what you were passionate about.

Yuta chuckles lightly. “That’s what I told him.”

“That’s good.” You say and a minute of silence follows, someone outside drives away, a wheels on concrete sound filling the room. There’s something unspoken in the air, a promise you had made to each other when this tour started.

Music was the thing the two of you loved the most, and nothing, not even money, would change how you did it. The deal was to always stay loyal to that thought.

“We got each other’s back, right?” He asks sudden, but it’s a rhetorical question because he’s soon adding. “That’s all we got in this world, our music and ourselves.”

You look down at him but his eyes stay glued to the wall. A lump forms in your throat at the heaviness of his words and you have to swallow around it to reply. “It’s always gonna be us.” You say in a broken but sure voice. “No matter what.”

“Fuck yeah.” He says quietly and you both laugh.

❀

One thing that you learned with your recently discovered success was that parties became boring quite fast. Loud music and people getting way more drunk or high than they should near a pool was a dangerous mistake. Still, you always followed down the same road.

Your bandmates liked them, a way to interact more with people and an opportunity to get high for free. Music came from experiences, it’s what Johnny always said and you agreed partly because there was indeed something inspiring about being among people that were having fun, that felt carefree.

You take a sip from your beer with that though on your head, leaning against a wall as you watch last mentioned man swing his hips in a messy way in the middle of the living room as two girls laugh and dance with him. You can’t help but laugh alongside with them, even if you’re standing on the opposite side of the room.

It’s a small house, from someone you never met before, but being in a small city always meant crashing a house party with too many college kids that usually screamed when they recognized mostly Doyoung from the posters spread across town.

The slightly buzz of alcohol made you feel like you were floating, head just slightly spinning and you lean against a wall to keep yourself steady. There’s not much going on inside your brain, just the numbness of being just a bit drunk and you enjoyed it, made you feel content.

You clean your wet palm from the beer’s perspiration on your jeans, eyes roaming around the room until you find him. Yuta stands on a wall opposite from the one you are, the bandana on his head keeping the hair out of his face and making you see his features more clearly. He looks good tonight, as he does always, but the post concert glow really did wonders to him and the way his exposed tattooed arms flexed a little when he moved made your head spin again.

It had become a habit, one that you wanted to desperately get rid off. Watching Yuta, almost as if you were analyzing every little detail about him, left you with a weird feeling in your stomach. There he was, the person you felt the closest to in the entire world, the person whom you already knew everything about, but when it was like this, with you staring without him knowing, you felt like he was still a mysterious person. Someone you would be lucky to dive deep into.

He raises his eyebrows and smirks at something the girl besides him whispers in his ear, probably something raunchy by the way he tries to bring her closer. You look away.

Taeyong finds you like that, beer going warm in your hand and your eyes dazed staring at nothing as you overthink every single thing. He smiles when he sees you, probably a little tipsy himself as he leans against the wall so close to you that your hips touch. “What are you doing here alone?” He asks, bumping against your side playfully and it gets a smile from you.

After Yuta, Taeyong was the closest to you in the band, for the simple fact that he cared. Not that the others didn’t, but Taeyong always made sure everyone was doing ok and that had made you feel safe, helped shape the friendship you have today of sharing your secrets and supporting each other.

“Just don't feel like socializing.” Is your reply, because it’s true. People at these parties were usually terrible at small talk or so pretentious they made you feel stupid for even thinking.

He hums, following your vision line as it goes back to Yuta again. His arm is now wrapped around the girl so you look away immediately.

You don’t see the way Taeyong looks at you emphatically. “Have you ever thought about telling him?” It’s obvious what the question is about because as much as you’d like to think you’re good at hiding it, you wouldn’t be good enough to hide it from him.

Still, you try to lie. “What? There's nothing to tell.” The awkward laugh and roll of your eyes are a dead giveaway, too forced to even come close to being genuine.

He laughs in disbelief of your attempts. “Yeah, alright. Just remember you’ll never know the things you don’t try.”

It makes you scoff. How poetic, probably a great thing to say to a drunk girl who’s already having risky thoughts. “Wow, we should definitely write a song about that.” You joke, trying to shift the subject to something else.

“Ha-ha.” He fake laughs but there’s still amusement on his face. “I’m being serious.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” How serious could he be after too many beers, you think to yourself. Maybe you were a fan of being in denial, so you shrug and just do your best to think about something else.

Something pops up on your head, a bad idea most definitely, so you act on lazy impulse. Walking just far enough to throw the still almost full beer bottle and then you come back to stand in front of Taeyong. You must have really be going crazy.

He rolls his eyes even before you talk or put your hands on his shoulders, but still moves to hold your hips. “Yongie…” It’s a sickeningly cute voice, one you use as a joke when you want something. It makes him crack a smile, already knowing what is coming. “I think we should kiss.”

He chuckles, squeezing your hips and smiling. “I’ll have to agree just because you look cute tonight.” You laugh right back at him.

And then you’re kissing, like you had done before in the past for reasons that were the same as the one right now. Boredom, loneliness, horniness or just because. It was a friendly kiss, shared between two people that knew it would never go further than that. And it was good, his tongue sliding against yours in slow motions that are just the tiniest bit sensual because that’s just how Taeyong liked to kiss. It was so good that you forget for a second about other things, such as Yuta.

Yuta who happens to be watching, or better yet glaring, from the other side of the room as you kiss your friend. Yuta who tells the girl he’s with that he’s not in the mood anymore and leaves the party.

In some cases, ignorance truly is bliss.

❀

The dressing room was always a mess before a show, no matter how sketchy, dirty or small it was. Trust a group of musicians that had no basic decency to behave like this to calm their nerves before performing.

Johnny is pressing random notes on the keyboard, making sounds that would be unpleasant to anyone else, but you and Taeyong dance to it in weird moves that get you laughing as Doyoung sings extremely off key. The only one not taking part in your shenanigans is Yuta, who stays on the old couch writing on his notebook, and even if you wanted to call him over, you know better than to bother him.

You don’t even notice when Taeil walks into the room, holding what looks like a folder in his hand and barely helping the excited grin that wants to settle on his face. “Hey!” He tries once to get everyone to pay attention but without success. “HEY!”

His shout has all of you turning to look at him, Johnny’s fingers stopping on the keyboard and the sounds that filled the room before give way to Taeil’s rushed voice.

“I have some really good fucking news.” He announces, shaking the papers around in the air as if any of you could ever guess what’s in those papers.

“What is it?”

“Spit it out, cutie.” Comes Johnny voice and you all laugh. Making Taeil flustrated is easy but he pays it no mind right now, whatever it is he wants to say clearly more important than stupid jokes.

“A Neo Records scout was at the concert last night.” He says with edge on his voice earning confused and shocked reactions from all of you

“What the fuck?” Doyoung groans, dropping his face on his hands. “How did we not know that?”

“How could we even know? These people are sneaky as hell.”

After that the room just becomes a mess of you all talking over each other, putting yourselves down for not having performed better, for not playing better songs.

Taeil has enough of it very fast, yelling over all of you to regain your attention. “None of that matters, because he liked the performance. And,” He breaths out, a pause that has you walking forward to urge him on, “he wants to sign you guys.”

A shriek leaves your lips as someone mutters a curse. It’s unbelievable, not even Taeyong’s hand gripping your arm in excitement manages to spur you out of your trance. “Oh my god. Do they really?” He exclaims and you feel tears forming at your eyes.

“Yes. He said you guys have a lot of potential and after the tour is over they’re going to fly you all out to L.A to record an EP.” Taeil explains in calmness but just enough giddiness to his voice.

There’s no words to describe how much this means. No one in their right mind would ever sign a contract with a band that had a girl playing guitar in it. Women in rock and roll were there to be pretty, you were very much aware of how much hate The Runaways were getting constantly, how much sexist shit you yourself had to hear.

But this, this right here was an opportunity to take your dream to the next level, do something that actually stood a chance of getting recognized.

Your eyes look for Yuta’s, to share the excitement of getting this far but when they meet he holds your gaze in an expression you can't quite pinpoint. His voice raises suddenly, making everyone in the room look at him. “What’s the catch?” He uncrosses his legs, widening them as he looks at Taeil with his pierced eyebrow raised.

“What do you mean?”

He chuckles. “I mean, a big record like them wanting to sign with us, there must be something they want out of this.” You furrow your eyebrows because as much sense he makes, it sounds like he’s looking for conflict.

Taeil gapes, as if looking for the right words and you realize there is in fact a catch. “I — Well, they just… They just think it would be nice to have some songs that are more public friendly, but it can be discuss-“

Yuta’s laugh cuts Taeil short. He’s an intimidating person, even more when he looks pissed off and right now as he gets up from the couch you feel like the air is tense enough to cut. “We’re not making shitty manufactured pop songs, man.”

Usually a comment like that would be taken as a joke between all of you, but he says it in a sharp voice and you know it’s because he has had this same conversation with your manager not that many days ago. But still, you feel like there’s something more, even if Yuta wasn't keen on letting his feelings show, you knew something was going on with how distant he had become the last days.

“Come on,Yuta.” The voice comes from Taeyong, moving away from your side to face Yuta properly. There’s not an ounce of bitterness in his voice, only sympathy because you all share the same passions. “This is a crazy opportunity, we can’t let it pass.”

And then you’re sure there’s something going on that goes way over this, because Yuta is pushing Taeyong and mutetting words that you wish he doesn’t mean.”What do you even fucking know? Y’all will just take any validation you can get like little bitches.” It’s simple but it has venom to it. Venom that makes Taeyong’s face contort because he despises confrontation and at that you come forward, pushing Yuta the same way he did.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You sound way too emotional and it makes you hate yourself. Yuta just looks at you like he’s annoyed, his shoulders knocking against yours as he walks out of the room.

You look down, shaking your head in disbelief and feeling tired from the quick rise and fall of emotions. Feeling someone hover over you, you look up to find Johnny’s eyes staring down with what looks like sorrow. “Don’t stress over it, he’ll come around to it eventually.”

And you really hope that’s true.

❀

After that, things go back to the same routine of being in a bus for hours, performing in a sketchy bar, getting shitfaced drunk and then doing it all over again. The only difference is that now there’s a tension in the air that comes from both Yuta’s outburst and the prospect of all of this becoming something bigger than it is.

