#and this driver has allowed me to stay in the other drivers cabin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mingoyeob-archive · 3 years ago

Note

Can you please do:

53: "We're stuck in the middle of a storm and all you want to do is play in the rain,"

41: "Dance with me,"

61: "If you keep looking at me like that I won't be able to handle myself,"

45: "Take.It.Off"

With Jungkook and reader.💜

Loads of love✨

under the oak tree drabble game ⚔️🌳 to make up for my delayed release of part 3 of under the oak tree i’ve decided to do a drabble game! send me a number + any of the characters from under the oak tree and i’ll write you a drabble :)

thank you so much for sending in a request 💜 💜 I love that you sent in multiple prompts cause it allowed me to really develop the story! I kinda went crazy with it tho, can you call 2.5k a drabble? idk but I hope you enjoy!

53: "We're stuck in the middle of a storm and all you want to do is play in the rain," + 41: "Dance with me," + 61: "If you keep looking at me like that I won't be able to handle myself," + 45: "Take.It.Off" - jjk x reader - word count: 2.5k

Your body swayed back and forth in your seat as the carriage wheeled over bumpy roads and rocky dirt paths. It had you gripping tightly to the underside of the leather seat to prevent yourself from falling to the hard cabin floor. Your gaze stayed trained out the window, watching the trees go by and the rain pouring down creating puddles along the roads. The small drops on the glass had your eyes zeroing on them, watching as they raced back and forth towards the edge of the carriage door. Oh how I tire of this dreadful weather you mused, a frown settling on your face at the thought. Jungkook grunting as if to catch your attention was the only thing that had your head turning away, meeting dark brown pools that filled steely eyes.

“Are you upset with me?”

Any other day his question would have had you scrambling to pacify his concern, but today, your foul mood had you holding your tongue. Of course you were upset, he was taking you to the one place you hated the most - home. Well, what used to be your home, Uwhen felt more like your home now than that place ever did.

You fixed him with a blank stare. “Yes.” you say, voice monotonous and lacking any obvious emotion.

Your blunt response had Jungkook's eyes slowly widening as he registered just how bad he had fucked up. He never would’ve guessed you’d be this upset, he was doing this for you after all. When Jungkook first got the invitation to attend one of your fathers council meetings to oversee the trades occurring with other kingdoms he was completely set on denying the request; he was never one to meddle into things that didn’t directly affect his people. But one of his own advisors, Seokjin, had reminded him that as the new Duke it technically was one of his responsibilities to be there. Plus, according to him, a good opportunity to get you out of the castle.

“If I was her, I’d want to get out of here as soon as possible!” He had said comically, laughing at his own terrible joke loud and squeaky like. Jungkook frowned at the memory.

Had you said something to him about wanting to leave? he had wondered. Even though you hadn’t (you barely even knew the man), Jungkook’s worries continued to spiral out of control and he hastily had sent your father confirmation that he would be there and that he was taking you with him. He hesitated with his response trying to find the right words to make sure he didn’t make the situation worse. “I’m sorry I assumed you would be ha-”

Bang!

Jungkook's apology was interrupted by the loud sound of something cracking, the two of you launching off your seats as the carriage immediately leaned over on its side. The crash had you two falling out of your seats onto creaking wood, bodies crumpling onto one another and limbs draped everywhere. You had let out an oof at the fall, but Jungkook had seemed unfazed and if anything more pissed off than dazed. It took you a minute to gather your bearings, trying to determine which way was up and which way was down, but as soon as you did you realized you were staring directly into Jungkook's eyes, body sprawled across his chest.

It seemed like he had made an effort to try and catch you during the fall and somehow his arm had found its way around your waist, huge hand unintentionally landing directly on your ass. Your face heated up immediately. “Jungkook, your hand.” he just quirked an eyebrow, oblivious to what you were referring to which only served to make you more annoyed. "Take.It.Off"

He looked confused for a second before finally registering where his mischievous hand had strayed. Despite how he was internally freaking out, his hands had calmly retracted and instead moved to your shoulders to lift you back into your seat as if you were as light as a feather, catching you off guard. You could only sit there surprised at the action, watching as Jungkook’s giant figure struggled to stand up in the cabin, neck bending to duck out of the cabin when he opened the door.

“What the hell happened out here?!”

“I’m sorry my Lord, but it seems one of our wheels got stuck in a hole and broke its bearing.” The coachmen muttered embarrassed, cringing at the obvious anger that showed across Jungkook’s face. The driver's words had you sticking your own head out of the door, flinching as the ice cold rain immediately started drenching you.

“Well how long will it take you to fix it?!” Jungkook questioned irate.

The man avoided Jungkook's fiery gaze, rubbing at his neck, “Considering the craftsman isn’t until the next town, I’m not quite sure. We’d have to walk the rest of the way unfortunately and that could take the rest of the day and probably into the night, sir.”

Jungkook let out a groan, obviously upset with the coachmens words. He threw his hands up, turning in his spot to kick at the edge of the broken down carriage only to just notice that you had stepped out into the rain yourself. Immediately he walked over, boots stumping in the mud. “Get back in the carriage Y/N.”

You scoffed, “No way, you heard the man. We’ll have to walk and you’re not leaving me out here by myself to wait for you to return with a damn wheel.” You glared up at him, neck straining to look up and meet his gaze confidently. “Besides I think I can handle a little rain by now.”

“Rain has nothing to do with it. I didn’t plan on leaving you, I’m staying here. He can walk to the town by himself,” The driver let out a sound of alarm at his statement to which Jungkook paid no mind to. “He can send word to your father to get another carriage to escort us the rest of the way.”

“Jungkook, staying here would be the worst thing to do and getting my father involved would just be a nuisance and you don’t want to make him upset, do you? We can just stop at an inn and stay till the morning.” You were obviously trying to stop Jungkook from continuing the journey to your father. But he didn’t know that of course and he actually began to mull over the idea. The two of you stood in the rain for a moment glaring at each other, waiting for one of you to give up. When he realized that he wasn’t going to win, he let out a grunt, spinning on his heel to trudge down the path. The driver stared back and forth between the two of you, confused about what just happened. You just smiled at your plan actually working and followed behind him, satisfied with your accomplishment.

For a while the three of you walked, completely soaked from the relentless downpour with clothes clinging to your bodies. Thankfully it began calming down as you continued on the road, but the mood surrounding everyone was still tense. You could tell Jungkook was still upset as he had never stopped glowering at the forest ahead, eyebrows furrowed and jaw tense. His bristly mood had you sighing, perhaps it was time for you to try and break the ice.

“Jungkook.” you called from behind his towering figure, stopping in your tracks. He didn’t immediately respond, but after realizing you had halted he turned to look over his shoulder, offering you a grunt in question.

“Dance with me.” you say with a smile, beaming despite his obvious annoyance.

He merely arched a brow, finally facing you to stare at you blankly. Jungkook crossed his arms, “What?” he said.

You giggled, “I said dance with me!” you did a small spin in your spot, lips tilting up at the corners as you extended a hand in his direction. He just looked at it, face void of emotion.

“We're stuck in the middle of a storm and all you want to do is play in the rain.”

He sounded dreadfully confused, but that didn’t deter you from your mission. “Yes! In my opinion, mud makes for an excellent dance floor.” your voice dripped with excitement and when he didn’t show any sign of taking your hand you just took it upon yourself to take his hand from his folded arms and pulled him forward (it barely moved him but you get the jist).

Jungkook sighed and tried to stand his ground as you pulled relentlessly on his arms. The sound of your feet splashing in the mud made him cringe but regretfully he started moving to the beat you seemed to have made up in your head. You two spun in circles and moved back and forth down the path, making up your own dance as you went. The coachmen watched amused from the sidelines, clapping along to the two of you to mimic the sound of music. You knew Jungkook was trying to look like he was still upset, but you could tell it was an act and that he was starting to warm up to the idea as you went along. His arms started to loosen and his back started to untense, shoulders relaxing to make it easier for you to pull him along. He was even biting back a smile at the sound of your cute sounds and the hums you were letting out in tune to the drivers rhythm. At that moment Jungkook thought you looked absolutely enchanting.

Despite the hair stuck to your face, the bottom of your dress covered completely in mud and lingering scent of mildewy smelling soaked wet cotton, the drops of water stuck to your long lashes and the flush in your cheeks trumped all of those things. He had never seen you smile so hard or look so comfortable in his arms. Besides the accidental fall back at the carriage, this was the first time you had been this close to him since your wedding night and he could feel the heat radiating from your body, your hearts beating to the same rhythm. He truly felt like you were his.

So he watched as you continued to spin, laughs full of glee escaping past your lips. You even had the nerve to stick your tongue out in an effort to catch raindrops, showing off the long expanse of your throat and jutting collarbones. The sight had something stirring in him. And you must’ve noticed the change in his face because you stopped in your step, smile calming and eyes softening. You could tell he was deep in thought, so you didn’t feel the need to speak just yet. Instead, you just looked at him, eyes gazing up at him and swimming with admiration. Your shining irises peeking up below your lashes had your stare coming off as almost sultry and he felt his pulse quickening. When you picked up on the shift in his mood you decided to speak up. “Is something the matter, Jungkook?” you questioned, looking up with wide eyes. You looked so innocent. He knew it was wrong, but he wanted so bad to corrupt you.

Jungkook pulled you so close you had to strain your neck to stare up at him just before he dipped his head down, lips so close to touching. "If you keep looking at me like that I won't be able to handle myself."

Your breath caught in your throat and your face was full of surprise as you just stared at him speechless. It was almost as if you two were having some type of heated conversation with the way his dark eyes connected to yours. The tension was undeniable. But you two seemed to have forgotten that you guys weren’t the only ones out there on that dirt road, and the sound of the driver clearing his throat had you two stepping apart.

“Are you guys um...ready to keep heading towards the inn?” he mumbled, obviously uncomfortable. The two of you couldn’t answer fast enough.

“Yes!”

#drabble game #under the oak tree #bts #jungkook #bts drabble #jungkook drabble #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #bts x reader

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amphxtrite · 4 years ago

Text

harry potter x fem!reader

warnings: ⚠️tw⚠️ suicide, substance abuse, blood, suicidal thoughts, alcohol, depression, anxiety, breakdowns, kissing, overall pure angst with a fluffy ending.

currently unedited please excuse grammatical mistakes

summary: A summer changes the girl harry potter fell in love with, leaving her with more pain than she’d ever admit.

a/n: there are many things in here that may be triggering, please consider the warnings before reading.

word count: 6k (writing this really helped get my feelings out)

taglist: @oldschoolkiddo

please message me to be added to my taglist

enjoy <3

__________________________________________

Rushing down the Hogwarts halls, bags slung over your shoulder and sun shining through the windows, you scour the crowds of students leaving Hogwarts for summer vacation, trying to pick a familiar brunette with green eyes.

Rounding the corner, you spot three gryffindors chatting by a stone pillar and run towards them, crashing into one of the boy’s backs.

“Guess who?” You giggle, feeling Harry’s chest vibrate as he chuckles.

“Hm, I don’t know, is it Hagrid?” He teases, running his chin as Hermione grins. “Nope.” You laugh, popping the ‘p’

“Is it Dumbledore?” Harry tries again, placing his hand over yours and stroking his thumb over your fingers. “Afraid not lightning.”

