#and it's so fun to stumble across a fic where they actually have that loss of a close relationship they're not getting back
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I'm such a sucker for past relationships in time travel fics
#like#person in a relationship goes back in time to before they got together#bc the appeal of time travel for me is (the time traveler becoming a mildly eldritch horror to everyone else) changed relationships#but I've mostly seen it with characters getting closer (enemies to friends (to lovers)) or straight up spite fics (Character is evil now)#and it's so fun to stumble across a fic where they actually have that loss of a close relationship they're not getting back#(plus mutually one sided attraction is so painfully awkward to read its great)
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20 Questions Writer Meme
I was tagged by @skywalking-through-life! This is super fun omg, thank you!!
1. How many works do you have on ao3?
210!
2. What's your total ao3 word count?
1,670,384 words, which feels insane
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Currently, Percy Jackson! I tend to be pretty one fandom at a time, but in the past I've written for Hamilton, Harry Potter, and Marvel to name a few.
4. What are your top five fics by kudos?
Electing Strange Perfections (1,951)
If You Ask Me For My Fire (1,842)
See The Beast You've Made Of Me (1,769)
On Each Other's Team (1,656)
Come Loaded With The Safety Switched Off (1,604)
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Yes! I'm a huge believe in fandom as a community, and fanfiction as an avenue for that community vs just 'content'. I love answering questions and talking about the fics, and I've honestly made some amazing fandom friends in comments on fics. I think commenting is a really valuable part of community-building in fandom, and I think that replying to comments helps with that :)
6. What's the fic you wrote that has the angstiest ending?
I think this is all a matter of perspective, but I definitely have a few that are regarded as angsty even if I don't necessarily see them that way? Picking one, I might have to say See The Beast You've Made of Me.
7. What's the fic you wrote that has the happiest ending?
This is harder to answer lol, a lot of my happier fics are more moments, rather than a having an ending with build-up. But, Love Has A Way To Find Ya (Sneaks Up Right Behind Ya) is the first one that comes to mind!
8. Do you get hate on fics?
I have actually been very fortunate in this regard! I've had a few negative comments for sure, but most are more along the lines of "stopping reading here" or just poorly worded. I have several fics I've been more worried about, but locking the fics has seemed to discourage anyone who wants to be senselessly cruel! A lot of what I write isn't to everyone's taste, so some less than perfect comments come with that territory.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
I absolutely have lmao. I haven't been in the mood for it recently, but I have my fair share. As for what kind, it depends on the ship and dynamic, and how seriously I'm treating it lol. I've written daddy kink to casual pegging to sweet losses of virginity.
10. Do you write crossovers?
Not really? I have a few ideas that have broached crossover territory, but I don't make a habit or it!
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Yes, though not recently. I'm sure there's a lot more out there in all honesty, but I've only stumbled across it once or twice on random websites when I've had the thought to google my username.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Yes! I've been fortunate to have a couple translated, and it's always the most amazing feeling ever.
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Yes, I've co-written quite a few! I've done round-robins as well as more formal collabs where both authors are working together and writing together throughout the process. I really enjoy doing them and have written some of my favorite fics with others! They're definitely challenging, but I think I have the benefit of being pretty adaptable.
14. What's your all-time favorite ship?
So one thing you need to know about me is that I'm really bad at favorites. I think my favorite canon ship amongst my fandoms would be Percabeth, but my favorite ship for reading fanfiction for would, historically, be Tomarry/Harrymort/whatever you want to call it.
15. What's a wip you want to finish, but don't think you ever will?
I am actively determined to finish the ones first coming to mind, but honestly the one I doubt I'll ever do anything with is the AU lovingly referred to as Percy French Whore lmfao
16. What are your writing strengths?
I think my adaptability is my greatest strength. I definitely have themes and patterns I fall into, but overall I try to keep an open-mind to ships, aus, and more. I've gone back and forth between past and present tense, I've written over 25 ships for PJO alone. There's very little I look at and think I can't write, even if it takes some time to come around to it/make it work for me.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
I think my biggest weaknesses have to do with managing a story as a whole. I have these grand ideas, but I struggle to bring them to Completeness. I'll have dreams of showing a realistic development of a character from the one we know and love to something twisted and taken advantage of and miss a few beats, and drop a few characters and plot points along the way. I'm also not the best at worldbuilding. I'm a pretty low-context type of person, and it's highlighted in a fanfction type of environment. I'll get questions about worldbuilding in fics--and they'll be GOOD questions--and I'll sit there with my head tilted at the screen wondering why anyone would think of that 😭
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
I like the idea of it, but would definitely need help from a native speaker. I got overly confident with my high school Spanish classes and made an attempt and I will never be doing that again.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Twilight. First fandom I read for, first fandom I posted for. Twilight was how I discovered fanfiction.net and started me down this path.
20. Favorite fic you've written?
This is almost impossible to answer just because there are so many factors at play, but the first two (very, very different fics) coming to mind are both collabs: HAUNT ME, THEN— with @mrthology and The Murder Monologues with @theinevitablesense
I tag @sappho-of-space 💛
#20 Questions Writer Meme#Tag Game#Text#bet you didn't expect the murder monologues#is it a hamilton fic#mayhaps#but i stand by it#who doesn't love a murder rom com#even if it feels like we drew the ship out of a hat
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Good Girl
Summary: What happens when Lana comes home to Ethan, fashionably late after a girls night?
Book: Open Heart Book 3 (post ending)
Pairing: Ethan Ramsey×f!MC (Lana Stevens)
Word Count: 2k.
Warnings/Rating: Smut, Swearing, NSFW; Explicit.
A/N: This is pure filth and nothing but filth. A self indulgent produce of my very Scorpio brain and the smuttiest fic I've ever written. I'm not exactly sorry but you've been warned jskssjjkkhhssk. It follows up after New Look, which was my first ever Pictagram edit. I suppose you can still read this if you missed that though. Hope you enjoy reading!
This work is NSFW and meant for 18+ readers only. Please use discretion.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry.
A rush of giddy excitement hit her as she turned the keys to his apartment, making her stumble slightly at the doorstep as she entered.
Alcohol from the countless shots Jackie made them do was still hot and pumping through her veins. In her drunken haze, Sienna had actually convinced her to keep the wig on.
She adjusted it slightly before she realised she'd stepped into pin drop silence, the moonlight streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows the only source of light cutting through the darkness.
A quick glance at her watch told her it was 2:30 AM. Way past Ethan's bedtime.
Her stomach dropped. The girls night had went on longer than she'd anticipated. They'd gotten a bit carried away between gossiping and drinking to new beginnings. It had been a while since they'd had a relaxing night as this after all.
As fun as that was, what Lana was really looking forward to tonight was seeing Ethan. All that teasing had made her as hot as she'd hoped to have made him. She wanted to leave right then but it wouldn't have been fair to her friends.
Her shoulders slumped. It was no use now.
She turned head into the bedroom, the knowledge that she'd find him peacefully asleep making her heart sink a little.
"You're late."
The familiar rumble of his voice echoed through the room, making her gasp in surprise and turn back around.
There he was. Sitting at the bar with a glass of scotch nestled in his hand.
Her heart jumped in her throat, a fresh surge of adrenaline coursing through her, renewing her excitement even more than before.
The contrasting shadows and moonlight highlighted his already sharp jawline, making him look more beautiful than ever.
Slowly, he rose from his seat, drawing nearer to her, his dark predatory gaze never leaving her. She wasn't able to look away either, her belly clenching with anticipation with every step he took.
She shivered as he ran his fingers though the red hair, his blue eyes going the deepest shade of sapphire possible.
"You're still wearing it, I see." he muttered darkly, a dangerous edge to his voice.
A slow smirk spread across her face. She knew no joy like seeing Ethan Ramsey tethering on the edge in a struggle for control.
And she'd make sure he fell over tonight.
"I thought you'd fallen asleep." she said, feigning nonchalance, pointedly ignoring his observation.
In a sudden movement, he pulled her hand by the wrist to the front of his pants, making her feel his hardness though the fabric.
"Do you know how hard it is to sleep like this?" He said through gritted teeth.
Lana was unfazed. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips as she stared right back into those celestial blues.
"I can only imagine." She murmured huskily as her fingers caressed him ever so slightly, confidence oozing through her as he twitched violently at her touch.
He pulled her hand away and onto his chest, having realized that his move had backfired.
"You made me wait." He accused, his rebellious gaze dropping to her lips.
"I think I know exactly how to make up for it." Lana said with coquettish smirk.
She captured his lips soon after, not letting him a chance to say anything more. Her hands travelled down to palm his bulge once more, making him groan against her lips. Tongues tangled in a desperate battle for dominance, their need for each other assuming more importance than air for a few breathless moments.
Lana pushed him onto the couch, looking down at him with a devilish smile as she pulled off her wig, shaking free her natural blonde curls. They fell around her shoulders gracefully as Ethan watched her with an awestruck look on his face, all traces of resistance gone. She took off her top next, taking delight in his sharp intake of breath as her breasts spilled free before his reverent eyes, following to straddle his lap and continue kissing him with abandon.
Her lips trailed down the corded muscles of his neck, sucking and biting as she goes. Ethan's hands meanwhile were firmly gripping her waist, another one inching underneath her skirt, closer and closer to her soaked core.
But she wouldn't let him get there. Not yet.
His shirt flew across the living room in a matter of seconds and then she on her knees before him, her lips having left a wet trail of kisses all over his chest and abs.
She unbuckled his belt with deft fingers, pulling down the redundant material of his trousers. His cock sprung free, jutting out in all it's glory, demanding immediate attention.
Her delicate fingers gripped him firmly, pumping him a few times torturously.
"Lana.." Ethan groaned helplessly.
She gave him a smile that she knew he found devastating.
"Feel free to pull my hair." she said as she moved to give a long luscious lick along his length.
Her blood red lips were wrapped around his cock the next second, causing Ethan's hips to buck up involuntarily. His fingers tangled in her hair, making her hum around him in satisfaction.
She was on her knees but the one surrendering was Ethan, completely at her mercy. That knowledge was as beholding as it was empowering.
She sank down the length of him, hollowing out her cheeks, relishing every grunt and moan that escaped his throat as she took him deeper into her own.
She repeated the motion, working him up, not letting the involuntary gags or tears brimming in her eyes stop her from taking him where she wanted.
Keeping eye contact, she realised him with a dizzying pop only to suck on his heavy balls till they were as wet as his now glistening cock.
The look of sheer adoration mixed with lust and frustration on his face had to the hottest thing she'd ever witnessed. It made her own folds drip with arousal.
Her tongue flicked across the slit of his tip, before her warm mouth engulfed him once more to bob down his steely length with determination, taking him all the way in.
"Sweetheart, you're going to make me.. FUCKK!"
His grip on her hair tightened, almost to the point of pain. It only served to excite her more. She didn't let up till he emptied himself down her throat, cursing as he shook and came like never before.
She licked him clean, not leaving a single drop.
She felt breathless and a little punch drunk as he pulled her up and into his arms, kissing her tenderly, softly caressing her cheek and wiping away the tears.
He pulled back to look at her, concern etching his handsome face. "Are you okay?"
She laughed. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
He seemed satisfied with her answer because the look of worry gave way to a roguish smirk.
"Just needed to be sure cause I'm not done with you yet."
"Wha-"
"Shhh." He silenced her with his fingers. "You had your way with me, didn't you? Now it's my turn."
"But.." her query died in a moan as Ethan's fingers found her dripping core.
"Damn." He hissed. "How are you already so wet?"
Lana was in no shape to answer because his thumb was working her clit in maddening circles, excruciating pleasure rippling through her as two fingers curled into her slick passage.
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as his skillful fingers moved over her with precision and expertise, over and over again. Just when she was about to reach her peak however, he ceased all movements.
Lana cried out in disappointment from the sudden loss of sensations.
"What are you doing?" she hissed at him in frustration.
Ethan only smiled. "You didn't think I'd let you get away with all that teasing so fast, did you?"
"What do you-"
"Hush, my darling. I said it was my turn. You made me wait for you all evening. Now close your eyes."
"But-"
"No arguments." He said firmly.
Lana hesitantly shut her eyes, the ache between her legs getting unbearable with each passing second.
"Good girl." She could hear the smile in his voice. "Don't move an inch and keep your eyes shut. I'll be right back."
"Where are you going?" she cried. "You can't leave me like this."
"Don't you trust me, my love?" He chastened.
Lana gulped. "I do but.."
"No buts then. I promise I'll make it worth your while but no cheating or this ends here."
"No!" Lana shook her head. "I'll do as you say."
"That's my girl."
She heard his footsteps fade away as she struggled to stay still. She was tempted to take a peek and more anything else, touch herself and soothe the throb between her legs. She could get off so easily right now.
But she didn't dare disobey. The wait and build up made her wetter and more turned on than she'd ever been.
Her breath came in shallow pants as she waited and by the time he was back, she felt like one touch would be enough to make her explode.
He secured a silky fabric across her eyes and she heard a low click of glass on the surface of the table.
What the hell was that?
Her heart pounded in her chest and her sex clenched in anticipation.
"Hands above your head and don't move. Or I'll have to tie you up."
She nodded eagerly, following his instructions. "Please Ethan."
He chuckled. "Patience, my love. If there's anything I learnt tonight, it's that waiting makes everything better."
She gasped as she felt his lips on her inner thighs, his beard deliciously scraping her skin as he kissed her everywhere but where she needed him most. It was too much but not enough.
His fingers hooked around the lace of her panties. "As pretty as these are, they have to go."
A loud rip followed, tearing through the room and informing her that her panties were definitely in shreds.
"That was.." she choked out, almost in alarm, unable to finish her sentence. But Ethan seemed to understand her concern.
"I'll buy you more." He grunted.
She felt warm liquid slosh onto her chest, flowing down slowly between the valley of her breasts and down her belly, making her entire body tingle.
Her back arched as the flow inched closer to her pulsing core. She moaned out loud as it finally reached it's destination, suddenly cooling her hot sex.
Ethan's mouth closed on her clit before she could process what was going on.
"Ethannn" She cried out.
She didn't recognize the feline noises escaping her, gasping and moaning for her life as she climbed higher and higher with each masterful stroke of his tongue.
"God. I thought scotch was best had neat. I was wrong. So wrong." He muttered against her sex.
The low rumble vibrated through her body and as soon as his fingers joined the ministrations of his mouth, Lana catapulted over the edge, fireworks exploding behind her eyes and blinding her with hot white pleasure as she came all over his face harder than ever. He didn't stop till all the aftershocks rocking her subsided, letting her ride out her orgasm.
He removed her blindfold and pulled her into his arms, gently kissing the top of her head as she hugged him feebly.
As she caught her breath, her eyes landed on the expensive half empty bottle of scotch and she laughed. "Scotch and sex? Who would've thought?"
Ethan chuckled, running his fingers through her hair. "Me apparently. How did it feel?"
She buried her face in his chest, feeling her face heat. "You know how I felt. I was pretty vocal about it."
Low masculine laughter rumbled through his chest making her heart squeeze and sex clench, like she didn't just have the best orgasm of her life.
She wasn't embarrassed though because she could feel his rock hard errection against her thigh.
She looked up at him mischievously. "Are we ready for a round two?"
She yelped as he lifted her, her thighs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to their bedroom.
"Always."
Whew! I hope you enjoyed reading that. As usual, I'd love to know what you think. Please forgive the mistakes if there are any. I couldn't proofread due to shortage of time.
Tags: @lem-20 @pixie88 @aleynareads @maurine07 @whimsicallywayward15 @lovingramsey @coffeeheartaddict @txemrn @shewillreadyou @aussieez @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @schnitzelbutterfingers @imaneditorthankyouverymuch @mercury84choices @thegreentwin @adiehardfan @custaroonie @headoverheelsforramsey @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations
#open heart fanfiction#ethan ramsey#choices open heart#ethan ramsey × mc#open heart#pixelberry#open heart book 3#ns*fw#choices fic writers creations#fics of the week#play choices
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it is currently *(checks clock)* midnight in my time zone, which means its technically april 30th, which just so happens to be a certain Mr. Diluc’s birthday-
so, of course, ive got a fic for him
---
Aether entered the tavern, Paimon fluttering behind him as he walked up to the counter with a smile on his face, before pausing, looking Diluc up and down.
"...Are you okay?" He asked, and Diluc sighed.
"I'm fine." He said, and was Aether hearing things, or was that a bit of congestion in his voice? "Is there something you need?"
"Oh! Um, two apple ciders please." Aether said. Diluc quietly prepared the drinks, sliding them across the counter when he was done. Aether put some mora on the table, picked up the two glasses, handing one to Paimon, and with one last suspicious glance at Diluc, walked up the stairs to the second floor. Diluc watched until the two of them were out of sight- and then his breath hitched, and he quickly stifled a sneeze into his arm.
"Heh- Hi'NGKT-uu!" He sniffled as he absentmindedly rubbed his nose on his sleeve, turning back around to face the front of the tavern.
Only to find Venti sitting at the counter, staring at him with an incredibly disapproving look on his face.
Diluc startled a little at his sudden appearance, but quickly pulled himself back together.
"...What?" Diluc asked, "Do you need something?"
"You're sick." Venti said, and the tone of voice he used made Diluc wince, feeling like he'd just been caught doing something bad. "You should go home and rest, y'know."
"I'm fine." Diluc insisted, turning away so that he wouldn't have to keep seeing Venti's disappointed expression. "Besides, there's work to be done here."
There was some rustling behind him, and then a thump, and Diluc cautiously looked over his shoulder- barely keeping himself from jumping in surprise to see that Venti was now standing right beside him. He must've jumped over the counter.
"What are you doing- hEY!" Diluc yelped, voice cracking a little as Venti effortlessly picked him up, throwing him over his shoulder to carry him. There were some cheers from the other patrons in the bar, somehow, they'd attracted an audience without Diluc noticing. He struggled, squirming and kicking a little as he tried to free himself from the bard's grip, only to find himself unable to. Venti must've been using some of his godly strength.
Ignoring Diluc's struggling, Venti walked out of Angel's Share, waving to the other patrons as he left.
Did. Did he plan to carry Diluc the whole way back to Dawn Winery?
Apparently not, as Venti paused for a moment, looked around to make sure there wasn't any witnesses-
And teleported the two of them to the statue closest to the winery.
"Apologies, I only have enough power to teleport to statues nowadays." Venti said, starting to walk towards the winery. "We'll have to walk the rest of the way."
"I can walk by myself." Diluc said, sniffling. "Put me down."
"Nu-uh. No way. I'm genuinely certain that, should I let you go, you shall attempt to go back to work, and that is something I simply cannot allow."
"Aren't you supposed to support me in having the freedom to do what I want?" Diluc asked.
"Not if said 'freedom' is detrimental to your health." Venti said, "You do have limits, y'know?"
Diluc, in fact, did know his limits. And sure, he had been feeling a bit light headed earlier, but that didn't mean he was just going to let Venti carry him all the way to Dawn Winery.
Especially since-
"Ven....Venti, put me..hih.....put me down- hEH-" Diluc squirmed as his breath hitched, the faint tickle he'd been feeling all day suddenly growing a lot more intense. "Hih- Hi'ESCHI-uu! Heh- H'TSSCH-iew!"
"Please at the very least try not to dirty my cloak." Venti said, his stride not hesitating at all as he continued to walk, seemingly, for the most part, unbothered.
Now, what Diluc did next was, admittedly, very petty and childish. But, to be fair, he'd had a long day, so maybe a little bit of pettiness was understandable.
He rubbed his nose on Venti's cloak.
Venti gasped in offense, but Diluc barely payed attention to it, as he suddenly realized exactly why the tickle in his nose had suddenly grown worse.
Venti was covered in pollen.
"HehH-Hi'TSSCH! H'ESSCHI-uu! Hih-" Diluc struggled more in an attempt to distance himself from the allergen, but unless Venti put him down... "Hi'ETTCH-iew!"
"Geez...Are you okay? Those sounded rough." Venti asked, oblivious to the fact that he was the reason for Diluc's increased suffering.
"It's.....hIH....the, the pollen- hEH- H'ESSCHI-iew!" Diluc struggled to say in between hitching breaths.
"The pollen? I don't- oh!" Venti said, the realization striking him. "Oh, I'm sorry!"
He finally, finally, put Diluc down, not that Diluc actually was in a proper state to appreciate it. He continued to muffle sneeze after sneeze in his hands, the force of some of them snapping him in half. Venti winced as another sneeze sounded like it tore at Diluc's throat.
"Sorry." Venti said, again. "I... I forgot about your allergies."
"It's....okay." Diluc said, sniffling wetly, the congestion in his voice now significantly worse than before. "I....hih...I try not to make it- H'TSCH-uu!..... make it obvious."
"Still though. I should've remembered." Venti said, and upon seeing that the redhead's sneeze fit was starting to die down, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. "Here, take this."
Diluc, still using his hands to cover his nose and mouth, eyed the piece of cloth dubiously.
"I promise it's pollen free this time." Venti said, and Diluc, not seeing any trace of lying or mischief on Venti's face, finally took the handkerchief, using it to both wipe and blow his nose. While he did so, Venti took the time to carefully use his anemo to blow any pollen residue off of himself.
"Dawn Winery is still about ten minutes away." He said, once he was sure he was pollen free. "Are you sure you can walk that far?"
"I'll be fine." Diluc sniffed, pocketing the handkerchief, already planning to wash it and give it back later. "You don't need to come along."
"Hmm. I better make sure you actually go home, instead of wandering off to fight or something." Venti said, smiling a little. "Just to be sure."
"...Whatever."
-
Night fell over Dawn Winery, and Diluc's body ached in protest as he slowly, and silently, walked down the stairs towards the front door, his claymore strapped to his back. He felt congested, and his head was pounding with a headache that had developed shortly after Venti had dropped him off, and had not gone away despite the small nap he'd taken. But still, despite this, he still had his duties as the "Darknight Hero". Unlike running the bar, which another member of the staff could take over, there wasn't exactly someone who could fill in for his vigilante duties. Which meant that, despite the fact he'd rather just go back to bed, he had to go out and patrol Mondstadt.
"Ahem. Where do you think you're going?"
Diluc froze mid-step, turning his head to find-
Venti, sitting on the window sill, his bow leaning against the wall beside him.
"Were you really planning on going out again while in this condition?" He asked, clicking his tongue in disappointment. "I expected that you'd know better."
"There isn't exactly someone else who can take over this job." Diluc whispered, both out of a desire to not accidentally wake any of the staff that was sleeping in the winery, but also because he'd discovered earlier that his voice was nearly shot.
"I'm sorry? Who do you think I am?" Venti said, sounding offended, picking up his bow and giving it a little twirl. "I've already done the nighttime patrol for you. There was nothing but one or two petty thieves, which I dealt with rather quickly."
"...You did that for me?"
"Mhm. It was kinda fun actually. Gives me something to do, since I don't really sleep anyways..." Venti said, sentence trailing off as he seemed to remember... something. "Anyways, speaking of sleep, you should be getting back to bed."
He jumped down from the window sill, placing his bow to lean against the wall again, walking over to where Diluc stood. Carefully, Venti took the claymore off of Diluc's back, and Diluc couldn't resist his body slumping with relief at the loss of the weight.
He must've been more tired than he thought he was, because he didn't protest as Venti held his hand and led him back up the stairs and into his bedroom. Diluc stumbled a little as he took off his boots, not even bothering with the rest of his clothes as he climbed into the bed. He could deal with the consequences of not changing into pyjama's when he woke up in the morning.
His nose suddenly twitched, and he curled up a little, stifling a sneeze.
"Hih- H'NGXt-uu!" He sighed tiredly after wards, closing his eyes, and Venti laughed as he placed some blankets down on top of him.
"Bless you." He said, and suddenly Diluc felt a lot more comfortable, and relaxed than before.
He felt suspiciously comfortable and relaxed, actually.
Summoning up a bit more energy, he opened one eye to glance at Venti.
"Did you just actually bless me?" He muttered, "Like. In the whole 'godly gift' kinda way?"
"...Maybe. Yes." Venti gave a sheepish chuckle that clearly said that it hadn't been intentional. "Don't worry. You'll just feel more relaxed and free for a day or two. It'll wear off."
Diluc, mildly reassured by that, hummed in response, body fully relaxing as he finally fell asleep with no worries.
#Gen/shin#snz#snz fic#Aether is only there at the beginning..... hjdflskfjslfd#Chaotic Mom Friend Venti strikes again#there is no title because do i LOOK like the kind of person who's good at making titles?? i sure hope i dont because i SUCK at titles
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hello! do you have any fantasy/historical jungkook x reader fic recs ?
hello lovely!! i’m so sorry i missed this yesterday :( i was actually planning on reorganizing my tumblr because i feel like no fics are ever going to be able to be found my blog LOL so hopefully that’ll be done soon!!
as for the fantasy/historical fics.. i’m honestly not too sure what “fantasy” (do demons count..? soulmates..? werewolves????) typically includes so i’m just going to include a bunch of fics that hopefully fit in :”) here are the first ones that i thought of + summaries included in their main posts!
also.. i’m sure i missed a lot of amazing fics (mainly because i’m dumb as hell and don’t really know what can be included in “fantasy”) and would like to apologize in advance!!