The higher executives at Neo Records or whoever made the decision to sign the band, had given you until your last performance to make a decision. There’s only three shows left until that, but that’s the last thing on your mind as your play a riff that makes the bigger than normal crowd that gathered today scream.

There’s blinding lights on the stage that make you feel like you’re dreaming, the sound of Doyoung half singing half screaming just slightly muted. You turn to where Yuta is, giving his all because he would never do anything but that and when the drumstick hits a plate in a sharp noise he looks right back at you.

Something had changed, you’re not dumb to not know that. But what it was exactly seemed to escape you, because Yuta was just too good at keeping things to himself, too mysterious for your sake. So he keeps giving you this look, a look that wants to be more than that but it’s not that easy to decypher. A look that you ignore to continue playing.

A look that you ignore when you all come out of the stage, sweaty and with adrenaline filling your hearts. That you ignore when everyone gathers around the hotel pool to have a beer and joke around, Johnny jumping on it and splashing everyone on the way.

A look that you can’t ignore any longer as you stand outside of Yuta’s room after everyone has retreated for the night, knocking softly until he opens the door.

This is still the same, he makes way for you to get inside and the scent of him that fills the room make your mind spin. He’s shirtless, probably ready to get to bed, and you can see all of his tattoos and the piercing on his navel on display.

Clearing your throat, you watch as he takes a seat on the bed, legs spread open and looking at you like he’s waiting for you to talk. “Something is going on.” Is what you decided on, not too keen on beating around the bush.

“A lot of things are going on.” He points out and you have to roll your eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“Maybe I don’t, so why don’t you make it clear for me?” He’s being defensive, you expected this, but it still makes your blood boil.

“See? There’s no reason for you to give me attitude right now but here we are, so there’s clearly something going on.” You cross your arms on your chest, still standing in the middle of the room like a fool as he chuckles.

“You keep saying that but I think you know very well what’s going on.” He sounds annoyed now, staring directly at you. “You just expect me to accept this shit? For money or whatever it is that you all are looking for?”

His words sound empty so you squint your eyes at him in defiance. “You’re being an asshole, this is not your dream exclusively. You’re not our fucking frontman.”

That makes him scoff. “Please, there wouldn’t be a fucking band to be signed if it weren’t for me.”

Now you really get mad, laughing in disbelief. “Are you kidding me right now? We started this shit together.” You want to punch him in the face, get the annoyed look right out of his face and remind him.

He looks down, shaking his head in what you think is disbelief. “So why does it feel like you’re not by my side?” His choice of words make your eyebrows furrow. When had you not been loyal to him? You have been by his side since you were 7, nothing had changed. “Seems to me that you’re always taking your little boyfriend’s side now.”

“What?” There’s nothing but confusion in your features as you let your arms fall to your sides. “What boyfriend? Are you fucking out of your-“

He interrupts you with a groan.“Come on, I saw the two of you kissing.”

You blink slowly and then when you realize what he’s talking about, you’re completely outraged. “Taeyong? I’m not dating Taeyong.” Your voice is going higher by the minute and he seems to be getting just as heated.

“Why were you kissing him then?” He asks, getting up from the bed and moving closer to you.

You can’t help the incredulous high laughter that leaves your lips. “Because I wanted to. Is this why you have been acting like this? Why does it even matter to you?”

His tongue curls on the roof of his mouth, looking at you with angry eyes. “Because it does.”

You squint your eyes again, not believing this is really going on right now. Yuta, who hooked up with a different girl every night, patronizing you for kissing someone. It makes something boil inside of you that you find incredibly awful. “Why does it matter?” You demand, pushing him when he doesn’t answer. “Why?”

His face contorts in something you think is guilty, eyes roaming around your own and lips parting. For a second you think he’s going to say something, then you think he’s going to do something else. But none of that happens.

You push him again, no strength to it but he still falls down on the bed in defeat. A lump forms in your throat as he avoids your eyes.

You leave the room before he can see the tears.

❀

The day it happened is still fresh in your memory.

Your bedroom is the classic teenager one, filled with posters of all kind of things, from movies to bands and just quotes that inspired something within. But the one you like the most, of Joan Jett being a complete badass, stares right back at you from where you’re staring at the ceiling. You still remember dreaming about becoming like her one day.

There’s a song playing, something from the Rolling Stones that Yuta had wanted to show you and had practically stormed inside of your house with a vinyl on his hands to do so.

Said man looks at you from your bedroom floor, his now black hair long enough to tie into a small ponytail. There’s a piercing on various parts of his body and that’s enough reason for every girl in the city to want a piece of him, his aura just helped the whole thing. You remember that at 16 you thought it was amazing too. How he just carried himself with so much confidence, how he was always unapologetic. Yuta was someone you looked up to.

“We could do it, you know?” He says out of nowhere, getting you to finally stare back at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“Do what?”

“Start a band.”

You laugh because he was like that. Talked about things that he wanted to do with ease, not matter how crazy or unordinary they were. “Sure.” Is what you reply with, giving him a smile.

“I’m being serious.” He urges on. “We can do it, me and you. Just make the music we want to and have fun.”

You think about it for a second but there’s not really a reason to. You would do anything with Yuta. “Ok.” That makes him smile. “Yeah, ok. Let’s start a band.”

Back to the present, your tears stain the stark white fabric of the pillow case. You wonder in the back of your head if 16 year old you would be happy right now and that only makes you cry harder.

❀

Pride, isn’t that a stupid thing to have over trivial matters?

You don’t speak to Yuta at all for the following weeks, confusion and anger still filling your mind and tainting your every thought. And he does the same.

It’s comfortable not having to confront him and hear the harsh words you are sure he has stored, but it also makes your skin itch thinking that this stupid fight is going on for too long.

There’s only one show left and then it’s back to reality for a couple of days. The thought of having to go back home and leaving things unsettled with him makes you sick, and it was obvious if someone were to say something it was going to have to be you. Yuta’s pride was too big, even when it didn’t have to be.

So you go after him, because someone had to. Try to get him alone but it’s like there’s always someone around, or he’s too busy composing and it all hurts. It hurts but not enough to make you give up because you know this is merely a pointless fight.

“Where’s Yuta?” You ask Doyoung, who’s sitting by the hotel pool on one of those cheap looking chairs and with a cigarette lit between his lips. The hotel this time was not as nice as the others, the pool looks unkempt like no one had even touched it in at least a month.

Doyoung blows out smoke, looking at you with a tired face that you probably share from all the performances that are just now weighing down on your shoulders. “I think he went out to some party with Johnny.” He says absently and you huff in defeat, slumping down on the chair next to him.

“Asshole.” You mumble out, shutting your eyes for a moment and then it’s silent. The only noises filling your ears are from the ice machine and from the tall lamps.

Then there’s some rustling going around before Doyoung speaks. “Listen, I know that’s not any of my business, and believe me I would much rather stay out of it.” It’s what he starts with and you almost already know what he’s going to say. “But you two need to figure your shit out.”

Trust your lead singer to just lay down the obvious to you because sometimes that's all you need to hear. You scoff. “That’s what I wanted to do.” In the back of your mind you try not to think about what figuring your shit out would entail.

“He can be a dickhead sometimes, but he’s with us.” He says as if that wasn't something you knew already. “And he said he’ll sign the deal, you know? Had a whole theatrical chat with Taeil and all.”

That’s new information, that makes you squeeze your eyes shut in both excitement and frustration at the same time, because if that was already dealt with then the reason why he was acting like this with you was for something else like you had imagined.

You think of something to say, settling on what you felt deep down the moment you got inside that tour bus. “I… I just don’t want things to change.”

That makes Doyong laugh, his voice hoarse when he says. “They already have, love. You just gotta move forward with it.”

❀

You barely remember the last show, exhaustion finally catching up with your body. You remember the trashy alternative bar, remember some people singing along which was absolutely surreal and you remember the groupies crying about how they would miss the band while you took a little break. Anything other than that is a blur and forgotten as you sleep through the entirety of the trip back home, not bothering with the bumps in the roads or how awful the tour bus smelled after weeks.

You don’t notice until later that Yuta hadn’t even gotten on the bus with everyone else. Instead, as Johnny had said, he went on a small trip and would be back in town by the end of the week. You try not to worry about it too much.

Being back home feels weird and you start thinking about what Doyoung had said that day near the pool. Everything has changed, yes, and now your bedroom feels too small. The band posters don’t inspire you anymore as much as they ignite a fire inside that’s too big to extinguish. Your mother’s hug feels comforting but it doesn’t hold you back.

You were still scared, of course, but being back home made you realize that you craved it too much to let fear hold you back. Because how does one go back to reality like when they had a taste of their dreams? How do they live without wanting a bigger taste, to eat it whole?

The only thought in your head as you lay leisurely in your bed for the next days is that you can’t wait to make more music with your friends.

With Yuta. (Thinking of him makes you want to cry.)

The phone rings on saturday, just as your mother is leaving for her job at a diner and she yells for you to pick it up quickly. You get up from the bed with a groan, leisurely walking to the phone and greeting whoever is in the other side of the line with a simple “Hello.” It was probably one of your mother’s friends wanting to gossip or someone trying to sell you items for gymnastics at home.

It takes a while for anything to be said but when it does, the voice even if static is a familiar one. “Hey, it’s me.” Yuta says and the effect it has on the butterflies on your stomach is maddening. It had been too long in your opinion, relief immediately settling in your mind.

“I know.” You breath out and he chuckles. “Thought you were out there on a self discovering trip.”

The comment makes him snort, a smile of your own making its way into your lips as you twirl the phone line with a finger.

“I just got back.” He clarifies and then there’s pause that lasts for seconds before he’s speaking again. “Listen, I — Fuck, I don’t wanna do this over the phone. Can I come over?”

Your lips feel dry. “Oh. Yes. Yes, of course you can.” And then he’s hanging up after a promise of not taking too long.

The anxiety that bubbles in your stomach is unpleasant but the thought of finally seeing him overshadows it. Because see, there’s a few ways this could go and in the back of your head you’re sure, one hundred percent sure, that your friendship with him would never be the same. Because again, how does one go back to normal when everything had changed?

Your breath hitches when there’s a knock on the door, your heart race going worryingly up and when you finally open it, Yuta stands there with a grin on his lips and looking like he always did, with an old band t-shirt tucked inside his bell bottom jeans. There’s just one thing. “You got a haircut.” Is the first thing you say, dumbly.