“Well then, perhaps is it y/n?” Harry turns, wrapping you in his arms as you laugh and hug him back.

“Are you guys ready for summer?” You ask, glancing around at Hermione and Ron before glancing back at Harry.

They all bore similar expressions, small smiles with a ‘maybe’ face. You roll your eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’re off to save the world over summer too.” You sigh, releasing yourself from Harry’s arms and walking to Ron to give him a hug.

“We won’t get in too much trouble.” Ron chuckles, patting you on the back and letting you walk over to Hermione.

“We just never know at this point.” She shrugs, squeezing you tightly.

“Well I’ll meet you guys on the train!” You smile.

The ride back to your platform was as it always was, the trees whipped by and swayed. The sky was lined with puffy white clouds. The snack trolley passed and you bought yourself a chocolate frog and some ‘every flavour’ beans to share with your mom when you got home, a tradition as they were her favourite, and because she needed a little happiness with you off at school and your father gone.

Sitting back and sighing. The golden trio finally arrived at your cabin and told you about their summer plans. Hermione was travelling, Ron was staying home and Harry was staying with the Dursley’s until he could ‘find a reason to escape to the Weasley’s’ as he put it.

The train arrives at your stop and you grab your bags to leave.

“Write to me if you can, all of you, and I’ll see you next year.” You smile, walking back over to Harry and planting a quick kiss to his cheek, ruffling Ron’s hair and kissing Hermione’s forehead.

“Bye y/n!” Ron and Hermione chime.

“Bye thunder!” Harry calls as you turn again and wave. “Bye lightning, bye guys!” You smile, rushing off to the train.

“So you finally told her?” Ron chuckles, patting Harry on the back.

“What are you talking about?” Harry asks furrowing his eyebrows.

“We know you like her mate, and she just kissed you on the cheek!” Ron continues.

“W-Well maybe I do fancy her, but she gave Mione a kiss too!” Harry stammers, his face going as red as his uniform.

“That was platonic Harry, we can tell she likes you, lightning.” Hermione teases using your nickname for him.

“Listen, I don’t want to jump to conclusions and creep y/n out. She’s an amazing friend and I’d like it to stay that way.” Harry smiles, looking off into the distance to see you still walking away.

“Even if she does like you back?” Ron questions.

“Well you don’t know if she does.” Harry sighs, rolling his eyes.

Your eyes scan the station for your mother, swiveling your head back and forth to find her but only seeing other families being reunited with their children.

Pursing your lips you sigh and wait for a moment. Hoping and praying that this year would be different, and your mother would come running to you with open arms. Seconds fade to minutes, and soon the station is almost empty as excited parents rush home to hear about Hogwarts adventures.

You pull your luggage behind you as you walk to the front of the station and hail a muggle cab, leaning your head against the cool window as the pink skies shine above you, the driver makes no move for conversation, so your drive is silent, and when you finally reach your old house, you hand the man driving the rest of your muggle allowance and nod him goodbye.

Your house was looking as quiet and calm as you had left it.

The flowers you had planted last summer had wilted, the porch sat empty and the stairs still creaked as you approached the door. Home.

You smile as you turn your key in the lock and push open the door, setting your bags on the floor as you set out, candy in hand in search of your mother. The kitchen sat empty with only the soft hum of the refrigerator suggesting someone still lived here. The living room was empty, the old leather couch seemed to be collecting dust and the tv looked like an ancient artifact with the cobwebs strung on the sides. As you ascend the stairs to the second floor, you notice the blinds to every window suspiciously closed. Odd, your mother usually enjoyed watching the sunset.

The floorboards beneath you give high pitched creaks as you walk across the hallways, something you had always despised, especially as a child trying to sneak sweets in the early hours.

Pushing open your mothers bedroom, your eyebrows furrow as her bed laid neatly made, with not a thing out of place. The usual mess of pill bottles and plastic bottles had been cleaned, the pile of clothes had disappeared and she was still nowhere to be found. A sense of dread bubbles in the pit of your stomach as you push on, checking her closet and even your own room for your mom, but nothing.

You turn around with a plan to head to town and see if she was visiting the pharmacy for her pills again, or maybe the grocery store, heck, maybe she had stopped at the corner store for cigarettes again. You turn to shrug on a jacket and leave, but as you reach for the front door knob again, your head snaps up and your blood runs cold.

“No, no, no. Please no.” You repeat to yourself, running up the stairs with tears in your eyes and you approach the one room you had yet to check. The one place your head told you she was, but your heart refused to believe. There was no way it could be true. She’d be opening the door right now, the sound of keys clattering on the table in the kitchen would alert you she was there. She’d say, “I’m sorry I couldn’t pick you up, work was awful today.” And she’d proceed to pull out her groceries so you could prepare your favourite meal together, after dinner you would sit on the couch and you’d tell her all about your school girl crush on Harry Potter and she’d tease you as she popped a jelly bean into her mouth and give you the best motherly advice you could ask for. You pause at the closed door and pause, waiting for the door to open, waiting for the sound of footsteps, even the sound of breathing, anything.

You’re met with silence, and in the exact two hundred and sixteen seconds you stood outside the bathroom door, tears began to cloud your vision as you finally opened the door, counting another ten seconds before opening your eyes.

The first thing you saw was your mother, eyes closed and face unusually pale as she lay in the bathtub, and for a moment, you almost convinced yourself she had fallen asleep.

That is until your eyes trailed down her body, and where the water turned red. You drop the jellybeans and everything goes blurry.

“No…” You whimper incredulously, not realizing you had fallen to your knees until the pain in your legs registered and your eyes flooded. Her skin was littered with scars, ones she obtained from her job, harmless ones that healed with time. Beside them were what you cried for. Large, angry gashes that covered her wrists and stole the life from her.

Your face contorts into a hateful cry as you scream, pain flooding your entire being as the metallic sting of blood floods your nose and you gag.

Words seem to blur together, a mixture of ‘why’ and ‘come back, please.’ Seemed to be the only ones that came out coherently as you collapse and slam your fists repeatedly against the floor.

“Mommy, why did you do this? Why did you leave me?” You sob softly, hesitantly touching her face, ice cold to the touch, a quick check of her pulse showed she was gone, but you could tell from the colour still draining from her face that this was recent. Another choked sob escapes your lips as you turn away from her and spot something sitting on the bathroom sink. A letter.

You scramble to grab it and tear it open.

Y/n, if you’re reading this, you’ve gotten home safely and seen me by now. Please know this isn’t your fault love, I just couldn’t bear this anymore. You know that ever since your father left I’ve struggled, you were the only reason I still wanted to stay alive baby, but it’s too much. Everyday I wake up and I have no reason to stay. I was fired not too long ago, lost all my friends to my absence, and lost everything.

Please forgive me. I love you so much, angel, and I’m so so proud of you, I’m resting now baby. I’m finally free.

The paper starts to crinkle as your hands tighten to fists, your tears spill like rivers down your face and your breathing grows rapid as your head falls into your hands.

“P-Please don’t go… You’re all I have, I-I can’t lose you.” You sob, pushing her hair back against her forehead in the soothing manner she had always done for you.

“Please, please, please. I can’t lose you mom… I-I still haven’t told you about this boy at school, t-the test I aced in potions even though professor Snape hates me, all the house points I got, mom there's still so much I have to tell you…” You sniffle, pressing a kiss to her head as you sit back on your heels and push the tears from your eyes to no avail.

“I got your-your every flavoured beans mom, I was hoping we could share them as I told you, maybe I would get an earwax one and you would laugh.” You stutter as the tears flood your eyes again. “I miss your laugh so much mom, please, can I hear it one more time.” You beg, refusing to move from your spot on the floor next to your mother, holding her head in your arms as you begged and prayed for her to come back, going as far as to try and perform magic to heal her wounds and bring her back.

But even magic couldn’t bring her back, and she’d want more for you than to be expelled for uselessly trying to save her.

Eventually the metallic scent became more than you could bear, you pushed yourself away, swallowing your sobs and closing the door behind you. You had no clue what you were going to do with her, but that would be a problem you’d face another day. Your breathing began to race, your heart pounded a million miles a second and the overwhelming feeling of being trapped settled around you, squeezing you into a box you could not escape from, pushing from all sides until you were clawing at yourself to escape your imagined prison.

It was too much. You run down the hallway to your mother’s room and collapse in front of her cabinet, trembling as you tug open the bottom drawer and grab a small cylindrical container with her name on it.

You knew this was a terrible idea, these were strong muggle painkillers meant to help a grown adult, not a teen.

But the looming dread was too much to ignore, too much to bear, too much to even think about. Your mother’s lifeless body flashed through your head, painfully embedding itself into every inch of your memory until it burned.

You pour an unknown amount into your hand and throw them into your mouth, swallowing them dry and collapsing onto the floor in a fit of anger at your actions and pain. Pain so blinding it swallowed your rage, filling your entire being with a convulsing sadness, and as the meds began to kick in, an artificial peace.

New sunlight shines through the closed blinds onto your closed eyes and you finally stir, sitting upright holding your head in your hands, clueless for a moment what you were doing on the floor. Scanning the room, the burning memory hits you like a punch to the face and you freeze, resisting the urge to empty whatever sat in your stomach onto the floor.

“What am i going to do?” You murmur to yourself, glancing around helplessly for something, someone to hold on too, but alas, you sit alone, clutching a pill bottle in your hands.

You eventually snapped to your senses, called a muggle ambulance to help you get your mother out of the tub and before you knew it, you were standing in a flowerless field as two workers lowered your mother into the ground. They offered you condolences and convincing frowns, but to them this was just another job. One more person laid to rest, no care to know what tragic story was buried in the heart of the one person standing at the funeral.

They left without a word you stood at the headstone, engraving the image into your mind.

‘m/n l/n, finally at peace.’

You convinced yourself reading those carved words would have your feelings set in stone. She was at peace now, finally free from her suffering. But it wasn’t that simple, how could it be?

The last family you had ever known was gone, ripped from your arms and held so far above you, there was no possible way you could reach her.

You trudged back home with a permanent feeling of dread looming over you, again your heart begged to have the pain lifted, even for a moment, just to feel alright. And there was only one way you could think of.

“This always helped take the edge off her…” You murmur, digging through your mother’s drawer again to find an untouched box of cigarettes sitting at the bottom.

“This will help…” You convince yourself, taking the box and standing again, slowly trudging out the front door and sitting on the front porch.

“Everything’s gonna be okay.” You murmur lifting a cigarette to your lips and lighting it like you’d seen your mother do many times before.

Inhaling deeply, you barely flinch as the smooth taste of smoke coats your throat. You exhale as you look up into the sky and sigh, it was going to be a long summer.

It almost became an immediate response for stress to pull a cigarette from your pocket and stick it in your mouth, you didn’t particularly enjoy it, but in a twisted way, the smell reminded you of your mother, and you clutched onto anything that reminded you of her.

When you didn’t have cigarettes you turned to alcohol, your mother hadn’t been much of a drinker, but gifts of different drinks were common when her friends came over were common, and they sat untouched in a cabinet in the basement.

The taste of many of them were bitter, but if you drank enough the taste simply didn’t matter and the buzz took over.