@inktae ’s entire masterlist (they have a lot of fantasy fics!)
while this isn’t just jungkook recs, @ficswithluv had a fantasy category a few weeks ago!
@kpopfanfictrash ‘s jungkook masterlist
@fortunexkookie ‘s jungkook masterlist
one shots!
énouement - @littlemisskookie Mulan!AU
War is Hell, but it’s what you had to do to take your brother’s place. Of course, between the days of Hell are little slices of Heaven you’d call your Captain, Jeon Jungkook.
midas - @gukyi
jeon jungkook was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and the power to turn whatever he wants into pure gold. you were born with healing and invisibility powers but without a cent to your name. so when you’re plucked off of the streets for pickpocketing and assigned to be his minder as punishment, you realize you’re going to have to overcome a lot more than class differences if either of you are going to get what you want.
i will not lose! - @jimlingss Magic!AU
A single bet - use every means to make Jeon Jungkook fall in love with you.
a piece of the moonlight - @/jimlingss Mulan!AU
For your loved ones, the people who are waiting at home, the people who have died - you will fight. And sometimes to fight means to sacrifice: who you really are and the person you really love.
dynasty - @/jimlingss Historical!AU
It’s no secret that the Emperor is infertile. But even so, a girl is selected every three months and brought to become his concubine in hopes of conceiving the next heir. This time, it’s you. And in order to prevent execution, Jeon Jungkook might just aid you in conception.
game of temptation ft. knj, myg, kth - @/jimlingss Succubus!AU
As a succubus, your beauty is unrivaled and shaped to tempt mortals. But it’s still hard to resist Taehyung, and there’s little you can do once you’ve been coerced to do his bidding for him. This time, you find yourself entering the affluent Kim Household as a housemaid. And these poor humans don’t know your intentions are far from being angelic.
knot today - @kinktae
(IDK IF WEREWOLVES COUNT BUT JERHFBDSKNZX THIS IS REALLY GOOD!!)
When your first heat approaches and you are left partnerless, who better to turn to than your alpha roommate that you’ve spent the better half of your life hiding your feelings for?
ego - @luxekook Harry Potter!AU
(..i also don’t know if HP counts LOL)
in which jeongguk is a cocky lil shit and the reader has to take him down a few pegs
stumbling - @hayjeon Prince!AU
an ask in their inbox regarding the prompt: hii! so the royal wedding of prince harry and meghan is today, and since my bias is JK and since i’m such a sucker for royal stuff, can i reuest a fic of bts all being royal of 7 different kingdom, and all of them being invited to jin’s wedding and the girl (oc) is also invited and kookie met her there, and eventually took an interest at her? the girl is also royalty from other kingdom. thanks!
werewolf!jungkook - @/hayjeon
an ask in their inbox regarding the prompt: Werewolf!jk? (im sorry ik it’s overused and unoriginal) where he and his mate have pups to take care of and they’re quite a mischievous bunch!
there for you - @cupofteaguk Hogwarts!AU
Jungkook is always known for doing things unapologetically, and it makes sense given how almost nothing gets under his skin—almost nothing, but maybe there’s an exception that takes a form of a muggleborn with the shy smile and quirky spells.
say you won’t let go - @/cupofteaguk Soulmates!AU
You’ve been eighteen years old for ten years when Jungkook first moves in
new romantics - @/cupofteaguk Hogwarts!AU
Jeon Jungkook will go down in history as one of the best Quidditch players that ever graced the Hogwarts scene. It seems like he always gets what he wants—his life is very predictable in that sense. What he cannot predict, however, is the newest weekend employee wiping down the tables at the Three Broomsticks.
a cinderella story - @suhdays Modern Cinderella!AU
you are forced to work multiple jobs as you live under your stepmothers roof. unable to move out and strive for complete independence, you do what you can in order save enough. turns out, as a college student that is harder than you thought. so, you distract yourself by joining online chat groups in which you meet a boy that goes to your school. that boy? none other than the rugby star himself, jeon jeongguk. it doesn’t prove to be an issue until he asks to meet you at an upcoming halloween party. he’s never noticed you before so why not hide yourself in order to live your dreams, if only for a moment?
explorer - @1kook Alien!AU
Jungkook does not want to impress the frankly tyrannical ways of his planet on you. He just wants to stay here and keep your couch warm for you, hold your hair back when you wash your face in the morning.
rottenfolk - @junqkook Faerie!AU
a look was as hazardous as chemicals, a kiss as perilous as poison; his eyes and lips felt akin to a cure, but he was purely venom.
the young wolf - @/junqkook Game of Thrones!AU
he was promised to another, meant for another to hold and to love and to kiss. but when his hand lingered on yours for a moment too long to be proper, and when his eyes held yours for a beat too long to be a passing glance, you allowed desire to creep into your veins, to take root inside your heart. perhaps before you might have been permitted to love him freely. perhaps he might have even been promised to you instead. but war was no place for the wants and desires of two people, no matter how much they yearned for it to be.
the lighthouse - @rubycoast S2L!AU
(im not too sure if this is considered fantasy but its one of my favs!)
you and jungkook had one thing in common: you were both lost souls stagnant in the search of some fulfillment. the one of many differences was that your story had been written on your sleeves, while jungkook’s was a story needed to be unriddled.
black magic - @hansolmates Magic Uni!AU
a witch with an ambition for learning, you stumble across a crushing spell in the middle of the forbidden section. of course you have to try it out! what happens when the crushing spell not only has jeon jungkook crushing on you, but you crushing on him?
the sea & the storm - @jamaisjoons Fantasy!AU
the sea is a powerful mistress. she is calm and beautiful. she is mysterious and alluring. she is a force to be reckoned with. above all, however, she is lonely. until she meets him. fantasy au.
the lionheart’s oath - @sugaxjpg Knight & Princess!AU
There was no happy ending, no dragon slayer to save the kingdom and get the princess — there was only him: Jungkook. A simple orphan that was lucky enough to be invited into the castle, a former homeless thief that had found shelter in the form of an elysian heir. Now, after twelve years by your side, he was about to lose you to the world you sought to explore.
ghosts just wanna have fun - @/sugaxjpg Psychic & MedSchool!AU
When Jungkook discovered that he could communicate with dead people, the last thing he expected was that they would be there to give him romantic advice.
wartime child - @ktheist Wizard!AU
raising a baby in wartime isn’t easy. but when your baby starts showing signs of magical abilities, you’re forced to ring up the only other person you know he takes after: jeon jungkook.
birth of an empress - @/ktheist Dragon Slayer!AU
partners for three years and friends for longer, jungkook thought you’d remain so until he saw you with the knight at the merchant’s trade.
alternatively, the friendly neighborhood wizard trying to propose to the infamous dragon slayer in the middle of slaying a dragon? now, that’s classic.
series/two shots!
fear in your eyes - @/gukyi Werewolf!AU
(again, idk if werewolves count but hifksdjcx !!!!)
there’s a werewolf in that forest behind your house, they told you, and he’ll eat you before you can even beg for mercy.
the worshiper series - @/jimlingss
Long ago, there were gods who resided in Heaven -- existing to watch over and protect the universe. Each of them had their own flaws, trials and tribulations; some which were more sparing than others, but these are their stories...
a promise of freedom - @/jimlingss Wartime!AU
War is cruel and its inhumanity has not spared you. Captured by the enemy, you were brought to the front lines to heal their wounded. But after one night of saving a particular man’s life, he swears to fulfill any wish of yours.
one year, my love - @/hayjeon Historical!AU
You forge a marriage contract with the strangely speaking man who suddenly stumbled into your town with memory loss, but little do you know that he’s actually the lost Crown Prince, and a lot can happen between a married man and woman in one year.
demigod!au drabbles - @/hayjeon
an ask in their inbox regarding the prompt: i have a supernatural au prompt! how bout daughter of hades/loner!reader and son of zeus/bully! jungkook?
into the woods - @/junqkook Goblin!AU
getting hurt and stumbling upon a goblin in the forest leaves you completely at his mercy, though you aren’t sure if that’s necessarily a bad thing.
lionheart - @/junqkook Magic!AU
as a sorcerer, it is of the utmost importance that you keep your magic a secret from everyone. when you become prince jungkook’s servant, it becomes increasingly difficult to keep your identity hidden; especially when you fall in love with him.
a royal exchange - @/hansolmates
she’s the man!au where the princess impersonates her brother yoongi in order to finish his degree on time while yoongi is thrusted into princely duties. jeongguk is in the mess purely through room arrangement
knight!jungkook x princess!reader - @/ktheist
a series with 27 parts!
that’s all i can think of off the top of my head right now :(( not gonna lie, half of these probably don’t even fit into either of those categories and i know there are so so so many amazing fantasy/historical fics out there!! i wish i knew them all but i hope this helped a little bit! if anyone has any fic they’d like to rec, feel free to send it to meee :)
and finallyyyyy i leave my following page open for viewing as well so you can check out all of the authors i follow!! please show all of these authors (and many more) some love! <3
#jk2rec#jungkook: historical!au#jungkook: fantasy!au#historical!au#fantasy!au#inktae#kpopfanfictrash#fortunexkookie#littlemisskookie#gukyi#jimlingss#kinktae#luxekook#hayjeon#cupofteaguk#suhdays#1kook#junqkook#rubycoast#hansolmates#jamaisjoons#sugaxjpg#ktheist
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Love your writing so much! Can you write a New Year’s fic set in season 6 where they actually kiss? No Fowley angst if you can? Thank you
Thanks so much. This turned out longer than I hoped so I’m a little late, but I hope you enjoy. Takes place just before Tithonus.
——
10:02 PM: Mulder swallows another mouthful of Shiner Bock, letting the alcohol warm him from the inside out. He sets the beer bottle next to the other empty ones with a clink and the beat of the music vibrates along the golden table cloth beneath him. Laughter and muffled conversations of fellow agents fill the silence of isolation he’s purposely surrounded himself in.
He doesn’t want to be here. Not at this New Years Eve bureau mandated banquet, sticking out like a black sheep among the herd of Kersh-loving ass-kissers, and certainly not forced to appease the Deputy Director in the name of another successful year of wielding justice. He sure as hell doesn’t want to celebrate the loss of his life’s work to his ex-wife and Kersh’s errand boy he’s currently hiding in a dark corner from. Wielding justice…
What a crock of shit.
But Scully is here, and the loss of his near constant contact with her is something he will never celebrate acknowledgement of. Not ever. He feels their absence on the files like a missing puzzle piece, teasing him with its existence lingering just out of his reach. Yet as he stares longingly at her across the room in her black satin dress, drinking wine as red as her lips, and smiling with their peers from the bullpen, Mulder can’t help but smile in return.
10:38 PM: Scully turns his way and scans the room, her big blue eyes flickering from person to person. She’s searching for him, he thinks. He knows. He’d told her hours earlier he decided to forgo following rules forcing him to be social. And still she looks for him, hopeful, unable to accept he can truly leave her partnerless for even one night. She’s right. As he sips at another Shiner, Mulder knows the heat of the beer isn’t the only thing warming his chest tonight.
A slow song begins to play as the lights dim. His pulse quickens at the thought of asking her to dance. Of holding her petite body close to his. Of kissing her at the stroke of midnight. He stands, unable to resist the pull of her proximity a moment longer, when another man swoops into his eye-line and offers Scully his hand.
Mulder’s fists clench as an agent from the lab arrogantly claims her bare back with his meaty hand, sloppily twirling her around the dance floor. Her surprised laughter is as loud as it is fake, but she doesn’t pull away. She accepts his hand with a tight-lipped smile and promptly stares at her three inch stilettos instead of at the man attempting to woo her.
Mulder does the same while his nostrils flare with every indignant breath.
Turning away, he picks at the yellow label on the bottle until only the brown glass reflecting his scowl is showing.
10:55 PM: He hears Scully laugh again. Then again and again. He doesn’t know what she’s chuckling about or who with, but it doesn’t matter when she’s enjoying her last remaining hours of 1998. She’s having fun drinking and dancing, he tells himself. She deserves this. He wants her to be happy, always. He just refuses to watch someone else make her that way.
This time, when a high-pitched, unScully-like laughter slices through the sound of his heart thudding against his eardrums, his gut clenches along with his fists.
11:02 PM: One hour and four - no five - beers later, Mulder is ready to leave. To flee, more like it, when a thick hand slaps at his back.
“Agent Mulder,” Skinner’s voice booms over the music. “Glad to see you decided to show up.”
He scoffs, “I was summoned.”
Skinner glances at him, his heavy hand squeezing the meat of Mulder’s shoulder; hard. “You mean she asked or you wouldn’t be here,” he corrects, nodding towards Scully draining yet another glass of wine. “She wants you here, Mulder. I suggest you remember that.”
11:32 PM: Mulder does remember that. In fact, that’s all he’s been thinking about for the past half hour when he lost sight of Scully within the crowd. After dodging both Diana and Spender, three agents requesting a dance, and one persistent secretary’s offer for much more than that, Mulder halts his search for his partner and ducks into the restroom to break the seal.
He glances at his cell phone. No service. Goddammit.
The entire time he’s been looking for Scully, the sickening thought of her having left with someone else has weighed heavily in the back of his mind. He should’ve taken Frohike up on his offer of Mexican and movies and saved himself the heartache.
11:44 PM: “Yes, I do know I’m leaving before the ball drops, and no, I don’t have a date I’m waiting for,” Mulder repeats to Agent Matthews at the coat check.
“You want one?” he asks, smirking. “Because I’m outta here in ten.”
“Oh uh,” Mulder can’t help but smile. “Thanks, but I’ll have to pass.”
“I knew it. But hey, a guy can dream.” The man shrugs and hands Mulder his jacket. “Agent Scully is one lucky woman.”
“You’ve seen her?” Mulder questions, ready to interrogate the poor guy. “Did she leave?”
“Maybe,” Matthews says, chuckling at Mulder’s unabashed desperation. “But I’ve seen her walk by looking for someone special a couple times earlier, though. I guess that someone was you.”
“Yeah, thanks. Have a good night,” Mulder groans as he walks away, feeling more and more like an asshole as the minutes tick by.
11:50 PM: Mulder makes his way down the side stairwell and shuffles past the ladies room tucked away in an alcove at the end of the hall. Fireworks spark outside the window next to him and he can’t help but wonder if Scully is looking at them, too.
He sighs, takes three steps, and stumbles when a flash of red catches his eye.
“Scully?”
“Mulder, you’re here!” she praises, her cheeks flushed with wine. Her eyes flick down to his coat slung over his arm and her smile fades. “You’re leaving.”
He falters, shifting in his Wingtip Oxfords he’d worn just for her. “You know me, Scully,” he feigns nonchalance. “I’d rather pull out my hair than kiss the asses of the ‘powers that be’ more than I’m forced.”
Scully shakes her head and is quiet a moment before boldly brushing a lock of hair from his brow. “Can’t have that now, can we?”
He stifles a moan. The familiar feeling of her touch lulls him where they stand. “A full head of hair means that much to you, does it, Scully?”
“Mm…” She nods while his hand covers hers sliding gently across his scalp. “You do have great hair.”
“Melvin will be crushed.”
She laughs - this it’s time for him - and Mulder swears it’s the most beautiful sound echoing through the hall. They continue to stand in the hallway, staring at one another as her fingers dance through his hair, letting the soft melody of the muffled music fill the silence.
“So why show up then?” she finally asks, her fingers trailing over the shell of his ear, down to his cheek, hovering there. “Why come at all?”
The alcohol that flows through her veins, leaving her open and vulnerable deserves only honesty from him. “Because you’re here,” Mulder confesses.
“I am.” Her eyes hone in on his fingers twining through hers. “And you were about to leave without saying goodbye?” She arches a brow, pins him with an accusatory stare. “Or hello, for that matter?”
“I-you were enjoying yourself out there. You were…” he sighs, guilt washing over him for not being a better partner to her. For not walking out on that dance floor and showing her exactly how much he appreciates her. How much he loves her. “Scully…”
“Mulder, it’s okay. I get it, really.” She rolls her eyes, tapping his tie with a manicured nail. “Plus, Skinner told me that if you’re as smart as your IQ says you are, you’d be here to ring the new year with me.”
“Ha!” It’s Mulder’s turn to roll his eyes, imagining the AD just itching to dance with his beautiful partner. “I’ll bet he did.”
“I told him you were smarter.”
Mulder’s heart began to race at the husk in her voice. “And if I hadn’t shown up?” he wonders. “I have a feeling Skinner and every other person in that ballroom would give anything to dance with you tonight.”
“They asked to dance with me, Mulder, not date me.”
Mulder’s jaw clenches at that, his free hand dipping down to settle gently at the base of her spine.
“And besides,” she arches into him, amused and emboldened. “There’s only one person I wanted to dance with tonight.”
“Scully.” His voice catches when her sapphire eyes snap up to lock onto his, imploring him to say more. “I-you looked… you look...” The liquid courage swirling though his mind gives him the nudge he needs. He touches her face, softly tracing the slope of her jawline from her ear to her chin. She hums and he melts. "...Stunning, Scully. You look stunning.”
Her half-grin twitches higher. "Bet you say that to all the girls, Mulder."
“No,” he denies in earnest. “Only you.”
She nods slowly, unblinking, as if she’s always known. Her eyes are large and luminous in their dimly lit corner, the deep blue sea of them beckoning him into dangerous waters. Lashes fluttering under his gaze, she leans into him like a feral kitten, fierce and unyielding in her affection. And it’s a good thing, Mulder thinks as he leans in too, that he’s an excellent swimmer.
“You showed up, Mulder,” she whispers. Her tiny hands skim down to his waist and tug his body flush to hers. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me for that,” he begs. “Don’t thank me for anything.”
He palms her neck and she allows his hand to wander up into her hair, tangling the silky waves through his fingers. He watches her eyelids flutter half shut, her lips parting.
“And why did you come, Scully?” he blurts, curious.
“Why do you think?” she retorts, challenging him. Suddenly, Mulder knows exactly why she came. Why she’s still here, staring up at him with dark eyes and rocking against him with hardened nipples.
He forgets to breathe.
“Tell me,” he says, cradling the base of her skull and letting his forehead fall forward against hers.
“No,” she breathes while stroking the curve of his ribcage, nudging the tip of his nose with her own. “I’ll show you.”
Her eyes flutter shut and a gush of warm breath tickles his cheek. As he leans down, her cushy lips press softly to his and his heart threatens to burst from his chest.
Her mouth tastes of red wine and sugar - a tart sweet-filled sin laced with a hint of blush-colored lipstick. She tastes more satisfying than any dessert. She tastes like raw desire.
Reluctantly, he pulls his hips away from her soft belly when his rock hard want for her becomes impossible to ignore.
She whimpers with her arms now wrapped around his neck, tugging him down for more.
Mulder gulps and kisses her nose, her cheek, inhales the fruity scent of her shampoo. He breathes her in while keeping a lung full of her essence within his chest. The warmth of her baby soft skin beneath his lips makes him wonder if he’s having an out of body experience: an erotic X-File, as his soul quite possibly ascends into the unknown.
A sudden cacophony of cheers bursts through the cracks of the heavy ballroom doors. Mulder jumps while Scully clutches at his back, keeping him close. Their heavy breathing mingles with the chorus of Auld Lang Syne playing in the background as fireworks boom outside the window pane. Bursts of copper and cerulean stream across the ink-black sky and it rumbles the carpet beneath their feet, reminding him that, yes, his feet are still on solid ground.
Two hours, two minutes, and one kiss from Dana Scully are all it takes for his world to tilt on its axis.
“Wow. Wha… what was that?” he gasps dumbly.
Scully arches brow. "I would have thought that's fairly obvious," she purrs. "You asked me why I came here, so I kissed you."
"Yeah, I know that, Scully, believe me. But...” Fuck, he berates himself. Why does his conscience hate him so damn much?
“Shh, just shut up and kiss me again,” she slurs.
His eyes flutter shut. He wants this - wants her - more than his next breath, but she’s been drinking, he remembers. They both have. “Shit, I want to, badly. But I think,” he hesitates, no more than a whisper, “I should hail us a cab.”
“Mulder…”
“In case you don’t remember these last few minutes when you wake up in the morning,” Mulder explains further. “Or worse, you regret them when you do.”
“But…” Scully frowns, hiccuping as she sways within his arms. “Okay…” she sighs, rolling her forehead against his sternum and mumbles to herself, “Fine, but the cab’s on you.”
“Deal,” he chuckles, his love for her growing with each passing second. His lips brush against the crown of her head, his palms smoothing over her hair and down to the lithe bare blades of her shoulders. “I can do that.”
“Happy New Year, Mulder.”
12:10 PM: This year, Mulder thinks as he waves down a cab. This year will be different. When Scully’s pinky loops through his, he squeezes it in promise. This year, he will do better.
“Happy New Year, Scully.”
And next time, when he looks into her eyes and tells her he loves her again, Scully will finally believe.
Tagging @today-in-fic
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The Enigma of Bunny - 14 (end)
- Pairing: Jungkook x reader
- Genre: mystery/yandere/thriller
- Synopsis: You find a very sick young man in an alley and out of the bottomless barrel of kindness that is your heart, you decide take him home. Only then do you realize this stranger doesn’t speak, but that’s not the only strange thing about him by far. Who is he? Where did he come from? What happened to him? And why can’t he remember anything or even speak?
- Warnings: LOTS OF BLOOD AND VIOLENCE, loss of a limb, stalker and yandere behavior, weapons, kidnapping, possible PTSD, just not a fun time its not good man.
- Words: 5.7k
Author’s note: this was not only my first series, but my first fic, it was my baby for almost a year so I just want to thank you for reading, especially those of you who have been with me almost the full year since I started. I really hope you enjoyed this series whether you've been here a while or you’re just finding it, if you did enjoy it let me know, it always makes my day. Also thank you to @heyitsayjayy who reached out to me in the beginning and ended up beta reading 99% of this fic for me and is now one of my closest friends ever, she kept me writing this even when I felt like I wanted to quit and was just over it, I owe her a lot, Love you Alex.
PREV //
> TEOB Masterlist <
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"I'm on my way, but this door man is giving me problems." You stared down the buff man who blocked your way to the elevator and towered over you with crossed arms.
“y/n we’ve been through this when you came over after dinner. He's not going to move until you hand him your phone. Guests can’t have phones in resident’s apartments, mostly famous billionaires that live here and none of them want their privacy breached.”
You could tell Taehyung was getting annoyed with you. “This wasn't as big of a problem last time.”
“Fine I guess.” you huffed and hung up before handing your phone over to the big man who still looked angry with you. Angry or not, he stepped aside and let you use the elevator.
You pushed the button to the floor you were going to, the top floor, it was hard to forget. You had a bad feeling but maybe it was just because of the last time that you were here you slept with the jerk and it still left a bitter taste in your mouth. He couldn't still be a jerk if he was willing to help you find Jungkook, right? But it made you wonder what he wanted in return, you didn't think it was just your happiness as he claimed he only wanted, everything had a price with that man.
The elevator let out a chime in the small and confined space each time it moved up a floor. You took a deep breath right before the metal doors opened to reveal a small little space with Taehyung's front door. He had the only condo on this floor, the top floor, which reminded you of just how rich he was. Even from outside the scent of him and his home permeated through the door, the same scent of money that you desperately tried to scrub off your skin after sleeping with him. You remember smelling the same scent in his office, you once feared it, now it got on your nerves and made you want to gag although it wasn't at all unpleasant.
You lifted your hand to knock but the door swung open nearly startling you. Your eyes met with Taehyung’s and you watched as a hint of a smirk stretched across his face, but it disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared. Your eyes then went to the hand he was silently gesturing you into his home with.
It all looked the same as the last time, shining marble floors, big and open, a gargantuan window that took up the entire lounge area with a view of the city that would make anyone gasp.
"Let's talk." He strode into the lounge and you did your best to follow him as fast as you could after kicking your shoes off.
You had a seat on the large white sofa and you were surprised when he didn't sit next to you or try to crowd your space. Instead he sat in a not so comfortable looking chair across from you. His elbow propped on the arm and side of his head resting in his hand as he simply just looked at you with a bit of a smile. You had never really seen him smile before and to be honest, you didn't care if you ever saw it again. You just wanted to know whatever it was that was so important that he made you come all the way here for. You just wanted to find Jungkook.
"Where is he, you said you knew." You urged.
"Oh I do." He broke out into a full body smile and you waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't.
"What do you want for the information?" You questioned and his eyebrows rose in surprise.
"Why would you think I wanted anything? I told you I just wanted to see you happy." He clutched his chest and furrowed his eyebrows. "That hurts y/n."
"I'm sorry" you actually did feel a little bad, the look of hurt looked real on his face. He had poured his feelings out to you before, you had seen him and his emotions before but your mind just wouldn't let go of the cold monster you originally depicted him as. "I'm- I'm just stressed. There's been a lot happening, a lot of people I can't trust."