“Yeah.” He says, running a hand through his now blonde, almost white, hair that has the sides shaved. It’s very bold looking but it suits him.

There’s no chit chatting then, he just steps inside and hugs you like you haven’t seen each other in years. You let yourself drown in it, shoulders slumping as you arms circle his back and he hums pleased. “I miss you.” He mumbles against your hair before breaking the hug and looking at you with eyes that say a lot more than his words. “I’m a fucking asshole, right? I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “Yeah, you are.”

That makes him laugh. A laugh that’s comfortable and familiar as the way he walks inside your house, asking for you mother and pouting when he finds out she’s not there. Familiar as the way he walks into your teen bedroom and looks like he fits there just as much as you do when he plops down on your bed. There’s a feeling of nostalgia to it that he must feel too by the way his eyes roam to the poster covered walls.

You sit down on the bed next to him when he pats the empty spot, his hand disappearing inside his pocket and then he’s getting something out of it. “Got you a gift.” He says jiggling around what you now see is a keychain.

“Wow, how considerate of you.” You tease, getting it with your hands and examining the object. “Thank you, Yuta.”

“No biggie.” He shrugs but the way he watches as you swirl it around your hand tells you that he hopes you like it.

It’s one of those ‘I love NY’ keychains, and in your mind you know very well he didn’t go that far so he must’ve bought it in a random store, the fact alone bringing a grin to your lips. But where there was supposed to be a ‘N’, there’s a very badly done scratch so that it reads ‘I love Y” instead. You can’t help the giggle that forms in your throat. “I love Yuta?”

His smile is as wide as possible. “That’s right.” He doesn’t even try to play it cool. “Make sure you put it somewhere visible so everyone can see it.”

You shake your head laughing, but you still promise “I will.”

There’s a silence that follows, one that is filled with his eyes not leaving yours. This is it, you think to yourself, because you both already know it, would be impossible if you didn’t. Still you ask with a quiet voice. “Do you know why I keep writing all these love songs?”

“Yes.” He breathes out without missing a beat. A simple reply was all you expected.

“How long did you know?”

“For a while.”

And then. “Why did it bother you? That I kissed Taeyong?” You play with the hem of your skirt, pulling at a single line of fabric that was hanging from it.

There’s a small smile forming on his lips as he raises his pierced eyebrow at you.“You really don’t know why?” You do now, you both know that. And you wish you had known sooner, but right now you want to hear what he has to say. “Because I’m selfish and a fucking coward.”

His confessions carries all the meaning you need and there’s a few things you could say. But this is about you and it’s about Yuta, your best friend and the one that had been by your side all this time. The two of you didn’t need big gestures, words that would make someone tear up or any theatricals. It was simply how it was meant to be, just the two of you.

“I’m not.” Is what you say and his lips part.

“What?” He asks just to be sure.

“I’m not a coward.”

And then you kiss him, with a press of your lips to his that could as well just be saying how much you had wanted this, how you think you would go crazy if you never got to taste him like this. Because intimacy with Yuta was something you rarely gave yourself the luxury of thinking about, too scared that you would dig a hole deeper than it already was. But now, as his hands hold your cheeks and he pushes you closer, kissing you with just a hint of desperation, you let yourself drown it it.

He does it with expertise that you can’t possibly match and in the back of your head you feel slightly shy for it. Still, there’s no time to think about that when he deepens the kiss, moving your head a little so he can do as he pleases, sucking on your bottom lip and earning a soft noise that comes from your chest.

You don’t know what’s better, the hand he moves to your neck, the one that holds your thigh, almost dipping inside your skirt or how he looks at you when he breaks the kiss a little breathless. His eyes don’t leave your face as he massages the area where his hand is and you think you could melt completely. “Wanted to do this for so long.” He breathes out and your eyes never leave his now heart shaped pink lips.

Nodding in agreement, you mutter teasingly. “Took you long enough.”

He chuckles, pressing another quick peck. “Then I better not waste any more time.”

He kisses you first this time and it’s with purpose, his tongue licking at your lips until you finally give him what he wants. He draws every little noise you make with the way his tongue slides against yours and how he nips at your lips, kissing you deeper with every second he gets.

You feel overwhelmed, because for one this is new and something you never thought you would be doing, in your teen bedroom of all places. The fact that Yuta starts kissing down your neck only helps, his tongue tickling your sensitive skin before he closes his lips around it, sucking enough that it could leave a bruise. For everyone to see, you think, as he presses a small kiss to it afterwards and then moves to the next spot.

He treats you with as much delicacy as his desperation allow him, manhandling you so that you’re laying more comfortably in your bed and he can hover over you as he kisses you again.

You hate feeling small, but like this, with Yuta on top of you, it makes arousal bubble in your body. And when his hand moves to dip inside of your skirt, gripping at your thigh you let that arousal be known in the form of a surprised moan let out against his lips.

He smirks at you, clearly pleased with himself as your glossy eyes stare up at him. “You’re so cute, baby.” You feel your cheeks warming up and you hate, as much as he seems to love it, that you’re acting like this in front of your best friend. “I could just eat you up.”

His words are followed by your lips forming a small ‘o’ and then by him kissing you again, this time not waiting to let his tongue move against yours in messy motions that make you crave more of anything he has to give you.

You don’t notice at first that he hands start to move again, but when he plays with the hem of your cotton panties you know that he’s not going to settle for that. It’s embarrassing how quickly you react when he presses his fingers to your covered clit, applying pressure to it and then giving a tentative roll. You cry as quietly as you manage and he watches as your eyes squeeze when he moves his fingers again.

You always had wondered how someone else's fingers would feel compared to your own and when Yuta finally, finally, dips his inside your panties, you are sure no fantasies could compare. He drags two of his fingers down to your entrance, feeling the embarrassing wetness that had gathered and bringing it up to your clit so the circling of his fingers is more pleasant.

He continues to watch you, eyes glued to your face as you let out all kind of noises and move your body as the hint of an orgasm makes your entire body tingle. You feel so close already that you wonder if he can tell.

His movements are slow, almost teasing, and when he kisses you again his tongue moves in the exact speed as his fingers, in a way that makes you clench around nothing. As if sensing that he shifts his hand, your body almost arching from the bed when he dips one long finger inside of you. If he didn’t know about the extents of your inexperience, he knows now with how your walls hug tightly just one of his fingers. The groan he lets out at the feeling is one of the prettiest sounds you had ever heard.

He moves his finger slowly, as if testing the waters and when he curls it just right you gasp at the new feeling. “There?” He asks with a grin and you just nod dumbly, biting on your lips enough to bruise.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder if the other girls he had, had came this fast, because when he combines the thrusting of his curled finger to his thumb circling your clit, you feel enough to explode. Doesn’t help that he says his next proposition.

“Let me have a taste, hmm?” His words are muffled from where his lips are pressed on your neck and there’s a very clear mix of feelings that happen inside of your head. You cry out, clearly affected by the proposition and the mere thought of his wet lips against your warmth makes you clench around his fingers. He feels it, of course he does, because he lets out a small moan and grinds down on you a little, his hardness very much there. “Yeah?” He sounds breathless.

“I—I’m.” You gasp when he moves his fingers faster as if to entice you. But this is the extent of your inexperience, the mere thought of him eating you out makes you so overwhelmed that you can’t give in just yet. “I don’t… I-I’m not ready.”

Your voice sounds small but he doesn’t even blink at your denial, instead he kisses you deeply in reassurement. “It’s ok, sweet girl.” He presses down on your clit, giving you exactly the friction you need. “I’ll eat your pretty pussy another day.”

And then his fingers are moving faster, enough that it takes you no time to come with a loud moan that sounds a lot like his name and your hands gripping tightly at the bed sheets. You shake, body trembling as you try to ground yourself but the orgasm is too shattering.

When he removes his fingers from inside you, he licks then clean before moving your shirt upwards so your stomach is exposed. He moves to kneels between your open legs and you’re left confused until he starts unzipping his pants, asking a soft. “Okay?” To which you nod excitedly.

He doesn't ask you to do anything, instead he dips a hand inside his underwear, barely pushing the rest of his pants down as he pulls his cock free. It’s a sight that leaves you breathless, the way he thumbs at the head and smears pre cum around and when that’s not enough, his fingers move inside the mess of your panties, gathering your arousal and bringing it to his hardness in what is the most erotic view you had ever seen.

The first stroke is slow and he bites his lips, looking at you with a fucked out expression. “See what you do to me?” He asks in a groan and you nod in your little haze, eyes not knowing where to look at.

His strokes get quickly faster, with swirls of his wrist and it doesn’t take long for him to let out a strangled moan as he comes with thick spurts in your stomach. You watch it all in awe, the way he twitches in his palm and his eyes fight to stay open. It’s like suddenly you know why there are so many songs about sex.

Afterwards when you’re cleaned and laying on the bed lazily, Yuta plays an unknown melody on your old acoustic guitar with a little inexpertise, humming what you think is the start of a song still in the works.

The sun is about to set and you feel a weird sensation of contentment, a spark blossoming in your chest. You had kissed your best friend, done things with him that reached a level of intimacy you were still learning to navigate, but everything still felt the same.

“Doyoung told me you’re going to sign the contract.” You say, breaking the comfortable silence.

His eyes don’t leave the guitar strings. “Of course, can’t leave my own band.” He deadpans jokingly and you scoff, nudging him with your feet.

“What if they make us do songs we don’t want to?

“I’m sure you’ll scare them off with your attitude.” He laughs when you gasp, lurching at him but stopping because you couldn’t attack him properly with the guitar on his lap.

Noticing that, he smiles, one eyebrow raising at you as he lets the guitar down and opens his arms almost in a challenge for you to hit him. Which you do, playfully before you’re letting yourself fall putty into his chest. “I don’t have an attitude.” You whine.

He huffs. “Yes you do. But it’s very charming.”

Rolling your eyes you hug him closer, basking in the feeling of having him here with you and the comforting knowledge that he feels the same way you do. “Do you think we’ll be able to handle it? Fame and whatever else comes with it?”

“We were born for it, baby.” He says with a cocky grin, always overwhelmingly confident. “I told you, you and me, we can do anything we want together.”

And that’s all you need to hear.

❀

“Back to earth, pretty girl.” Yuta’s voice snaps you out of another daydream, some ideas for a new album and whatever else filed your mind these days. He sounds slightly demanding but you don’t mind at all.