Letters from your friends slowly piled on your window as owls came and went as you threw back fire whiskey and stared into space talking to yourself and shooing away the owls who stared at you strangely before flapping away.

When you weren’t at home you went into the small town nearby and bought anything advertised to take the pain away, no one seemed to pay you any mind, many seemed to be going through it as well, to caught up in their own realities to give a shit about a girl buying sleep medication and painkillers, no matter how strong.

You dove deeper into your pain, taking something every night to lull away the nightmares and ignore the pain. Drinking and smoking in the day to cover the tears and help you forget for a couple hours.

Some days were better than others, when you could just sit outside and enjoy the fresh summer air, but others your anxiety caged you up and you did anything to escape.

One late August afternoon a snowy white owl lands beside you on your front porch as you twiddle your thumbs and hum softly.

It drops the letter directly onto your lap and waits staring up at you expectantly as if asking you to open the envelope and read it to them.

“Alright, I get the message.” You yawn, sitting up and ripping the paper off the top of the letter and pulling a piece of parchment into your hand.

You clear your throat and begin, “dear y/n..

I hope you’re doing well, you haven’t responded to any of my letters yet and I’ve been very worried, Ron and Hermione have told me you haven’t been answering them either and we’re all hoping you’re safe. School’s starting up again and I’m looking forward to seeing you, take care.

Harry Potter.”

The owl looks at you again, and you wondered if it actually thought you were going to respond.

“Sorry pal, I’m not writing anything back. Here, for your troubles.” You nod, placing three knuts in front of the bird. The snowy owl looked down at the money oddly before ruffling his feathers and flying away, leaving you alone once again.

“Harry.” You sigh, sipping on a glass of water. You had completely forgotten you had promised to write to your friends over the summer, almost forgotten your life completely as you tried to focus on keeping yourself alive.

“What the fuck am I going to do?” You sigh, setting down your cup and resting your head against your knees.

Summer blew by much faster once you realized how close the first day back really was, but there you were standing in the empty street hailing a cab to travel back to your station.

You pull your sweater closer to you as your leg shakes furiously and your breathing grows rapidly blowing through every possible bad scenario that crosses your mind. The disappointed faces of your old friends, laughter, teasing, each thought clouds your thoughts. A cold sweat breaks out and you can almost feel yourself slipping when a voice pulls you out.

“Um, miss? We’re here.” The cab driver says, glancing back at you worried.

“O-Oh, thank you.” You clear your throat, handing him his payment and stepping out of the car and grabbing your suitcase.

Taking a deep breath you wipe the sweat from your forehead and walk to the magical platform, bracing yourself as always before stepping through the brick border.

Loud and bustling, you quietly walk towards the Hogwarts Express, but instead of walking to your usual compartment where you knew the golden trio would be sitting you strode all the way down to the back of the train and sat in an empty seat.

Glancing around, you make sure the coast is clear before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, instantly feeling a rush of relief as you take a deep breath in and out.

You watched as the trees disappeared behind the window and the sky shone above, but it didn’t feel right. You didn’t get the usual rush of excitement and joy, in fact you almost felt worse the closer you got to Hogwarts. You close the blinds hurriedly and sit back in your seat.

“No I-I’m sure I saw her come this way.” A voice calls out not too far from you.

“Harry, We’ve been down this way three times already!”

Harry.

“Fuck.” You whisper, pulling the hood of your sweater over your head and keeping your eyes trained on the floor.

“Mate we gotta get changed into our uniforms, we’ll see her at the feast.” Ron sighs, probably pulling Harry away as their voices fade away and you’re left alone again.

You curse yourself for hiding. Why were you hiding from the people you loved? What were you so afraid of?

The answer lay plain as day, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.

You were afraid of them seeing you like this. Broken down, exhausted, and with a cigarette sticking past your lip.

That did remind you, your uniform.

Covering the compartment windows with your jacket, you quickly swap your hoodie for your collared shirt and a tie. Running a brush through your hair you menatlly prepare yourself to re-enter your life, a life that no longer seemed like yours. Stepping off the Hogwarts express, it felt like you were seeing your past life, a flash of familiarity you no longer knew, a warmth you could recognize that was no longer for you.

You recoil softly at the shiver running down your spine, but push forwards, walking along surrounded by the sea of students.

Reaching where the carriages usually were, you look up expecting the usual strangeness of being pulled by an invisible force, but stumble backwards at the sight of a dark, nightmarish horse standing before you.

It’s eyes seemed to narrow, glaring daggers at you that seemed to pierce your very soul. You quickly climb into a carriage with some random students and stare out the windows the entire ride.

Their quiet chatter is drowned out by your thoughts, coming up with a way to avoid the golden trio at all cost seemed to be a top priority, followed by the need to down some firewhisky to get your mind off everything.

You kept repeating to yourself everything would be okay, just make it up the stairs, around the pillars, dodge anyone that seemed to be walking in your direction and hurry up to your dormitory. Collapsing into the bed that was now called yours you sigh and bunch the blankets into your fists and breathe properly for the first time since you left your house. Your roommates had yet to show and you were grateful for the alone time. Your hands finally stopped shaking, your sweat finally stopped and your breathing evened. You finally work up the strength to unzip your suitcase and pull the small container of firewhiskey you had brought out of your bag. You unscrew it and take a small sip, allowing the burning liquid to slowly take your edge off and calm you down. You sat for a moment nursing the bottle against your lips, contemplating whether or not it would be smart to go down to the great hall for the feast. You were starving and needed food, but you couldn’t face anyone in this state. Glancing at your faint reflection on the window you swallow at the unfamiliarity of the person staring back at you. Where had the happy girl you once were gone? And who was the stranger you were looking at? Your summer had been restless and difficult, of course. But had it really been enough to shake you to the point you didn’t recognize yourself?

What a stupid question. You almost laugh to yourself, tilting your head back again and drinking a little more. Drinking was supposed to take your mind off your situation, not have you overthink even more.

After a while of sitting and glaring out the window you finally pick yourself up, tuck away your firewhiskey and straighten your uniform. You make your way down towards the great hall, walking slowly down the halls you used to run through. Staring in boredom at the carvings and paintings on the wall you used to admire with awe. Keeping your mouth shut when you used to laugh down these corridors.

Finally reaching the great hall the sorting ceremony was still in full swing, playing as a distraction while you slipped to your table.

You sit and nod hello to the students surrounding you, giving them empty excuses on why you were late, and half-heartedly listening to their stories.

Your only thought at the moment was to eat and keep your head down, become invisible if you must.

Harry glances around the great hall anxiously looking for your face. He had barely touched his food, hardly clapped at the new students being sorted into their houses, barely talked to Hermione and Ron as they watched Harry worriedly.

Harry had only one thought on his mind, find you. See if you were alright, hug you in his arms and tell you he missed you, ask you about your summer and ask you to Hogsmeade like he was too afraid to last year. He had so much planned, all he was missing was you.

Just as Ron opens his mouth to tell Harry to quit for a moment and just eat, he catches sight of familiar h/c hair. Longer than he remembered, but no doubtebly yours. Standing in a hurry Harry runs off leaving Ron and Hermione confused, glancing over to see where the brunette had run off to.

Your head snaps up as you hear footsteps approach you and just in time you see Harry running towards you. His green eyes were alight in joy. His tousled brown hair was shorter and he looked older, more mature. Your heart drops as you frantically try and hide your face. He couldn’t see you like this, what on earth would he think?

“Y/n, there you are I’ve been looking for you!”

Bloody hell, his voice had gotten deeper too. Still holding that boyish grin that you loved so much.

“Y/n? A-Are you okay?”

Go away. You pleaded in your head, refusing to look up into the green eyes you’d fallen for.

Harry refuses to give up and attempts to reach out and take your hand.

His skin makes contact with yours and you flinch away, finally giving in and removing your hands from your face.

“What do you want?” You snap unintentionally, cringing inwardly at what you had just done.

“I-I just wanted to say hi-- are you alright?-” Harry asks furrowing his eyebrows, was that firewhiskey he smelled on your breath?

“I’m fine, could you please leave me alone?” Your voice is softly this time, but still with a cold edge.

Harry’s eyes blink in confusion, as he glances around and open and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. This was not the reunion he was expecting, heck this didn’t seem like you at all. Regardless, he nods and slowly walks away, looking back every now and again to see you holding your head in your hands and eventually standing and leaving in a huff, were those tears he saw streaming down your eyes?

“Did you find her mate?” Ron asks as Harry takes a seat.

“Yeah-yeah. Listen, something's wrong.” Harry states, explaining the confrontation he had with you. Slowly the two other gryffindors expressions fade to concern as well.

“And you’re sure it was firewhiskey?” Hermione questions, pursing her lips.

“I’m afraid so, I-I don’t know what to do.” Harry sighs defeated.

“Give her some time, perhaps she just had a bad day?” Ron suggests.

“Sounds more like a horrible summer.” Hermione sighs, worried for her friend.

“I’m gonna go look for her, I don’t want her alone at a time like now.” Harry nods, not waiting for his friend’s reactions before running off to find you.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” You curse yourself, unsure where you were running too. You simply follow your feets as you angrily wipe tears from your eyes and cry in the empty hallways. As you run the image of Harry’s shocked face plays over and over again in your head, taunting you, trying to prove to you what kind of person you had become. Your feet lead you down another corridor and before you know it you’re climbing up a flight of stairs and fighting for breath while digging your fingers into your hands to keep yourself from sobbing to loudly. You had let him down. You had let everyone you love down, you let your mother down, you let yourself down. Maybe if you had spent more time at home your mother would have found a reason to stay, if you just didn’t go to the magic school and stayed with her she’d be alive and there to guide you. You miss her so much everyday. You collapse onto the cool ground of what must have been the astronomy tower you glance down at your hands and realize you’ve been squeezing too tight and hot blood is beginning to flow down your palm. You gag as the sight brings you back to the beginning of the summer. The start of your hell. Instinctively you pull a cigarette from your pocket and bring it to your lips, lighting it and before you know what you’re doing, walking to the edge of the tower.

There wasn’t anything left for you here. Your mother was gone, you had successfully avoided your friends and the person you loved had seen you for who you truly were. You were ready, and you couldn’t think of any place you’d rather go then your favourite place at Hogwarts.

The place you’d spent so many nights gazing at the stars. The place you’d realized you had fallen in love, looking into the green eyes of Harry Potter while watching the planets shine above you and the stars twinkle.

Harry, the person you were so excited to tell your mother about. The boy who made you smile and laugh every day you were with him. You would miss him. Miss his smile, his tousled hair you loved to play with, miss his voice.

As you take one final drag from your cigarette, your feet just over the edge, you look up towards the sky. You see the moon shining, the trees swaying in the distance, nature in all it’s peace, calling to you.

A feeling like your mother’s arms wraps around you, and for a moment you can see her, feel her. “I’m coming mom, we’ll be together soon.”

Taking a step forward you look down at the ground, almost smiling softly before looking back up at the sky, where you’d join your mom and--

“Y/n!” A pair of real arms wrap around you and pull you away from the edge. Squeezing you against their chest and sobbing into your hair.

Why were they crying? Why weren’t you with your mother yet…?

“Y/n what are you doing?”

Harry. You realize, and as he raises his head and you come eye to eye, you see his eyes clouding with hot tears behind his glasses. You lift your hand and wipe them.