"I know. I know and I'm sorry you've been having to go through all of it… I usually don't say things like that, I usually don't try to help people like this, but you know how I feel about you and I eventually have to let my walls down with someone. It's hard to trust people isn't it? I get it." He nodded "I get it's easy to be mean when all people have ever done is hurt you, but I won't. Would you hurt me?"
The puppy eyed look on his face played with your heart.
"No. No of course not, I don't want to hurt anyone." You shook your head.
"Well sometimes…" he scooted forward in his chair and looked more attentively at you now. "Sometimes in this world, y/n, it's either hurt or be hurt. Maybe in your case it's let go or be hurt." His eyes were now apologetic and you couldn't figure out why.
"What do you mean?"
"Jungkook and I spoke."
You tried to stifle the shock and all the questions going around and around quickly in your mind as if it were a blender.
"I found him. It was face to face… umm… his girlfriend is pregnant, he seemed very happy, living a good life."
You watched as he took out his phone.
"And I recorded some of it."
You swallowed as you first heard Taehyung's voice coming from the phone.
"Jungkook do you realize she's worried about you? Do you know how much she misses you?" His deep voice asked, but there was silence for a moment before your heart beat spiked at the next voice.
"I don't care." It was undoubtedly Jungkook.
A knot in the back of your throat swelled at his words, the only words you've gotten to hear from him in forever.
"You don't care that she wants to see you?" Taehyung had questioned with surprise apparent in the voice recording.
"No. Tell her I meant what I said in my letter before I left. If she wants a goodbye she can go back and read it."
Taehyung put his phone back away and you sat there in silence for a moment.
But his letter didn't say goodbye, it said "I promise you I'll be back soon." And "Just hold tight for me for a few days, I'll come home to you."
It made no sense, none of this made any sense.
"So Yoongi is innocent? What about the texts?" You asked Taehyung who just shrugged as a reply.
No matter how hard you tried now you just couldn't put the pieces together, so you started to think that the pieces just didn't even fit together.
"you don't seem as mad as I thought you'd be." He seemed to be watching you carefully.
"Where did you find him? I want to talk to him myself." You decided.
Another smirk erupted on his face, but he didn't try to hide this one.
"Why? Because you love him?"
"No. No, because I just want to understand all of this, I just want-
"So you don't love him. Alright." He let out a sigh and stood from his seat. "I'll give you what you want. Come on." He reached a hand down towards you, you took it in confusion.
He kept hold of it as he led you out of the lounge and down the hall where his room was, but he didn't take you to his room, instead opened the door to a room across from his.
Suddenly he was jerking you by the hand into the room so hard that you stumbled a little into it.
He had released your hand as you took in your surroundings, it was an office room. It was much like his office at work except Jungkook laid tied to the massive wooden desk to this one.
Your lip quivered and your heart sank as you froze standing there.
Ropes tied to the legs came up to tie his arms and legs that dangled off and he had duct tape over his mouth. He wasn't moving, but his head and closed eyes were turned in your direction. You watched his chest rise and fall just once making sure he was alive and also snapping you out of your statue like state before you ran over to him.
He didn't look good at all. He wore the same clothes he had left in months ago, but they looked so dirty and stained. He had lost weight, he looked so thin, he had almost lost all the muscle he had when he was with you. He didn't look like he had been living a good life at all like Taehyung had said. You began to question if anything he said at all was true at all, as if you should've ever trusted him to begin with.
"Don't touch him." The deep voice behind you bellowed as you heard a click.
You turned around to see Taehyung standing there with a gun not aimed at you, but Jungkook.
"What- what have you done?" Your voice shook just as much as you realized your body was.
"Only giving you what you wanted, you wanted him, I got him for you. Now you're going to give me what I want."
You knew it, you knew he wanted something.
"I want you to prove to me that you don't love him." he continued.
You stared at Jungkook on the desk, unable to register what Taehyung wanted. Your thoughts racing, you were trying to figure out how to get yourself and Jungkook out of this situation.
As you stood there awaiting more words from Taehyung, you almost jumped as Jungkook let out a groan and moved a little.
"I want you…" Taehyung strode over to the table and plopped Junkook's hand onto the desk, the rope that bound him was no longer slack but tight. It looked like Taehyung had tied it so his limbs could hang but also be brought onto the desk.
Taehyung turned to you and pulled a knife from his pocket.
"If you love him, cut his finger off. I'll let you keep him then." Your heart was pounding in your ears, you swear you could even hear your blood coursing through you like a wild river. "But if you fail…"
You only blinked but when you opened your eyes your vision was partially obstructed by his hand and an object. You get the cold barrel of the gun press to the center of your forehead. Your body was shaking harder with fear than it ever had before.
You felt like this had to be a nightmare of some kind.
“Listen to me you weak little girl” he seemed to begin his threat with. You felt tears welling up in your eyes, your throat was dry so you closed them and tried to swallow down everything you were feeling. His opening words seemed to hit you hard.
You were weak.
You had been the weakest of the weak, you had let Jin walk all over you in school, then later in life he had accused you of cheating as you had just stood there crying. You had let Yoongi get arrested and dragged away as he called for you help and you had just stood there crying still. You had let Jimin into your life, you had let him manipulate you. You slept with your boss because you were a scared little coward afraid of losing her job. You had let the love of your life leave you and this is what you had to show for it now. In your eyes you had done nothing but do the wrong thing and others had gotten hurt for it. Now here you stand with a gun pressed to your head and Jungkook unconscious and tied up on a table, and you felt the crushing weight, the weight of feeling like it was all your fault. You have never been able to save or protect anyone, to say no, to stand up to anyone.
“You are going to cut his finger off, or I’m going to shoot the both of you. I never wanted to hurt you, I still don’t, but if you're unfaithful to me I’m not just going to take your toy away, I’m going to take your life away. There’s no point in putting work into this relationship if you aren't going to make sacrifices. I’ve made sacrifices for you, now you do this for me.”
You let your lungs inflate before forcing shaky words out of your mouth.
“What-what sacrifices have you made for me?” you asked with your eyes shut. You wanted to buy time, every second that passed Jungkook seemed to move more and more and seemed to come out of it. You were also curious what he saw as sacrifices, or what exactly he had done.
The coldness of the gun barrel left your head and you opened your eyes to see him smirking.
“You've cost me a lot of money darling. Maybe I should just be honest with you? Aren't all good relationships built on honesty? I suppose the truth would make me seem more like a hero, wouldn't it?” he seemed to think it over as you thought to yourself you could never see him as a hero no matter what he's done. In the corner of your eye you could see Jungkook moving again but your eyes couldn't linger on him too long because you knew Taehyung would notice.
“So I lied earlier. I bought him. I did some digging, found the dumb bitch who had him locked in her basement, and I offered her a lot of money. Eventually when she got bored of him, she sold him to me.”
You couldn't help that your mouth had fallen open as your brain tried to process his words.
“You don't have to worry about her coming after us though my love.” he didn't even try to hold back the smirk that told you very well what he had done.
“Now the not so heroic parts I guess.” he sighed as if this whole situation was nothing to him. “Jimin was the first person I hired, I hired him last year to move into that apartment and watch you carefully and feed me information. You know, see if anyone threatened my position, tried to make a move on you… he was the one who was supposed to bring you to me actually, Jungkook never had to be involved as a matter of fact, neither did Jin. but I suppose he caught feelings for you.'' Taehyung rolled his eyes “You're a pretty girl, meek, a doormat, but pretty. Maybe that's why Jimin liked you too, you are just so easy to manipulate. I admit now he didn't seem like the most stable person, and I’m sorry that other guy got stabbed, but honestly I didn't foresee him going entirely unhinged and trying to take you for himself, I guess that's what I get for hiring a crazy person.”
You wondered if he even saw how crazy he was himself, then again he wasn't even noticing Jungkook opening his eyes, seeming aware on the desk now. Taehyung was too absorbed in himself to see much of anything.
“Yoongi was the biggest issue, I had been planning his downfall for a while. I got his number from Jimin who got it from your phone when he came over to your house once, you just left your phone on the table to go to the bathroom, you're way too trusting. Anyway, that's all it took for me to use an app to steal his number and text Jimin some incriminating things with it. Jimin getting caught wanted part of the plan, but I suppose it only helped me that he did anyway, it made it look like he and Jimin were in this together when it was really Jimin and I… until he turned on me. The only reason he hasn't snitched on me is because I’m paying for his lawyer for this case.” Taehyung let out an amused chuckle “what an idiot.”
Your mind was now in overdrive, glancing at the butcher's knife he had in the hand that wasn't holding the gun.
His tiger like eyes settled back on you “Now you see all the things I've done for you. I meant it when I confessed my feelings for you. Now it's time to find out, do you feel the same?"
You were surprised when he extended the hand with the knife in it to you, willingly giving you a weapon. Either he was really that stupid and delusional, or he was smart and cold enough to know that he could use that gun he was holding to kill you at even the slightest wrong movement from you.
Your hands shook as they automatically took the knife from him.
Your brain had stopped thinking and simply just let your body control everything. You had gone past fight or flight mode and accepted the trapped feeling. You felt like you might as well have been watching this whole scene from across the room.
Your cheeks were still cold and wet but no more tears came from them.
"Cut his finger off and you both live. The hand and finger is your choice. If not, I kill him first and you can watch him die until it's your turn." He gave another reminder.
You once again turned to face Jungkook and looked at him. He looked to be fully aware now and watching you, watching this scene unfold. His eyes went to the knife in your hand and you watched as he made a fist, tucking all of his fingers into his hand but his pinky finger.
He left his pinky out. He wanted you to cut off his pinky.
Junkook’s big doe eyes were full of tears and pleading with you to do something, even if that something was to take a piece of his body.
Everything in your body wanted to run to him and hold him, breathe him in, save him from this mess but the click of the gun cocking behind you told you there wasn't a way out this time. You weren't sure who Taehyung had the gun aimed at, but did it matter? If you didn't do as he said you both would die… hell, you might both die anyway, or worse, only Jungkook.
“Why are you just standing there?! Do it!” a sudden bark of Taehyung's low voice made you flinch.
You felt like you couldn't breathe as you stepped closer to Jungkook. You repeated to yourself over and over in your head not to look him in the eye again, that it would only make this worse, that it would only hurt more for both of you.
You once again took a step closer and even though you had told yourself not to, you looked down at him again.
Something inside of you snapped.
It all happened so quickly.
You had turned around so fast and swung the knife, you felt it meet something but your brain could only register the noise so loud it made your ears ring.
You couldn't hear anything and the first thing you saw was blood on the floor along with the gun.
You scrambled for it, getting onto all fours.
You had no idea where the blood was coming from until you saw Taehyung also fighting to reach the gun too.
It looked like you had cut his forearm pretty badly, making the gun drop and accidentally fire, but he was still going for the gun with his bloodied hand.
You still couldn't hear anything but a ringing in your ears and the thumping of your heart and your quick breaths as you reached the gun first. You still gripped the knife in your free hand as you stood and aimed the gun at Taehyung on the floor clutching his bloody arm.
The rage you felt was immeasurable, but right now you had to free Jungkook, that was your first priority, it was the only demand your brain gave your body that it took.
You hacked at the ropes around Jungkook's wrists, being as careful as you could with your shaky hands not to hurt him.
You suddenly realized you had been mumbling "it's all going to be okay." Repeatedly for god knows how long.
He did his best to help free himself once you got one hand freed. He had removed the tape from his mouth and seemed to be asking you if you were okay.
"I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine" you now said again and again.
"No, no, oh my god noona. Noona the-there’s- blood."
"It's fine, it's fine, it's fine." You concentrated on his leg restraints now.
"NOONA!" Jungkook's hoarse voice yelled as you felt weight on you sending you to the floor.
"GIVE ME THE FUCKING GUN! GIVE ME THE GUN!" Taehyung growled from on top of you. He had a tight grip on your wrist with the knife as he tried to now wrestle the firearm out of your other hand with his. You kicked at him and tried to roll him off of you, but you just felt so weak... unnaturally weak. You couldn't keep it away from him forever and you knew it.
"Jungkook!" You yelled for him but knew he was struggling and tugging at the final leg restraint that was tied to the leg of the desk.
You tossed the gun and hoped for the best, but Taehyung didn't get off of you, instead he went for the knife in your other hand which he was easily able to pluck from it, only then did he get off of you.
He headed for Jungkook who was dragging the entire massive wooden desk behind him with the leg that was still tied to it, he was going for the gun until Taehyung tackled him to the floor.
Your mind went to the untouched gun across the room,Taehyung seemed to be preoccupied with fighting Jungkook for whatever reason.
it was the only way to end this and
A searing pain ran from your torso through your body making you double over and see the blood on your t-shirt. You wondered what had happened, when you had gotten hurt, but decided it wasn't important right now, you had to stop this and continued to fumble quickly towards the weapon as your body flooded with pain. When you bent down to touch the cold metal Jungkook began to scream, you had to hurry, but you were just so dizzy and weak. The room seemed to spin as you turned around your vision doubled and went in and out of focus.
You could see Taehyung still straddling a screaming Jungkook, and you could see blood… so much blood.
You aimed and fired. Your ears rang once again, you couldn't trust any of your senses anymore, you felt your knees hit the floor. Before you felt the rest of your body collapse onto the hard wood as well.
“Noona! Noona! Y/n! Stay with me.” you heard Jungkook say over the ringing in your ears, but your mind didn't let you trust that that was really him. You had dreamed about him so much, and your brain also wouldn't let you believe that what had just happened was anything but a nightmare.
“You're not real.” you thought you said, but it seemed to only come out as mumbles. You just wanted to sleep, you were beyond tired and your body felt like it was floating.
“I love you, I love you so much, you did so good. Ouch! Shit! Fuck!” he hissed the last part obviously in pain.
You felt like you were being jostled around as Jungkook let out grunts of pain, but you were just too weak to care or open your eyes.
“We’re going to live, okay? We were meant to be together.” he let out another grunt “we wouldn’t have lived- ouch fuck! If we weren't. I swear I’ll never- I’ll never lose you again. Forever. This is forever noona.”
You don't remember anything past the words “forever” you just simply drifted off wondering how many days and years forever was, and what they’d be like with him.
-----------
You felt a warm hand holding yours firmly.
“Why are you so kind? I never understood, especially at first. I don't know, I think I was afraid of you a little in the beginning, you know how I am, just kind of quiet.. I think I learned a lot from you though, I’ve grown as a person, I’m glad we’re friends. This isn't about me though is it? I think you’ve grown too. I heard about what you did, Jungkook told me. I think I don’t need to protect you like I felt like I needed to before anymore, you're stronger now aren't you? You're not that anxious girl that lived beside me anymore are you? You fight for what you think is right now. You let me get arrested, wrongly, but still you had reason to believe I had done something awful. I think when you looked at me like that as I was put in handcuffs, I could see you had changed, you weren't going to take anyone's shit anymore, even if it was me. Jail was kind of cool though, I’m not going to lie, they fed me alright and officer Jung and I played cards so…”
You had already figured out where you were by the scent alone, and you knew that voice so well.
“God” you groaned as you opened your eyes. “You’re really talkative for someone who claims to be a quiet person.” you joked through the pain radiating through your torso and winced as you looked at Yoongi sitting in a chair beside your hospital bed. He immediately dropped your hand and acted as if he had never been holding it.
“Hey, nice job getting shot by the way.” he fired back at you with a smirk.
“Want me to have you arrested again?” you threatened jokingly. “Shit. where's Jungkook?” panic washed over you suddenly as you thought of him and tried to think back to remember if he was injured.
“Just got out of his second surgery not too long ago, uh, listen. About Jungkook...”
You didn't like the way Yoongi said that, you didn't like it at all. You began to wonder if he was in worse condition than you, you knew you had to be there for him.
You jumped right up from the bed ignoring the pain of your wound begging you to lay back down as you ripped the IVs from your arm only to realize you had been catheterized and attached to a bag that was hooked to the side of your bed.
“Damn it!” you yelled as Yoongi helped you lay back down.
“Idiot.” he commented dryly. “Let me just go get someone to bring him to you.”
“Yeah, okay, that also works.” you covered yourself back up as he left the room with a sigh.
It took a minute, but there was a knock at your hospital room door before you saw the end of a hospital bed being wheeled in.
There he was, smiling at you.
“Here he is, fresh from the operating recovery room, he didn't look very chipper until now.” The nurse joked as she rolled Jungkook’s bed next to yours. No matter how hard you tried you couldn't stop smiling back at him too. He didn't look too bad, well he looked better than how you had last seen him.
“I’ll leave you two alone for now.” she added but all you could do was stare at Jungkook, alive and safe Jungkook finally here with you.
Until his smile melted and he broke down in tears.
“It’s been so hard noona, oh god it’s been so bad. I missed you.” his tears triggered you to finally tear up as your mind ran through everything you had been through and everything he must've gone through.
You reached your hand towards him but instead of reaching back towards yours he simply held up a bandaged hand, a hand with an extra space where his index finger would be.
“They tried to put it back, but it didn't work, my body rejected it I guess.” he sniffled as your mouth fell open and your lip quivered.
Taehyung had cut off his finger after all.
You wanted to hold him so badly it ached, it hurt more than your bullet wound. You took your bag of urine from the side of your bed, got up, and hooked it to his where you laid down beside him.
“I- I didn’t think you were going to make it for a few days, they wouldn't let me see you, but Yoongi said you were alright.” you could hear his voice shake as you laid your head on his hospital gown covered shoulder.
“It's over now, okay Bunny? We can go home soon.” you brought your hand up to run through his rather long hair but stopped as you thought of something that made your stomach feel sick.
“Did I kill him?”
“No, no you didn’t. He’ll be alright unfortunately. The police know everything and they told me we'll get a notice for the trial. He did what he said though, he brought me back to you.”
“Oh god, thank god. I don't know if I could live with myself knowing…”
“Shhhh.” he pulled you even closer “you didn't. Don't worry about it noona, you did what you had to.”
“The message, he played me a message.” you said “and I knew what you meant.”
“He forced me to record a message to you, so I did because I knew you’d know. You always knew I wouldn't leave you, not then, not now, not ever and the fact that you understood my message tells me that..” He turned to kiss your head and although the both of you weren't in the best shape, you were both still alive and together and you were beyond thankful for that.
------------
You heard the very soft scratching, something you heard often now, a soothing sound that almost lulled you right back to sleep until you realized you could see just how bright it was through your closed eyelids making them shoot open.
You looked to Jungkook who sat beside where you lay in your bed of the new apartment, casually shading away on a drawing clothed in only his sweatpants. His drawings didn't even suffer despite him losing his right index finger, they were still as beautiful as ever.
“Bunny, what are you doing?”
“Drawing.” he stated never taking his eyes off his sketch pad.
“Did I sleep through my alarm? Why didn't you wake me up? I have a job to start today, remember?” You were confused as to why he didn't wake you like he had promised the night before, he knew you were a heavy sleeper and you knew he liked to wake up early.
With a sigh of annoyance you got up from bed and headed for your closet.
“Noona, Jin said take as long as you need to heal and I don't know if you’re quite up to it yet, didn't you say you felt a little pain yesterday when-”
“Jungkook it's been two months, I have to start working again. Besides, I’m just going to be doing restaurant finance stuff, it's not like i'm going to be straining myself. It was nice of Jin to want to help us out and offer me a job with pay that well when I caused him to get stabbed. You go back to training soon with the group.” You couldn't stay annoyed with him, he meant well, he just wanted to make sure you were better, but you had told Jin today you would be there.
“I decided not to.” he called to you as you threw on some clothes, having no time now for a shower.
“Why? I thought that was what you had wanted to do? It was your dream before, right?” You called back struggling to find appropriate shoes.
“Eh, I just don't want anymore creepy people finding either of us now, too risky. Why bother with fame when what I have now is better than that?”
You understood his point you guessed, it made sense that he was content with life now.
You left the closet and headed for the bathroom to do your best to put on a little makeup to hopefully distract from you having not showered.
“Kook?” you called after seeing that he left the bedroom and wasn't in the bathroom where you now concentrated on your face and brushing out your hair.
“Yeah?” he chimed back from somewhere in the house.
“Yoongi is wanting to come over sometime this weekend for dinner. We've been here a month and he hasn't seen it with the new furniture.” you informed only for him to appear in the doorway.
“Noona, why don't you just stay home, one more day.” he gave you his saddest doe eyes, but you weren't buying it.
“No Bunny, you know we need to start saving up money. If we want a family, we need money first.” you brushed through your hair.
“You’re right but I just- I- I can’t... “
“What do you mean?” you asked thinking how off his tone seemed. “I have to.”
Your body froze up, the air left your lungs and you couldn't even blink when you saw the knife in his hand. He lifted his hand to point the tip of it right at you as he spoke.
“I can’t let you leave me Noona. It hurts when you leave. I’ve spent enough time without you already, don't you think?”
#jeon jungkook#jungkook x reader#jungkook#jungkook fanfic#jungkook smut#bts fanfiction#bts#bts thriller#yandere bts#yandere taehyung#yandere jimin#yandere jungkook#bts mystery#jungkook series#kim taehyung#taehyung#kim seokjin#seokjin#jin#hoseok#Jung Hoseok#hobi#park jimin#jimin#min yoongi#yoongi#kim namjoon#namjoon#bts smut#bts series
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One Minute
Pairing: Negan x Reader
Word count: 1.5k
Warnings: Smut, daddy!kink, dom!negan, sub!reader, teasing, and a sprinkling of fluff just before the smut.
Requested: Can I request a one shot with Negan and reader, where the reader is sat on Negan's lap and grinding against him. Negan tells them to stop but they grin and act like they're doing nothing wrong so Negan grabs their hips and tells them they have a minute to cum and they can't touch themself. Whether or not they succeed I'll leave it up to you.
Author's note: First official fic for tumblr, pretty proud of it :) I had fun writing this purely just because of the enjoyment I get knowing how the smutty stuff affects certain people ;)
Summary: Negan has had a stressful day, and you decide to be a little naughty..
The apocalypse was as unexpected as any other extinction-level event. The only difference with this one was that it had failed. The surviving human race slowly but surely banded together, creating several communities throughout America at least. Negan was the leader of one of these communities. He was the leader of The Saviours.
Negan had entered this new world in one of the worst ways imaginable. The loss he had suffered changed him, but perhaps for the better with what the world had become. He soon formed a group, led by him and his precious Lucille. A notion that eventually turned into a whole community that didn't dare disobey him. The Saviours took over other communities. Some of which suffered losses of their own after initially denying them.
The Saviours leader was never unreasonable. He had a desire to help keep the human race going. His men and women were not allowed to kill innocents lest they were prepared to face consequence. As he had said before, people were a resource. Children especially were off-limits. Despite his rough and cold nature, Negan did have morals, and in the long term, he was trying to help keep the human race from going extinct.
Hilltop, The Kingdom, and the Garbage People were all under his thumb. The most recent addition was Alexandria. None of that was what mattered at this moment in time. In this mess of an apocalypse, he had found someone. Someone worth doing all this for on a personal level. It was little over a year ago now that Negan and some of his people were out for no other reason than the man had needed to let off a little steam after an especially stressful day. It wasn't long after he decided to separate from them that he stumbled across a figure lying in the darkness of the perfect little hiding spot.
At first glance, he wouldn't have thought you were an adult - you were curled into a ball, making yourself look smaller than you actually were to begin with. Becoming aware of a new presence, you soon scrambled around to face him with almost wild eyes. Negan knew you couldn't have always lived like this, but you had long enough. Your hair was as wild as your eyes, you remained quiet for a fair while before finally speaking, and so dirty he could safely assume that anyone that would have known you wouldn't have recognised you. For the first time in a long time, he just wanted to help with nothing else in mind. There was just something about you.
It took some time, but Negan eventually persuaded you to come with him. You figured there was nothing else to lose now. Whatever happened as a result of coming with this man, you knew it could only be beneficial for you. You didn't like suddenly being surrounded by other people, but with Negan next to you, nobody dared act against you. With the realisation of this, you came to feel safe in his presence. When you arrived at the Sanctuary, you were fed, cleaned, and soon back to good health. Though it took you a while to relax. Until then, you spent a lot of your time with the man that found you.
After a particularly annoying visit to Alexandria, Negan came back to the Sanctuary feeling more than a little stressed, but otherwise happy to be home. Dismissing his men, the man himself made his way to his bedroom. You weren't there. You must be interacting with one of the people you took a shine to, or perhaps getting some fresh air. He knew you liked to actually get out and go for a walk every so often. Resting Lucille against a wall, Negan threw his jacket onto his bed and sat in the comfy chair next to it, letting his eyes rest a moment.
A couple minutes later, his eyes flew open at the sound of footsteps. You had just walked in, and the sight of you made the man's lips twitch in a soft smile.
"C'mere baby…" he held his arms out, gesturing for you to sit on his lap. You smiled at him warmly as you happily approached, sitting on him, lying back against him with your head on his shoulder as you looked at him.