“Sorry.” You mumble and he gives you a grin that you can’t help but match.

There’s the start of a melody playing in the big studio that was rented for the new album. Johnny says something and you adjust the guitar strap, feeling the familiar and comfortable weight of it as your fingers find the strings with ease.

You glance at Yuta another time and he’s still looking at you, mouthing something you can’t quite understand but by the silly smile on his face you know exactly what it is. “Love you too.” You mouth right back at him, shaking your head at his silliness.

And then the song starts.

❀❀❀❀❀

tag list: @jupitersmark @euphoricdreamies @peachybun-01

#yuta smut #yuta scenarios #nct smut #nct scenarios #i reread this last night and realized its not at all how i wanted it to be #it could be so much better :(#but i hope you guys still enjoy it

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regulusfate · 4 years ago

Text

If denim is all you have

[ grasp those gnarly edges and don’t let go]

summary: scott mccall has a jacket in the future, he needs it in the past

fandom: teen wolf , au / time travel

word count : 1426

post s6 — set s2

The breeze is nice against his face, almost cold, soft enough to ruffle his hair and he wants to lean into it — like a hand caressing his cheek. He’s standing, leaning against the wall. His eyes are heavy, itchy like grit trapped between skin, and they flutter between the shadows of sleep and the gleam of the street lamp.

He takes a breath, and there’s the smell of rain against the ear and the knots in his shoulders roll from his muscles as they relax into the jacket. That smelt new, everything smelt new. Fresh, mingled with a delirious choking smoke that grows thick at the back of his throat.

He reached down and tugged the tag off. It was new though, this, foreign between his fingers and rough against his skin. It had come with a note and those familiar words and he’s rolling the tiny ball of paper between his fingers because that’s all he has to anchor.

His nose hurts, like that burning rippling up the bone before you sneeze. [ Or cry .. ]

He takes another breath and let’s his heart thrum beneath his chest. Their faces were still etched in his mind, but now distorted, coiling grotesquely between new and old and his and them , they all feel too young. They are his pack but they are puppets on a rope and the string is thinning and with each passing day another thread slips.

They’re is pack but they are not. And he cannot shake that feeling no matter how hard he tried — imposters.

His wolf rumbles gently in his chest, and that smoke is back and his eyes are stinging. He can almost see it in the shadows, curling down to rub against his leg, a soft purr like a cat and there’s something amusing about that. A wolf cat.

“-Scotty?”

Stiles, with a face dismembered from his bones and shift across his face. Lips moving like melting wax and those eyes, the brown of earth calling him down and yet all he can taste his dirt.

“Hello ? Anyone at home ?”

He manages a smile, and Stiles’s face shifts back a little, rocking on his heels and they’re piercing his skin with pin pricks.

“Sorry.” He offered a coy smile, and those eyes relax from a burning intensity, and Scott ignores the rising hackles of his wolf.

“You got here early?”

His mother now. He fixes his eyes to the wavering tree a little past her head, he’d seen her face in the mirror once and he doesn’t want to see it again.

That leaves a sour clench of his stomach but he’s still waiting for their faces to settle.

“Uh - yeah .” Maybe they’re expecting more, he realises a second too late, his own voice detached a little from his ears and her hand is reaching for his arm.

Scott flinches, and Noah Stilinski narrows his eyes. He recognises that look, and remembers to shift a little, but it never had the same effect.

Nothing ever seemed quite as intimidating once you’ve died. He always counts to fifteen minutes to pass the hours. There’s a comfort in that, those fifteen minutes of silence, peace , and maybe he leans into it. It’s more lonely and less.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m great,” and it sticks to the back of his throat like dry air. He’d learnt to lie properly, but now he didn’t even try, there was little point. Either they heard and listened or they didn’t.

He wasn’t going to tell them. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

A hand finds his lower back as they file into the restaurant, and he doesn’t flinch but a growl rolls to the back of his wind pipe and he feels his muscles tremor under the concentrated effort to keep his claws in.

It felt wrong and right. All their scents were warped. He didn’t want to know their touch.

It’s light. That’s all he can really comprehend. He’d learnt a long time past, to filter out the irrelevant. It’s bright and then the room filters into a glass display of colours and sharpens to figures and their animated motions.

He lets his vision narrow it, and the sounds that stuck his ears with the strength of a scream muffled into the thicket of water and dripped over his head. Even Stiles is talking, and really it’s only his lips moving as they slide into chair. He wants to feel bad that his voice too is muffled.

Imposters , friends . Pack . He should listen.

Probably.

And then as his fingers are curling round the chair to pull it out a scent catches his tunnelling mind. A figures to his left moves and he notices it, in a way the rest were blurred at the edges.

Argent. Chris Argent.

It tastes like the crunch of leaves beneath a boot, dispersing fragments into the wind, and yet the steady trickle of a stream, the sting of salt and the soothe of water. There’s something musky, like aftershave but twisted, an age that isn’t his age, but a future, and a home.

The scent is familiar and it kills him.

He knows his heart has sped up to his throat, feels his neck snap round without so much as a twinge and his fingers drop away from the chair as he meets the soft blue of his eyes. It’s the blue of cracked ice, shards etched away in slumber and clouds broken to reveal the sky.

He feels his Adam’s apple bob against his skin and steels himself, finding the young, tired creases and thin lips and the quirk of smile in them that had always been aimed at Allison. He tries to keep his mind off Allison.

It’s a second later that he realises — Argent’s face remained unchanged.

They’re stood a few feet apart, and the hunter’s heart is steady and strong, and his face is not the restless image that succumbs the others. His scent is mingled with the future . His Argent.

“Scott?”

His mother again, and his legs move between the gap that feels more like the pooling ocean. His mind screaming to stay put, he’s not entirely unaware how strange this will seem, to all onlooking. But he’s craving, his wolf and not just that, he is craving connection.

Argent doesn’t hesitate and Scott doesn’t bother with the pleasantries of politeness and a small alarm ringing that this could most definitely be a trap to lure him in, that they had definitely figured out he wasn’t the Scott they knew, that he was once again in danger and he’d never escape-

His chin bumps into Argent’s jacket, the cool of the leather smoothing across his skin and his fingers are curling into the thick material as his arms wind around his back. He breathes.

“We need to talk,” Chris murmured into his ear, and he feels himself nod, and the arms that don’t trigger something strange across his body, tighten. A hand wraps gently around the nap of his neck and he breathes again, longer, deeper than he needs really.

A noise ruptures at the back of his throat, a yearn, and he doesn’t have the strength to be embarrassed, but it’s quiet enough, muffled enough that over the vacant chatter of the restaurant only a werewolf would have heard.

Given the chance Scott knows he wouldn’t have pulled back. But he’s also acutely aware of his surroundings despite blocking them out, like a sheen between his eyes and the rest of the world. He’s also aware that this is his Argent, but he has boundaries and Scott doesn’t want to overstep.

Three days ago he wouldn’t have worried. Maybe now he worries too much. Did he ever worry enough? She should’ve lived .

He’d stopped thinking about that a long time ago.

His own hand travels up and they’re clasping each other, their foreheads pressed together, allies. friends. pack. The only one he can truly trust. Scott almost wants to cry.

“Yeah.”

He breathes and doesn’t say anything else until they part properly. The whole thing seemed to have run on for minutes and hours, but Scott knows without looking the exchange would have been a minute at most.

“Thanks,” and he gives a nod down to the denim, “uh for the jacket.”

Chris smiled and gave his shoulder another squeeze. Scott didn’t feel so obscure in his own body.

“Anytime.”

Scott wondered if his eyes bled emotions the same way his heart did. Like the wine of water and oceans and stars seeping from the sky in lines of crystal tears.

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falling-fineline · 4 years ago

Text

Native of mine you’re just my kind

(A Cake one shot)

Title and lyrics from “Lonely Hearts” by 5SOS and some inspiration from Ashton’s breakdown of CALM that he did for #1yearofCALM.

Summary: Distance makes the heart grow fonder, or so they say. What they don’t tell you is that it also exhaustingly lonely.

Warnings: smut and fluff! You’ve been warned!

can also be found on ao3!

Our house on fire

We’re burning

We dance inside

You’re hurting

If you leave me in the morning

I’ll have such a

Such a lonely heart

“I’m only gone for a week to see the family, Luke. Not moving back there forever. Plus, it’s my fourth day here so there’s technically four more days until you see me again. There’s no need to bring out that pout of yours, pet.” Calum rolls his brown eyes but smiles fondly at how childish his boyfriend is being right now.

Luke pouts for a second longer at the screen, then a small grin breaks the pout.

The blond loved these facetimes they have. There were no verbal promises but they’ve been facetiming at least twice a day, sometimes more. Mostly about silly things, most calls that don’t last more than 5 minutes. But these little nuggets of seeing calum’s really are the sole thing that’s Luke got looking forward to every day since Calum’s been gone. Luke won’t admit it to himself, and he thinks that Calum has caught on but just doesn’t say anything about it, but most of the calls are from Luke, and it’s whenever he gets a spike of ice cold fear that he calls Calum. An irrational fear, he knows, that calum’s going to stay in Aus, and not come back, essentially breaking up with him.

Aside from walking Petunia around the block every morning and night, Luke hasn’t doesn’t anything else other than lying around in bed, waiting for Calum to call him.

A pretty sad sounding existence, he knows. But ever since Calum left to visit his family in Australia a few days ago, luke’s been spiraling. He had sensed the his mental fragility settling in when he said goodbye to Calum at the airport and his mood has had a downward trajectory ever since. Luke went from quarantining with Calum ever since they came back from tour, seeing Calum every day, to suddenly not seeing him. This has thrown his head into a pitiful sad loop.

“Luke, you still with me, love? I know it’s late over there in LA but you called me.” A light chuckle rang out from Luke’s phone, in his hands as he laid on his side in bed.

“I just… couldn’t sleep. Wanted to see your stupid face again.”

Luke actually hadn’t slept for more than 2-3 hours every night ever since Calum left. This morning, Luke woke up, head in a hazy state, and just sat out on their balcony, staring at absolutely nothing. Begging to feel the sun that’s shining on him, the warm hug she would have beared for him. Anything but this dark pit that regenerated out of thin air, in his chest, that seeped into his bones during the night Calum left and he hasn’t felt a thing in days.