“Why are you crying?” You ask, dropping your hand again and realizing you had accidentally smeared blood on his face.

“I-I could have lost you! What were you doing so close to the edge?” Harry asks, pleading for answers as he holds you close against him.

“Isn’t it obvious?” You smile as though he had just asked the silliest thing.

“There’s nothing left here for me. My mother’s gone, she killed herself when I got home for summer. My dad left us when I was just a baby. I’ve managed to get Ron and Hermione to stop worrying and you’ll never like me back.” You sigh, looking down at your hands and reaching into your pocket again.

“What? Y/n, I-I’m so sorry.” Harry murmurs, placing his forehead against yours as you raise a cigarette to your lips.

“S’ alright.”

Harry’s eyes widen and he slaps the cigarette from your lips.

“You’re drinking and smoking?” He shouts.

“I’ve got painkillers and sleep medication too, anything that’ll get my mind off things.” You shrug, struggling in Harry’s arms as you try and escape.

“Y/n, these things are going to kill you!”

“Good! Maybe I want to die Harry! Maybe I can’t take being alone anymore, and maybe I know these things will kill me so I use them. I want to see her again Harry! I want to not be alone, I want to erase everything I saw, I want to be me again.” You cry, lifting your hands to your face and using your bloody hands to wipe your tears away.

“But I can’t! I still go back to smoking, drinking, using pills to take the pain away and I still. Can’t. Forget!” You continue, bawling into Harry’s shoulder as he holds you.

“I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore.” You shriek, trying again to escape Harry’s grip, but he refuses to let go.

“Darling look at me.”

You don’t stop.

“Please Y/n, just look at me.” Hary pleads again.

When you don’t stop this time, he finally gives in and leans towards you. Ignoring the blood, tears and taste of smoke, to press his lips to yours.

You freeze and Harry keeps himself there. Waiting for your breathing to even out and your heartbeat to stop racing.

Your eyes close and you pause as Harry finally pulls away and takes your face into his hands.

“Y/n, you mother wouldn’t have wanted her daughter to go like this. She would’ve wanted you to be happy and live the life she never had. Darling, from the way you’d always talk about her I know she loves you very much, she doesn’t want you to die.” Harry murmurs pressing a kiss to your eyes and nose.

“Ron and Hermione were worried about you y/n, they just respect your privacy and didn’t want to intrude.” He continues drying you tears with his thumb and peppering kisses down your cheeks.

“They love and care for you so much love. They don’t want you to die.”

Harry pauses for a moment and lifts your lips to his, this time deepening the kiss and moving your lips in sync with his.

“And I… I’m in love with you y/n. I wish I’d had the guts to tell you sooner but I was always too nervous.”

“But look at me now Harry. I’m a mess. I-I’m not the same person.” You murmur, trying to avoid his intense gaze.

“Y/n nothing could ever change the fact I love you. You lost your mother, you can’t expect yourself to just be alright.” Harry sighs.

“I still get nightmares about my parents, I see them collapse and have the life drained from them in mere moments.”

“Y/n after everything, you’re my light. You’re what keeps me motivated everyday to keep going. And I’m not going to let my light die if I could have stopped it.”

You pause and choke back a sob as you glance up into Harry’s eyes and once again melt into the soft green.

“I’m here for you darling, always and forever, whenever you need me, whatever you need, we’ll support each other.” Harry smiles.

This time you engage the kiss, grateful as you relish in the pure moment of happiness.

“Thank you Harry.” You smile weakly.

“Now why don’t you tell me about your mom?” Harry suggests, sitting you down and pulling his wand out of his pocket.

As you ramble on about childhood stories, funny jokes and happy memories Harry smiles and listens, healing your hands and holding them in his.

You spend the rest of the evening laying against his shoulder and gazing up at the stars. Harry places kisses against your head, cheeks and nose every now and again, and even though you knew there was still a long road to walk before you could truly say you felt change, you smiled a little and realized.

Nature wasn’t calling you join it, it was reminding you of the beauty you would be missing. The stars weren’t inviting you up, they were shining to show all the wonders you loved.

And your mother wasn’t embracing you from afar to push you forwards, she was edging you back. Back into Harry’s arms.

#harry potter x reader #harry potter angst #harry potter imagine #harry potter #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #angst

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starmieknight · 3 years ago

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Trust: Priceless

Summary: Jeongguk's new owner decides to take him out shopping and he comes closer to changing his opinion of her.

Contents: Hybrid!BTS, Jeongguk is a bit of a brat (he has his reasons), Mavis is out of her element, RabbitHybrid!Jeongguk(?)

Mavis poked her head into the living room and peered silently at Jeongguk.

The hybrid continued watching the TV like he didn’t notice her presence, only the twitching of his long ear betraying him. Mavis still hesitated, her face an unreadable mask as she observed the situation.

Jeongguk looked bored out of his mind, no doubt tired of only having television to watch after three days in her new home. As a kid, Mavis had gotten a thrill from being able to watch cable when she visited her aunt instead of just satellite TV, but she had been an easily entertained child and not as energetic as Jeongguk seemed.

When she asked, her hotel manager, Dobbs, had told her that Jeongguk had yet to use any of the hotel facilities Mavis had told him he was free to at any time, no questions asked. Mavis personally wanted to use the indoor pool, but hadn’t found the time or energy to head down there. But even if he wasn’t interested in the pool, there were basketball and tennis courts, bike trails, a hedge maze and an entire arcade in the hotel for Jeongguk to use.

As far as Mavis could tell, the only thing holding Jeongguk back from finding something to entertain himself was the fact that other than himself, there weren’t many hybrids to be found in the Mountainview Hotel. And even then, not many of the guests brought their hybrids along with them when they vacationed or took their business trips. If Mavis was being honest and allowed her professionalism to lapse some, the hybrids brought along by the higher class guests were rather… bratty. In the way that some spoiled children seemed.

She was sure that they weren’t all bad, but the way your actions are perceived by family and friends often differs from the way you’re seen by strangers.

Even Jeongguk probably seemed bratty to everyone else.

Mavis had to admit, the way he was grouching reminded her of a preteen determined to not have fun on a family trip and trying to make everyone else as miserable as he was.

But she couldn’t fault him for it. She’d be angry too if her whole life was flipped upside down and she was told she now had to live with a stranger and abide by their rules if they wanted to live. For Jeongguk, her ownership could be considered the equivalent of prison while she only felt like she had custody of a child that would need a lifetime of her care.

But even so, life went on and he had to interact with her some time.

And going grocery shopping and clothes shopping was the first way they were going to have to do it.

“Jeongguk,” Mavis called finally, making the hybrid freeze as he waited for her to speak. His eyes remained on the TV even as his ears tilted towards her. “We need to go out. I want to stock up the kitchen and we’ll need to fluff up your wardrobe. I’m sure it’s got to be tiring recycling the same plain clothes every day.”

“White T-shirts are my style.” Jeongguk said flatly. Mavis could only see a fraction of his face from that angle, but she could easily make out the scowl that marred his features.

Internally she winced. Outwardly, she only raised an eyebrow.

“Then I’ll buy you however many you like. But that doesn’t change the fact that the constant wearing and washing is going to wear them down to rags before long.” She walked in between him and the TV, forcing him to look at her. She offered a quirk of her lips in lieu of a smile. “Besides, we can try somewhere new to eat while we’re out. You can pick the place.”

Jeongguk looked put out with her presence, but seemed interested in the idea of food. "Fine."

Mavis smiled encouragingly and offered him a jacket, thankful that she had preferred to buy jackets from the men's section when she still lived in the city. They always seemed thicker, even if they didn't always match the rest of her outfits' styles, and Mavis loved to wear her clothes with sleeves a size or three bigger. They were comfortable and offered her a bigger sense of protection somehow.

Besides, she thought the whole sweater paws concept was very cute.

Jeongguk scowled but accepted the jacket. His hybrid side wasn't exactly built for cold weather, even if he was in denial even to himself about the truth of his species. He loathed to wear anything that carried Mavis' scent. The cabin was barely bearable, only the fact that she had just moved in and spent little time there since putting him at ease. Jeongguk had secretly been going around the cabin and scenting what he could, keeping in mind the fact that Mavis informed him that there would be more hybrids coming at some point. He wanted all of them to know that he was the original, even if he didn't care for their owner.

Jeongguk stayed silent for their short trip to the garage, making Mavis feel a bit nervous. She always hated having people walk behind her where she couldn't see them. It made her self conscious and messed with her sense of security. Typically, she would have slowed down her pace to match his, but thought it would be a bad idea to force Jeongguk to be too close to her. Plus, he didn't know where the garage was and she did.

And again, going into the garage made Mavis' brain short circuit for a moment at the extravagance of it. Had her grandfather really needed so many vehicles?

Jeongguk let out a long, low whistle at the sight. His expression finally changed from indifference to awe.

He knew his new owner was loaded, but this was a rich chick for sure.

Mavis hid her smile at the look of awe on his face and considered her options.

She wanted to take her own car. She was familiar with it and loved it, having bought it all on her own. It wasn't anything new or flashy, but there was pride in driving something you worked hard for. But she knew it wasn't going to be large enough to hold everything they were out to buy today.

Mavis eyed the collection of SUVs, immediately disregarding the ones meant for show or mud riding and decided that the plain, white one with a hatchback was her best choice. Surely they could lay the seats down for more room.

"Do you have a driver's license, Jeongguk?" she asked, noticing his fascination with a bright blue sports car she was too afraid to even think of driving.

"I'm a hybrid."

Mavis shrugged. "That doesn't mean you can't have a driver's license. Independent Hybrids are capable of obtaining them and Owned Hybrids are as well, though I'm sure there's quite a bit of paperwork to go through. We can get you one, if you like, and I'll add you to my insurance so you can drive any car in here that you like."

Jeongguk stared at her like Mavis had been speaking a dead language instead of offering him more independence. He frowned, unsure of her motives. Did she want him to run off and disappear so she'd have a reason to give him up and not feel guilty over his death. "I'd rather not."

Mavis sighed, but allowed the matter to drop. Instead, she moved over to the peg board where all the keys were stored to get the keys to the SUV. If she liked the car well enough for grocery shopping, she might even add its key to her key chain.

She was a bit surprised when Jeongguk tried to climb into the backseat instead of the passenger side and forgot herself for a moment when she reached into the backseat to stop him. They both looked at her outstretched hand incredulously.

“We’ll need the space for our groceries.” she said quietly, clearing her throat in an attempt to also clear out the awkwardness of the moment. She felt a bit guilty at the close call, having promised herself that any contact the two of them shared would be on Jeongguk’s terms. She never wanted to pressure him, even if it meant they never got more than a foot closer to each other.

“You… want me to ride in the front seat? With you?” Jeongguk sounded unsure for once. He eyed her hand like a rabbit facing a snake, making Mavis realize that she’d never dropped it.

She stepped back, avoiding his eyes. Instead, she looked for the button that would lay the backseat down. “Of course.”

Jeongguk looked like he wanted to argue, but merely followed Mavis’ lead and pushed the button on his side, the two of them working together to transform the backseat into a better storage area.

When they were done, he climbed into the passenger’s seat silently, buckling up and fixing his eyes on the window.