"Daddy needs a hug." He spoke in a near whisper as he wrapped his arms tightly around you for a few seconds. Meanwhile a pleasant little tingle went down you at his use of the word daddy. Negan knew full well the effect such words had on you, but it was natural now, and he loved it almost as much as you clearly did.
This man had an effect on you like no other human ever had before. While making you feel as safe as can be, he simultaneously could make you quake at the knees until you were an absolute mess. A mess he always cleaned up for you. Despite the hug, your brain started working the same way it always did when he used pet names in private. Humming appreciatively, he let go, resting his arms on the chair. Not before giving your hair a soft stroke. As he relaxed, sighing happily, that's when you knew exactly what you were going to do.
Slowly at first, your hips started to grind. Just a little to begin with, but you sucked in a silent breath at the small amount of friction you already felt. Negan could immediately tell what you were doing, but he didn't do anything for a few seconds.
"Y/N… stop…" his voice was low, but you weren't stopping, and his excitement was only growing.
"Stop what?" You spoke softly as you looked back at him with a grin. A grin that instantly told him your intentions. You slowly but surely increased your pace, trying to stop the whimpers escaping you with some success. It wasn't until his pants were painfully restrictive that he finally acted. Hands flying to your hips, he gripped tightly and held you in place. The sudden action made you yelp, and you looked back at him with a bite of your lower lip.
"Oh no, don't you act all innocent now." The stern tone made you flush as warmth spread through your lower body. He had used his authoritative tone. You knew you were in trouble now.
"But daddy.." you whimper as your hips struggled, making you more and more desperate for friction.
"No." Negan's voice made you go quiet. "Look at me." His demand had you whipping your head back around, and the look in his eyes could have made you actually melt if he didn't have such a secure hold on you. A moment of silence passed - excruciating for you - before he finally spoke.
"One minute." At your slightly puzzled expression, he continued, "You have one goddamn minute to get yourself there /without/ touching yourself, or you won't be getting there at all tonight."
You were wearing a thin pair of pants with no underwear, but you weren't sure if you'd be able to reach that peak. So you pouted. The look on Negan's face did not change. One way or another, he would be allowing himself to get there. Whether you did was on you.
"One minute is all you're getting for being naughty." Before you had the chance to respond, he gave a thrust of his own hips to make you start, also forcing a small moan from you. With your hips free of the man's tight grip, they began grinding again, whimpers now falling freely. At first, you were unsure of what to do with your hands. You wanted to grip your own legs until your nail broke through the material of your pants, but you couldn't.
When the familiar feeling began building in the pit of your stomach, your hands suddenly found themselves gripping the arms of the chair until your knuckles went pale. Whimpers and needy, desperate moans fell from your lips like a waterfall. Negan could feel his own need, but he wasn't going to get there with his pants still on.
You were almost there. The build up was intense. You wouldn't have gotten this close so quickly if it wasn't for the lack of action recently. You wanted to explode in the best way because of this man. Moans of "daddy" escaped you seconds before Negan had his hands on your hips again, holding you still. Struggling more than before, you let out needy whimpers. You had gotten so close, and now that high was fading away.
"Minute's up." Negan's voice was gravelly with his own need. Though you didn't turn around, you pouted in response. Suddenly your back was flush against him. One arm still wrapped tightly around your waist, he had pressed the other hand to the bottom of your neck as he pulled your body right against his.
"I might let you cum…" Negan whispered darkly into your ear, making you visibly shiver in delight, and you whimpered obediently, desperate for release. "If you promise to be good, and not touch yourself while you suck my dick." Flames shot up your cheeks at his straightforwardness. He knew full well what you would do.
"I promise daddy.." the words came in a whimper as you gained control of your hips, clambering off Negan's lap. You could only hope he would let to reach your own euphoria...
@lemonboy-milo
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Destiel fic recs (round #4) + commentary
Time for another (mostly) Destiel fic rec round-up post before my bookmarks get out of control! This one’s a mix of longer and some shorter fics (or series thereof), no particular theme except I guess a lot of angst, hurting Cas, and all the other things that tickle my Id. Several Season 9 human!Cas divergence fics, plus some later season angst-fests and rewrites.
In the Shadow of your Wings by Enochian Things (Salr323) (52k) The first of two fics by this author which I absolutely fell in love with! Canon-divergence from the end of Season 11. Cas finds himself blasted to Naples, Italy by the banishing sigil in the bunker and he stumbles — almost literally — into a sexy, delightful Italian Man of Letters, Luca. When he makes his way back to the bunker and finds Dean still alive, he tries to confess his feelings but Dean panics and shuts him down. Cas goes back in Italy soon thereafter and ends up beginning a relationship with Luca, much to Dean’s chagrin. Meanwhile Sam is still missing and it turns out there may be some dangerous individuals who are out for Cas more so than even the Winchesters.
I loved everything about this fic so much - Luca is an amazing OC, the Naples and London locations are wonderfully evoked and took me straight back to places I’d been. The angst, the pacing, the plotting and the eventual Dean/Cas getting together are all amazing and this is definitely on my re-read in the future list.
The rest of my recs below the cut!
My heart is beating from me by Enochian Things (Salr323) (55k) The other fic by this author that I literally inhaled in one day! Season 9 Human!Cas canon divergence. It’s been months since Sam and Dean have heard from Cas, and when they do, it’s in the form of a wedding invitation. Cas is getting married to Daphne - the woman who “rescued” him and named him Emmanuel when he’d lost all his memories post-Leviathans. It seems Cas went back to her while on his own and they’ve rekindled their relationship...whatever it is. Dean just knows something isn’t right about her, so he sets out to investigate and try to figure out WTF Cas is doing before it’s too late.
This story is so, so good! The case Dean gets Cas to come along on is unique and provides a neat investigation subplot, but what’s so especially wonderful is the explanation the author gives of who Daphne really is — and why she’d been so cool about just having a strange man with no memories move in to be her “husband” (and then want to marry him for real a couple years later, after he’d vanished from her life!) In fact it’s so brilliant I’m basically accepting it as my Daphne headcanon from now on and I don’t want to spoil it. The fic is also great in exploring Cas still struggling with understanding human emotions, customs and etiquette, Sam is A Very Good Friend, and Dean is, well, Dean. (I’m just sad this author hasn’t written more SPN fics because what they have is just brilliant.)
The wilderness. by orange_crushed (8k) Wonderful, shorter Season 9 canon divergence fic by an author who consistently makes me happy. Human!Cas leaves the bunker with a few things to get off the ground from Dean and directions to connect with Garth...but he ditches that plan to try to find his way on his own. It’s wonderfully detailed about the basic struggles of survival, finding work, making ends meet and trying to make some new friends...and why it’s important for him to prove he can make it on his own before he’s willing to welcome Dean (back) into his life.
I Through My Window See by deHavilland (26k) This is an interesting one, written well before we had canon human!Cas in Season 9. Canon-divergence in which Cas remains human after they avert the apocalypse in Season 5. Sam and Dean set him up in an apartment in Sioux Falls and then...just kind of abandon him there. He spends most of a year just barely existing before a visit from Sam finally stirs him out of his inertia and depression, to eventually get a job and also start hunting on his own. This is an interesting read, if just to see an author exploring the idea of human!Cas abandoned by Dean a few years before it actually...ended up becoming canon! I love how Cas is written in this (it’s a story much like the next one on my list that I thought does an amazing, realistic job of capturing what depression feels like), but I do have some issues with Dean. It’s never fully resolved or explained why Dean was being such an ass so I honestly wasn’t totally sold on the ending - I wanted some more out of Dean, some more explanation or apology or something. It’s a story that would have been great to have a sequel from Dean’s POV but after all this time, that will just have to exist in my brain, I suppose! Still worth a read because it’s excellently written, Cas becomes totally bad ass again by the end and it’s always fun to read early SPN fic speculating on future developments.
I Shall Not Want by domesticadventures (20k) I found myself inhaling a bunch of wonderful short ficlets by this author the other day, but this is the one I had to stop at to rec. It’s another Season 9 divergence fic, of a sort - Cas is newly human, for the sake of the story there’s no Abbadon to worry about, Sam is healed...and Sam wants to move out and get on with his own life. Cas and Dean are both struggling with adapting to their new lives and it’s a hauntingly rich and stark portrayal of depression, inertia, and the slow healing process of accepting and adapting to change. I also liked that this story gives us a Dean who is a little more aware of his feelings for Cas and they both struggle to reach out to each other - for once it’s not sexuality causing a crisis of identity but all the other shit they are coping with.
Don't Sing Love Songs by ireallydidthistomyself (17k). I’m not normally a big fan of baby/toddler!Jack fics - I like the angst that he was forced to grow up too quickly, and in general I’m not big on kid!fic in fandom. This author’s work is a big exception to that. They’ve written several stories along a similar theme: Cas raising Jack on his own/in secret for years, Dean only finding them or coming back into their lives later on. But this is the version of that idea that really packed the most punch for me and was incredibly emotionally satisfying. Dean finds Cas after 6 years, where he’s kept Jack mostly isolated and safe from the world. But with Dean allowed back into his life, Cas may be inviting grave danger upon Jack as well. This one ripped my heart out but managed to make it all better by the end.
Better Ways to Kill Our Time by always_a_birthday_girl (8k) I don’t know why I torture myself reading Dean-in-the-Ma’lak-box AUs, but I do. I think because it’s pretty much my biggest nightmare/horror and for some reason it’s cathartic while terrifying? Anyway here’s one where Dean goes through with his plan, Cas crashes and burns for most of a year, until Dean finally starts doing what he promised he wouldn’t: praying to him. Cas figures out a way to communicate back and over the distance, they manage to have certain conversations they should have years before. It’s painful but lovely and there is a happy ending, so it’s well worth the read!
Time Flows Like Water and We're Drowning by triedunture (7.9k) A little break from the later-seasons stuff I (mostly?) read, featuring a seriously hot (but angsty) Cas/Endverse!Cas/Dean threesome. When Zacariah’s plan to show Dean the future doesn’t change his mind about taking on his “responsibility”, he sends Endverse!Cas back in time to try to convince Cas instead, showing him what he’s to become. I don’t think Zac expected it to turn into a threesome, but it’s hot and beautiful and sad and wonderful all at once.
hachikireru by vaudelin (23k) At one point I went on a wallow-fest of reading a bunch of sad 14x20-15x03 divorce-arc fics. Just to hurt myself more, I guess. I know this fic’s been recced around a lot (at least on fail_fandomanon) and I can see why! After leaving the bunker, Cas ends up in Sioux Falls to visit Claire. She’s busy tracking down leads to find Kaia’s killer and he decides to go along with her on one such hunt. But what they find is an unexpected supernatural threat targeting those with broken hearts. Well. I think you know where that might be leading. This is a wonderful casefic with lots of character moments between Cas & Claire and then Cas & Dean, working through their pain and angst and just...it’s a very satisfying read.
Moriah Codas: A Trilogy by Toomanyfandoms99 (11k total) A series of 3 shorter fics spinning off the events of 14x20, developing a slightly divergent universe the author’s written where Cas does have his wings back and has helped resurrect a few of the angels (Balthazar, Gabriel, and Samandriel in particular). This series is absolutely heartbreaking — Cas is completely broken by Jack’s loss, has “fallen out of love” with Dean after he was ready to kill Jack, and sees no way back to what he’d had and felt before. He’s determined to just let the Empty take him...but not until he and his assembled squad of “avenging angels” clean up the mess Chuck has created, smiting zombies and taking out super-powered monsters across North America.
Cas’s motorcycle gang/angel squad is so fucking awesome (I want a happy fic where they do this!) and this is BAMF!Cas at his finest. I just have to include a quote:
He set down the empty glass, and Gabriel said, “well, dearly beloved, we have gathered here today to kick some zombie ass. Since they have chosen to amass in Carthage, we are here to take out as many as we can without causing this town to flip the fuck out. Are we in agreement?”
“I expect,” Balthazar grinned, “a full-on bar brawl. Do not disappoint me.”
“Cassie, Driel,” Gabriel addressed the duo, “how are we with weapons?”
“I have enough machetes in a storage facility uptown to film a Jackie Chan movie,” Castiel said.
But it’s also utterly and completely heartbreaking, so don’t read this one if you need a happy ending. If you do read, check out the author’s other later-season coda fics and fic series as they are all really great.
to mend what is not broken by gothyringwald (2.6k) This last short one I’ve mentioned before, but I just have to rec it again! It was my gift for the 2021 Hurt Comfort Gift Exchange and it’s everything I wanted, and more. Sweet and caring Dean, wounded but still prideful Cas, and some lovely wing!kink/wing!care that pushes all of my button just right.
Anyway, that’s it for now as I think this is long enough. If you enjoy my recs, could you let me know? I try to not just list titles but give some commentary...as it helps me re-find stories I enjoyed the most, too!
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22 with Claude?
Pairing: Claude x reader
Prompt: The way you say I love you “muffled, through the other side of the door”
Description: You weren’t too keen on joining Claude for training today, that is until he suggested to spice it up by playing a simple game of tag instead. As expected, the two of you take it far too seriously and end up having much more fun than you would have ever guessed.
Content Warning: they play tag? just a lot of chasing and teasing
Rating: sfw
Word Count: 1610
Notes: God u know this is about Claude but every time I see this one I think about the Alfonse fic I wrote with this prompt bc it slaps!! Fuck this piece slaps too this prompt is just GOOD
Edited: 6/7/21; this was already pretty much perfect idk why I bothered lol
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“Catch me if you can!” You called out to behind you, giggling all the while. Claude was laughing too, running after you as you ran through the monastery. “Or are you just too slow?” You teased, running across the bridge to the ruined chapel.
“Don’t be so cocky! Don’t you know you’re running from a master tactician?” He called right back, hardly two meters behind you. You picked up the pace, sure you could lose him in the church and then run back across the bridge without him noticing.
“There’s not much to think about! We’re just playing tag!” You laughed, watching as the guards hurriedly opened the door for the two of you running into the chapel. You burst in, turning right sharply so you would be going down the stairs to one of the lower areas. You barely slowed down, heart pumping too fast to care if you tripped on your way down the steps. Claude was right behind you but the steps surprised him and he had to take a moment to catch himself, giving you enough time to rush down the stairs yourself. By the time you reached the bottom Claude was half way down. You were too caught up in going up the next set, that you didn’t see his eyes light up. He would cut you off in the church its self– there were only two ways you could leave, after all, through the main entrance or the one leading to the goddess tower. Either way, he had your cornered.
“That mistake will cost you, _____! I’ll catch you before you know it!” You heard Claude’s distant voice call to you. Looking briefly over your shoulder, you saw his climbing the stars you just decended. You didn’t have time to worry about his plan as you took the next set of stairs two at a time. You had to stay ahead of him!
You rushed past people and animals at a break neck speed, trying to regulate your breathing and ignore the stain in your leg and guts. Claude was right when he said this would be a much more fun way to get your training in, that was for sure but now you didn’t want to lose to him. As you entered the church you saw Claude come in through the main entrance. Pushing yourself even more, you ran to the left exit, seeing the Goddess tower and getting a fantastic idea. Claude couldn’t tag you if he couldn’t touch you!
“Just try and get me!” You laughed with renewed vigor. Claude didn’t know where you got all this energy, he was just as ready to call it quits. Reaching the exit himself Claude could only wonder why you choose to go to the Goddess tower and trap yourself. With no time to question it, he simply followed you through the open front door, hearing your footsteps echo loudly as you climbed the tower. Claude could hear your heavy breathing, just over his own, and figured he had you at this point.
“Too bad for you–!” Claude blinked as he watched you push open and close the large door shut right before him. He tried to push it open, hearing your breathing just on the other side. He gave a push, only to meet with resistance; you were on the other side, using the last of your strength to make sure he didn’t get the door open!
“Guess… guess I win this one.” You laughed through the door, slowly regaining your breath. You could still hear your heart beating wildly in your ears, feel the heavy thumping of your chest as you panted.
“I… gotta admit.” Claude let out a chuckle. “You seem to have got me this time, _____.” His voice was muffled though the heavy wood of the door. It was quiet a moment, then, the both of you waiting for the other to move, to speak. “But… you’ll have to leave, eventually. And as of now, I have a lot of free time of my hand.” He laughed, sliding down to sit with his back against the door, just as you were on the other side.
“You gotta be kidding me.” You huffed. “Can’t you just admit I’ve beat you? Just this once?” You pleaded.
“Mm…” Claude pretended to think on it. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Surely our army needs its leader, no?” You countered.
“The professor has things handled! I’m training, after all.” He laughed.
“I could leave out one of the windows…” You hummed.
“I’ll be waiting below to catch you in my waiting arms.” He said. “To make sure you don’t get hurt. And then maybe win.”
“What can I do to make you leave me?” You sighed.
“Oh? Are you bribing with me?” Claude’s voice came in such a way that you knew this was a bad idea. Your pride left you with little other choice, though.
“What do you want, Claude?” You sighed. Your gut was twisting in a way that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable but still had your heart beating as fast as it was during your little chase.
“Do you remember 5 years ago? When we were here alone like this?” He said softly. You hardly caught the words.
“How could I forget? It was on the night of the heron ball…” You remembered it fondly but stayed alert; he was probably just trying to lower your guard after all.
“You promised to stay by my side… until I could see my dream fulfilled.” He sighed wistfully.
“I’m still here,” You said, heart jumping into your throat. It was getting harder to speak.
“And I appreciate that, friend. I don’t know what I would do without you…” He took a deep breath, one you could hear clearly from your side of the door. “Since we found our way here again, would you mind if I made one more selfish request of you?” His voice had gone so soft. You were leaning closer to the door, straining to hear his every word.
“I-I don’t mind.” Your words stumbled out of your mouth. Even without seeing Claude, his words had your blushing. You were glad for this door between you, lest he see your fluster.
“Would you mind staying with me, even after this war is over?” There was more he wanted to say but the words caught in his throat. Claude found it hard to speak with the silence that followed.
“Claude…” Your voice saying his name so sweetly had him taking deep breaths, reminding himself to say composed. “What are you trying to say?” You swallowed thickly at the lump forming in your throat, both thrilled and scared about where this conversation was heading.
“I… I guess I’m saying I love you.” Even if the door hadn’t been between the two of you, Claude’s words would still have been mumbled. His heart was pounding faster than it ever had been minutes before when he was chasing you, the thought of rejection playing on his mind.
“…You’re not playing with me, are you? This isn’t some cruel joke to get me to open the door?” You asked back softly, doubt playing with your fragile feelings.
“N-no! I would never do anything like that!” Claude quickly scrambled to his feet despite their complaint, facing the door as he spoke earnestly. “____, I swear, I love you more than I could ever express!” Slowly, Claude watched as you opened the heavy wooden door, looking at him with eyes that glistened with unshed tears.
“You promise?” You asked, softly, taking a step back into the Goddess Tower proper.
“I promise.” Claude followed in after you, small smile gracing his face as he watched you light up.
“Then… yeah. I’d like to stay by your side, Claude. Now and always.” You took a deep breath, moving closer to pull him into you. “I love you too.” Claude placed a chaste kiss to your forehead, arms finding way around your hips as yours wound around his neck.
“I guess in the end I do win.” He chuckled softly, causing your cheeks to flush. “After all… in the end not only did I catch you but your heart as well.” You pouted at him as he laughed on, sighing and rolling your eyes.
“Fine… fine. You win again.” You couldn’t help but smile, though, too happy to really care about your loss at his hand. “Just don’t brag too much, okay?” You asked.
“Of course not! I have much more important things to brag about now, like how I’m so lucky to have you.” He placed another kiss on your nose and you were left sputtering and blushing at his affectionate gestures.
“O-okay, actually, that’s worse. I would much prefer you brag about beating me!” You whined, hiding your face in his chest.
“Aww, it’s okay.” He cooed. “I swear, after while everyone else will be begging me to shut up too. You won’t be the only one embarrassed then!”
“Claude!” You looked up at him with wide eyes and flushed face and Claude once again found himself struck by you.
“Though… maybe if you kiss me enough, I’ll stay quiet.” He winked, looking down at you.
“W-we’ll see…” You huffed. If he was going to act like that, he could wait for his kisses. “Let’s just leave here, the rumors are already going to spread once we’re seen leaving together…” You sighed.
“And that’s just why I have to speak louder than any gossip.” He laughed. You shook your head, going down the stairs with him hand and hand this time. Who knew being ‘it’ could be so sweet?
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The Chain (Part 10)
Main concept: Two love struck idiots get sent back to a pretty UGH time period in their lives (that required me to reread all the books again) and have to hide the fact that they know everything.
Find the rest of the fic here: part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9
Tag list: @delilahlbard, @king-maven-calore, @thatoddgirl777, @elliekratzzz, @evangelineartemiasamos, @evangeline-of-montfort, @scxrletguardsdawn, @freaky-freiday, @petergrantkavinsky, @kuwei, @whatsup-gorls, @katiemoore, @redqueenetwork, @tranquil-dusk (I’m trying to add you but for some reason it wont @… the same problem happens with @thatoddgirl777 and I have no idea how to fix it)
(/Mare/)
I’ve been freed from Protocol for the time being. Cal pulls the same strings as last time, and I am put into Training. It makes my blood sing to know that I am going to be joining him there too. One more place where we can protect each other and plan without anyone knowing. We are a secret, united front that the Silver’s will never see coming.
It’s been a week since my first meeting with Farley. I almost expected Maven not to show up to join us, but just as he did before, he appeared out of the shadows with the servant Holland. He was just as full of the righteous fire I remembered, smiling at me and promising things he will never give. Swearing fealty to Farley and her cause for the good of everyone. I wish I had the courage to ask him if he had meant those things.
I’d gone back to my rooms cold and shaken, feeling in all senses of the word numb. Walsh had to practically guide me back to avoid me taking wrong turns and getting lost. In bed, I drown in the memories of the future that I am rapidly stumbling towards, trying to keep my head up as the tides suck me deeper. I toss and turn for hours, kicking the blankets off before pulling them back on when I wake from my hazy doze shivering uncontrollably because of invisible silent stone walls.
I’d slipped through the secret door in my closet and felt my way through the dark tunnel to Cal’s rooms. It was silent in them, not even the sound of his breathing disturbed the space. Sure enough, his bed was empty and neatly made. He wasn’t even in Summerton. I’d sunk onto the bed before slipping under the blankets and burying myself in his smell.
I’d woken to warm hands lifting me out of the blankets. Gripping his shirt, I’d whispered sleepily to him as he carried me back to my rooms. His voice was soft as he’d replied with a gentle, “you’re fine. I’ve got you.” I had to enter my room alone though, just to avoid the cameras seeing him.
Now standing in the training room a week later, I still can’t shake the blanket of cold that envelopes me. Dread pools in my stomach the closer we get to the Ball and the closer I get to those names Maven will deliver. Everything is working perfectly, I have no reason to worry. And yet, a part of me quivers with nerves. Maven is as charming as ever, but something bubbles behind his eyes. Maybe it’s because I know what to look for now and I see it. But I had been just as untrustworthy the first time around. I would have seen it then too.
Standing off to the side with my arms crossed I watch the young Silvers prepare for a session of tearing each other apart. Inhaling slowly, I take in the scent of the freshly washed matts and the summer breeze from the open windows. It’s been sweltering for the past few days, and sure enough a bead of sweat rolls down between my shoulder blades, tracing the track of my spine.
On the other side of the training room, Cal catches my eye. He quirks a brow before pushing off the wall he’s leaning against. Strolling across the room, he tucks his hands into the pockets of his training jacket. When we’re standing side by side he rolls his shoulders a few times and says, “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there a few nights ago.”
“You were off being a crown prince.” I say and wave my hand for emphasis, “doing crown prince things.” My lips quirk up a little bit at the edges when his frown deepens. I haven’t teased him much since we got stuck here, I forgot how much fun it is.
“I won’t lie; I did think someone put a dead body in my bed.”
“Don’t be dramatic.” I tease him, hiding my smile behind my hand. On the other side of the room, Evangeline holds court around the targets. She hasn’t made any moves like she did in the breakfast room weeks ago, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have something planned. If I recall, today is dueling day, and this was when she decided to take a piece out of my face.
“Hard for him not be, he’s so very good at it.” Maven’s voice cuts the air between us like a knife. I spin to face him quickly, throwing up a smile to hide the fear that rushes through me. He tilts his head to the side and smiles as well. “What is he being dramatic about now?”
Cal clears his throat, and hides his discomfort with a laugh. Setting his hand on Maven’s shoulder and squeezing he says lightly, “something to do with Shadow Legion. It’s been… difficult.”
If Maven is fooled by our game, I cannot tell. A part of me sends a silent prayer that he didn’t hear anything. But a smarter part of me chastises myself for even falling prey to my fears and searching out Cal. Have I doomed us with my little slip up?
“So I’ve heard, has Rhambos been giving you trouble again?” Maven grins at Cal in the way only brother’s sharing a private joke can.
“You have no idea.” Cal’s relief is near invisible, and I have to force my own to be that way as Maven comes to stand next to me. His eyes dart to me and he gives me a small, tentative smile. I return it, wondering exactly what is going through his mind. What I wouldn’t give to be a Whisper just so I can know if we are in the clear.