Calum sees through Luke right away. It’s as if their souls were grown in the same origin, or something. Calum’s the only one that takes one look at luke and instantly reads him like an open book. Eager to read every word, every sentence, meticulous in not missing any clues along the way.

“Luke, you can be honest with me. This is your 5th call ever since I woke up and I’ve only been for 6 hours. I’m not saying to call me less, but today’s been a lot, huh? How have you been feeling?” calum’s concerned brown orbs search Luke’s through the screen, trying to see any minute change in the blond’s features that would give him away.

Luke closes his eyes for a moment, thinking of a suitable answer. He readjusts on the bed so he’s sitting up against the headboard. The younger lad had been so caught up in his head, wallowing in his sadness, he hadn’t really checked in with how he was feeling. Luke’s speak is thoughtful when he speaks.

“ive been feeling… lonely. Nothing new to me, nothing new to you.” A dry chuckle leaves the blond’s mouth and he see’s his boyfriend readjust in his own bed, mimicking Luke’s position. Calum’s eyes are filled with concern for the blond, a frown on his lips.

“now what have we talked about using humour to minimise how you’re feeling? Remember, for me to understand how you’re feeling, you gotta be honest with me, especially with how you feel.”

“I just hope that you’re missing me half as much as I’m missing you right now, cal.” Tears begin to form in the blond’s eyes, making his vision of Calum a misty one. But he continues on with how he truly feels. “Like, my heart hurts whenever you’re not here with me. I’ve got such a lonely heart without you here, cal.” A choked sob escapes out of the younger lad’s lips. He’s quick to wipe his tears with his hoodie sleeve before he looks like a right mess in front of his boyfriend.

“Oh, pet. Don’t cry. If anything, I do miss you, so, so, much. My chest can barely hold myself together. Every song reminds me of you and I’ve been listening to my music nonstop without you here with me. Mali keeps making fun of me cuz I’m glued to my phone, chatting with you all day long.” A wet grin appears on Luke’s lips then, reveling in the feeling of being missed. Of being thought about. Of feeling wanted.

Interest grows in Luke’s as he watches Calum innocently lick his lips. A low groan comes out of Luke’s mouth as he sinks into the bedframe, sinking deeper into his beige hoodie, his hood flipping flat on his blond locks.

“oh, I know those eyes whenever I see them. You in the mood right now, Hemmings?” Luke blushes even when he sees Calum strip out of his black calm sweatshirt through his screen, revealing a number of scattered tattoos all over his abdomen and arms. Luke drools at the thought of what comes next.

Luke begins to play with his growing bulge that’s beginning to come alive in his briefs, causing the camera to shake a bit. Calum noticed the movement and smirks.

“Are you touching yourself right now, babe? Is me being shirtless causing you to become hot and bothered, my boy?” just to seemingly directly add to Luke’s erection and to the mental wanking log he has of visuals of Calum, Calum flexes his tattooed arm for the camera, muscles seemingly bulging out of his skin.

Luke moans in luau of responding, one hand starts the task of getting his dick out of his briefs and one hand holding the phone steady. He moves his camera back a bit, revealing his angry red cock that glistens at the tip with precome. Calum’s whistles lowly at seeing his boyfriend’s big cock.

Luke overtly stares at calum’s tattooed arm. The way the 5 o’clock shadows are casted on his muscles, clinging to every curve and jutted out vein. The blond fantasizes that it’s calum’s hand that’s jerking himself off right now, arm pumping up and down, muscles working overtime to get Luke to his climax.

Luke’s eyes become hooded eyelashes fluttering as he feels the familiar warmth coil itself in his abdomen, close to release. Mouth hanging open, Calum doesn’t think Luke realizes the soft continuous “ah ah ah’s” that are leaking out of his mouth as he feels his orgasm building. Small tears escape his eyes with how good Luke feels as he imagines it’s his boyfriend’s thumb that goes over the tip of his leaking cock, sliding his precome over his slick dick. At one point during their FaceTime, Luke had stopped jerking himself off to hike up the beige hoodie that he has on, tucking it under his chin, revealing perky nipples and pale skin with luscious chest hair.

“Look how pretty my boy is, all desperate for me.” Luke preens at calum’s words, warmth growing in his cheeks and heart. “Look how beautiful you are, at worked up, just from imagining me jerking your big huge cock off. And it’s at for me, my eyes only. God damn it Hemmings, what am I gonna do with you?” Calum lips his lips in anticipation. Luke loved when Calum got possessive in their dirty talk. It made him feel wanted, lusted over, and more importantly, loved.

A low whine escapes Luke’s lips as the blond imagines face-fucking Calum. He’d take his cock so nicely into his mouth. His greedy greedy mouth. Luke imagines calum’s jaw going slack as the brunet succumbs to his own pleasure and with a dazed look in his brown orbs, the blond imagines fucking calum’s throat relentlessly as he jerks himself to climax.

With a shout of calum’s name, Luke comes all over his stomach and chest, huge spurts of white spunk paints his chest hair, mingling in the unruly curls.

Eyes glazed over with his orgasm, the blond sees his boyfriend’s mouth open in a silent scream as Calum cums too in his own pants.

After a couple minutes of silence from both ends as they came down from their orgasmic highs, Luke chuckles.

“I really needed that cal. Thanks. I’m so relaxed now…”

They stay on the line for a while longer, just smiling like goofs to each other.

#cake hoodings #cake 5sos #calum hood #luke hemmings #one shot #smut #fluff #drabble #fan fic #my work

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millennial-star-gazer · 4 years ago

Text

Tantric Flames: Chapter: 9

Tantric Flames

Nalu lovefest 2019 Prompts: Magic, Worship, Reckless , Forbidden and Cravings (All Implied)

Genres: Romance, Humor, New Adult Fanfiction

Pairing:Nalu (Natsu x Lucy)

Rating: M for language, steamy and mature adult sexual content (all consensual) in these and future chapters. Reader Direction is advised.(You've been warned!)

Summary: One look, one smouldering hooded gaze, one word, one fiery kiss, one magnetizing touch was all he needed for her to completely unravel at his mercy alone, succumbing to the sinful temptation of her inhibitions, his love, his feral passion, his raw, insatiable desires, his "Tantric Flames". Originally an Submission for Nalulovefest 2017 (on previous accounts) in which Natsu gives his mate a tantric massage-after much persuasion- she won't soon forget when it turns into so much more. Also previously featured in Nalu lovefest 2018 (on current accounts) , as well as Nalu Week 2017, Nalu Fluff Week and Nalu lovefest 2017 (as stated) with first three chapters on my previous celestialgeekmage accounts . Chapter 7 was also an entry for nalu week 2019 and Chapter 8 for Nalu Lovefest 2019. ( Nalu-centric) (Slight Au).

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Chapter 9: Tempted by A Tantric Touch

A/N: Hey guys, it's your girl Millennial StarGazer! This time I'm returning with another long-awaited installment of Tantric Flames. Once again, a major thanks to and koodos to @bmarvels, @mannyegb, @animezing-fandoms/princess-starry-night, and @allie-and-her-fandoms for helping me edit and further develop this chapter! Now without further ado, here's the story-enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fairytail which belongs to the one and only Hiro-sensei instead!

(Note: Scroll down pas the keep reading button/ cut for the designated links, legend and actual chapter. The tagging feature and keep reading button might not show up or fully work on the desktop site but should function just fine on the app and mobile version.

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Read More of Tantric Flames and the rest of my writing on here and other plaftorms.

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1. Tantric Flames

A. Tumblr Version

(Previous Chapter:) (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/188352271948/tantric-flames-chapter-8-tantric-art-of)

Chapter: 9 (Next Chapter ) (Coming Soon)

B. Fanfiction (Click Here:) ( or here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13114990/1/Tantric-Flames-reupload-from-cosmicdragonwizardaccounts)

C. A03 (Click Here:) ( or here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17063882/chapters/40123739)

2. Master Post Of All My Writing (Click Here:) ( or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179665258923/master-fic-rec-post)

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Legend:

Italic: Song Lyrics/Quotes (or flashback dialogue)

Bold: First Person Thoughts

Bolded Italics: Empathized Word(s)

Bolded Italics (Within and Outside Bracket) including for author's side notes also known as (A/N:) within brackets (though none for side-notes in this chapter ).

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"You run your fingers over every part of my body and tease me with your touch".

(Source Unknown)

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Oh God, those love bites. So many love bites that decorated the blonde's creamy skin like jewels; far too numerous to count that always sent a red-hot line fire rippling through her nerves with with every nip, every suck; each every and stroke of Natsu's velvet tongue. Plus, he's usually doing other things at the same time. Racy images of the couple's steamy moments together from the last soak flooded Lucy's mind.

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Flashback

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The celestial mage's back arching of its own accord into Natsu's touch from robust hands cupping her breast; Blazing digits kneading the twin peaks in time with lips sucking along Lucy's pulse with so much skill that she couldn't help the heady moan that escaped her throat.

"Ya feel that, Luce?" Nastu growled in his princess's ear, the dark undercurrent of his territorial voice pulling a tingly shiver from her. "My marks all over that perfect body of yours— and not just the permanent one when you swore your heart to me . All of those are symbols of my essence, my claim, my love. That you belong to me and me alone. My mate and queen, forever and always. And those sounds you're makin'? Hot as hell."

Pretty sure, dude leaves marks on me as his way of announcing to the world I'm off limits as his mate. Explains why he's always quick to leave a fresh one in its place even after I cover them— not that I'm complaining. Plus, it's not only for his benefit but mine. It's great that he knows how much I love receiving hickeys and gets off from it.

Seriously, what more could I ask for?

Not to mention how lovely it always was to unwind with Natsu after each bath. The wizard was often keen in his offer to dry the blonde's damp hair with a towel or fire-magic-powered steam; from her perch on his lap or between his legs.

Much more relaxing than using a hair dryer if you ask me.

The dragonslayer would sometimes even hum or sing a familiar tune from days past in that appealing, gravelly baritone of his; would usually lull the already-zen mage into the world of dreams when combined with the sooth dual sensation of fingers combing through her hair, .

"I tell you, I tell you, the dragonborn comes ..."

Anyother guild member who might be eavesdropping, however, would often be quick to lightheartedly goad the blonde mage ( much to her chargin). Natsu no doubt would find this hilarious of course; which would serve for Lucy's cheeks to flush an even deeper shade of crimson than she already was.