The SUV was really too much for her to handle at first, especially the fact that her key… wasn’t really a key and more of a fob.

It took her a moment to actually get the car started, not used to having to press a button instead of turning a key. Jeongguk even turned his head from the window to look at her judgmentally.

“Doesn’t your chauffeur usually pick you up?” he asked, unable to help himself from asking. He wondered if she was trying to show off for him by taking him out herself. It wasn’t working.

Mavis’ brow furrowed as she tried to figure out the car’s features, carefully trying to get the Bluetooth to work before she tried to drive. She wasn’t familiar with the good radio stations in the area yet and couldn’t stand driving in silence, let alone the awkward one that always came with Jeongguk’s presence. “I’m sure that Cooper would have one waiting if I asked, but I’ve never used a chauffeur before.”

Jeongguk stared. “I thought rich people never drove anywhere themselves.”

Mavis snorted and shrugged. “I dunno about that. I’m new to all this, myself. I didn’t really see my grandfather all that often after my great-grandparents passed - there was never a reason to - so my lifestyle was much more humble than all this.” she frowned. “It’s rather unsettling if I’m being honest.”

Jeongguk wanted to ask why she had little reason to see her family. Did someone need a reason to go see the people they were supposed to spend their lives surrounded by? But it wasn’t his business and he didn’t want to know about her personal life. Really.

Even if the question as to why she was unaccustomed to this life was a burning one. She seemed like she had a handle on things and carried herself like a strong and smart business woman with a flourishing hotel and lavish life behind her. He didn’t wonder what she was like before, what she might have been if she didn’t suddenly drop into his life as his newest owner.

Jeongguk turned back to the window and swallowed his questions.

After getting her phone connected to the SUV’s Bluetooth (which took more brainpower than she was willing to admit), Mavis opened her Spotify and handed her phone over to Jeongguk.

“You can play whatever you like.” she told him as she pressed the button on her keyring to open the garage door. “I may need to pull up the GPS to find the grocery store after we get into the city. Though, I think I can use the car’s map system instead of my phone…” Mavis frowned thoughtfully at the display before pulling out of the garage. She paused briefly to shut the door again before heading down the driveway and towards the exit to the hotel grounds.

She couldn’t help but slow down to give the sprawling building a worried look as she passed, much like a new mother leaving her newborn with someone else for the first time.

The hotel wasn’t on fire and would still be intact when she got back. They’d managed without her there before and they could do it again.

… now if only she could convince herself of that.

Mavis waved at the security guard as he let them out, and Jeongguk finally settled on a song as they left the gates.

A low, bass beat began thrumming through the SUV and its passengers were silent, only the voice of the track’s vocalist filling the space between them.

Fortunately for Mavis, the car system’s GPS pulled up easily enough and getting on the highway to the city was simple enough. If they were only going for grocery shopping, Mavis would have headed in the opposite direction for the little town that was a bit closer. She had passed through it the first time she’d made the trip up the mountain to the hotel and found it to be very similar to her own hometown, if a bit newer.

But today she had lots of things in mind to get for the cabin - for both her and Jeongguk - and so they would be getting their groceries from a large chain grocery store instead.

When the music came to a sudden stop, Mavis and Jeongguk both looked at the Bluetooth display in bewilderment. Jeongguk checked Mavis’ phone and frowned at the name. It seemed strangely familiar to him.

“It’s Cooper calling.” he told Mavis flatly, trying to hand the phone over.

She waved him off, not confident in driving and holding the phone at the same time, and accepted the call through the SUV’s Bluetooth.

There was a beat of silence after the phone connected.

“Hello? Ms. Attmore?” Cooper’s slightly staticky voice filled the cab. He sounded nervous.

Mavis hid her amused grin even though Cooper couldn’t see her. It was still funny to her that she was intimidating now. Especially after leaving a job where the people in her care screamed and swatted at her all day long (she missed her toddler class dearly).

The power was a little intoxicating.

“Good morning, Cooper.” Mavis said, sliding into her Boss Lady voice. Even her driving smoothed out, her shoulders straightening and her confidence growing.

Jeongguk did a double take, having grown used to a reserved and almost timid Mavis. This person in the car with him now was the same Ms. Attmore he had met the first day she arrived at the Mountain View.

His ears perked up and his nostrils flared, becoming more attentive of her instinctively. He was curious about this side of her personality.

“Good morning, Ma’am!” Cooper said more brightly. “I was just calling to check in with you. Has the cabin been to your liking? I know it’s been a few days and I was wondering when you’d like me to send the housekeeping service out?”

Mavis tapped her fingers against the steering wheel thoughtfully. “I suppose today would be fine. I’m taking Jeongguk out to pick out some clothes and things for his room.” She glanced over at the Hybrid in question. “Would you like them to straighten your room up a bit, or would that be too uncomfortable?” Mavis lowered her voice a bit to keep it off the call.

Jeongguk hesitated, not used to having so much agency over his own space.

After spending so long in the underground fighting rings, having privacy and personal belongings of his own was a foreign concept. He knew to leave Mavis’ belongings alone, but had just expected her to do as she pleased with the things she had given to him.

“I can clean my own room.” Jeongguk said slowly, watching for any adverse reaction.

Mavis just nodded and raised her voice to address Cooper again. “Have them skip Jeongguk’s room for now. And can you ask them to skip the floral scented stuff? It gives me a headache…”

“Would a citrus scent be more preferable, Ma’am?” Cooper asked anxiously.

“That’s fine. But no coconut or pineapple or mango, please. They make me feel ill.”

“I’ll tell the housekeeper to use an orange or lemon scent from now on, Ma’am.” Cooper promised. Mavis could almost see him in her mind’s eye, scribbling furiously in his planner to keep her preferences marked down for future reference.

“Thank you.” Mavis allowed a small smile to cross her face before it was replaced with a thoughtful frown. “One more thing, Cooper - would you mind adding another smartphone to my plan?”

“Of course, Ma’am!” Cooper said eagerly. “Do you have any preferences for color or brand?”

Mavis shrugged. “It’s for Jeongguk. I’ll have to let you ask him.” She nodded at Jeongguk, wordlessly telling him to go ahead and give Cooper the word.

The Hybrid froze, looking at Mavis like a frightened rabbit.

She offered him a more sincere smile, trying to be as encouraging as she could. “It’s okay.” she whispered. “If you don’t know what you like best yet, you can get a phone like mine in whatever color you want.”

“... the same phone as Ms. Attmore.” Jeongguk said hesitantly, voice just barely loud enough for the phone to pick it up. “In purple?”

“You catch that, Cooper?” Mavis asked, wanting to make sure Jeongguk got exactly what he wanted.

“Should that be a light purple or a dark?” the assistant clarified.

“Either is fine.” Jeonggiuk said, a bit more confidently this time.

“I’ll have it waiting for you when you return home!” Cooper said brightly, happy to finally have something to do for Mavis. “Is there anything else I can help with?”

“I think that covers it for now, Cooper.” Mavis reassured him. “I may need your help arranging deliveries for our bigger items when we get to the store.”

“I’ll be waiting for your call!”

“Thank you,” Mavis reached over to end the call. “Have a good day.”

Jeongguk continued to watch her, no longer trying to ignore her, even after the music resumed on their way to the city.

She was tolerable for the moment, maybe even agreeable after a long period of time, but he would still keep an eye out for any signs that it was all an act.

After all, a hybrid still couldn’t trust a human.

_________________

CHECK OUT MY COMMISSIONS INFO HERE (WRITING COMMISSIONS AVAILABLE)

#bts x original character #bts hybrid au #jungkook x original character #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts #bangtan #hybrid fanfiction #dangerous hybrid au #my writing #Mountain View AU

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apiratewhopines · 3 years ago

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Thanks to @teamhook for the updated artwork. She’s the only person I know who will provide a gift for her own gift 💝

Thanks to @motherkatereloyshipper for helping me pick Killian’s hometown in this story and for being an all around lovely person

Midnight

Chapter 2 — The Stroke

Summary: In which our heroine does what she does best

Chapter 2 of 7 on AO3

“And my imagination will feed my hungry heart,

Leave me one thing before we part”

-A Kiss to Build a Dream On, Louis Armstrong

The spot he was referring to was an out-of-the-way pub serving the greasiest onion rings in existence and a lively clientele that didn’t notice it was one o’clock in the morning and all decent people were in bed. After days of getting by on breakfast bars and the memory of what a full meal tasted like, Emma thought she had died and gone to heaven.

Melancholy tunes droned softly in the background as she demolished enough food to feed an army. The pretty waitress earned her respect when the woman didn’t even blink at her handsome companion, and she liked to think she earned it back when she ordered three of their daily specials without a trace of shame.

Ignoring the way Killian watched with an expression close to awe as she stuffed her face, she happily gulped down a cup of coffee and observed, “Nice place. Come here often?”

“Not as much as I used to,” he murmured, taking a sip of his drink. “Tell me about this man you’re hunting. Is it personal?”

“Please, don’t make me lose my appetite. Surely we can come up with something else to talk about,” she groaned around a mouthful of beef and melted cheese. He had removed his leather jacket when they entered the pub, and his black short sleeve t-shirt stretched across his biceps in a manner entirely too distracting for comfort. Their high-backed booth made it feel as though they were on an island all by themselves, the dark wood and Tiffany lamps creating a cozy cocoon while still allowing a view of the nearly deserted dance floor.

“Ah, definitely personal then. Did he insult your honor? Break your heart? Have you ever even been in love?”

It stung how quickly he was able to see through her. Did she wear her heartache like a stamp on her forehead announcing to everyone she was an idiot? Ignoring the last question, she replied, “He hurt the only person who ever cared about me out of petty revenge. Neal Cassidy broke me. Now I’m going to return the favor.”

“Chills, darling.” His tone was teasing, but she thought she saw him shudder at her words. “I guess you don’t abide the notion of turning the other cheek.”

“Not when the first hit cost me my home, my possessions, and my peace of mind.”

“So he’s the reason you haven’t eaten in days and don’t have any luggage? Sounds like a lovely chap.”

“I don’t need your commentary or your sympathy, Captain. While I appreciate your help tonight, and I definitely owe you one for the meal, I think my past is closed for further discussion. Let’s talk about you instead. What’s your story?”

“I don’t have one, love. What you see is what you get.”

“What I see is someone dodging my question. Guess I’ll have to fill in the details myself then. Let’s see…thirty-something-year-old man who lives a life of boredom and pines for more while feeling stuck in his white picket fence world. You have a decent career in a field that pays well but decided to start a side hustle to meet new people and have something to do after eight in the evening.” Gesturing with her chin toward his forearm, she continued, “Currently nursing his own broken heart over the woman who loved and left him. The only thing I can’t figure out is what part of England you’re from.”

“Well, aren’t you the perceptive one,” he answered with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Although, I would argue it’s cheating since I have my emotional baggage inked on my skin for everyone to see while you carry yours around like an invisible tumor on your soul. As far as where I’m from, a man likes to maintain a little mystery.”

“Come on! You really aren’t going to tell me anything about yourself? After I guessed all that about you?”

With an unfathomable look, he smiled softly and said, “Fine, I’m from Cambridge. Now you know all my secrets. And allow me to call your attention to how well my devious plan worked. My first evening with my side hustle, as you call it, and I’m already having a late night rendezvous with a beautiful woman. One full of food and dancing.”