He turns his eyes forward as Arven calls Tirana forward to duel. His name comes next, and as he leaves my side, the little bubble of heat I didn’t notice him exuding leaves with him. His shoulders are tense as he steps into the makeshift arena to face the nymph. Next to me, Cal’s hands clench into fists.
When he comes sulking out, dripping water all over the floor, his eyes are burning. They dart to me and soften for a heartbeat before hardening once more. Mercifully, Cal keeps his mouth shut and turns to watch the next match when Maven steps in between us. The air crackles with heat, and a few of the other Silvers take a step back, making it appear as if they are simply interested in something else.
“Nothing to say?” Maven murmurs when Cal continues to sit in silence. My eyes dart to them, and my hand slowly closes in a fist at my side.
“There’s nothing to say.”
“You always have something to say, forgive me if it’s a surprise when you don’t.” Maven turns those eyes on Cal, and I imagine his stare could turn Cal into a puddle of human parts if he weren’t a burner as well. He’s instigating, something I never saw him do. Or maybe it’s happened before and I never got the chance to see it. Cal makes no move to show me panic, so maybe Maven being this bitter has occurred sometime in the past before I met them. Maybe nothing is wrong and he’s picking a fight because he’s upset about the embarrassment of his loss.
Straightening his shoulders, Cal turns a neutral look onto Maven, sweeping him over with his eyes. “You could have beat her if you had given her a bit more space. You were stronger than her the whole fight.” Cal assures, his eyes dancing to me for a moment. We both know that isn’t what he said last time. But this didn’t occur last time, and without a script Cal struggles.
Maven’s entire body tenses, even as his expression cools. It’s such an odd contradiction that I’m not quite sure what will happen next. Reaching out, I close my hand around his wrist and squeeze. He’s cold as ice, and I shiver involuntarily as my skin makes contact with his. I don’t know why I expected heat.
His flips around to look at my hand, his lips pursed in a tight line. I swallow my grimace and offer him a gentle, knowing smile.
“There will be more fights. More important fights.” I raise my brow, hoping he takes my hint. The anticipation of his reaction practically drives me to dig my nails into his skin. I’m surprised he doesn’t flip around and demand to challenge Cal right here, right now. It would be a short fight, but it would be no less damning.
His shoulders soften though, and his stance shifts to one of embarrassment. “Of course.” He murmurs, his other hand coming to rest on mine. “There always are.”
Hiding my relief behind a smile, I try to pull my hand away. I can’t believe I thought he would actually go to blows with Cal. He’s smarter than that, and better at playing the long game than I give him credit for in the moment.
Before I can pull my hand away completely, he grips it tighter and stares me down, daring me to pull away. He puts up the mask then, the one that I loved dearly and searched for during my months with him in Archeon.
“Even if some battles are already lost.” He whispers as he leans close to me so his words are only for me.
He’s a desperate boy now. I can hear the ache in his voice. What does he know? What does his mother know? Nothing, I’m certain they know nothing. Elara didn’t get anything from me, and she hasn’t gotten anything from Cal. We’ve been careful enough, we’re never together in a way that anyone could question. We haven’t even gone into that moonlit room yet. I haven’t put a knife in Maven’s back yet. Maybe he was more jealous of my escapade to the Stilts than I initially noticed. That’s the only thing he has to work with, and maybe the fact that Cal and I were obviously teasing each other before training just now. He’d never been so outwardly jealous of Cal though. His jealousy was always a quietly simmering pot that never overflowed. He was so much more dangerous because of that.
Pulling away from me when I stay silent, he gives me a rueful smile and turns to face the arena where Elane and Sonya are tearing each other to pieces. I can’t focus though; my mind turns into a tail spin of panic. Have we slipped up? Did I damn us a few nights ago? Are we even off track? What if we are? What has changed?
I am so lost in my own thoughts I almost miss Evangeline demanding our fight. Lifting my eyes to her, I take in her gloating smile. She senses my panic, but has no inclination of the source.
Maven jumps to my defense like a cat would to a mouse. Evangeline doesn’t back down though. I should be grateful for this, at least something is back on track. It’s been a while since I’ve been glad for Evangeline Samos, and even though she is not my friend now, she is the closest thing I’ve seen since training started.
(/////)
Sitting in the darkness of my room that night, I watch the moonlight as it passes over the floor. Are the Sentinels watching me on their screens, wondering if I’ve lost my mind? I doubt it. Unless Elara had told them to keep a closer eye on me. I wouldn’t be surprised, when she’d corned me and Maven in the hallway I had felt her creeping in my mind, searching in the mirrored halls I’d barely had enough time to drag up to protect my memories.
Sighing, I let my head fall into my hands as I breathe. Focusing on the hum of the cameras, I follow the source of the electricity along the wires. The purr of the current fills my senses and drowns me. For a moment, I let myself just exist in the peaceful darkness behind my eyelids. Things will only get harder from here. I regret not tuning for Montfort more than anything now.
A gentle knock on the door drags me out of my meditation. Raising my eyes to the door, I wrap my robe tighter around me as I stand. My steps are near silent as I creep across the room and crack open the door.
Leaning against the frame of the doorway, Cal looks more exhausted than I’ve ever seen him. With a shadow creeping along his jaw, he looks more like he did in Montfort. He was on the verge of doom and greatness here, and there too. He wears the years he’s already lived tonight in the bags under his eyes and the weariness of his shoulders.
When he spots the sliver of my face behind the door, he gives me a tentative smile. “Up for a dance?” He asks quietly as I open the door a little wider.
Nodding, I let him pull me out of my room and toward a moonlit room where I can at least pretend for a little while that I’m safe even if I’m the furthest from safe that I’ve ever been.
(////)
In the hours leading up to the ball, while I am being painted and primed, the names Maven gave as targets ring through my head. When he had visited me late in the dark to tell me them, I had expected him to give me different names. I’d whisper to Cal that I thought I had messed up, and given us away. He’d tried to assure me that everything would alright. And when we kiss this time, there was a desperation to it. Like Maven, he is terrified to lose me, and he poured that fear into the kiss he gave me.
Reynold Iral, Ptolemus Samos, Ellyn Macanthos. Belicos Leorlan. Those names chase me and haunt my waking hours. The prospect of them being wrong, and Maven adding more names, or different ones, haunts me even more.
Belicos with his two young children who will die tonight too, Ptolemus Samos who will live to someday kill my brother but father a beautiful daughter with Wren, Colonel Macanthos with her sly eye that can see right through Elara’s schemes, and Reynold, a man I’m pretty sure is lost somewhere anyway dance behind my eyelids and in the corner of my eyes. I don’t think I will ever be rid of my ghosts.
I couldn’t breathe when I stood before Mareena and saw her in the mirror. She was lovely and wicked in the light of my room, and I’m sure she’ll look the same way at the ball tonight. The dress is the same riotous mess of gemstones and purple fabric that I hate even more this time around, especially when I have to stand next to Maven and observe him in his beautiful charcoal suit. He is beautiful in it, as beautiful as I remember. It makes my stomach twist every time I look at him.
The pleasantries leave me just as breathless, and I can feel Evangeline’s eyes on me as she glares down the line at the people who are to come. It’s almost a relief when Maven pulls me out onto the balcony, just so that I can inhale fresh air. As we go, I feel the brush of Cal’s hand as he reaches back to catch my skirt. My eyes dart to him in warning, but he’s already hiding the movement behind setting his hand on Evangeline’s back and smiling at Belicos as he steps forward to greet them.
Even as Maven pulls me onto the balcony, my heart is pounding. Seeing Belicos a second time does nothing to ease the ache in my heart. His children, I remember their bodies laid out next to his like they were nothing. Was Maven’s emotion in the moment a scam? Had he felt anything seeing their little bodies. I don’t know what’s real and the closer we get to the moment, the more my fear increases. .
“You’re giving them a father.” I whisper, the words like poison on my tongue. He’d give anything to topple the Guard, and he did give everything. Even if I hadn’t been enough to completely crush us. At the same time though, he wasn’t the one to truly give those names. Elara told him who to pick and he acted like a good little mouth piece. He could have chosen not to give that name though. In the moment he could have chosen to spare a father and his children. He’d made that choice. I know he’s braver than he claims, especially where Elara is concerned. Farley was right to call him a coward.
He lets go of me but doesn’t step away when I speak. He stays close instead, his hands just ghosting over my skin. He looks like a marble statue in the moonlight, his lips drawn in a tight line. Achingly beautiful, a boy on the cusp of manhood and his own demise, an angel teetering over the edge of the abyss.
He backs me into the wall, his eyes like chips of ice in the pale plane of his face. Slowly he places his hands on either side of my head, trapping me so that I have to listen to him.
“Reynald is a father, too. The Colonel has children of her own. Ptolemus is now engaged to the Haven girl. They all have people; they all have someone who will mourn them.” The words are forced and cold. A part of him believes those words but the larger part of him, the one Elara has groomed to be king someday knows it must be done. “We can’t pick and choose how to help the cause, Mare. We must do what we can, whatever the cost.”
My skin feels like it’s alive. I might electrocute him right here, right now, until he backs away from me. I have half a mind to press my hand to his chest and shove him over the balcony. It would take one push, and I know all the weak points to knock someone of balance now. It would be so easy. I could claim it was the Scarlet Guard, that they appeared on the balcony and pushed him.
His breath is warm on my face as he whispers, “I want this to be done with the least blood shed possible.”
His hand trembles as he brings it up to brush his fingertips along my cheek, a ghost of a touch, like he can’t bear to let his skin connect with mine. “Tonight will change everything.”
My heart pounds harder against my ribs as he pulls back enough to give me space. His eyes dance away from me and back to the line of dwindling nobles. The pleasantries are over, it’s time. Even if I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready though.
The shadows break again and I recognize Cal’s familiar outline as he steps onto the balcony. “You two all right out here?” His expression is hesitant, probably worried that he’s interrupted a moment that I am supposed to be getting information. His eyes linger on me, his expression softening. These next moments will be the hardest. “You ready for this, Mare?”
Maven jumps on my silence. “She’s ready.”
Taking my arm in his, he pulls me along. He was never this aggressive with me. At least, not that I remember. Maybe I had been so blinded by my emotions of the night that I hadn’t realized how he was acting. He’s agitated though, and monsters are dangerous like that.
Still, Cal’s fingers brush against my wrist, his touch somehow colder than Maven’s. I wish he actually took my hand and held it. When I look over my shoulder at him, his expression is stormy. He’d never been so outwardly nervous about Maven. At least he’s not afraid. We know what comes tonight. I told him what to expect, and he knows what he has to do. I wonder if he will be able to put Farley through the pain of the Gilican shiver’s torture now. I have to rely on him to do just that though.
Evangeline appears at his side, her jewel encrusted fingers enclosing his arm. She squeezes tightly when she sees my eyes lingering on him.
Oh Evangeline. I wish I could help her now. She has her own battle to fight though.
Maven’s lips almost brush my ear as he whispers to me, “This is the hard part.”
Even with all the eyes on me, I don’t blush. He pulls me into the frame but his skin is warmer than I remember. And as we start the dance, his eyes never leave my face. What is he looking for there?
As we move in the box formation, he raises a brow and his lips curl into a smile. “You’ve been practicing.”
“A bit, didn’t want to step on your toes.” I reply with my own smile. I put as much true joy as I can behind it.
His eyes flash for a moment and he leans a little closer to whisper, “You’re just full of surprises.” He chuckles, and the grin he gives me as he pulls back makes my stomach flutter. There is the boy that had captured my trust and my heart. I turn away at the sight of it, my stomach dropping.
I spot Cal spin Evangeline, who looks more like a glittering ball of spikes than a human. I’m surprised she doesn’t slice Cal’s hands open when he rests them on the back of the dress. I miss her more casual regalia that she wears in Montfort. I never saw her casual outfits that she wore here, but I imagine she carried that style into Ascendant.
Sensing my gaze, Cal’s eyes meet mine. His fingers close around Evangeline’s waist, and a million memories of him doing the same thing with me come back. I can almost feel his hand sliding around my waist in the tiny living room of our apartment as he hums the song playing on the radio. I can remember laying my head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat and the sound of his humming reverberating in his chest. He can’t carry a tune to save his life, but it is still wonderful.
We spin through two songs until I feel dizzy with anticipation. Just when I think Maven will pull me to the side though, he leans close to me. I almost pull away, but instead force myself to stay close and turn my head slightly to give him a shy smile. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them though.
“I told you that everything changes tonight.” He breathes against my ear. I nod, confused where this is going. “And I do have to admit that I’ve… kept something from you.”
What? What is he getting at? I pull away, panic flaring through me as I search that face for the truth. He’s too good at hiding it though. I grip his hand tightly, prepared to push as much electricity through his body as I can muster.
His hand burns in my grip instead. My lips curl in pain, but he ignores it and spins me so that my back is to the crowd around us. Forcing me to step into the next dance, he tilts his head forward again to whisper. “I did give Farley four names. But I lied to you about one of them.”
“What are you talking about?” My voice is cold, dangerous too. He senses it, pulling back a fraction. We stop dancing, and his hands drop to his sides. My heart beats so erratically, I worry it might beat right out of my chest.
He tilts his head to the side, his lips falling. “Ptolemus is a good target. Removing him would send the officers into chaos. But there was… a better target, one that would cause more chaos.”
“Who did you give?”
Who did your mother give? I want to grab him by the shoulders and shake it out of him. His lips curl up slowly, a remorseful smile if I ever saw one from him. My blood goes cold at the sight of it.
“Farley agreed with me that you were getting too close, that your attention was becoming divided. She also agreed that if there was ever a time to cut the head off the snake it was now.” He takes my hand and squeezes my fingers. “I’ll step up in his place. My father will never recover from the loss, so Farley can do what she pleases. It is a win for all of us.”
Realization burns through my stomach, followed immediately by frozen panic. “What have you done?” I wheeze as I flip around, searching the crowd, desperately trying to find Cal’s silhouette. In the mass of bodies, I can’t find him and my fingers twitch at my sides as I glance up in the rafters. The Sentinels pace, searching the crowd but they are looking in the wrong places. Above them, shadows move too. The Guard is already in position, ready to carry our Farley’s plot.
“I know that you two have become…friends.” Maven begins, taking my hand and pulling me back around so that I face him. I try to turn my head and search the crowd still, but he grabs my chin and drags my eyes back to his face. “That’s why I asked Farley to take the shot. She’ll give him a quick end. One bullet and a dynasty will end.”
One bullet that won’t miss. One bullet that will tear my future away from me. One bullet that will break me, because Farley never, ever misses.
My blood boils and sparks dance on my fingertips as I glare at him. Cold calm washes over me as the rush of adrenaline leaves. I am in battle mode now; survival is all I can think about when I stare down the man before me.
“Farley removed you from the mission. That’s why I didn’t tell you I gave her his name. She thought you might compromise us.”
We were wrong. I gave something away. Elara never would have dared to target Cal. She needs him to get rid of his father, she needs a scapegoat. But if she looked in my head or his and saw the future, she would have seen that he is more trouble than he’s worth. She would have found out that cutting him from the equation might someday save her and Maven.
If I turn and run after him, I will confirm whatever they believe about us, whatever they have found. But if I sit here, I will lose everything. I can’t go after him; I can’t save him or else I risk Farley and compromising this whole mission.
I am a selfish creature though. I always have been, and I always will be.
Ripping my hand from Maven’s grip I flip around to push my way through the crowd. I have time, there’s still time. I am racing against a clock I can’t see though. It’s like push through mud as I shove my way through the crowd. People gasp and glare at me, but I have eyes only for one person and I can’t find him.
My eyes start to water, and my breathing comes in ragged gasps.
Farley doesn’t miss. And she will make sure she doesn’t miss this time.
Memories of him lying on the sand of Harbor Bay, grey and lifeless threaten to overtake me. I shove them down. He won’t be made into a symbol tonight. I still have time.
There.
He stands with his back to me, speaking quietly with some military personnel or another. I shove through the last of the crowd, my hand extended for him. Elara’s eyes are on me, I can feel them, but I don’t care. I don’t care about keeping things on track. Jon can damn himself to the hells. I won’t lose him.
“Cal!” I scream his name, making him turn. His brows furrow, his expression confused by my panic and fear. I’m five steps away. Then four, hand outstretched as he takes a tiny movement forward as if he might meet me halfway. He never gets the chance.
The lights drop and four guns fire at the same time.
I scream so loud that my own ears ring. The lights around us flare to life on their own by the sheer force of my ability. My vision tunnels, even as someone slams into me from the side, screaming in panic as the lights directly above me explode in a shower of sparks.
I shove them away from me and sprint to his downed form. The man he’d been speaking to is gone, probably lost in the panic. People are screaming, shouting and pointing to the roof.
I slide the last foot between us on my knees and come to his side. Blood, there’s so much blood. I choke on a sob as I try to find the source of it. His eyes are open though, and his mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish.
Relief like nothing I’ve ever felt rushes through me, and I choke on his name as I feverishly try to find the source of the blood. It’s staining his uniform and pooling around his shoulder. His hands press to his chest, and I immediately press my hands on top of his. Sticky, burning blood pours through my fingers though.
“Mare.” His voice is ragged as he gasps my name, and I tear my eyes from the wound long enough to meet his eye. His going grey, the black undertones starting to appear under his eyes.
“No, stop trying to talk. You have to keep breathing.” I cry as I press the heels of my palms harder into the wound. More blood pours out and I feel like I’m fighting an uphill battle when I reach down and rip some of my dress off to press it to the wound. “Healer! Someone get a healer!” I scream to the panicked crowd. They’re like spooked animals though. No one notices their crown prince on his back bleeding out.
His hand closes weakly around my wrist and squeezes, trying to get my attention. His eyes are wide, but his expression is anything but fearful. “Don’t—” he begins, but ends up coughing on blood instead.
“No, no, no.” I sob as I push harder and glare at him. “No last words Calore. Not tonight. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to sit and drink coffee and talk with Julian again, and see Clara and my family again. And—and we’re going to see our baby, we’re going to hold him and watch him grow and become a better person than either of us. It’s going to be fine. Everything will be fine!”
His grip weakens on my wrist even as he smiles. My throat closes and I drop my chin to my chest. It’s a pretty picture I paint, but it fades with every slow beat of his heart. “Help!” I scream uselessly one more time, hoping someone will hear, that someone will come to my aid.
The crowd parts for a moment, and Sara who whipped around at the sound of my scream finds me. She barrels her way to us, and drops to her knees on Cal’s other side.
“Help him, save him.” I sob at her.
Her lips twist at the sight of all the blood, but she immediately pushes my hands away from the wound and replaces my hands with hers. Cal’s head falls back and his eyes close the minute she does. I leap for him, grabbing his face and trying to get him to open his eyes again. His neck falls slack in my grip through and I end up almost shaking him.
“Open your eyes, open your fucking eyes.” I scream at him, tears pouring like rivers down my cheeks. Hands grab me and try to pull me away, but I thrash against them and scream. When I’m flipped around, I meet Julian’s tortured expression.
He pulls me to him, keeping me out of Sara’s way as she works. His eyes never leave his nephew’s face. I wonder if he is seeing his sister in his grey features. Cal looks like a corpse, and my entire body feels like a live wire set to explode at any second.
“Don’t let him die. Please, don’t let him die.” I beg Sara, reaching a hand out to grab Cal’s hand. It’s cold in my grip and I almost vomit when my stomach clenches.
Her eyes dance up to me, and I see the resolve there. Is he lost? I don’t know if I will be able to bear that burden, if I will be able to survive this crushing blow.
She pulls her blood stained hands away and I dive out of Julian’s arms to grab at Cal. For a moment, I think he’s truly gone and a pained sob leaves my chest, sounding more like a scream than a moment of weakness. Underneath my hands though, his chest hitches with a breath, and then begins to rise and fall slowly.
The ballroom is practically empty around us. The royals have fled, the Sentinels have gone after Farley and the others. All that is left is us and the corpses. But there is one less among them.
“Cal,” I whisper to him as I brush his hair off his forehead. His eyes open for a moment only to close in a grimace.
“I wasn’t one of the targets.” He breathes, and I slowly let my forehead fall to rest on his chest. He wasn’t, but he survived. Turning to answer my call had saved his life. He’d changed his positioning, too fast for Farlet to correct her shot before the lights went out. She’d shot blindly, and almost succeeded in killing him.
“This sounds like a conversation for more… private chambers.” Julian’s voice is a dangerous rumble. I glance at him over my shoulder, belatedly realizing that he saw me sob over a prince that is not mine. He heard Cal mention targets, and judging by the fury behind his eyes, he is rapidly putting two and two together.
“Julian,” I reach for him, but he pushes to stand and then steps up to Cal’s other side.
“Sara will finish her work in my rooms. You two will come with us.” He bends down to grab one of Cal’s arms and help him sit up. I almost try to stop him, but he glares down at me. “Help me get him up and moving. We will have to move quickly.”
I crawl over Cal and grab his other arm before helping him to his feet. He stumbles, barely able to take his own weight. I grunt underneath him, and press into his side. Already I can feel the heat returning to his skin, and it sends such a thrum of relief through me that I have to swallow more tears.
(////)
Julian’s rooms are dark and after he helps me deposit Cal on one of the couches, he works quickly to shut all the curtains and lock the doors. I search for the cameras, but there are none for me to turn off.
He lights a few candles and brings them to the side table to light Sara’s work space. She shoes me away and takes my place at Cal’s side before tearing his ceremonial suit off. While she healed the artery that was severed, there is still a bullet in his chest. I can just catch one of the edges reflecting in the dim light.
Sara holds out an expectant hand and not even a heartbeat later, Julian sets a small cloth wrapped set of tools in her hands. She sets them in her lap and goes to work as I edge around the back of the couch and take one of Cal’s hands in my own. His pulse is getting stronger with every passing second, and his grip increases as Sara digs the first tool in to get the bullet out.
“Both of you, talk.” Julian’s fury is like nothing I’ve seen before. Even when I came to him for help in freeing Farley and Kilorn, he had still been soft, quiet. This fury is the fury of a man that has seen horrible dark places and is terrified to be forced back into them.
I glance at Cal who grimaces and grinds his teeth together when Sara starts to tug on the bullet. He won’t be able to make this decision right now.
“You wouldn’t believe us.” I say quietly before looking up at Julian and begging him to understand my hesitation.
“Try me.” He grinds out past his clenched jaw.
My stomach turns and Cal squeezes my hand. I glance down at him, and he nods slowly. We have been compromised. It’s time.
“You have to… listen the whole time. Don’t waste time with questions.” I urge, and in the low light, Julian’s nod creates dark shadows across his features. He looks older than I’ve ever seen him. Bowing my head, I inhale slowly and then launching into the story, starting with the most dangerous truth.
It takes more time than I want for Sara to finish with Cal, and for me to finish the story. As he gets stronger, Cal interjects, adding bits and pieces that I forget. Julian keeps true to his word and stays quiet, but his expression pulls into a deeper and deeper frown as we go.
“How could you not trust me with this. If you know what I am to be to you, why would you not seek out my help immediately?” He pushes to his feet and begins pacing the space before us. Sara watches him, her eyes solemn.
“We—I didn’t want to put you in danger.” Cal whispers, pushing to a sitting position. I try to push him back down, but he fights me off.
“I end up in danger anyway.” Julian turns his gaze on Cal, but it’s softened considerably. I relax as he steps forward to look both of us over. “You’re certain Elara knows the truth?”
“Cal wasn’t a target. But Maven made him one tonight and pushed me off the mission. He knew about me and Cal and if he knows about that, then he knows about everything else.” I whisper, and take the rag Sara had brought a few minutes ago. Wiping some of the blood of Cal’s chest, I shake my head. “I gave us away completely tonight by saving you.”
Cal closes a hand over mine and squeezes softly.
“You must have given yourselves away some time before that.” Julian stops his pacing to set his fists on his hips. Glaring at the carpet like it is the sole reason for his worry, he says, “and now you are once again at the mercy of Elara’s mechanisms.”
“Not exactly.” Cal argues, sitting up completely and starting to shrug his uniform jacket on. Julian raises a brow at his words, but waits until Cal gives up with the buttons to let him speak.
“We know what her ultimate end game is, and there is more than one way to get to the point we want.” Cal glances at me warily. “You and Maven are supposed to meet with Farley when we get to Archeon. You are going to have to warn her, and tell her the truth. All of it.”
I jump to my feet, shock coursing through me. “Have you lost your mind? Julian would understand, but Farley?”
“Farley will understand if you tell her the truth and give her proof.” Cal urges.
Sara and Julian watch our responses bounce back and forth like spectators at some sports match. It’s my turn to pace though, so I start wearing a trench into the floor, grabbing fistfuls of my gown as I do so. “Even if I did manage to get her to believe me, what are we going to do?”
“Elara doesn’t know that I know right?” He reasons with a tilt of his head. I pause my pacing to glance at him. He finishes buttoning up his jacket and nods at whatever plan is forming in his head. “She may think you are the only person that knows the future. That only you are here.”