"Say Luce, is that a blush I see?" he once crooned, a teasing edge to his words; though the affectionate mirth sparkling in his eyes warmed her heart just a little. "Aw, is my girl a little embarrassed? That's okay though— makes ya all the more adorable and endearing than you already are. You want me to make it all better? Cuz I can! Got plenty of kisses! Come on, you know you want some which I'm more than happy to give. God I love ya' so much, you know that?"

It's amazing really... Lucy ruminated in fond awe. How Natsu can switch between the different roles and sides to him with relative ease. From Romantic and tender to dominant, playful and affectionate; then back again on top of everything else all seemingly at the drop of a hat. All an innate part of his overall nature I guess— essentially what makes up who he is. Some people may find this a bit confusing to keep up with— but I don't. Just makes him all the more complex.

Though those people would also be right when they say that the dude still has a devious streak, she couldn't help but add with wry smirk. Even with me, though never with malicious intent. German suplex, non-stop tickling, dumping me in a tub of freezing cold water during one of our baths— too many pranks to count really. At least he's always quick to follow up with plenty of affection ever since we became an item— can't complain about that."

"You ready to get started Lucy?" Natsu's keen voice broke through Lucy's reverie.

"You know it!" The celestial mage chirped, unable to mask the pure enthusiasm in her voice; earning an amused chuckle from the dragon wizard . "Can't wait. I take it you'll be hoarding me for the rest of the afternoon?"

"Mhmm" Came his content hum in response." That really a bad thing, though?"

"No, definitely not."

"I figured. Why don't we get you up on that massage bed?"

"Sure thing!"

A buzz of anticipation was practically thrumming in Lucy's blood from such tantalizing implications of his words; the stunt Natsu pulled next , though— that was what really shot a thrilling jolt up her spine.

"Let's finish what we started later, yeah?"

The dragonslayer's proposal was punctuated by a light tap on the summoner's ass for good measure,; which resulted in a delighted squeal.

"O-okay!" was said female's response in the form of a breathy giggle.

"Let me get you that towel while I'm at it."

"Sure— thanks."

"My pleasure."

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A Few Minutes Later

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"Ugh...do me a huge favor and burn this towel. Will ya?"

Lucy couldn't help but let out an audible groan along with the heat rising in her cheeks. Good god was the particularly moist spot on the white towel a truly mortifying sight to behold. Basically tell-tale remnants of liquid arousal that had been wiped clean from her legs just moments before.

Mavis only knows what would happen if Levy or Cana noticed during laundry duty.

" Okay... why though?" Natsu questioned, brows drawing together in mild confusion. "As in why do you want me to?"

"Guild Laundry day" came Lucy's automatic reply."That's why."

"Not following ya.' Natsu blinked owlishly in uncomprehension.

"Levy…..and Cana….." Lucy supplied, a finger twirling an errant strand of blonde hair in :a self-conscious display." "I... uh.."

"Still don't know what you mean here, Luce."

"It's their turn to do laundry duty." She attempted to break down what was apparently such an abstract concept into simpler terms; not able to help the aggravation rising in the back of her mind.

"Yeah? So?"

"They'll probably see the moist stain on the towel." Lucy clarified, forcing her voice to remain level.

"I see— don't see the problem though."

"Think about who'll most likely be with them ."

"Gajeel and Laxus but…...ahh—"

Realization dawned on Natsu's face. "I get it now. What you're saying is that they'll probably catch a whiff of your arousal? "

"Well, the lingering remnants of the scent anyway. Seriously though?" he tacked on, lifting a questioning brow."That's what you're worried about?"

"Yeah... I am," Lucy admitted, nerves leaking into her voice. "Aren't you?"

"Not really, no." Natsu gave a shrug of his shoulders—seemingly unfazed.

"Why's that?" Lucy couldn't help but shoot him a puzzled glance.

"Cuz it'll show everyone how much I rocked your world." Natsu replied, flashing his mate a cheeky grin. " And what's not to love about that?"

"Pervert — of course you'd say that!" Lucy screeched, skin flushing a deep shade of crimson.

"That's me!"

"Ugh, still don't know what to do about the moist spot— those four are never gonna let me live it down."

"You know if you're that worried, I could always use my tongue to clean ya up instead." Natsu drawled with a lazy smirk that set her heart all pit-patter .

"And of course, you'd suggest that," Lucy quipped with a slight roll of her eyes. "Did I mention how much of a horn dragon you are? "

"Yeah, but only for a certain gorgeous blonde of mine and she loves it."

"Oh, she does, huh?" Lucy raised a challenging brow.

"Yep. Don't bother trying to deny it, Luce".

"Ugh fine... you're right. I do. Seriously, you and your colossal ego though."

"Why, thank you! If you're impressed by that, you'd really should see my co—"

The rest of Natsu's words were cut off by Lucy's hand swatting him with a pillow which was met with a snicker.

"Pervert" Lucy deadpanned with another eye roll. "By way, you would've found yourself in the proverbial dog house if you actually meant the other kind of 'fighting earlier."

Only for Natsu's face to instantly fall in response to her statement.

"What?" Natsu objected, gaping at her with wide eyes. " And deprive me of the chance to wake up to your beautiful face each morning for that long?!"

"Yep." Lucy gave a nod by way of reply.

"But why? You know that's not the type of fightin' I met!"

"Well yeah, I know that now. But not earlier when you originally brought up. Just be glad that you didn't bail on our date earlier."

"I didn't though! And never would— honest Luce!" Natsu's voice lifted into a petulant whine.

"Hmm.. Okay, good to know. " Lucy responded, raising her hands to placate him. "Though you'll have to be without me for a few days anyway.

"Wait, seriously?" Natsu faltered , bewildered panic flashing in his eyes. . "Come on! What is it this time?"

"Camping retreat in the woods next week that Cana, Mira, Lisanna, and Erza are organizing— ladies only."

"W-ha?" Natsu continued to sputter, his poor brain no doubt short circuiting by now." But Elfman said that it was open to anyone who's free to go!"

"Really? Lucy mused in thoughtful interest. "That's not what I heard... huh."

"What am I supposed to do without you?"

"How about something fun with the guys? Should be nice, right?"

"Yeah, but so is spending time with you Lucy! It's always more fun when we're together like you said."

"And I don't disagree. Doesn't change anything though. The trip's still happening."

"Didn't say it wasn't but it'd still suck here without you! Natsu moaned, that desperate sense of longing bleeding into his voice. " I'd miss ya' too much! So would our little buddy! Can't we tag along? Maybe Even share an air mattress in a decent-sized tent? I'd gladly help set up and keep you cozy in my arms at night."

"What about Happy?" Lucy questioned, intrigued by his suggestion. His offer does sound really tempting.

"Obviously he'd share the tent with us but would have his own sleeping bag and could hang with Wendy and Carla whenever we wanted alone time. Plus there are all these cool spots I could take you to on nature hikes!."

"Sounds great."

"Course it is! So whaddya say? You onboard?" Natsu wheedled, flashing her what could only be described as the most flawless puppy eyes she'd ever seen.

"Aw that's really tempting and" Lucy gushed, heart contracting at the adorable pout he was throwing in too. Normally I'd say yes"— but it'll have to wait. Thank you though! I'd love to take you up on that offer another day."

"Oh come on— please I wanna go!" Natsu huffed,stamping his foot as if he were a child pitching a fit over being denied a coveted toy- quite an amusing display to say the least.

"Not this time I'm afraid. Sorry, them's the brakes."

"Lucyyyyyyyyy!" Natsu whined again, dragging the syllables of her name with such melodrama that she finally decided to let him off the hook

" Jeez.. enough with the dramatics already. " Lucy yielded with an exasperated groan, You can still come— the trip is for everyone. I was only kidding after all."

Said confession was met with a noise of stunned dimsay from from the pyro.

"Wait... so ya' mean to tell me that this was a joke?! he muttered, voice coming out with a small pinch of disbelief. "You were pulling my leg the entire time?"

"Yep— consider it payback for me making think you were gonna ditch earlier."

"That's why? That's not nice, Luce— not very nice at all." Natsu grumbled, though not with any real heat.

"Oh yeah, what are you gonna do about it?" Lucy baited, a daring lilt to her words.

" Oh —- wouldn't you like to know?" Natsu rumbled, eyes sparking in a such a calculating way that it sent a electrifying chill down Lucy's spine.

"I would— ngh! Nastuuuu!"

The rest of what Lucy was attempting to say Lucy's words were cut off by the lighting- fast sweep of Natsu's velvet tongue up her thighs . Not to mention that electric high-voltage jolt of ecstasy flooding her veins.

"There! that should show ya!" Natsu let out a cackle of glee. " Not to ever play dirty tricks on a dragon I mean. Guess you're not gonna need that towel after all, huh Lucy?"

"My God..."

"Yeah, I know . Just that amazing with my tongue, I guess. Natsu purred, voice laced with am indecorous promise "Plus, hearing ya' scream my name like that just gave me another hard-on that I'd love for you to see .. "

"Jeez … of course it'd would . and no real shocker that you would say something like that."

"Yep- you know me so well, Luce. and it's not like you're complain' anyway. Want me to prove it?"

" Maybe.. But God- you're such a pompous ass, you know that?"

"Yeah but all part of my charm, sweetheart."

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A/N: And that's Chapter 9 folks! My apologies for the delay by the way! I originally wanted to post this much sooner but got hit with writer's block after getting a somewhat stumped on a particular segment of this chapter. I've also been with my other ongoing fanfics, WIPs and responsibilities among other things in my life . That all aside, at least this chapter was finally posted! Now please feel free to do me a solid and let me know what you think by leaving a comment/ review! Stay tuned for Chapter 10 too! Oh and please feel free to check out the rest of my writing which can be found above, on my profiles and in master post if reading this on tumblr. All right, that's pretty much all I have to say for now! Thanks to all my mutuals/friends, readers and followers for their continuous support over the years! (Corresponding links for the master of my writing and profiles can be found above, in the navigation bar of the desktop and bio if reading this on tumblr.) Until next time-take care!

#fairytail #ft fanfics #nalu #endlu #natsu x lucy #e.n.d natsu x lucy #tantric flames #my writing #millennial star gazer writes #millennial stargazer #please reblog

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moonlightjongin · 4 years ago

Note

Hey! Just wanted to let you know I’m super excited for Rescind (and all your other stories, of course) hehe. I’m not normally into the supernatural au type of stories but Rescind sounds lit. Also, I’m so amazed that you came up with the separate vampire races and the whole backstory for it as well. I’m like mind blown, you’re so amazingly creative.