“There will be no dancing, Captain. But I wouldn’t be opposed to more food.”

“Not sure where you’ll put it, love, there’s no more room on the table. But I’m game if you are. Come on, one dance, and I’ll buy you a whole pie.”

She wanted pie but not as much as she wanted to feel his arms around her. She wanted it so badly her mind raced with images of skin on skin and restless hands exploring. Then her stomach twisted at the knowledge they would say goodbye soon. They probably should have already said it, truth be told. As she debated what harm could come from giving in just this once, he extended his hand and pulled her gently from the seat. Slowly, she felt a small section of her walls crumble and gave him a reluctant smile. “One dance.”

The soft music wasn’t loud enough to allow for an appropriate selection of dance style, but she didn’t mind when he gathered her close and swayed gently in time with his soft humming. She felt his breath stir the hair around her face and realized this was a mistake. Now that she knew how it felt, it would be harder to deny herself an encore. Especially knowing tonight was a one-time thing.

“Tell me something, Swan. Do you believe in love at first sight?”

“No, I don’t believe in love at all,” she answered. Her words conveyed her deeply held conviction that poets and Hollywood movie producers invented love to make people so miserable with the lack of it, they had to seek out fictionalized versions to find some measure of happiness. Her tone, however, sounded as though she was open to being convinced otherwise.

“That’s a shame. I think you’ll miss out on a lot of what life has to offer by being so close-minded and scared.”

“If I were scared, which I’m not, I have every reason to be. One of my foster moms told me a long time ago that love wouldn’t buy me a diamond ring, and it was as easy to be in a relationship with a rich man as a poor one. Easier really. I used to think she was a witch, but now I think she had a point.”

“Bloody hell, what exactly did that man do to you?”

She felt his direct gaze like a physical thing caressing her even as his eyes flickered with disappointment. “I told you. He broke me. And my bank account.”

“Money isn’t everything, love.”

“Excuse me if I ignore advice telling me to count my non-monetary blessings from the man who picked me up in his Beamer. It may not be everything but not having it leaves you with nothing.”

“A person who needs forty dollars a day and makes forty is richer than someone who has everything and needs more.”

“Now you’re just being silly,” she said as she slipped from his arms. “And when a rainy day comes? What then?”

“I recently took up being an Uber driver in my spare time, love. I imagine I’ll make more on rainy days.”

Laughing as she looked at his endearing face under the dim light, she shook her head. “About my pie…”

—

She knew what she was doing. She lingered over the large platter containing a sampling of every type of pie the surprisingly eclectic menu had to offer. She watched him with affection as he critiqued each in turn, always saving the bites with whipped cream for her. The best parts, in other words.

She was stalling.

The night hadn’t turned out as she expected. While her main goal was unfulfilled, she couldn’t make herself think of it as a loss when her sides hurt from laughing, and her troubled heart felt at peace. It was a pity it had to end. And not because she had nowhere to go, although that was certainly the case.

Slowly they made their way back to his car, neither one speaking as the noises of the summer night buzzed in the background. She’d said a lot of goodbyes in her lifetime, eagerly in most cases, but was strangely reluctant to add this one to the list. “Well, Captain, it’s been an expensive night for you. I think you better drop me off at the nearest bus station before I cost you any more.”

“You’re always trying to bring the conversation back around to money. Get in,” he ordered as he handed her into the car.

The air in the cabin of his luxury sedan felt heavy with expectation. Neither of them spoke nor hardly moved a muscle. She considered asking him to turn on the radio but didn’t want to miss out on the last few moments of hearing his even breathing next to her. Minutes passed, and it took her a while to notice they had left Storybrooke and were heading back toward Misthaven. “How much further to the bus station?”

“We passed it several miles back. You’re going to stay at my place.”

Under normal circumstances, this would be where she prepared to kick someone’s ass, but she knew deep down, as surprising as his announcement was, she had nothing to fear from him. Well, nothing except a repeat of the broken heart fiasco that was getting harder to remember with every second spent in his company. “Oh no, I’m not. What happened to no strings and no funny business?”

“Calm down, Swan. Our deal stands. I’m working the rest of the night so you’ll have the place to yourself. Trust me, the bed in my guest room is much more comfortable than a seat at the bus station.” Without taking his eyes off the road, he reached into one of the compartments in the console and pulled out a key. “There are some shirts in the dryer if you need something to wear. Help yourself to whatever you want. If you hang around until nine, I’ll even make breakfast. If you don’t, leave the key under the Welcome mat.”

“I think you better keep your key, Captain. There are two ways this could end, and neither one is pretty.” She gave him a sidelong glance and was mildly irked to see him grinning at her.

“Only two? Please enlighten me with your power of premonition.”

Heaving a sigh of frustration, she wished he would be logical about this whole thing. Sure they had attraction in spades; the very air around them seemed to crackle with electricity whenever their eyes met. But she knew it would fade, and the only thing left then would be goodbye. Better to skip the messy part and go straight to the end. “The first is I stay and have breakfast, and it turns into the day and then another night….”

“That doesn’t sound so bad, love. And the second?”

“I leave the key under the mat, and we never see each other again.”

“Hmm, option two is decidedly less appealing. I’ll take what’s behind Door Number One, please,” he joked.

“You think so until reality sets in and you realize you’ve taken in a stray with a score to settle and not a cent to her name. It won’t be long before the sight of me in your shirts makes you cringe, and you resent having to share the couch with a woman who has nothing to give.” She would know having been in a relationship with a person who was only capable of taking, and she vowed never to do that to someone else.

“I have half a mind to hunt down this Cassidy fellow myself after seeing the hit job he did on you. Listen, Swan, the key has no strings. Breakfast is just food. Whatever happens, happens. But if you think I’m going to drop you off at a deserted bus station with only the clothes on your back, fetching as they are, you’ve got the wrong idea about me in more ways than one.”

“I’m not yours to rescue, Captain.”

“You could be,” he whispered in a voice that made her skin tingle. He tossed her a half-hearted smile, eyes stormy with the knowledge she was going to turn him down. Again.

“The fact we both want me to be is warning enough it’s a bad idea. Come on, Killian, let’s call it a night now so we can remember it fondly in the years to come.”

His jaw clenched, and she was worried he was going to fight with her sensible argument. People didn’t meet people in the middle of the road and form attachments in one night. This wasn’t a fairy tale, and she was as far from a princess as a person could get.

Although she had to admit he made a rather fine prince.

Pulling off into a nearby gas station, he turned to her and said almost threateningly, “We’re not through discussing this.”

Then he stepped out and slammed the door as the sky opened up.

—

It was a dirty trick. She knew even as she did it, but it was for his own good. For whatever reason, he felt like he needed to protect her, and she needed to save him from himself. So she waited until he walked into the convenience store and made a run for it.

That’s not to say she didn’t have a brief moment of whimsy. She couldn’t stop herself from placing a kiss on the key he had casually tossed to her as if inviting her into his home and his life wasn’t a big deal. Then she carefully placed it on the dash, grabbing the newspaper from his backseat as an afterthought, and scurried away before she was caught.

Like a rat.

Maybe Neal was exactly the kind of man she deserved.

The rain beat down in a punishing way, her makeshift umbrella getting soggy and soft under the onslaught. She was so busy looking over her shoulder, convinced he was going to search for her and half hoping he was successful, that the sudden absence of the storm took her by surprise.

“Here, miss, it’s raining cats and dogs tonight,” the sturdy doorman of the fancy establishment she was passing said as he reached out to place his umbrella over her. The burgundy awning extended to cover most of the sidewalk and, despite the late hour, classical music was drifting from the open door. Limousines lined the street, spilling well-dressed patrons as they approached the swanky club.

Before she could maneuver out of the way, she was swept into a tide of rich fish, all glammed out and ready for the party to start or continue as the case may be. She overheard one woman, whose hat was so large she had to tilt her head to make it through the door, complain, “Regina’s parties are always so dull even nature weeps.”

Deciding a boring party indoors was better than a lonely night in the rain, Emma changed her stance and walked over the threshold with her head held high like she belonged there. She noticed the plaque on the wall as she entered read The Rabbit Hole and couldn’t help but think it was aptly named. With its marble floors and curving staircase, it was no wonder this wasn’t one of the stops on the Captain’s tour of town. This place was as high-end as they came.

There was a man collecting tickets at a small side table and, with only a minute to improvise, she was glad to see the stubs were roughly the size of the photo she was toting around, one of the few remaining possessions to her name. Without a moment of regret, she turned the photo face down, relieved the love note Neal had written on the back was faded and worn, so only his faint signature was legible. Luckily, the sheer volume of people entering the place meant the employee merely took it from her without looking to confirm it was what it appeared to be.

Following the crowd into a large ballroom off to the side, she saw a black grand piano played with a precise kind of violence by a wild-haired man in a tuxedo. The room was packed to the gills, the group she straggled in with taking the last seats on the far side of the room. The audience was appreciative but far from silent, conversations carrying on as if private concerts of this caliber were a normal everyday occurrence for them. Every time Emma thought she found a place to rest her sore feet and sorer heart, someone took it before she could get there and, in one near miss, she almost flattened a lap dog that warranted his own seat for the show.

Finally, after pushing her way through a narrow row, she found a place and asked the man in the next chair with a hint of desperation, “Is this seat taken?”

Shrugging a silent negative with brooding eyes that lit up when she neared, she tried to ignore the searching glance he gave her as she dropped into the chair and surreptitiously removed her shoes. She could tell by the hint of a smirk he noticed the movement, but at least he had the good grace not to comment on it.

He was handsome in a careworn kind of way. His tousled dark hair and thick stubble were eerily similar to the Captain’s look, and it made her shuffle in her seat with guilt. The man kept staring, his light-colored eyes settling somewhere between gray and green, keenly taking in her appearance and finding it amusing if the continued presence of his smirk was any indication.

As the final notes of the concerto echoed through the room, a burst of applause started. Now that she was fed and able to sit for a few moments, Emma realized she was exhausted. It was a bone-deep weariness far beyond fatigue, and she was fairly confident it could be traced back to a man with blue eyes and more charm than any one person should be allowed to have.

She wondered where Killian was now. If he had already given up or if he was wasting more time and losing out on more money combing the streets looking for his erstwhile damsel in distress. Emma knew what she did was for the best as surely as she knew she would be haunted by the feeling of his arms wrapped around her for a long time.

After a brief break, the musician approached the piano again. Before he could start hammering out another song with the intensity of a madman, a raven-haired woman stepped in front of the instrument. She called out in a commanding voice, “Pardon the interruption but does anyone recognize this man? It would seem there was a mix-up at the ticket counter and someone accidentally handed in a photograph instead of their invitation to this private event.”

Resisting the urge to sink deeper into her chair, she furtively looked around as the audience murmured amongst themselves regarding the unusual disruption. She could tell by the sardonic tone of the woman’s voice and the way she emphasized the word private she wasn’t convinced it was an innocent mistake. A scene would be made if the guilty party were found and couldn’t provide the appropriate documentation.

“Really? No one is going to come forward?” With an annoyed look at the assembly, she sulked, “Fine, I won’t waste any more of your time.”