“What are you talking about? If she’s seen my memories—”
“Then she’s only seen the ones formed before.” Julian jumps on the plan. His eyes dart between the two of us. “You would know if she was in your head Cal. And you are certain she has not looked. She has only seen your memories Mare. As far as she is concerned you are the only person with knowledge of the future.”
“Then why get rid of Cal tonight?” I wave a hand at him for emphasis. My fingers are still shaking, and my body still feels numb from the near death scare.
“You said so yourself. He plays a role in toppling her and Maven. Remove the tumor before it becomes cancer.” Julian offers with a shrug. Setting his hand on my shoulder, he gives me a tired smile. “You may still have a card up your sleeve. Go to… Farley, and get her to believe your story. Make a new plan, one that will put you back on track.”
How am I going to do that? How will I keep Maven in the dark? I’m smart, but he’s always been so much smarter than me, and with the knowledge Elara now has, the game has just become that much harder.
Cal rises on shaky legs, his expression cold. “Speaking of Farley, she might be done in the cells now.”
My blood goes cold and I blink stupidly. “But you didn’t catch her this time. She got away.”
“I didn’t catch her the first time. The Sentinels had already apprehended her by the time I caught up to them.” He nods to Sara and with a slow dip of his head whispers, “thank you, for saving my life.”
She smiles at him, a tiny weak expression but it lights up her face. She takes Julian’s hand and rises from her chair.
It feels good to have the two of them on our side now, playing the game with us. Maybe with them, we can actually win this time around.
#The Chain#my writing#red queen#glass sword#kings cage#war storm#broken throne#post broken throne#my fanfics#thank you so much to everyone who stuck around and waited#here it finally is#she's thic and important and she knows it#(((:#I know it moves fast at the end but it's time to pick up the pace with this fic#I've been dragging it out too long.#marecal#the eternal ship#and now they get to be badasses together#it's great
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this is part two of this fic if you want to read that first!! warnings in the tags!
When they finally make the leap out of Hawkins, they move into a one story in Oregon, of all places. It’s not California, but it’s close by, and the doctors say that for the sake of Billy’s lungs, he needs a more mild climate than he’d have there. Besides, Billy insists that anyplace is home enough for him as long as Steve’s with him.
After a few months of living there with a nagging sense that something was missing from the space, they’re able to complete their new home when they find an upright piano for next to nothing on the side of the road to replace the old grand they had to leave behind at Steve’s parents place.
It’s much less sophisticated than what they’re accustomed to, the finish had long ago chipped off and half of the yellowed keys played the wrong notes, but they’re able to fix it up with some work.
Once it’s presentable, shined up and once again functioning properly, it sits like a trophy in the corner of their dining room, a symbol of what they could do with music. That graceful ability to grow and to change and to heal that they were so familiar with, and of the love that developed between them on the bench.
Billy plays more than Steve does, to keep himself occupied when he’s on his own and itching to get out there and break every rule of his recovery laid down by his doctors.
Even after he regains most of his strength, his hands no longer shaking from the simplest of tasks, the piano never loses its power to keep him out of his thoughts, chasing away nightmares and rampant fears so he can feel like himself.
The sounds of Billy’s playing carrying through their houses, the soft twinkling of keys as the first rays of sunshine cut through curtained windows is like an alarm clock, has Steve waking up in a bliss each morning.
Even in the winter, when the cold is especially hard on Billy’s body, his scars sore like they’re still new and his joints stiff and aching, he’s guaranteed to be up to play at the first rays of the morning sun, usually before Steve is even up for work.
One particularly snowy morning, when Steve wakes up to the usual melody of Billy’s playing with the sun in his eyes, he takes a moment to just stay in bed and revel in the warm music drifting in the room before he realizes he’s slept through his alarm.
He panics for a moment, shoves his glasses onto his face crooked and stumbles out of the bed fast enough he almost trips over the comforters still wrapped around him, but in his effort to stay upright he notices a note on the nightstand.
In Billy’s shaky handwriting it reads, “School’s cancelled. Thought I’d let you sleep in -B”
Steve chuckles to himself over the mix-up, and peeks out the window past thick curtains to see a few inches of snow that wasn’t there when they’d gone to bed the night before. He’s not one to say he hates his job, or even dislikes it, teaching is what he’d always wanted to do, but a thousand times over he’d rather be given the chance to stay at home with Billy.
Without bothering to change out of his pajamas, he pads down the hall into the kitchen, focusing on the song drifting in from the dining room, one he doesn’t think he recognizes, as he starts to make their morning white tea.
Billy would’ve rather it be a morning coffee, but that much caffeine is bad for his heart, so they settle for tea with honey and a pinch of sugar.
“Mornin’, Stevie.” Without looking up, he acknowledges Steve as he enters with two steaming mugs. “Did you get my note?”
“Wouldn't I be out the door by now if I hadn’t?” Steve sets their teas on the corner of the dining table to cool, and sits down so he’s straddling the bench. He situates himself so he can wrap his arms loosely around Billy’s braced torso, and rest his cheek against his shoulder so he can watch scarred hands as they glide across the keys.
Billy chuckles, smiles down at the keys. “Touché.”
Once he’s settled, Steve sighs through his nose and asks, “What’s that you’re playin’?”
“S’a song called When.” This tip of Billy’s tongue pokes out just between his teeth, his concentration on what he’s playing intense. He acknowledges Steve again when he reaches a slower part of the song. “You wanna hear it?”
An answer isn’t really necessary, Billy knows undoubtedly that Steve is interested in anything he does, but he gives a confirmation regardless. “You know I do.” He shifts until he’s comfortable against Billy’s side, and Billy starts into the song.
His voice is much better than before, now that his throat is healed. It’s still a little gravelly, gets deeper when he sings where Steve’s gets higher, but it’s smooth and warm and just about Steve’s favorite sound in the whole world.
Closing his eyes, Steve focuses on just listening to the magical sounds that Billy can make, on feeling the soothing vibrations of his voice as he works through the piece.
With words the song is vaguely familiar, and it’s truly a beautiful thing.
It’s a ballad to nature, ironic for someone who spends most of his day confined to indoors or his own backyard. The song is gentle, full of pretty trills to accentuate even prettier lyrics, but it takes on a melancholy tone, given the context.
Appreciation for life, for the world and everything good within it is something anyone can relate to, but apply it to a sick man and it changes the meaning drastically. Gives it more a sense of longing for these things, and it’s got Steve feeling overwhelmed by its sincerity.
Typically, Billy favored songs he thought were fun like The Bitch is Back and piano covers of songs far too hard core for the dainty instrument, so it’s surprising, hearing him pouring his heart out through an actual ballad, but Steve is glad for it, that fond and warm feeling growing in his chest at hearing Billy’s song.
The song trills one more time into a slow crescendo, and finishes off in a way that Steve couldn’t have been expecting with the words, ““When the whole world is filled, with Mother Nature's noises… that's the time to stuff cotton in your ears!”
The change of tone in the song is so abrupt it makes Steve open his eyes again and pull away from his hold around Billy’s waist, keeping his fingers linked but leaning way back to look at his face. Billy’d duped him, had him feeling all emotional before revealing his cards, his normal sense of humor.
He’s wearing a smile, crooked and relaxed as he takes in Steve’s reaction, the confusion at the pace change. Despite the humor twinkling in his eyes, he asks innocently, “What?”
“Nothing.” Steve can’t help but smile back, even if he shakes his head at Billy’s choice of song.
Still smiling, Billy kisses him, soft and slow in a way that has always made Steve feel like it was the first time, his heart doing backflips while he melts into the bench.
They pull away for a breath, and the moment passes bittersweet, just as many do these days. Giggle almost always turn to tears anymore, and Steve feels his lip start to tremble, feels Billy put a hand on the small of his back so he can pull him closer and sigh into his hair.
Billy’s dying.
The doctors say he’s only got a few years left in him, if that. His heart is worn out from too many surgeries and medications to keep the hole in his chest closed.
They can’t fix it for fear of doing nothing but speeding up the process. They’re stuck with the recommendation to take him home and make him comfortable that nobody ever wants to hear, especially not now, when they’re still young, supposed to be living their lives to the fullest.
He’s already lived longer than they initially estimated when his body started rejecting the transplanted lung a while back, but he’s sick, getting sicker all the time.
The weight he’d been able to put back on in the years following that initial hospital stay was gone again, and his lung capacity was worse every day to the point that even with the oxygen tubes he felt breathless and dizzy, and he was coughing up blood.
Steve doesn’t know what he’ll do when Billy’s gone. Doesn’t know if he’ll keep teaching, if he’ll leave the area, he doesn’t like to dwell on it too much.
But what he does know for sure, is that the house will never be silent, and the piano won’t be covered. Won’t be forgotten in that corner or left unplayed after he goes.
It will stay just where Billy left it, to commemorate him and all he’d done with it, to honor and remember his music through Steve’s own.
Moments like these, fleeting as they are, are everything to Steve anymore. When Billy isn’t here anymore, all he would have were the memories of mornings like these and every second together with him, sealed in a box in his heart where nobody could touch them.
To lose the person behind that, there are no words that can describe how hard that’s going to be. Loss has never been easy for Steve, and having time to anticipate it did nothing but draw out the pain of knowing what was coming, what he’d have to let go of.
But it wouldn’t hurt forever.
Of course he would allow himself the time to mourn, how couldn’t he, when he’d be losing the only person who’d been able to take every wish and dream he could ever have possibly had and make them all come true, who’d ever really loved him. But he promised Billy, and himself, that he wouldn’t let himself be sad.
Because he refuses to remember him by his lows, all the countless days spent in the hospital, sleepless nights when he’d have coughing fits and be in so much pain he couldn’t sleep, the teary eyed panic attacks when something triggered a bad memory. That wasn’t Billy.
When the time comes, Steve wants to keep making music. To use the very tool he’d given Billy after government conspiracy and more than a year in the hospital, back then to offer him an outlet to feel better, to now keep his memory alive. Give him a legacy.
In the moment, Steve lets Billy wipe away his tears and pull him closer still to kiss the top of his head. He chokes back a sob listening to that wavering heartbeat from where he’s drawn close, and tries to chase the thoughts away.
Because they’re here now. Billy isn’t gone yet and Steve isn’t letting go. Right now, there’s still time to create more moments to hold onto, to create something beautiful, melodic, powerful.
Steve taught Billy to play the piano, but Billy taught Steve how to live in the moment, how to care for someone with all of his heart. More than anything, Billy taught Steve how to grieve.
#harringrove#billy x steve#billy hargrove#steve harrington#tw character death#just a little heads up#nobody dies but it’s referenced that it’s going to happen sometime soon#like mourning a death that’s inevitable I suppose#ej writer#story by ej!#sorry to get all depressing on you guys
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STEREK FBI/FALSELY ACCUSED FIC
Chapter three is up from unforgettable!! The one where the Sheriff arrests and charges Derek with multiple murders. Also I have a competition going on the person who can guess the murderer first!! First and second prize. It’s to pay for some ART by a very talented Tumblr artist who we all know and love. Just a bit of fun. Give it a go if you're interested and who knows. Maybe you’ll be the winner. Can’t hurt.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31853854/chapters/79642657#workskin
Excerpt: (Big one today...)
“So you guys work with Stiles?” Isaac asked conversationally as he led Allison and Jackson along the track to where the body had been discovered.
“For a few years now,” Allison answered, assuming she would be the only helpful person for Isaac today. Jackson was forthcoming but anything he had to say seemed less than useful. “You knew him from school?” She asked.
“Yeah, but if you’re from Beacon Hills you pretty much know everyone from school.”
Jackson speaks up, “was he just as annoying back then?”
“Probably more.” Isaac laughs genuinely and it causes Allison to giggle alongside him. “Didn’t stop me from being madly in love with him though.” he admits sadly.
Allison isn’t afraid to admit she stumbled then. Freezing right alongside Jackson at the sudden bombshell Isaac had just dropped. Isaac himself didn’t notice he was walking alone for a few moments but when he did he looked back to find them both standing there gobsmacked.
“Guess Stiles doesn’t talk about me much huh?” he asked just a little bit embarrassed. Allison made a small choking noise while Jackson threw his hands skyward in disbelief.
“Seriously, how did that little weasel get two guys to fall in love with him?” He asked but Isaac skilfully ignored him in favour of Allison.
“Did he know?” She queried.
“Whole town knew.” the deputy answered, shrugging his shoulders and continuing towards their intended destination, “Although I would hope Stiles knew anyway since we dated.”
Allison had just started walking again.
“What the fuck is happening?” Jackson whispered, mostly to himself.
“Wait,” Allison threw a hand out to stop Isaac once more. “I thought Derek was the first and only person Stiles ever dated.” Isaac nodded and hurried them along once more.
“Well yes and no,” He relented to her enquiring eyebrow, “Derek was certainly the first person he dated and I assume he thinks he’ll be Stiles last. Stiles and myself dated for a few months when he and Derek broke up.”
“Stiles and Derek never broke up.” The conflicted agent to Isaac’s right argued which caused the young cop himself to huff quietly with laughter.
“Guess Stiles doesn’t talk about anything from his past much.” he states, “I gotta tell you, that does make me feel a bit better.”
“I’m starting to feel like none of us really know Stiles.” Allison muttered.
“Yeah, well I just learnt two people have actually seen Stiles naked and enjoyed it so now I’m questioning everything I know.” Jackson countered inciting another round of laughter from Isaac.
“Now that I can’t claim,” he admitted, “me and Stiles never had sex, though not from a lack of trying on my part.”
“Surprisingly that didn’t help.” Jackson grumbled and then wheezed out an annoyed breath after having a hand thrown across his chest. “Problem?”
“Not at all, we've just arrived.”
It was like flicking a switch. Allison and Jackson went from confused, and a little sickened in Jackson case, to professional in the blink of an eye. From the corner of her eye she saw Isaac looking mildly impressed.
“You got the file?” Jackson asked Allison who was already nose deep in said paperwork.
“Looks like she was found underneath that tree over there,” she pointed towards a large imposing trunk, and after a quick inspection they discovered specks of remaining blood confirming the assumption.
“wide space,” Jackson noted out loud, “no clear trails, lots of obstacles.”
“What does that mean?” Isaac asked genuinely interested.
“Means whoever did it has to be an experienced hiker.” Allison answered as Jackson wondered off a little. “Probably have an intimate knowledge of the area.”
“A local?”
“Not necessarily, could be anyone who travels here often enough to learn the terrain. Although statistically speaking a local is more likely.” She mumbled examining a photograph.
“Any tire tracks?” Jackson yelled, still out of view, startling the young deputy.
“None that our technicians could find.” He answered anyway as the male agent came stumbling back into the clearing.
“How wide were your search parameters?” he questioned further.
“Had a team of about six go about two miles in all directions.”
“Only two miles?” Allison asked shocked at the same time Jackson screwed up his face.
“Only six people?”
“We’re a small town,” Isaac huffed a little offended, “that’s actually a lot for us,”
Allison had the moral conscience to at least look sheepish while Jackson merely shook his head in judgement.
“Two miles is still pretty far to drag a body.” Isaac moved on smoothly. “At least it is for any normal human being.”
“Well you’re not wrong there, Kolchak.” Jackson retorted unforgivingly. “Maybe she was flown here on a magic carpet.” Isaac was becoming increasingly more put out the longer Jackson was allowed to talk and showed so in the narrowing of his eyes. Allison was going to have to watch that. Her best friends fiancé had a way of pissing people off that was unmatched by others.
“Obscure references to seventies si-fi-crime shows aside,” the deputy forged on, “the point still remains, this guy must be ripped… if it is a guy? Do we know that?” He directed the last part towards her.
“I highly doubt it’s a woman.” She responded, and Isaac looked extremely grateful. “the facts don't add up.”
“Meaning?”
“Statistics show that ninety two percent of all female serial killers know their victims personally. While it is extremely likely, almost definite even, that the unsub in this case knew at least one or two of their victims, considering the fact that they were spread across three states and share extremely similar aesthetics, knowing all thirteen on a personal level is virtually impossible.” Allison explained calmly only for Jackson to tag on the end.
“Pair that with the fact that most female motives are to do with money, and that we just ruled out magic carpet to the dumpsite, seems a bit ridiculous to suggest women doesn't it?” he asked with no small amount of mockery.
“Boy are you going to be sorry if it does turn out to be a woman.” Isaac replied shaking his head in judgment. Jackson’s only response was to roll his eyes.
“Okay,” Allison spoke up completely ignoring the boys little competition, “So if he didn’t drive here, and he didn’t carry her here then how did she get here?” she pondered aloud. Jackson furrowed his own forehead in concentration.
“Maybe she was killed here?” Isaac offered only to receive a scoff from his favourite agent.
“She died from blood loss Deputy,” Allison stepped in before Jackson could mock, “There was nowhere near enough blood near here for it to have been the kill site.”
“I know how she died, I saw her,” Isaac began then paused, looking like he regretted his short tone. He tired again. “Look Doc Deaton told us she had ligature marks around her ankles.”
“she was hung upside down.” Allison confirmed.
“Yeah but I watched this documentary on like war zones and militant extremist and stuff. It said that sometimes they have to take their victims to remote places to, you know, ‘question them’. Often they do it by cutting them and letting them bleed to death slowly hung upside down. To avoid attracting animals with the sent of blood they like, dig a hole, or place them over a bucket or something.”
By the time Isaac had finished he looked a little embarrassed, at his suggestion, but obviously couldn’t bring himself to tame the smirk he sent Jacksons way. Jackson however was just looking back with a seemingly bewildered look on his face.
“You are an idiot.” he stated and Isaac deflated a little. “You think this guy just so happened to watch the same documentary you did? You realise the chances of this are like five million to o-“
“Shut up Jackson!” Allison interrupted suddenly.
“What?”
“Shush, I think Isaac might be right,” she waved off his distress distractedly and Isaacs smile grew back tenfold. “Think about it. This guy is meticulous, methodical, dedicated. All things that can be easily explained with a military background.” She grinned back at the young officer before heading over to the tree and squatting down. She pulled out a glove from her pocket and began fitting it over her hand while continuing her thoughts aloud.
“What if he served overseas. He could have learnt everything he needed from the locals and simply applied it to some of his victims.”
She placed her covered hand to the ground where the body had been discovered and started to dig.
“Now considering he would’ve had to walk her here, tie her to the tree, kill her, get her down, and get the hell out of dodge, I doubt he had time to bring several buckets along with him and then carry them all the way back to wherever he came from without dropping any. No he is way to organised for that. However digging a hole would only require a small shovel. Military grade ones can be attached to a belt, which leaves only his faith that the local sheriffs department would never think to dig…”
Suddenly she stopped pulling up the dirt when she was almost elbow deep. The two boys froze in anticipation as she slowly lifted her gloved hand into view. There was dirt, soft and wet from the damp ground as well as small bits of leaf and bark but in-between all of soil, saturating the no longer white glove was deep red blood.
“To bad he didn’t know we would have a deputy as quick as you hey Isaac,” she spoke smugly looking over to him with an approving nod.
Isaac totally preened.
Jackson merely growled at being proven wrong.
“‘Pretend inferiority and encourage his arrogance’.” Isaac quotes smugly. She wasn’t sure is he was talking about Jackson or the unsub. Probably both. Either way it sounded familiar.
Allison scrunches her nose up. “What is that? Shakespeare?” She asks curiously. Isaac goes to answer but is cut off by Jackson.
“Call a CSI team already,” he spat before turning around and muttering, “If this backwater town even has one.”
#Sterek#Team Sterek#sterek fanfiction#sterek fic rec#stiles stilinski#derek hale#Stiles/Derek#derek and scott are brothers
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the Smashers and their Host - Chapter ??? Preview
Series: Super Smash Bros.
Characters: Reader, Literally Everyone In Super Smash Bros Ultimate
Summary: You’re an inter-dimensional being that owns a huge estate situated on the cusp of spacetime. You’ve been asked to rent out your mansion for the upcoming Super Smash Bros. tournament. What could possibly go wrong?
Tags: Reader-Insert, Romantic & Platonic Harem, Comedy, Fluff, No Smut
Read the fic here!
[hi a year ago i was writing a chapter about characters getting sick but then a pandemic happened, making this no longer as fun to write. as a result i’m not going to be posting this one for awhile... but i’m going to share the beginning portion of it anyways. hope you enjoy?]
"Room service!" you call out, peeking into the room with a friendly smile and a tray in your hands. Upon your arrival, Marth sits up in his bed and tries to offer a smile in return... but it is visibly weak, marred by puffy eyes and a flushed face.
"Well this is a pleasant surprise." The Altean prince's voice sounds different from what you're used to. It sounds like he has a stuffed nose... which he does, of course. "If anyone was to be bringing me soup, I would have expected it to be Peach."
You step fully into the room, nudging the door shut behind you with your hip before making your way over to the bed where the prince lies. "It was Peach's idea to make soup for everyone," you confirm, "but after we started delivering it to people, I think the full brunt of the illness hit her too and I told her to go lay down."
Upon discovering that over half the Smashers residing in your mansion had come down with a cold, you took it upon yourself to be a good host and play a part in helping everyone make a full recovery. Of course, having lived alone and illness-free for god-knows-how-long, you were a bit at a loss at what to do... and thankfully Peach was all-too-happy to lend a hand. You recall she seemed tired from the beginning but did her very best to hide it, and an hour and a cauldron of hot soup later, the exhaustion seemed to hit the princess all at once. It took some doing, but you eventually managed to convince her that you and the rest of the team could take it from there. She (and Samus, who was rooming with her while mansion repairs were still being done) was one of the first people you delivered to, and her warm, grateful smile was enough to convince you that you could do this. You can trek across the mansion for hours to deliver supplies to forty or so different people all day.
Even with your handy "shortcuts", it's more draining than you thought.
"Oh dear." Marth chuckles weakly at your explanation. "Thinking about it... for as long as we've been in Smash together, I don't think I've ever seen her fall ill before... I suppose I didn't even imagine it happening to her."
You have a feeling that Peach has gotten sick in the past - she is just very good at hiding it and powering through it. You're certain she would have continued doing that this time as well had you not convinced her otherwise. However, instead of saying any of this, you simply shrug while placing the tray on the bedside table.
"Well, she is a princess. You can't have royalty looking all unkempt and snotty - that wouldn't be right at all."
Marth needs a moment before he realizes… you are making a jab at him. The prince is flustered for a moment before he lets out a laugh, which you respond in turn with a cheeky grin.
“Do I look that bad?”
He is visibly unwell, but you feel inclined to soften the blow to his vanity. “Nah, I’m just teasing. Anything else you need before I go?” You can’t help but glance around Marth’s room under the guise of checking if anything in particular is missing. You respect your guests’ privacy, so you haven’t been in many of their rooms after the move-in - including Marth’s. His room is fairly plain and orderly - the only thing that really screams “Marth” in here is the mannequin that is adorned with his familiar Smash garb. Said mannequin also holds his sword, Falchion. You suppose storing an outfit with armour on it in this fashion is easier than trying to keep it in the closet or in a drawer. Though considering you don’t see any other articles of clothing lying about, perhaps the closet is just full?
...How many clothes does this guy have?
You’re curious now, but decide not to pry.
“Thank you, but I should be fine,” Marth replies, bringing your attention back to him. “You’ve done enough already. Merely visiting me was plenty - you’ve certainly been a sight for sore eyes.”
For a moment, you’re flustered… but then you remember this man is currently sick in bed. His thoughts are probably a bit jumbled and unfiltered. And really, who wouldn’t feel better knowing there was someone bringing them soup? Beauty comes from kindness and within, et cetera et cetera. All these excuses and more fill your head as you effortlessly wave away Marth’s silly words - you, a sight?! Ha ha! Why, isn’t that saying often used platonically as well? Yes? Maybe? You are drawing a blank.
You’re so lost in denial that you forget to respond aloud. Marth seems to take your silence and (unbeknownst to you) goofy smile the wrong(?) way and starts stammering out an apology, possibly growing even more embarrassed than you are.
“I-I didn’t mean… What I meant by that was… Well, it’s not that I didn’t mean it, but I mean, I find you… quite… um…”
“If you want a sight, next time you need something I’ll be sure to send in the cutest maid we have on staff,” you joke, easily shifting the conversation to more comfortable territory. Marth relaxes at the topic shift and chuckles lightly, still looking a bit embarrassed.
“I’ll never live that moment down, will I?”
“Nope!” Your first embarrassing encounter with any of the Smashers has been so diluted by increasingly hectic and bizarre moments that you find it more funny than embarrassing these days. Well, you say “these days” like it wasn’t just a couple weeks ago that that happened… So much has happened since then that it feels like it has almost been two whole years! Really, it feels like the tournament should have started by now. Crazy how time works like that, huh? Ha ha.
Anyways.