Btw, you’re doing great, don’t listen to all those pushy ppl demanding for updates. I really admire that you care so much about what you put out into the world and how you wouldn’t share it unless you were happy with it. You also don’t succumb to the pressure from others to churn out stories/chapters like some kind of machine. It takes a lot of courage to share ideas/content you’ve created with others, so thank you for sharing yours with all of us. Your stories are truly amazing and from what I can see, each and every one of them are so different. I truly appreciate you and your work and wanted to let you know that :) p.s. hope you’re staying safe in this pandemic!!

I don’t know if I could thank you enough for sending this, but genuinely, thank you so much. For sending this, for caring, for caring about my stories outside of Exception and I guess for understanding that me being excited about any of my other stories doesn’t mean I’ve given up on Exception. I mean, like... why would a sequel be in development if I had?

But thank you so much for the Rescind excitement(!!) and for the lovely compliments and for being an all around angel. And all of you that are keeping me sane with the Rescind and WIWY (and even the none pushy Exception) asks because they’ve been helping so much.

I’ll apologize beforehand for the vent about Exception but I’ll be honest, I’ve gotten to a point where I’m tired. And probably want Exception finished more than anyone else (and I know I’ve said it before but I literally had it finished, in its entirety - and yes it needed a rewrite and a bit of development because the characters weren’t as realized as they are now - and I lost all of those documents because my laptop broke out of nowhere and there was no way of locating the backed up documents I had in case of that. But I didn’t give up on it, even though there were times I wanted to, and as much as I love the story, it’s been such a gruelling process to have to rewrite the entire thing, you know? The entire thing. From start to finish. From memory, basically). So that’s why I ask for patience for it. Because it’s a big story. It’s a very detailed story. The chapters are long, and pretty much every detail counts, especially in the latter chapters.

At first it was just a coincidence. I’d make a post about any of the other stories I was working on and I’d get asks about Exception updates. Times I’d post about a Rescind development and get an ask and be excited to see what someone else had to add and it be some form of “update Exception” time and time again. Then it’d be every time I’d post a gifset, which is just ridiculous. Yall know I make gifs on this blog too. Any of you can prefer my stories if you wish, cool, but that’s something that’s sticking.

And I usually don’t mind asks about updates, you know? (and tbh I actually really do get pressured and worried about “not updating enough” it’s kind of what propelled me to start making gifs because I was worried I wasn’t doing “enough”, and it gets to me really easily actually, I just have too much perfectionism with my writing to post something I know isn’t at its best and can work myself into corners to like... force myself to get something done, like stupidly saying I won’t post anything else until Exception 15 is up so I could try focus on it solely and it backfired because progress of every other story just skyrocketed in place of it and now I’m here still stressing over Exception 15, knowing Rescind + WIWY + Ballerina + the Exile series are rearing to go, plus even my shorter stories and some oneshots). And maybe I should’ve just made a post and said I’ll start posting them too but I didn’t want to let anyone waiting for Exception 15 first, down. Because I promised.

I understand it’s annoying waiting, especially if you’re invested in a story and what happens next, and I love when people are excited about Exception and any of its later chapters. And I wouldn’t ever want to discourage someone for being excited about it but it’s so insulting when people take this blase/pushy kind of tone like... Exception’s so easy to write, like I’m purposely withholding the chapter when I’m constantly saying if one detail is wrong in these later chapters, I’ll have ruined the entire story, when I had to rewrite the entire thing as it is, (when I’ve been forcing myself to write through grief, through relapses, through everything else that’s happened in 2020 and I don’t want to dwell on that, I really don’t but it’s had an impact, you know). But especially this implication like Exception is the only story I’m worth as a writer/creator. Like all the gifsets, all the progress on other stories is suddenly all irrelevant because it’s not Exception. And I love the story, I love the characters, but just... all I’m asking of people is that even if you miss it, even if you’re frustrated, just don’t send the pushy ask, don’t ~joke~ like “omg it’s taking soooooo long ha ha ha” like I don’t know. I know. I’m sorry. It’s not intentional. Hopefully it’s worth it when the story is cohesive and still as you expect it.

PS; I’m staying as safe as possible and I hope you are too!!! 💞💞💞💞💞

#do u want an anon nickname ur an angel #thank you so much #(really just about to post everything I’ve been working on because of this message skjskl)#thank uuuu 😭💕#answered

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fuckedurbias · 5 years ago

Text

afraid - park sungjin

DAY6 AS DAY6 SONGS PART 2 - part 1

genre: demon!sungjin au, angst & lil bit of fluff

requested? hehe both yes and no

word count: 3.8k

warnings: ee bit of a horror warning but it’s not graphic at all except for one sentence, also a tiny bit of an assault incident but again, not graphic at all. BIG heartache warning tho :(

A/N; just like part 1, the italicised words are lyrics from the day6 song ‘afraid’ listen here while you read along!

Sometimes when I see you next to me, it seems like you’re unhappy because of my greed

It wasn’t always like this. In fact, it hadn��t been like this until recently. Only recently had you started appearing more tired, more drained. It became more apparent that you were struggling. Especially when you were around Sungjin. You were clearly trying to put on a strong face so he didn’t worry about you; trying to keep both him and yourself happy, but it was clear what was going on. Sungjin felt so much guilt, like this was his fault – he couldn’t think of a reason other than himself to what could be causing you to feel this way. He was trying to help you but he didn’t know how, he had never learnt how or how to experience anything other than what he knows, which is nothing. He is nothing. All he had was memories; and he was so desperately trying to hold onto those memories of what you used to be like, what this relationship used to be like. He’s trying to show you what it was and should be, but it only makes it worse. Only makes you more drained.

The you who said the sky was so beautiful, now walking looking at the ground

One of his favourite memories of you was the first time he’d ever been outside during the day time; it was with you. A few days after he first met you and you promised him the sun isn’t scary and won’t hurt him, even though you didn’t quite understand that the sun was dangerous for him – being a literal demon and all, but he still promised to give it a go just for you. He still told you that he can’t stay outside for too long though, he didn’t explain why as to not scare you off but you still said it was okay, all you needed was 10 minutes. You took him out to the big, empty grass hill near your building and at first he was confused, what could you two possibly do that’s fun here? He was even more confused when you just fell back on the grass, sprawling out on your back. You patted the spot next to you; guesturing for him to lay down too. So he did. You two just laid there, watching the clouds pass by and talking about nothing in particular. He realised that you were right, the sun does feel nice when you’re human; or at least in a human form. Whilst his body didn’t operate at all like a human’s and it is practically just a suit to him, he could at least actually feel the sun on his skin, even though his skin wasn’t absorbing it. It felt warm, and the sky looked beautiful. You felt warm, and you looked beautiful – you were his sky. Looking at you in this moment whilst remembering that happy memory breaks his heart, you barely even look up at him, let alone the sky.

It feels like I’m looking at myself

You still are his sky, and he hates that he doesn’t know what to do to help you. He is a literal demon; all he knows is how to hurt, he doesn’t know how to be good and to help people like you. You are so good and pure, your aura is literally a mixture of white and beautiful lilac, the purest of all forms. It still is that; which would bring him comfort, until he sees how faded and weak it is. It’s like looking at himself, especially before he became a demon and succumbed completely to the darkness and pain and he prays to every kind of God that humans believe in that you won’t end up like that. He would never forgive himself. You’re walking in front of him right now, and he remembers the times you would be doing exactly this – but humming and skipping happily and telling him to catch up, but now you’re just staring straight ahead in silence. What has happened? What has he done wrong to let this happen? To let this happen to you and to your relationship. He felt like he’d failed you; and one too many times at that.

You are like the moon that lights up the black sky

When the both of you used to explore the town at night, going to Sungjin’s favourite secret spots where he used to go to find humans and feed off them; but he didn’t tell you that’s what he used it for, but you knew anyways. The first time he took you to his favourite cliff where you can see the city, the view looking so beautiful all lit up at night time. That was the first time you held his hand and even though he doesn’t have a heart, he felt something spark deep inside the core of his soul. You had to shut his fingers around yours with your other hand – he’d never held hands before so he was clueless, but he thought it felt so nice and secure. You leant your head against his shoulder and took a deep breath as you closed your eyes and he swears he really did truly feel human in that time, his soul was so calm and he felt bright. The glow of the moonlight on your face made you look like an angel and he knows this for sure because he has seen angels, but none of them looked as beautiful as you did; and nothing ever will. You truly saved him and made him feel something other than numb & darkness.

But your light is gradually being covered by my darkness

He’d tried to ask you what was wrong so many times but all you said was ‘I’m just tired from work and uni”, but he knew that wasn’t the truth; or at least, not all of it. No matter how much he tried to tell himself it wasn’t his fault, he knew deep down it was. Being a demon, he’s built to bring darkness and drain humans and all conscious beings of their life force – it would be no surprise if he was unintentionally doing it. It’s very likely. Especially being around you so much and confiding in you, telling you about all the issues and problems he’s facing currently and what he went through in his human life. It was and is messed up, so it’s no surprise it would gradually wear you down and start to affect you so much. His black, void-like aura and being was gradually starting to cover yours and suck your light away. There was nothing either of you could do to stop it. Well, there was one thing, but neither of you wanted to do it. You both loved each other too much to do it.

Even in this moment when you smile at me

He teleports to be right in front of you, making you stop in your tracks. You can’t look at him.

“Look at me” His deep voice commands. You just let out a sob in response, refusing to look up. He puts his thumb underneath your chin and lifts it up, making you look him in the eyes. For as long as you’ve known him, his eyes have never been anything other than black – but for just a second, you could’ve sworn you saw the prettiest mix of golden brown. That only makes you cry more.

“What’s wrong?” Sungjin asks, moving his hands to be either side of your face, cradling your cheeks in his hands.

“It doesn’t matter” You say, trying to turn away. He refuses to let you go.

“Stop lying to me, I can’t stand seeing you like this any longer” He stares into your eyes, like he’s staring into your soul. Which he is. You just look up at him, eyebrows furrowed as the tears continue to fall. He rubs them away with his thumb.