She saw the woman hurry to the corner and carry on a quick conversation with a few men before the group disbursed and fanned out to cover the room. Feeling her luck was running out, she slipped her feet back into her shoes with barely a wince and slowly stood under the watchful gaze of her neighbor.

She needed to escape for the second time that night, but now she had hundreds of witnesses. Nonchalantly, she surveyed the room, trying to determine the best way. During this perusal, a man caught her eye, and she froze as he began to cut across the room to her side. So much for a stealthy getaway.

Her pursuer had an air of refined boredom with an edge of mischief. His graying hair was an attractive finish to a lean, well-dressed form. Cocking an eyebrow in disdain or maybe curiosity, he spoke quietly to not draw the notice of the surrounding crowd. “A word, madam.”

“With me?”

“Indeed.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.” Squaring her shoulders, she ignored the way her neighbor watched with rapt attention as she resolutely marched toward her fate.

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @motherkatereloyshipper @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

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ringmyheart · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request Vin Jin boyfriend headcanons and some fluff? (You don't have to force yourself)

(This and the other vin jin rq were merged!)

Honestly the way I see it, it doesn’t matter if you’re a very calm person or outgoing person. No matter what this relationship is gonna end up being considerably chaotic

He ropes you into everything he does. Doesn’t matter if u r a design student or an architecture student or if ur on the opposite side of the school from him, u r practically in his class. Dating him is like signing a contract sealing away ur own life bc he makes it a point to be ALWAYS w u

In class he doesn’t gaf if the teacher has ur seat on the other end of class, he is somehow finding a way to sit next to u against ur will or not. And when the teacher moves u two away from eachother INTENTIONALLY bc of this, he is threatening whoever happened to sit next to u to trade seats w him. He will go as far as to dress up as them to make it look like they’re them to be next to u and he’s so dramatic ab it.... being away from u felt like u were star crossed lovers whom the world was fiercely against

And if UR against this cuz ur tired of getting in trouble in class, or if you reject any of his advances, he’s gonna be really, really, really offended. He will at first sputter and be kinda shy and embarrassed about it, before he goes “fine! Have fun on your own without me, the greatest thing in your fucking life!”

He move seats back and will glare at you periodically every five minutes to pavlov dog you so that every five minutes every day, even when he’s not there, you feel the burning stare of vin jin

If you’re his s/o, he’ll buy you a matching pair of sunglasses so ur the freshest looking couple around Seoul (they’re hideous and thick but he thinks u look fly)

The glasses don’t have nearly as many layers as his does for himself so u can see, and u wonder how he managed to make them just as bulky and if he did it on purpose to sabotage u. Like “did u make my glasses purposefully ugly so no one else will want me?”

U have to dodge a punch after saying anything like that ab his fashion decisions LMAOAO

He’s rlly proud of u two matching. With the glasses and anything in general. He’ll make you wear a jacket matching his, or the same shoes and he will stop people in the hall and be like “wait. Notice anything cool ab us today?? Cooler than normal??”

And when they don’t respond he boasts “that’s right!! Me and my other half r matching. Look at us and weep, losers.” He thinks u two look so good....... if ur enthusiastic ab wearing matching things too he is elated u have to pray that tomorrow he won’t show up w another “if lost return to Vin Jin” “I’m Vin Jin” pair of jackets or anything of the like bc it happens SO OFTEN

And on the topic of sharing when it’s cold he likes to share jackets and blankets w u. Ur desks r moved by eachother by vin jin himself and u two share one blanket over u and shiver bc he just likes it, sharing w u plus he’s slightly warmer. And yes if you guys had indivizual blankets you would be warmer, but u guys have to struggle together he doesn’t care what anyone says (yes even ur protests ur sharing that one blanket wether he has to wrap it around u himself and tear up the one u brought on ur own or what”

He is so blind in love that he cannot tell when u guys suck at stuff. Like if ur in the wrong he doesnt care ur RIGHT and he’s taking that to the grave. He can belittle u and call u out but if someone else says ur in the wrong it’s on sight

Will die protecting ur name even when ur the one who was genuinely wrong

He forces u to make a beat for him to rap to. He loves rapping and wants to enjoy it w u, so ur forcefed YouTube videos of how to beatbox so u can be his bgm and eventually u probably just start to enjoy it to

And u always start a beat and he starts busting out rhymes and it’s SO BAD. It doesn’t matter if ur good at beatboxing if vin Jin is on the track w u it’s gonna sound terrible he brings the quality down immensely but u two just cannot tell

Like after a two session ur like “omg... that was so good. We should go pro?” “Fuck yea we should we’re better than those posers” “we could rlly make it in the industry fr” no u absolutely could not

During the school festival, u sang with him and it was SO bad. Half the crowd is gonna have 2 be hospitalized but u two had FUN up on the stage

Like I said, he has absolute faith in u. All u do is right. If ur driving a car for the first time, he is going to be ur little hype man doesn’t matter if u suck. U hit a curb and he went “YES babe!! Ur killing it cant wait till u hit the road bby” Ur not allowed to touch a car for the next two years now bc he kept cheering u on when u we’re doing CLEARLY wrong things

On a plane u r looking for the bathroom like pensively and u see a handle and look back and r like “is this it???” And vin jin thinking u r all righteous will go “yea babe go for it” and u open it and u depressurizate the cabin immediately

Now both on like 5 no fly lists

He loves to do things with u, like I mentioned earlier, and things he wouldn’t do alone he’ll do w u. Like drawing alone?? Boring. Drawing w Y/N??!!! Who knows what could happen..... so much fun could ensue. Maybe he will draw u cutely. Maybe he will draw u so ugly u will be forced to engage in a fight.

He likes to play just dance w u and compete for the “greats/all star!” Little titles above, and it becomes like a Friday night ritual for u two to turn just dance on and just go at it. But sometimes he’ll get too intense and suddenly he’s actually fighting for the chance to beat u. Will trip u so u lose on purpose

He makes u listen to him sing and rap to u. And u try to leave and he hugs tightly and is like LISTEN IFS FOR U, DONT BE UNGRATEFUL and now u have to listen

He makes u a mixtape of songs he made himself and they are all considerably worse than “remember the times we had”. It’s uploaded on SoundCloud and all the comments r hate and u listen to it a lot bc u know he loves u sm he made u a mixtape ya ur gonna play that but everyone else hates it w a passion

Like the comments r like:

Daniel: well.... it’s definitely a song 😅 I’m glad you love (y/n) so much!

Duke: he’s not making it out the hood 😐

Zach: never let this man in a studio AGAIN

Mary: this should’ve stayed in the CD

(Y/N): love it! 😍

Zoe: kill your producer 💀

Mira: ...

He’s overprotective too

If someone looks at u for more than a second he’ll go “what?? U think she is hot, huh? I’ll kick ur ass fucking perv.... cmon babe let’s go”

Will throw his arm around u and streer u the opposite way of any potentially good looking ppl to keep ur eyes on him

Oh Daniel is coming?? What a coincidence u and vin Jin suddenly have to turn the corner to the other way of ur classroom for some reason

Eli is near?!!! Oh no u just got milk spilt in ur eye!! Oh no now he has to wipe ur eyes and u two have to leave the cafeteria whatever will he do

It’s not that he doesn’t have faith in u, he doesn’t have faith in other men. Like he thinks they r all competition, and doesn’t doubt ur loyalty rather doubts how good he can b for u

WILL beat someone up for u. If someone smokes while ur around suddenly his fists r swinging at them cuz even if u smoke or vape urself no one else can get that stuff in ur lungs but YOU or HIM!!

If ur crossing the street and a car almost hits u, it’s the cars fault and he’s kicking the license plate and cursing it out for almost touching u “stupid fucking piece of metal”

Is the type of boyfriend to call u when he knows ur in an Uber and be like “babe u got ur gun w u right?? Oh don’t forget ur BOMB and ur MACHETE!! Yeah just left the house I killed some ppl nbd haha anyways HRU what’s ur Uber driver like” so the driver of ur car won’t even think ab kidnapping u. He has got ur back even when u do not want it

He doesn’t want u to see his eyes, so he’ll tell you to look away so he can take his glasses off and look at u in full color in all ur glory but he never tells u WHY he’s telling u to look away u think it’s a weird thing of his, or he’s insecure ab his face which is partially true but really he’s taking his glasses off and just looking at u. Adoringly.....

He hates PDA. He loves PDA. Do u see his dilemma

Like he loves PDA but doesn’t want anyone seeing him vulnerable even u.... so he’ll hold ur hand and be like “EWWW WHAT R U DOING GET YR HAND OFF MINE”

If u take the lead THATS best bc he can blame it on u and it’s ur fault he HAS to lock fingers w u cuz u did it to him first and he has an excuse to touch u and v like u started this im just sending u ur own energy back 😤

The type to be just like blind, overwhelmed in love. Always thinks ab u, always wants to be w u, worries ab u a lot and frets over u without showing it.... he hates it and loves it to death. Despises it but wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world

Eats lunch w u in the cafeteria and if u sit w someone else u r the ultimate traitor and he will trash talk u to hide his hurt to Mary the entire lunchtime. Kinda possessive.... wants u to also only think about him

WOULDNT EVER fight u for real. Play fights occur VERY often, like pillow fights, tripping ur foot when u say a joke insulting him, grabbing ur collar but he would sooner die than lay a finger on u

Verbal fights happen a lot and if he ever like LOSES it he may lash out and almost hit u and follow thru. I don’t think he’d be able to catch himself that quickly, and if he ever did he’d regret it for the rest of his life. Literally until the day dies he will take it to his grave

He may not sputter out apologieswill just look at u incredulously and then at his hands because what had he done? What did he just do? To you???????? (Y/n))))?????? His (y/n)??? Light of his life?

Will apologize probably over text or through a note or call, and if u don’t respond he is consumed by regret and tries to find u instantly like runs back to ur place

If u forgive him he feels bad still, because does he deserve it? And he might just isolate himself for a bit bc he can’t face u and if it left a scar he is dead inside. It kills him, literally

I could go on w this but I’ll probably save it for another separate pair of hcs later 😭

If u guys ever break up he will fight for u again and won’t stop till ur back together like flowers in ur locker every day, chocolate give during lunch, etc. He wont ever give up hope that he can win u over again and be w u again. He would keep trying, when he wakes up his first thought is ur name in a cold panic bc he can’t rest easy till ur his again and he will try and show off and poorly serenade u and trash his price and be corny and cheesy to get u back

Will set up a performance w the school to let him rap w a mic during lunch for u and he’s saying bars like “(read in bad rapping voice w inconsistent beat) (y/n), love of my life, uh, without you I’d die, uh. Please won’t you take me back? Yuh, without you ima have a heart attack. (Wha!). (Y/n), love of my life, yeah, without you I’m in strife, yup! Please be mine again, (babe), I can never rest till then.”

If the embarrassment doesn’t make u take him back so he’ll pls stop, and when he stands up on the lunch tables to do a little performance doesn’t do it either, then the odd sincerity of his voice and pain in his look (even tho while rapping he sticks out his lower lip in a weird pout) definitely, hopefully will

U make everything worth it !! Truly the light of his life

I hope these were what u wanted, I just had fun w them and wrote stuff that came off the top of my head when I thought of VJ!! ❤️

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impala1967dwinchester · 4 years ago

Text

Jensen Ackles: Should have been me

*Credit to gif owner*

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Pov: Jensen

Warnings: coma, Jensen talking to himself, driving accidents, accidents, almost death, angst, fluff, car accidents, regret.