“Anyways,” you say aloud, not sure where that oddly guilty train of thought came from. It was almost like someone was trying to speak through you to express their feelings. But that’s ridiculous! Best not to think about it anymore. “I’ve got more soup deliveries to make, so if you need anything, just…”
Oh. Oh wait you don’t have a system in place for this, do you? And you’re pretty sure most of the Smashers don’t have cell phones… Gah, you knew you should have implemented an internal phone line! Maybe you can ask Master Hand to sneak it in there while doing mansion renovations for future needs. If you do it, you’d have to do it in every single room one by one, which sounds exhausting. You already have a lot on your plate today!
“Don’t worry,” Marth says, “it’s only a cold. If I need anything, I have enough strength to get it myself.”
You open your mouth to protest but… actually, he has a point. It’s not like anyone seems to be sick with the flu or anything. And most of the Smashers are adults - they are all perfectly capable of getting up and retrieving anything they may need or want. Well, R.I.P. to anyone staying on the top floor because you still don’t have an elevator, but… they can at least leave a message on the door or something. Whatever.
This is already proving to be a very good learning experience at how unsuitable your mansion is in its current state for hosting this many people. You’ll have enough experience and knowledge by the end of this that you could run a rental business in your realm if you wanted.
“Well, if anything changes and you start having trouble, just leave a note outside the door,” you decide definitively. Going door-to-door to check on people would be tiring (and you’d also risk disturbing people who are sleeping) - but taking a walk through the halls every couple hours to check for notes or whatever? Easy. Even your shortcut-less partners could manage that.
Speaking of your partners, you should really be getting a move on.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Marth replies, wordlessly giving you the go ahead to skedaddle on outta here. “Thank you again for this.”
And he gives you such a kind and warm smile despite his ailment that you are practically stumbling out of the door, unable to figure out why it feels like there are butterflies inside you.
...Helping people out is good. That’s all.
Shaking away the strange feelings this encounter brought, you pop yourself back into the kitchen, where you are instantly greeted with the smell of hot soup. The room is warm thanks to the literal cauldron y’all made a day’s worth of soup in with Peach’s help, which remains on perpetual heat. There are only two Smashers in the room right now: femme Robin, who is using a laddle to scoop the soup into bowls and prepare the trays for delivery, and R.O.B., who is just on his way out with a tray balanced on his metallic arms. He stops when he sees you appear from nothingness, staring silently at you for a moment before turning his head back to a neutral position and rolling out of the room. Shrugging off the encounter, you approach Robin and the table of food trays.
“A couple more down - how many are left?” You spot the stack of trays that haven’t been prepared yet, each with a Smasher’s name stickied onto them. “Oh. That’s how many…”
“You work a lot faster than the boys do,” Robin chuckles, her voice notably different-sounding than usual. You’re pretty sure she’s sick too, but unlike Peach, she hasn’t been overwhelmed by it yet and waves away any concerns you’ve thrown her way. “R.O.B. can only carry one order at a time, and the Pikmin keep spilling or dropping things… or eating it. Shulk is… well, I think the stairs are too much for him.”
“That’s understandable,” you chuckle. Yeah, your team is not the greatest for this job. But you’re still thankful for the help. “You are giving him orders for people on the lower floors though, right?”
Robin gives you A Look before gesturing to the soup and the pile of crackers and bread… among other world-specific foods that are apparently good to eat when sick. “Hey, I’m busy putting everything together here! I don’t have time to tell everyone where to go! Just pick up a tray and go, that’s what I’ve been saying.”
Oh geez, not even you’re completely familiar with the rooms that the Smashers chose for themselves. You can imagine Shulk having to search every floor just to find the name he’s been looking for is on the top… Thankfully Peach managed to round up any and all roommate scenarios before leaving to rest, or else this could be even more hectic.
“Fair enough,” you relent, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the others’ hardships. It is admittedly funny to think about, but you intend to work hard enough so no one tires themselves out at what would otherwise be an endless task. You’re hoping that after this first round, you’ll all have a break when you only have to deal with specific orders… until dinner time, of course. Then this chaos will begin again.
“Ugh, and no one has even delivered food to my poor, sweet Lucy yet!” Robin groans dramatically, hand to her head like she’s acting in a movie. “Here I am, selflessly toiling away for the sake of everyone else, while my only daughter continues to suffer! Oh, won’t somebody deliver this soup to her in my stead?”
“Uh… Yeah, sure, I could do that. Or if you’d want I could stay here while you--”
“Oh you will?!” Robin cuts you off before you can finish, grinning as she scoops up the tray with Lucina’s name taped onto it and forces it into your arms. “You’re a lifesaver! A knight in shining armour! I’m sure she will be SO happy to know someone as sweet as you is looking out for her…”
With an awkward (but amused) hum, you accept the tray and adjust it so you’ll be able to grab a couple more. Before you can start browsing the selection though, Robin starts coughing - first soft, but then she’s leaning over and hacking into her arm. Uh oh. “Robin, why don’t you go lie down? I think the rest of us can take care of things from here.”
“No no, I’m fine. Really,” she says, considerably less bombastic than before as she manages a smile. You can tell that it’s forced. “Someone has to prepare all this food and look after the kitchen!”
She’s… not exaggerating. Olimar’s Pikmin tend to sample the selection any time they’re in here to pick up another delivery. And then there was the one time Kirby came in today…
...Best not to think about that nightmare.
“Well… maybe you can at least take a break?” you suggest, not wanting her condition to get any worse via pushing herself too hard. You all may need the help, but… you’re sure you can manage! “There aren’t too many trays left to prepare--” Ten isn’t much, right? How much work could it possibly be to put food on a tray? “--and we could just have Shulk or R.O.B. watch the kitchen.” You’d volunteer yourself, but like Robin said, you kind of are the most efficient person on hand right now. Even Palutena has this cold - there’s no one with teleportation powers well enough to lend a hand.
Robin puts a hand to her face, clearly considering your offer. You notice how tired she looks now that she’s not overcompensating her energy to hide it. “Oh, but…”
“You could bring a tray with you,” you tempt. “Go lie down, eat, maybe read or watch a movie? Then maybe in an hour if you feel alright you can come back…?”
The tactician is silent, envisioning the possibilities you are proposing. Finally, she nods and steals a random tray, ripping off the name and sticking it on one of the empty ones. “Alright, you got me. I’m convinced. Say hi to Lucy for me, okay?!”
With a cheeky grin, she leaves the room with food in tow. Briefly you wonder if she had been looking for an excuse to go sit down for a while now…
After Robin is gone, you start browsing the trays so you can deliver more than one order in a single trip. Should you try for a bunch on the same floor as Lucina, or should you grab some for higher floors instead so your partners can catch a break? Just as you think you’ve made a decision, a certain Monado Boy enters the room with an empty food trolley.
“I ran into Robin on the way here,” Shulk says in lieu of a greeting. He looks tired, but devoid of any cold symptoms that everyone else seems to have. “She said she was taking a break but seemed rather… excited about it. I don’t suppose that means we’re down another member?”
“I guess we’ll find out if she comes back or not,” you chuckle. You’re pretty sure Robin is a fairly reliable person but… she can be rather sneaky about her true intentions. “Either way, I think we’ll be fine! We can do this!”
Your positivity is infectious; Shulk returns the smile, albeit weaker than yours. While you’re certain he’s probably just tired from running around so much to help people, you can’t help but ask him again:
“Hey, are you sure you’re feeling okay? You’re not sick too or anything?”
Shulk shakes his head. “I told you before, I don’t seem to have it. Really, I don’t feel sick at all.”
When you asked him earlier, he told you that he had a weird history of never getting sick at the same time as his friends. He just never seemed to catch the same bugs as them. His explanation for it was as good as yours - which was no explanation, because he doesn’t know how it happens either. Just luck and coincidence, probably. When you try to imagine Smashers with strong immune systems, Shulk would have never been at the top of the list. He just… he looks so frail! But you can’t fight the facts: he’s one of the only human Smashers who is still perfectly healthy right now.
“How about you?” Shulk asks, returning the question. “You haven’t started feeling sick, right?”
He must be worried that you are going to ditch him too. “Nope! Like I said earlier: I don’t get sick. Like, at all.” You honestly can’t remember the last time you had gotten sick. Certainly not since you “moved into” this world, which was… well, it’s been awhile! Assumedly, it’s just one of the many perks of who you are and the realm you live in. Regardless, it’s been long enough that you’re convinced that “virus immunity” is one of your many undefined abilities.
Unfortunately for you, “not being a clumsy fool” is not one of your cool superpowers.
“Oh no!” You let down your guard for just a moment and accidentally let the trays in your hands tip, dumping all the food and utensils onto the ground. Man, you’ve been doing so good today! Shulk helps you clean it up, but a certain issue remains.
"Ugh, what if specific foods were on those?" you bemoan aloud. "I can't remember what came from each tray…" And you don't know anyone's tastes well enough to remake them. Though you suppose you could just leave the soup plain… put a bit of everything on the side…
"Who were they for?"
"Lucina, Yoshi, and Villager."
"In that case, I think…" Shulk picks up a blue-and-white bag among the mess. "...this is for Villager."
This makes perfect sense. "Now for Yoshi… probably all the fruit?”
Shulk ponders for a second, then nods. This also makes perfect sense. The two of you put all the bananas, berries, and peppers onto Yoshi’s tray.
“That just leaves the soup for Lucina!” You grin and rush over to the still-warm soup pot and fill a new bowl. “That was easier than I thought.” You are pretty sure you didn’t make any mistakes whatsoever. Except… wait a minute.
“Didn’t I deliver this earlier?” At your query, Shulk glances over to the particular tray you’re pointing at. It’s labelled for Peach and Samus, but you’re certain that this was one of the first deliveries you made!
...Wasn’t it?
“Um.” Shulk seems just as puzzled as you were. “Honestly, I’m not sure…”
You try to reach further back into your memory, but it seems to get further and further the more you try. Today’s events have been a blur of chaos and confusion. “...I guess I’ll just do it again??” It doesn’t matter if you can’t remember doing it, if the tray is here then that means you have to deliver it! You pick up the tray and put it on your trolley, then start loading the trolley up with more and more trays until it’s full.
“Oops, I almost forgot…” You turn and look at Shulk, who is also loading up a trolley. “Shulk, can you take Lucina’s? Robin asked me to, but I’m out of space.”
The two of them seem like good friends anyways, you’re sure Lucina will be more happy to see Shulk than to see you.
“Sure thing.”
Not wanting to waste anymore time, you start pushing your food trolley out of the room. As soon as you’ve exited the kitchen, you warp to the second floor of the mansion. Static dances on your skin from the instant transmission, but you ignore it as you approach Peach’s room.
[hello again its me, this is the end of the preview. there wasn’t much to it and it ends on such a Nothing note but i hope you liked it regardless. one day this will end up in the fic, but not anytime soon i think lol. i hope you have a good day/night.]
#the smashers and their host#fanfiction#super smash bros fanfic#tsath#super smash bros#fanfic preview
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Ambrosia | Ksj | Chapter VI (final)
ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ Aᴏ3 || Dɪᴏɴʏsᴜs ·ᴘᴜʙ· ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀᴘᴏsᴛ || ↻ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ
> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut, humor, fluff, angst | s2l > ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: millionaire!Seokjin x bartender!, nyotaimori model!Reader > ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: mature [+18]; strong language and explicit sex > ᴡᴏʀᴅᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.9k
sᴇʀɪᴇs ɪɴᴅᴇx || ⟵ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴠ
💙 ᴀ/ɴ: can’t believe this beast is finally done (though I might post a bonus epilogue, we’ll see 😉). Thank you so, so much for reading and leaving likes. Not gonna lie, it’s been a hard one to write, but also extremely fun. As my first story in English (and also my first BTS fic), it holds a special place in my heart. Also I may or may not be a sucker for this Jin. Now that it’s over, don’t be shy to let me know your thoughts. It’s important for creators that you give feedback, even if just a few words or a keyboard smash. You can make someone (not only me) very happy.
Ambrosia brought a lot of people to my blog and I’m super thankful for you all and very excited to write many more stories you’ll enjoy too. Once again, thank you for all the love and support.
Psst! Keep an eye out for the next update on the Dionysus ·pub· series. Did someone say Hobi?
“Thanks, you fuckers! We love you!”
The growl in the frontman’s voice raised screams and whistles that rumbled through Dionysus. Sweaty, ethereal and devilishly handsome, Taehyung bowed for the crowd chanting his band’s name. Everytime their signature purple bunny posters covered the beaten bricks of the pub, a mass of people flooded the establishment. V’s Moon Rabbits caused a frenzy wherever they played, waking the masses with their sound like a rockslide. The rock, jazzy melodies paired with the singer’s looks skyrocketed their popularity in underground Seoul.
However, no matter how many concerts and jam sessions were scheduled, they always came back to Dionysus —the pub that gave them a chance when nobody did.
After the performance, they usually hung out at the bar until they found a fan desperate for a chance to share the night with their idols. Doe eyes and sultry smiles in every corner, the boys never went home alone.
Tonight you didn’t work behind the bar, though. You just sat on a barstool, keeping your best friend entertained on her shift, ready to jump to her rescue if she felt overwhelmed. Not that she needed it, she handled the crowd with a big smile on her face. Beer in hand, you chatted animatedly with the blonde singer and Namjoon, the drummer, since the others had already found someone to drag to the bathrooms for an intimate rendezvous.
“You broke your drumstick. Again. You owe me 30.000.”
“I distinctly remember you mentioning both of them, so I’m not paying a single won.”
“C’mon, man. Don’t be a pussy,” Taehyung nudged his bandmate’s side as he took a sip of his beer. “Next time don’t make it so easy for her to win.”
“Yeah, pay up, Joon,” you chimed, a taunting tone lingering on your lips.
“Sorry, love. The rules were clear.”
The tall man leaned back on the bar and gave his signature jaw-dropping smile, flanked by two cute dimples. Who would’ve thought underneath all that there was the lady-killer of the century? You bent forward towards him, sniffing before wrinkling your nose.
“Does it smell like chicken over here?”
A snort came from your other side, Taehyung trying to conceal his laughter and you snickered along. Namjoon’s tattooed hands ran over his chin as he watched the both of you in amusement too before speaking.
“Tell you what it doesn’t smell like: money in your pocket. Now, if you excuse me,” he said, eyes fixed on a juicy target. His self-satisfied smirk turned sultry as his gaze darkened, “there’s a pretty doll over there not sucking my cock and I’d like to change that.”
In a flash, the drummer finished the rest of his drink, attention solely on the woman at the other side of the bar. Still perched on the counter, he looked at you with a raised brow. “Unless you want to join her?”
“Go get your dick wet already,” you nudged with a groan, fully aware that he wasn’t entirely joking.
Like a panther, he stalked towards his newfound prey, mixing with the crowd. Taehyung and you chatted for a little while. He differed from his charismatic persona on stage. V’s goal was to attract people with mysterious looks and alluring smiles, but Taehyung was much more reserved, rude even, except around his close ones. At some point, you noticed the cute girl behind him. You recognised her immediately and smiled warmly, inviting her to talk to the singer.
“Hi, Tae,” she greeted quietly.
Hearing his name, he turned around to face his number one fan. Her face brightened up with the attention.
“Hey, baby girl. Just arrived?”
“Err— yeah, I’m sorry I missed the show.”
“You’ve been to all of them for the past two years, I think you can skip one, ” he sneered. After that an awkward silence settled between the two. When he started to turn back to you, ending the conversation, she was quick to keep his attention.
“Do you… umm… wanna dance with me?”
“Not now, I’m talking.”
“Oh, of course! I’m sorry I interrupted,” she apologized, looking at you with doe eyes.
“No worries, sweetie,” you intervened as you shot a murderous glare to the man, the second-hand embarrassment urging you to help the poor girl out. “Stay and chat with us. What do you drink?”
Her eyes jumped from you to Taehyung nervously, a flash of pain through them when he lazily checked his phone, clearly indiferent. She swallowed a sigh, shrinking in defeat.
“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’m going to… my friend should be here somewhere,” she grimaced at her own excuse, but bit her lips and cocked her head before speaking again. “See you later, Tae?”
“I don’t know my plans yet, baby girl.”
“Right,” she whispered, looking at his side like he’d shot just her. After a beat, she cleared her throat, eyes on the floor. “Bye, then.”
She walked away, hand on her face to hide from the overflowing crowd and ponytail shaking. The singer took a sip from his beer, still on the phone. He didn’t even bother to look her in the eye to reject her.
“One: that was actually painful to experience, and two: you are a major asshole. That poor girl follows you like a puppy with heart eyes and you know it. Do you have to be so rude?”
“Hey, she knows what she’s getting into,” he answered with a shrug.
That naive fool. What a terrible mistake she made falling for Taehyung. To him there was no point in lying, so he proudly waved the “I’ll never be your boyfriend ” flag before anything happened and then jumped to the next roll in the hay without sparing a glance. Never settling, never making false promises. He was upfront about his intentions, so it never bothered you before, despite how tactless he was. Tonight, however, you felt pity at the heartbroken look in her eyes. Love brought more pain than happiness, she’d learn sooner or later.
Suddenly, something bumped into the barstool and you stumbled forward. Taehyung catched you before you could hit your head on the counter. With a snarl on display, you turned and yelled at the culprit, who zigzagged towards the exit, probably to smoke or take a piss. You scoffed. He probably didn’t even hear you, given his unsteady walk. Just as the door opened, a tall, neatly dressed figure entered the bar, stepping aside just in time to dodge the tripping drunk.
It took a second for you to register the tingle travelling across your skin like wildfire brought by the newcomer. You had felt it before, that twisted warm fuzzy feeling, a disease that spread and ruined people. All too familiar and foreign at the same time, like rewatching an old movie with new eyes.
‘You felt something that night and you feel it still’.
The words echoed in your memory, taking you a couple of weeks back. That night after the event was your last conversation with him and you thought you’d finally rid yourself of unnecessary trouble. Quite the opposite. You found yourself craving for something, no matter how much instant ramen you ate or how long you stayed at work to keep yourself busy. His silence was directly proportional to your uneasiness, but you refused to connect the dots.
Until tonight.
Faster than light, your head snapped back at the singer to avoid being seen. Reason overlapped panic as you assessed the damage. That mind-reading snake was right, you felt something beyond physical for him. At least now, fully aware of the issue, you could fix it. Keeping a cool head, you devised a plan of action. It was imperative to eliminate those thoughts before they infected your brain any further, to show both him and yourself that your interest was merely a passing malaise, like a cold or an indigestion. You just needed to find the right medicine for it.
“You okay there? You look like you either had an epiphany or smoked the worst weed in Seoul.”
Taehyung’s voice was low in your ear and you realised the lack of distance between the two. Feeling him chuckle, you looked up at him. You’d forgotten he was even there, hands still low on your waist. In a feeble attempt to regain some control over yourself, you grabbed the shirt over his taut stomach and swallowed hard. Half-lidded, he tongued the corner of his mouth revealing a smug smile. No wonder people lost their shit about him. He looked bewitching and fun, but most importantly, uncomplicated. The perfect remedy for your stupid, stupid heart.
“Kiss me,” you blurted, eyes locked on the mark at the edge of his lower lip.
“What?”
A quick glance back at the door and you frowned before closing the distance to press your mouth roughly on his. For a second, he seemed confused, but then responded eagerly to the kiss. When you pulled back, panting and determined, he tongued the corner of his mouth in amusement.
“Not complaining, but where did all that ‘I don’t make out with my buddies’ philosophy go?”
“As far as buddies go, you’re the shittiest one I have. Not much of a loss there,” you joked, shifting your weight impatiently. Now of all times, Tae had to grow friendship ethics. Although you should’ve praised his character development, right now was a rather inconvenient moment to be a gentleman. What you needed was a distraction in the form of an unapologetic fuckboy. Fast.
Luck on your side, Taehyung just grinned cheekily, happy to indulge your sudden neediness, and tipped his head towards the crowd. He let you guide him through Dionysus, to a dark spot where you’d fuse with the stench of sweat and bad ideas.
“Gimme a minute, ok? Don’t move!” Shortie greeted with a warm smile, waving above intoxicated laughs and the strings of an old song’s bass.
Seokjin nodded and leaned on the counter, avoiding the alcohol spilt all over it. Dionysus was especially crowded that night, which only made scanning the multitude in hopes to find you harder.
After your last conversation, he gave you some space, a chance to miss him. On paper, it was a good strategy. What he didn’t expect was his plan backfiring. After a couple of weeks of self-restraint, his will power ran out. He missed you. Instead of working on his next project as he should’ve, his car brought him across Seoul to you —his personal bittersweet pill. He couldn't help but smile, even when the air reeked of sweat and the sticky floor threatened to peel off the red of his soles. What wouldn’t one of those sensationalists that defamed him give to publicly gut him for his new-found addiction. Those ever-changing eyes that begged him to keep trying despite your constant rejection made quitting you impossible. Only if you would see it too.
“Now, I’m all yours. Sorry to make you wait,” said the petite bartender, already pouring his usual drink. “I’m happy to see you, it’s been a while.”
“Work has been busy lately. No help tonight?”
“If you mean it in a ‘ is my hot-ass crush here? ’ kind of way, she is,” your friend said, catching his intentions easily. Not that he put any effort in masking them, constantly looking around the place for you. “I don’t know where she went, though. She was sitting over there just a moment a— what the...?”
Seokjin followed her gaze, fixed intently somewhere behind him. Your body pressed against someone’s, fingers buried in blonde hair. Unable to look away, he watched a mouth clash against yours before traveling down your neck.
“Oh, Jin, I’m sorry. This dumbhead, I don’t know what’s gotten into her. Taehyung? Really? He’s like her little brother.”
I’m pretty sure “little brothers” don’t stick their tongues down your throat . Shortie kept talking in the background, probably making excuses for you. To his surprise, the first thing he felt wasn’t anger or jealousy, but something close to satisfaction. An odd sense of pride filled his chest every time the blonde touched you where he had before, when he kissed over the skin he had marked as his already.
The man turned the two of you around, giving Seokjin a perfect view of your backside. Long fingers travelled down your spine, cupping your delicious ass with a rough squeeze. The same ass he remembered perking back for more despite the leftover sting his palm left behind. He couldn’t shake the vibrant shade of red he created that night, nor the soft whines you sang for him. Pretty eyes clouded with lust as you came on top of him, now etched in his memory forever —along with the iciness you left behind on his sheets the morning after.
With a fist full of his leather jacket, you laughed. Seokjin could tell it didn’t quite reach your eyes. In fact, it seemed like the attention on the man in front of you was only half-hearted.
Yes, he noticed the pink tint on your cheeks, the hips grinding on a thigh clad in ripped jeans and shortened breaths. But he was also aware of your eyes bouncing around the pub distractedly as your companion nipped your jaw. A smirk tugged on Seokjin’s lips. He’d seen withdrawal before, when his mother quit smoking. Gum could not replace a cigarette and a toyboy could not replace him.
Meanwhile, you kept trying to redirect your wandering thoughts to Taehyung, who locked lips once again, sucking on your lower one. Closing your eyes, you attempted to concentrate solely on his tongue on your mouth. The air was humid, too many bodies in one room. It stuck to your skin the same way it did at the club with Seokjin, but somehow thicker. Tae smelled rich and exotic, nothing like the subtle sweetness of his surely expensive cologne. You remember because it lingered on your skin the morning after, along with the marks he imprinted all over your body. You weren’t as excited for Taehyung to leave his.
Catching your train of thought, you emptied your mind and only allowed pleasure to invade it. You left out a sigh at the hot pressure running through your veins as his thigh flexed against your core just right. It was all you needed at that moment, a nice body against yours to fight the infection of Kim Seokjin. Large hands roamed your body, brushing your breasts on their way up to your hair and tangled there to deepen the kiss. Just when you had achieved the perfect balance between numbing everything around you and enjoying the feeling, the blonde whispered hotly in your ear. His low grumble shook you out of your blissed state, crumbling any prospect of eluding reality.
All of the sudden you found the spicy kisses bland. A light frown etched between your eyebrows when you studied his profile. It dawned on you that it was Taehyung who just told you to come all over his jeans. Taehyung. The same guy who sent you stupid memes while taking a shit because “he was bored”. Fuck, you even came close to orgasming in front of him. Because of him. You winced at the thought. What a genius idea, 15-minutes-ago you. Way to go.
About to detangle from his hold to apologise for the impromptu makeout session —a damn good one, true, but probably scarring for life— he beat you to it. Hands still around you, he arched an eyebrow over your shoulder.
“Hey, man. Want something?” he rasped out.
“The lady and I need to talk.”
Great . Just fucking peachy. You took a steady breath before turning around, putting a bit of space between you and your friend. The first thing you noticed was Seokjin’s piercing gaze, squinting slightly from how intently he looked at you.
“Do we now?” you questioned acidly, wearing your best unfazed visage.
Seokjin looked damn fine tonight. Hands casually in his pockets and the gleam of his silver watch just showing. In that position his shoulders squared further. The urge to bite along the curves leading up to his neck rose out of nowhere. You really needed a cold shower.
He smirked at your response, as if he knew your deepest, dirtiest secrets.