“I don’t know why I’m hurting Sungjin, it just started one day and it’s been building up”, you sob “It won’t go away”. Even though you did know why you were hurting, you couldn’t tell him. You never would. It would kill the both of you. He knew that you were keeping a secret from him, he had known since the moment you met. He hated that his powers didn’t work well enough on you, so he was unable to read your mind.

“It’s okay Jin, let’s just carry on with our date” You gave him a pathetic attempt at a smile and grabbed his hands from your cheeks, intertwining your fingers as you continued on forward along the riverside to your date spot.

I don’t think I could make you happier than before you knew me

You first met Sungjin when you arrived home from a night out with your friends; a 21st birthday party. You had got out of the Uber and were walking into the entry of your apartment complex but just as you arrived to the steps a man jumps out of the bushes and attacks you, trying to rob you. You tried to fight back but he overpowered you, pushing you onto the concrete and standing over you, holding a knife out – threatening to slash you if you didn’t give him your belongings. Your inner voice was screaming at you to just throw your bag and run for your life; he wanted the bag not you! But you were too frozen in fear to move or do anything. Your senses dimmed and you didn’t know what to do, closing your eyes as you braced yourself for the painful feeling of the knife. Suddenly, you felt a strong, gush of wind fly past you, only lasting for a mere second and when you opened your eyes, the man was gone. You looked around in utter shock, there was no trace that he was ever there. You grabbed your bag and stood up quickly, preparing to run inside until something black appeared in front of you. You screamed out of fright.

“You’re not safe, I only got rid of him so I could have you for myself” The thing grins, the most evil and terrifying sight you’ve ever seen in your life. It raises itself off the ground and over you, two glowing red dots appearing as it stares into your soul, trying to manipulate your mind to take over you so it can devour you. It doesn’t work, you just stare in fear and it watches you.

“Why won’t it work?” It growls.

“I- Why won’t what work? What are you trying to do to me?!” You panic, confused. The thing roars in confusion, going back on the ground and moulding into a human form. A human that, you in particular, recognise.

From that moment on, Sungjin hung around you a lot. He didn’t know why he was so drawn to you but he guessed that since his powers didn’t work on you, you were special; he found you so interesting, not useless like other humans. Especially if you weren’t scared of him after seeing his true form. You’ve told him many times before that you’re glad he’s in your life - that he makes it more interesting and exciting, but he is very doubtful of that.

I’m so afraid that you will become like me

As he sits next to you on the bench overlooking the river, looking at you as you don’t even admire the night view of the city like you used to, he sees your aura fading even more. It’s not turning dark it’s just, fading. He’s so worried that you’ll just become a mindless, numb, emotionless person. Like him. What if you did literally become like him? A demon. He’d been working so hard on keeping other demons away from you, especially because once they find out Sungjin has been hanging out with you and didn’t kill you. They’ll be so mad. Then both you and him will have to be destroyed. Especially when he tries to convince them that he has fallen in love with you, because demons aren’t supposed to feel. He can’t really feel anything - at least he doesn’t think so, but when he is around you he feels tingly and warm and that’s something. He loves that you can feel the things he can’t for him and when he’s around you he can feel what you feel even if it’s not coming from himself. That’s why he thinks- no, he knows he’s in love with you, because when he still isn’t around you and even thinks of you, the tingly warm feeling is still there.

You who hurts because of me

“Look, I don’t want to make you upset but please just tell me what’s wrong. I know you’re hiding something from me and I’d rather you just tell me than hide it from me and have it affect you this much” Sungjin blurts out, squeezing your hand tightly to comfort you. You can do nothing but sob in response.

“I can’t… It’ll break me… It’ll break you” You heave in between sobs.

“I’m literally a demon – I’ve seen death, I’ve killed people. Nothing you say can be worse than that” Sungjin explains, chuckling to try and lighten the mood. “Fine”, you gulp “Do you remember anything at all from before you were a demon?”. Sungjin turns to you immediately, feeling something inside of him that he’s never felt before. It wasn’t coming from you; it was all him.

“I-I… No? Only the few really painful moments that I’ve told you about, other than that I only really remember when I began to turn into a demon but… Nothing other than that” He stutters, struggling for words.

“Sungjin I… I think there’s more to why you couldn’t kill me that night” Your throat is closing up; you can’t say it. Sungjin is looking at you, eyes wide and frozen with panic.

“When you were human, we knew each other…. For a long time”, you look into his eyes, seeing the golden brown again “we were in love, we were together for 3 years.” Sungjin feels his soul overcome with dread, worse than any kind of dread he’s felt before.

“We were happy, you were happy; until you moved away to another country. As much as we loved each other the distance became too much and soon you went off the radar completely, it broke my heart”, you say, starting to cry again “I didn’t know what happened to you, I tried to check up on you but you never replied. I just assumed you moved on”. Sungjin turns away, suddenly getting all these flashes of the times you spent together in his human life.

“But I guess… this is what happened”, you gesture to his body “and I don’t know how you ended up back here but you did, it must be fate or something”. Sungjin is frozen, being tortured by the pain of seeing all your old happy memories flashing in his mind. His soul is aching, crying, screaming. He is feeling and it is awful. He doesn’t know what to do, he can’t take it. So he just roars and melts into a shadow and flies away at the speed of light. You scream and cry out for him, but he’s gone. And you’re left alone. Again.

Me who hurts when you’re gone

He tries to distance himself after that, staying away from you and watching over you from the shadows. But it kills him to do so, especially seeing you so broken. He lets himself down every time and appears to you, visiting you in your apartment and cuddling with you and spending time with you like he used to. He apologised for the other night, but you said he didn’t need to; you understood that it must’ve been really hard for him to process at the time, especially reliving his whole life at once and remembering such important & emotional memories. Especially going from feeling literally nothing other than dread to everything all at once. In the back of your mind though, you honestly are surprised he came back. Even more so knowing that he shouldn’t have. Both of you know what has to happen but neither of you wants to bring it up. He hurts so bad when you’re not around, even more now that he remembers his human life. It brings back that feeling. You’re making him feel on his own now, he’s not just mirroring your feelings. It’s all coming from such a deep place in his dark soul.

What should I do

You told yourself that today when he comes over, you’ll do it. You’ll tell Sungjin what neither of you want to talk about, it will tear you up inside; it already is… but it has to be done for the greater good. Before you know it he appears behind you in the bathroom mirror; you close the cabinet door after putting back your toothbrush and he’s there, smiling. You don’t even jump, you’re used to it by now. He walks up and wraps his arms around you, trying to hug you but you push away.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, looking at you in confusion. You can’t respond, you just look away and rush out of the room. He teleports in front of you, forming into a black silhouette coming out of the ground before his human form appears.

“Don’t walk away, talk to me” He begs, holding your shoulders to stop you from trying to escape again. You just look at the ground, it’s already tearing you apart and you haven’t even said anything yet. You’re trying so hard not to burst into tears, you have to do this and be serious about it – no matter how badly it’s hurting you. It needs to happen.

“Sungjin… You know what has to happen, right? I know you do” You inhale deeply, voice shaking. His whole being suddenly turns really dark, looking at you with a blank expression.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you; that you turned into this and that I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I’m so so sorry”, You continue, taking his hands in yours “but you know that we can’t be together in any way anymore. We’re endangering each other… We have to move on”. Your lip trembles, this is so much harder than the first time he left. Sungjin just squeezes your hands back, they feel so warm – so real.

“I know we can’t, but I love you too much. I know I shouldn’t be able to feel emotions anymore, but what I am definitely sure of - I feel it so deep in my soul, is that I love you. I always have and always will” Sungjin says, his eyes glowing that golden brown as he looked at you. This time it didn’t go away.

“I love you too, I’ll never forget you – I’ll never love anyone or anything as much as I’ve loved you” You reply, looking up into his eyes.

“And don’t feel sorry for what has happened to me, to us. It’s not your fault, you had nothing to do with it at all” Sungjin reassures you, pulling you into his chest as he squeezes you tight. You’re used to not hearing a heartbeat, but this one time it catches you off guard a little bit.

“I know but, sometimes I wonder that if I just made you happier-“

“Stop it, you made me so happy. All the memories I saw from my human life with you, none of them were anything other than happy, even now. You’re such a bright, healing person and anyone who knows you or will know you will be beyond blessed to have you in their life” Sungjin interrupts you, rubbing your head with his hand.

“For a demon, you’re really sweet” You giggle into his chest, feeling your tears drying up on your cheeks.

“Thanks, I know” He chuckles. You look up at him, resting your chin on his chest as he swings you both side to side.

“I’m really gonna miss you” Your voice shakes again, eyes starting to tear up again.

“I’ll miss you too, and even though I’m not around physically – I will always protect you and never let anything hurt you” Sungjin comforts you, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. He kisses your forehead, wiping a tear away with his thumb as it falls from your eye. His gaze falls to your lips, slowly leaning in as his lips connect with yours. This is the first time you’ve kissed since he’s come back into your life, if only it wasn’t under such awful circumstances. You feel like you’re in heaven, eyes closed and feeling nothing other than Sungjin’s cold lips on yours - they feel so real. When you open your eyes, he’s gone. You fall to the floor and sob, clutching your chest. You though you’d already felt the pain of losing him, but this was beyond compare.

I can’t let you go or hold you back

From that moment on, Sungjin keeps his promise to protect you. Getting rid of any trace that you and him were ever together, making sure that no other demons will ever find out and by result, find you. If they ever knew about you two, you’d be killed and shunned to hell forever alongside him. He watches over you from the shadows, making sure he is invisible as he clears the path for you on your way home and visits you while you sleep, making sure you only ever have the sweetest of dreams. He knows he has to stop seeing you altogether but, he doubts he will ever be able to fully leave you; he just lessens the amount of times he visits you, making sure it’s only every so often or when you really need it. When he is around, even though you can’t see him you swear you can feel it in your heart and soul, the feeling that you used to get when you’d see him as a human. He can’t say it won’t break him inside when you do eventually move on and find someone else, but he won’t hold you back or stop it from happening. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he did. As long as they protect you and make you happy – because if they ever break your heart, he will find them and rip out their insides and suck their soul right out of their mouth, literally. Sometimes he thinks that it’s better you two parted ways, after all he does have to kill people to be able to exist and survive; being indebted to the devil forever and all, but he will never truly be able to let you go. While it does scare him, it comforts him. But he vowed to himself that even if he is a demon, he will be your guardian angel until the day you die.

I’m so afraid

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