“Yes, we do,” a command more than anything else. Still, you recognised the glint of playfulness in the black coffee of his eyes. The one you foolishly claimed for yourself, even though he probably used it on other girls. “Leave the puppy behind and let’s go outside. It’s too loud in here.”
“Who the hell is this jerk again?” Tae enquired dryly, offended by the nickname. He placed a hand on your hip, squeezing slightly to regain your attention.
You jumped slightly at the contact. Seokjin’s eyes snapped up, acknowledging his presence behind you, still too close. The sharp edge of his jaw rolled in annoyance, almost imperceptibly, but he was quick to smooth it with light-hearted indifference.
“The only reason she’s making out with you, kid.”
Amidst the deafening ambiance, you heard a pin drop. There was a beat of silence, tension so high it took you both a moment to register. Then, Taehyung stepped forward, moving you aside. He was not a fighter, despite what one may think with that foul mouth and attitude of his, but he had no problem in punching a douchebag.
“The fuck did you say?”
“Tae,” you stopped, catching his arm. Seokjin remained unaffected, holding the younger’s glare with neutral expression. “Please, don’t. Just go, I’ll deal with the asshole.”
Brows still furrowed, he studied you for a moment with scepticism. “You sure?”
“Yeah, look I—” You pulled him closer, so you could talk to him more privately. No need for Seokjin to hear anything that could be used against you later. “I’m sorry. About all of this, I mean. I shouldn’t have kissed you tonight when there’s other, um, stuff on my mind. I needed something to help me unwind and you were here so... ”
“Five more minutes and you might’ve ‘unwound’ all the way.”
Your face burned immediately, aware of his lingering taste and the stickiness between your thighs. Pure joy bloomed on his lips at your reaction.
“Back to the whole friend thing?”
“Sure,” he shrugged, “but you owe me a beer for the semi.”
With that, he nodded at Seokjin in some sort of solemn bro code and the older reciprocated. Men’s short grudge-holding span was always fascinating to witness. He waved both of you goodbye, as if the awkward situation had never happened. Trust Taehyung not to really give a fuck. He was the best at it.
You eyed Seokjin up and down and snaked through the crowd towards the back exit without a word. He followed closely the trail you opened, people too distracted to care if their drinks spilled when you shoulder them. Not sure if you felt angry, relieved, mortified, confused, scared shitless or all of the above, you avoided looking back to check if Seokjin was still there. How did a fun night out with your friends end up like this? You were at home and ready to order a nutritionist’s worst nightmare. You coming to Dio, right? The boys perform tonight. Pretty pleeeease?��� That cursed text was to blame. Whoever invented best friends should be sued.
The difference in temperature made you shiver when you stepped out of the pub. A single bulb illuminated the alley, rain puddles and broken glass reflecting its dim light. The night was calm. Not a single siren wailed, like they usually did. Only the constant boom of the bass drum could be heard now, noise muffled underwater, as the door closed behind Seokjin. Your own pulse followed the rhythm, feeling the vibrations deep in your chest.
“Why are you here?” you finally asked. “Just to ruin my night or did you make a sport of being a jerk?”
“Doing you a favour. It didn’t look like you were having a good time,” he answered, amused. You could almost see the ‘I know when you are’ itching to follow.
“That’s not for you to decide. Go home.”
“Not without you.”
His wolfish smirk stretched as he threw a wink. A bit late to try to lift the mood, in your opinion. He seemed to forget that the world didn’t revolve around his stupid, handsome face. It happened at the nyotaimori event, and it happened tonight. Even if you would’ve ended up alone anyway, he had no right to come all the way to Dionysus to mess with your head and ruin your plans —said plans being to drink the embarrassment of almost fucking Taehyung away. Still, he shouldn’t have interfered. You shouldn’t have tried to relax your emotional cramp with Tae either, but it was his mistakes you wanted to focus on, not yours.
“I missed that frown of yours, sushi girl.”
Unaware that you’d been scowling, your arms crossed in self-defense.
“Listen, you can’t just barge in on my life every time you’re bored,” you chided. “Get a hobby, plant a tree or whatever. Didn’t you like fishing? Go do that. Just don’t bother me.”
His features softened slightly. “You remember.”
How could you forget the half an hour rant at the burger joint? Truth be told, you did disconnect half-way, but you recall his somewhat boyish excitement as he gave you a whole monograph on baits. Also the fish puns, those you recall with painful accuracy.
“Just because you are full of yourself enough to have your ears clogged doesn't mean that mine are.”
He shook his head and laughed at your comment. When he stood in front of you to brush a stray strand out of your face, you froze for a second. The tenderness of the gesture was suffocating, his gaze on yours too. No matter how hard you tried to keep distance, Seokjin always found a way to close it. You wanted to run.
His eyes fell on your lips for a moment, intense and wanting. Suddenly that sliver of fondness evaporated from them as something else caught his attention. A hand slid down to your neck and his thumb wiped there repeatedly as if he wanted to clean the spot. Once again, his jaw tensed and his stare grew jet black. Swallowing hard, you felt your cheeks reddening both at his touch and the admonishing tut he gave. He was glaring at what you assumed was a hickey left there by Taehyung. Irrefutable proof of your useless attempt to escape the itch that was Seokjin. Because he was exactly that —a maddening, unreachable itch that one cannot assuage.
“Don’t you think it’s cruel to toy with that Kurt Cobain wannabe?” The tone remained teasing, but his hard, steel stare gave away his mood. He’d never felt jealousy before, and it tasted dry and sour. “He might get the idea that you’re interested.”
You held his gaze, puffing with cockiness to disguise any sign of guilt. “I wouldn’t worry about him, he gets what casual means. Ask him for pointers on that.”
“You think I don’t?” he chuckled airly, brow raising. “I’ve had plenty of that, believe me. But this? Us ? Nothing casual about it, sweet cheeks. I told you already: I like you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Perfect teeth on display, he smiled at you. Selfish bastard, airing those words so carelessly. He gave the impression of a teacher explaining the slowest student how to do simple math, not a man admitting his feelings. Yet, the confession sounded brutally sweet in the quiet back alley. Perhaps the beer still buzzing was to blame or the opiate smell of his cologne coating your senses, but you wondered if it would be that bad to believe him. Then reality poured on you like tar. Even if he did feel like he said, it wasn’t worth the risk. He’d grow tired eventually and leave, like everyone else. He’d ask why couldn’t you be sweet and shy like his exes. He’d tell you that he would never introduce someone like you to his parents. He’d text saying that he would come home late after work, night after night. He’d call you a slut because ‘don’t lie to me, I saw you flirting’ with someone’s panties in his back pocket still. Every time you were naive enough to catch feelings, you’d paid for your stupidity tenfold and ended up hurt and broken. You wouldn’t go through it all again.
“There’s no us ,” you reminded both him and you.
“We should change that, then,” he offered with a shrug. “I want us.”
The fucker knew how to play the strings of your heart, a master puppeteer with the cruelest intentions. Every word was a shiver of excitement that pooled in your uneasy stomach. It felt a lot like love and it was terrifying. Love always faded into ugly crying, ice-cream and vodka. Cornered against your own crumbling walls, you transformed your mixed feelings into bitterness.
“I don’t know what kind of spoiled-prince fantasy you live in, but in the real world people don’t always get what they want. Shocking, I know. Get a whisky to swallow that crazy fact and leave me alone.”
You shoved him away and walked back towards the door, desperate for Seokjin-less air. The pressure in your lungs was suffocating.
“Don’t run away, let’s talk about this.”
“There’s nothing left to say, rich boy. I told you I don’t play couples anymore.” Seokjin snorted, surely about to make a quick retort, but you cut him. “Find someone else for your little rom-com attempt. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m going back in to find a man who can fuck me and not catch feelings after the first kiss like a Disney princess.”
“I’m not sure if your goal is to hurt me or make me lose interest, sweet cheeks, but it’s not working,” he stated, low grit in his tone. “Push me away all you want, I’m not letting my perfect woman slip through my fingers. Not when I know you feel the same way I do.”
You should’ve left and forgotten about him, but you took the bait.
“Oh, please, enlighten me. How’s that exactly?”
“Restless. Every fucking second of the day. Wondering if I’d laugh at the joke I just told or if I’d enjoy the new restaurant you’re at. Tired and grumpy, because you want me lying next to you so bad that you can’t sleep at night. Frustrated, because the moment we kissed, I ruined everyone else for you.”
You snorted, amused both at the accuracy of his words and how much they irritated you. Hopefully he’d assume you were mocking him. It had to be some sort of superpower, there was no other way he could read you so effortlessly. With every layer of sarcasm he peeled you felt more naked, more vulnerable to his sharp sweet nothings. Falling for him felt inevitable and you were afraid of crash-landing.
“Maybe you didn’t see me making out with a guy literally 5 minutes ago.”
“Oh, I did, sweet cheeks,” he said slowly, taking a step towards you. His lips curled upwards and you swallowed hard at the sight. He was hypnotic, expensive clothes fitting like a second skin. What an awful moment for your legs to become butter. “I saw his sloppy tongue on your mouth and you not smiling at him like you do with me. I saw how you kissed him just to take me out of your head.”
Your retreat ended quickly when your back bumped into the door you had been so determined to walk through. Emergency exit now blocked, the only strategy left was to hold your ground. And you would’ve, but the beating of your heart drowned any coherent thought. He stopped when the tips of his shoes kissed yours. Lifting your chin up, you tried to swallow the sand in your throat to no avail. Seokjin propped his hands on each side of your head, the slow tempo of his movements almost theatrical. Spikes of anticipation raised all over your skin. As he caged you, his eyes leveled with yours. You saw a glimmer of triumph in them, lips stretched in a self-satisfied grin. Maybe you could bite it off, kiss him hard enough to erase it.
“Careful, your ego is showing.”
“Your bluff too,” he countered.
The poorly lit alley stayed silent for hours in the little bubble your words created. Stray raindrops that slid from the rooftops hit the ground uncomfortably loud. Perhaps it was just your percepcion. Seokjin held your glare with blazing determination. It was useless, you couldn’t convince him to leave. Around him you felt made out of glass, he saw through every lie and every rejection. You were love-sick and you both knew. There was no miracle remedy, no snake oil to cure this heart infection —it spread too deep already. The further away you tried to stay out of love, the deeper you got in it. The poetic irony might just as well slap an ‘I was here’ sticker on your forehead.
With a heavy sigh you accepted defeat.
“What do you want from me, Jin?”
Your whisper came out as a plea. Arms went limp on your sides, exhausted. ‘ Please, be gentle ,’ you wanted to say. Even if the words never came out, Seokjin understood. Your features stiffened as you braced yourself for the blow, ready to take the hit. You looked too fragile, too beaten. He hated it. Seokjin felt the need to hold you and make all the promises he intended to keep. He’d be there to lull you to sleep if you cried, to share your smiles, to lift you when you fell, to say ‘sorry’ every time he’d fuck up and ‘it’s ok’ when you did. A four-letter word burned his throat like alcohol, but he wouldn’t voice it —he didn’t want to scare you away.
“Right now? I want to kiss you. I want to take you home and take my time eating you out to get whatever doubt you might have about me, about us, out of your system. I want to make you come while you scream my name and forget that stupid idiot and any other idiot before him. I want to fuck you slow to make you understand how much you want me and then hard to show you how much I need you.” He inched even closer, trapping your eyes with his so you could read his heart in them. “I want to find you beside me in the morning and make a routine out of it. I want you to laugh at my naked butt in an apron while I make breakfast and fuck you again and again in the kitchen until you to beg me to never let go.”
He paused, lifting a hand to cup your cheek. His eyes fleeted down as his lips ghosted yours, tickling the skin with his breath, and then back up for his next words.
“I want everything with you.”
You were desperate to close the distance in a kiss, drown in his words. Techno beat pounded in your chest so loud that you thought something might explode. Everything . You wanted that too.
“Jin, I…” as you talked, your lips graced his. He looked at you intently, pupils completely blown and a choked gasp escaped him at the brief contact. The hand on your face tensed, showing you his neediness. It only spurred yours. “I’ve tried this before and it never turns out well.”
“Not with me, sweet cheeks.”
“I’m scared. What if—?”
“Don’t be,” he cut with a smile and a wink. “You’re stuck with me. I promise.”
Tired of fighting a lost battle, you gave in. Your body moved on its own and you closed the barely-existing space between you, sealing your mouth and his with a kiss. There was urgency in his response, as his tongue immediately asked for permission. He kissed you with a starved need that you were quickly to match. His kisses were ardent, numbing you from anything outside Seokjin. Every doubt and heartbreak died where he started. Eager to taste you, he bit your lips until they puffed. Although neither of you couldn’t get enough of it, there was something gentle in your passion. His arms encased you and brought you close enough to fuse with him. Muscle memory laced your fingers to his dark hair, disheveling its perfect shape into whatever you wanted, and your hips grounded his. You molded together in a frenzy of desire. It was satisfying to see every limb and kiss back in place, exactly where they were meant to be. Like one of those compilation videos, it was addicting. The only thing missing was his bare skin on yours to make the moment perfect.
As you got lost in him, his words filled your head, triggering a moan that Seokjin drank with devotion. Perhaps it was foolish, but you let yourself believe him. No flowers, no romantic music in the background, just sincerity in his eyes as he said them. He didn’t paint a movie-like romance where every day would be perfect. He didn’t swear a life of never-ending happiness or vowed to never hurt you. No, he made one promise: that he’d be there. The effortless conviction in that one promise told you that he’d stay and try, that he’d fight for you. He was stubborn and persistent enough for you to trust him. Besides, he always kept his promises before.
Now that you allowed what you felt for him to flow freely, you couldn’t cointan it. He flipped your world upside down. You wanted to tell him what an irritating, fun, conceited, irresistible prick he was, that sometimes you would choke him and others you would kiss him until your lips drew blood, that with him you felt the barest you’ve ever been, but also the safest. Words weren’t enough to express all that, so you kissed him fervently and urged him closer, your heartbeat reverberating in his chest, to show him instead. He grunted, immersed in you and those words you didn’t speak. No need for it, he heard them in the way you moaned and pressed against his hardened cock, seeking desperately some kind of friction. Your hands roamed his shoulders, crinkling the material of his shirt. He felt so yearned for that he forgot to breathe. When his lungs couldn’t take it anymore, Seokjin broke the kiss, missing it the moment cold air hit his wet lips. You whined at the loss, but allowed yourself a moment to recover. Panting heavily, you both stared at each other. At that moment, he looked perfect. Dishevelled and void of that cold mask he wore most of the time, it was the final shot you could take —you were recklessly and catastrophically in love, with no hope of recovery. All that fight you put up, just to lose anyway. What a poor soldier you’d make. With a breathy laugh you rested your forehead on his chin, which brought a bright smile. Still trying to get some air, he kissed your hairline tenderly as he brushed back flyaway strands. Your fingers mimicked the intimate gesture, drawing circles on the nape of his long neck.
“By the way, I don’t beg,” you quipped suddenly, lifting your head so he could see the arch on your brow and a half bitten smirk. The moment was getting too soppy already.
“You look like you enjoy new experiences.”
A wink and a kiss and then you were in his arms again, hidden in your newfound shelter as it started to drizzle in the back alley of Dionysus.
ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: @aretha170
ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ, ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ © hear-me-growl, October 2020
#bts fic#bts smut#bts humor#bts fluff#s2l#e2l#jin#hearmegrowl#mystories#dionysuspub#fic:ambrosia#bts#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#jin fanfiction#jin fanfic#jin fic#jin fluff#jin smut#jin x reader#seokjin#seokjin x reader
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Okay! Time for the final @whumptober2020 fic, for completion! (There might actually be one more, because I was planning it - I’d forgotten I’d actually already done theme 30! We’ll see if I’m motivated enough to do it again, with the idea I still have!)
This one’s actually going back to an earlier theme, because I didn’t have a good idea for it then, but I do now! So here’s theme no.13, Breathe In Breathe Out - for the prompt “oxygen mask”.
This one’s Evanstan, with a fire on set, Seb needing an oxygen mask, and that lovely angst-with-happy-ending “I thought you were dead!” trope, and love confessions!
#
Fire. Chris smells it, hears it—ash and alarm, cinders and shouts—before he sees it. He’s been over in hair and makeup, and he and the makeup artists exchange looks and duck out the door, trying to see what’s going on. Someone yells something about the set. The soundstage. Going up. Sirens shriek in the distance.
The set—but—
Sebastian’s on set.
Sebastian’s on that set, because he’d already been called over for a few shots before Chris’s character’s meant to show up and fret over him with space-program director worry. Sebastian’s on that set, dressed in that astronaut’s uniform, practicing getting in and out of his tiny historical-replica capsule—
Chris can’t put the pieces together. He can’t.
He runs, instead. Everyone is. Across the lot. Toward the flames.
The fire’s sharp and vicious, orange and red and hungry, full of fangs. The heat hits like a fist, leaping from the soundstage. It’s all going up.
Firefighters’re at work. Water flies past him; chemical retardants soothe flaring rage. The fire fights back.
Several people stumble out of the smoke, with the aid of more of the fire brigade. Chris recognizes them: crew, extras, a personal assistant. No Sebastian.
No Sebastian—
No. No. He lunges closer. “Seb!”
“Chris—” That’s Anthony Mackie, also on this film, which they’d laughed about—the three of them together again—and half in costume and half not, the tuxedo shirt for the astronaut fancy-dress ball hanging open over jeans. “Chris, no—you can’t, you can’t go in—”
“Sebastian’s in there!”
Mackie’s face wears horror like an open grave: comprehending the loss, broken open, full of anguish. “I know—Chris, I know—but you can’t, they said, it’s—”
An explosion. A billow of flame. Shooting out a door.
“No,” Chris snaps. He pulls against the grip on his arm. “No.”
“I’m sorry—” Mackie has both arms around him now, as Chris staggers. They wrestle or collapse or crumple to the ground. “It’s too late, Chris, it’s—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, you know I…oh, Jesus…Seb…”
They cling to each other, huddled on hard ground. Chris’s knees hurt from the impact. When he breathes he tastes smoke, cinders, flying bits of paper.
It’s not real. It can’t be real. It’s too fast, too strange, too horrible to be true.
Sebastian isn’t—Seb’s not—
Sebastian, who just that morning had been kissing him, laughing, running lines with him in the shower and singing Green Day slightly off-key and trailing hands all over Chris’s body with a smirk that said he was thinking about what they’d just done…
Sebastian can’t be gone. Chris loves him.
“But,” he whispers. “No…he’s not…he can’t be…”
The fire’s hissing, spitting, cornered. Backing down.
Murmurs happen in the background. Paramedics, emergency crews. People doing head counts.
“We were going to,” Chris says, very small, hiding from the imminent understanding, not wanting to understand. “We were going to…after this film…we would’ve told everyone…our characters’re in love anyway…Seb said we should do it at the premiere…we’re going to tell everyone. About us. I love him.”
“Chris,” Mackie says. “Chris, look at me.”
“I’m going to kiss him,” Chris says. “In public. I’m…I was…he wanted…I wanted to hold his hand and tell everyone I’m in love with him…”
“I know. He told me. You told me. I know you were.”
“But…he’s…” He can’t think. Can’t move. The weight crushes him down onto the ground. “He’s…”
Something’s happening. Paramedics coming over. Hands coaxing Chris up, voices asking questions.
He answers mechanically. Dully. He’s not hurt. He’s not injured, physically. He mumbles, “Sebastian…”
“It’s all right.” The closest paramedic pats his shoulder. “It’s all right, I promise—here, come with us, this way…”
Nothing’s all right. Nothing ever will be again.
Because it doesn’t matter, he goes along with her. Stumbling around the side of the building, the ruin, the rubble. Haze hangs heavy in the air. The shape of an ambulance looms, squat and white. Chris’s eyes burn. He isn’t crying—or is he? Smoke and shock mingle and slide down his cheeks.
Would it have been quick? Would Seb have had that mercy, at least? He can’t let himself imagine the alternative: Seb trapped in that small one-man capsule, unable to escape, knowing…
He has to stop. Bending over. Hands braced on knees. He’s dizzy. Wanting to fall.
“Chris!” That’s…a voice he knows. That’s…
It can’t be. It can’t.
“Chris!” says Sebastian’s voice again, followed by a cough—no, a series of coughs, deep and shuddering, and then what sounds like medical admonishment over protests. Someone else says, “Yes, he’s fine—keep that on, please, we’ll get him for you—”
Sebastian’s voice, or the voice that sounds like Seb’s, murmurs something indistinct and subsides.
Chris lurches upright. Rubs his eyes. He can’t see. Can’t recall how to breathe, how to take a step—
The friendly paramedic takes his arm. Coaxes him around the side of the ambulance, to the back, among a few coughing and wounded bodies, everyone alive; she guides him over to where—
Where he sees—
“Sebastian…” His knees wobble. His voice cracks. “Seb…”
Sebastian’s lying propped up on a stretcher. Oxygen mask in place. Air flowing. Ash in his hair, an ugly burn across one arm, black streaks like claws slashing his astronaut’s wardrobe.
But his eyes are open. His chest’s going up and down. He brightens all over, whole body transformed with relief and joy, at the sight of Chris; he struggles to push himself up, to move.
Chris throws himself that way. Hands shaking. Heart shaking. Reaching for Seb. “Sebastian—oh god—Seb—”
Sebastian flings both arms around him, heedless of burns and smoke. Chris holds him, feels him, clutches him desperately. Seb’s here. Seb’s here and real.
He knows nothing else, for a handful of seconds.
He finally pulls back because he needs to look, needs to see. He gazes at Sebastian, drinks him in, sinks into the certainty of him. Sebastian. His Sebastian. Alive.
Seb leans into Chris’s arm. He’s weak, frighteningly so, but moves the mask again. “Hey…love you…”
“Don’t,” Chris whispers, “don’t, you need that, keep it on, they said,” and tries to nudge it back with fumbling fingers. “I love you…oh, fuck, Seb…I love you so damn much…”
Seb resists putting the mask on, long enough to promise, “I’m here. I’m here and I’m safe, okay?” He stops to cough; he closes his eyes after, briefly.
Chris looks up at their paramedic. She tells him, “He’ll be all right. We’ll keep an eye on his lungs, but his breathing’s already improving, and everything sounds the way it should, the way we’d expect. He’s a hero, you know.”
Sebastian, now settled against Chris, waves one hand: tiredly dismissing this.
“Oh, yes,” the paramedic says, to Chris. “He got three people out that side door, before anyone ever made it in. They’re all talking about it.”
“Of course he did.” Chris gazes down at Sebastian, in his arms. “Of course you did. I fucking love you.”
Seb looks up, Tries to grin, or shrug: brushing off heroism, all in a day’s work, happy to be here and held by Chris.
Their paramedic says, casually, “He wouldn’t rest until we found you.” She’s bandaging Seb’s burned arm now, talking. “Didn’t realize you two were a thing.”
And Chris feels that impact, that whiplash, like a second smaller gut-punch.
He can’t be upset about anything, no room for that emotion, not when Seb’s alive. Nothing but love, gratitude, bone-deep reprieve so acute he wants to start sobbing into Seb’s hair—
And he’s just babbled words about how much he loves Sebastian. Aloud. All over the place. And Seb said it too, because Chris did, because Chris needed reassurance. When they haven’t made that announcement yet.
He’s hot and cold, suddenly. Sebastian had wanted—though it’d been mostly for fun, for the timing of the announcement—to wait. To not say anything yet.
But—Sebastian’s alive.
And Seb must feel the sudden tension, the war of realizations happening in Chris’s muscles, because he shifts, glances up at Chris’s face, raises eyebrows. Gingerly lifts his oxygen mask again. “Chris.”
“Stop doing that—”
“Just. One thing.” A pause, a cough; but he’s sounding better. “I love you. What was it…you said? I fucking love you.”
Chris tries to say Sebastian’s name. Emotion snarled in his throat. Clogging words.
“Could’ve lost you. Or me. Just now.” Seb breathes, in and out. “I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to not say it. I love you, Chris Evans. For…fucking always.”
“Yes,” Chris says, Chris is saying, words tumbling and falling all over themselves and pouring out, “yes, yes, god, fuck, yes, I love you, I love you so much, Sebastian—I want that too, I want this, I want everyone to fucking know how much I love you—always, always, yes.”
Sebastian’s eyes are sparkling by the time he finishes, even above the oxygen mask. Their paramedic says happily, “Congratulations,” while beaming at them both, checking Seb’s vitals, making sure he’s doing fine.
Other people are coming over, led by Mackie; a wave of concern rushes their way. There’ll be some cameras, too, Chris knows.
He doesn’t care. He’s holding Sebastian, holding onto Sebastian: the love of his life, because they are both alive, alive and here and rock-solid together. The soundstage is smoking and groaning, and there’ll be rebuilding and filming delays and rescheduling to contend with, plus the news story their love life’s about to become, and that’s all okay, because it’s all real and true.
Sebastian’s breathing. So Chris is too. And he knows they’re both going to be just fine.
#whumptober2020#no.13#breathe in breathe out#oxygen mask#evanstan#fic#chris evans#sebastian stan#my fic
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