Request: Hello gorgeous, may I pleaaase request an flangsty Jensen x reader one shot where they get into a car accident and the reader is the one who's severely injured?? Thank you so much, can't wait to see where you go with this idea 😭😭

WC: 1.5k

A/N- I know that this request was put in a long while ago. I’m sorry it took me so long to get to it. But I really enjoyed this request and the idea. thx!

You know that gut feeling you get some times. That feeling that tells you ‘This is going to end so badly’. I should have listened, I should have done something else, we should have stayed at the hotel just a day longer. Just a day longer and I wouldn’t be sitting in this damn hospital room.

Looking at Y/n with tubes and wires connecting her. She shouldn’t be laying in a bed in a cold room, stuck in her own mind. She should be laughing and curled up against my side while we watch a movie. Neither one of us should be here.

How many times have I said that drunk drivers shouldn’t be allowed to even own a car? How times have I told Y/n to be safe as she drives to work, or just down to the supermarket. This is why I tell her to be safe, but you see the problem with this is I was the one driving.

You see I’m not the one hurt, she is. How in the hell am I the one breathing on my own, sitting her with only a few cuts and bruises? I don’t understand how I came out unscathed, but Y/n is hooked up to machines and wires deep in a coma.

We had been up in the mountains for our fifth anniversary. A way to get away from everything. It was the best way to spend it. We had a cabin to ourself. No waking up at six in the morning, or having to hastily kiss each other in the morning light before we both had to drive off to work. It was the most blissful I’ve been in a while.

Y/n said that we needed to get back home. Said we had to leave yesterday; I couldn't understand the rush to leave so early. We had enough time for when we got back and we’d go straight back into work. No need to worry about being clung to each other. Not wanting to leave each other warm embrace in the morning.

She countered that with saying that she would like to sleep in her own bed or at least a full night before rushing back into work. How’d she like to get comfortable with being home after our two-week vacation in the mountains. I guess I understood now after she explained. I watched her pack her things, and dance around the room.

I watched as she shined like the brightest star in the sky, even during the day. Now though I watched as she laid still in a hospital gown. Eyes closed. Breathing still normal. All I can do is watch her, I’m not a doctor, I can’t help.

This not being able to help is killing me. I picked at my nails as I listened to dings and bells happen outside the room. I just hope she wakes up. That’s all I can do is hope right?

Minutes turn into hours turn into days, and into weeks.

I can’t leave her here, and go home I’d feel horrible. So, I rent a room and visit her every day the nurses know my name now. And they let me stay past the visitor's time. Every day I come in and talk to her, talking to her is the only thing I can do. I talk to her about everything.

The tariff to the hospital, what’s been going on with ‘supernatural’, how much I miss her voice, and her bright filled with life eyes. I break every time I walk in, seeing her motionless body besides her chest moving up and down due to the machine.

“Y/n please, can you wake up for me?” I ask her everyday as I rub my thumbs against her knuckles. I get nothing in response. “Y/n I miss you so much. I don’t know what to do anymore. You’ve been like this for weeks now.” I say as I bring her hand up to my lips to kiss her knuckles.

“I don’t want you to go, not yet. I want to live a long, amazing life with you. You can’t leave me, not just yet.” I say a stray tear falling down my cheek. I get up and walk around her room, I turn the little TV on a low volume, but still the little bit of time that I do pay attention to the TV. It gives me peace of mind.

I know that sounds bad, but it gives me a sort of peaceful feeling. I know that I can sit with her and watch TV. I hope to god that she can hear me, I hope to god that she can hear me laugh and hear me talk to her.

I left the hospital room after the sun was deep behind the horizon. I drove for a few hours riding around the town that has now become my half way home. Please wake up. Just please wake up Y/n. That’s all I can keep thinking about. Her waking up, that’s all I want.

Days go by and I repeat the same process over again. I see her in the morning and stay for god known how long. I talk with her and we watch TV, and I leave when the sun is far gone from the sky. I’m trying to grab a rhythm here.

I trying to hold on to anything.

I sleep through the night for the first time in a while. But I’m awaken by my phone dinging. Groggily waking up and answering. “Hello?” I say trying to figure out what’s going on. I look over at the clock on the side table.

“Yes, this is Mr. Ackles correct?” The women ask in what seems like a rush. “Yes, that’s me. What’s this calls for its three in the morning right now.” I answer back. “Sir, Mrs. Ackles... Is awake sir.” She speaks. In the few moments of silence my heart breaks, reforms, shatters, my breathing becomes ragged, and then everything stops at once, when the rest of her sentence comes through my ears and into my brain.

“She... How long? Can I come now? Is she going to be, okay?” I asked in a rush now, understanding the rush of the first words that the women spoke to me. “Sir, you can come now yes, please. She’s asking for you.” “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” I said and clicked the call off.

She asking for me. I need to call Jared. Wait no I ‘ll call him after I see Y/n/ Y/n asking for me. She’s talking. She’s awake. Y/ns awake.

I quickly grab a pair of sweats and slip my shoes on grabbing my keys and phone along with my jacket. I slip into my car and drive off to the hospital. I’m there within eight minutes beating the time I told the nurse that called.

The ride on the elevator is slow, painful slow. The need to see Y/n boiling over the top of me as the doors open and I can see the ICU floor. I just slowly waked through the unit, and to her door.

You’d think that I’d be more excited knowing that she’s okay, and awake. But I’m scared that it isn’t real and she isn’t awake. That would be a cruel game that my mind could play on me.

I slide the glass door back, I can hear her voice, I can hear her giggle. I think... no I know that’s her laugh. I slowly walk through the thresh hold of her room. I take a deep breath and I start to want to cry. She’s laying up in the bed, no tubes to be seen, she’s got her color back in her face.

Y/n looks over and pulls her arms out reaching for a hug. I stand for a minute. “Baby you going to come over here and give me a hug?” she says. I smile and walk over to her, I grab at her hands first looking down at them, noticing her ring that’s still on her finger. I looked down at her, still smiling so much that my cheeks are starting to hurt.

“Hi.” I say as I hug her. “Hey cowboy, I still hurt a little, but hi back.” Y/n says. God it’s like nothing ever happens. She’s still her sassy self, she still smells like peaches and crème. Y/n is really here in my arms. “I miss you, Y/n.” I said keeping her in my grasp.

“I know, I heard you. I miss you too.” She says back. I release her and grab a chair to sit close with her. Instead, she grabs onto to my hand. “Sit up here with me, please.” Y/n says and how can I say no to her. So, I slip my shoes off, only know remembering that I’m in my sweats and whatever else I grabbed.

I settle next to her, my arm going under her head, and her head falls gracefully into my chest. God how much I missed doing this with her. “I think I could use another vacation again. What do you say?” She says looking up at me.

I smile again and laugh. “I could sure you a more minutes of just this with you.” I speak.

Completed: 04/01/2021

#Jensen Ackles #jensen fanfic #jensen x reader #jensengirl #jensenackles #fanfiction #supernatural #anon request #request #fluff #jensenfluff #angst #jensenangst #flangst

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f1nalboys · 3 years ago

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I have the burning desire to bring Red into rural bumfuck nowhere, lay on a blanket with him at night as we look up at the stars, drink alcohol, talk real shit and ✨connect✨

no because Red would love that???? he'd be a little awkward at first just because he isn't used to not being in the city but once he's comfortable (and has a few beers in him) he's going to have a grand time! i got a little carried away and wrote a little one shot thing for this because :,)

WORD COUNT: 1511

WARNINGS: cursing, alcohol, cigarettes, red being adorable, and also a little scary

Red needed a fucking cigarette. You had promised him a good time and he really, truly, thought you were talking about sex. So when you turned off onto back roads and the two of you had been driving for hours, he started getting worried. “Uh, where are you taking me?” He had asked, leaning closer to you in the driver's seat. “I told you, I’m giving you a good time! We’re almost there, Red, relax.”

You told him no smoking in the car so, for the time being, he held the cigarette limply in his mouth, his leg bouncing, waiting for the go ahead to get out. The second you park the car he's out, hand digging around in his back pocket for his lighter. You chuckle, getting out of the truck and grabbing the necessary things from the trunk before walking down the wooded trail. He jogs up behind you, turning his head each time he blows the smoke out of his mouth.

“So, you gonna tell me what’s going on?” He asks, slinging an arm over your shoulder. He was tall, clocking in at 6’2, which he loved. ‘Always used to be the short one,’ he had said to you the ninth time he had to grab you something off of the top shelf. “Come on, babe, give me a hint!”

“It’s a surprise, babe.” You reply, bumping him off of you with your hip. He laughs before grabbing the basket out of your hands.

“Mhm, is it a sexy surprise?” He wiggles his thick eyebrows at you. You groan, hiding your laughter, before turning down a more hidden, beaten down path. The sun was beginning to set and he was starting to look really nervous. “If it’s not a sexy surprise, is it a murder one? Because it feels like a murder surprise.”

You ignore him, stepping through and holding back a few leaves for him. He lets out a noise of surprise when he enters the clearing, clearly shocked at how much thought you had put into this. A small cabin, which was clearly in use by someone else, was off to the edge of the forest. The grass was short here, minus a few wild flower patches towards the edge of the forest, and there was a lake north of where you were standing.

“Holy shit, Y/N! You did all this for lil’ old me?” He asks, planting a sloppy kiss onto your cheek. He hasn’t been treated this well in a very long time. No one has really ever put the effort in like you had just done. It really tugged at his heartstrings.

“Sure did, Red. I mean, we can’t use the cabin or the lake and we aren't allowed to stay past midnight, but this little field right here? It’s ours for the next six hours.” He grabs ahold of your hand and, after putting out his cigarette, the two of you walk to the middle of the clearing where you open the basket Red had been carrying and take the blanket out.

He says nothing while he helps you set up, though you do catch him staring at you a few times. Once everything was set up, he flops down, pulling you with him. “This is awesome, you know that?” He whispers, running a hand through your hair before kissing you. “There ain’t a special occasion I’m missing though, right?”

You laugh, shaking your head. You sit up and grab two beers from the basket and hand one to him. “Ooh, seems you’ve thought of everything. You tryna get me drunk?” He teases, taking the beer gratefully. He was sitting up on his elbows now, staring at you as he tilted the bottle to his lips.

“How’d you know?” You shoot back, kicking his foot with your own gently. The sky was ablaze in color, the sun sinking down lower and lower before it disappeared completely. “Wanted to bring you here to watch the sky and talk, you know? I know you’ve been busy and I thought you deserved a break.”

“Shit, you’re too nice to me, you know that?” He says, grabbing your hand. His hands were cold from the bottle and the rings he wore sent a shiver down your spine. He looked good; maybe not picnic and star gazing appropriate, but still good. His hair, which he had just taken down from his normal spikes, was curled slightly and a few strands had fallen onto his face.

He wore a distressed band tee Indigo, one of his roommates, had made for his band and a well loved denim jacket overtop it. His jeans were black and he wore his steel-toed boots, a staple in almost every outfit he wore. “You like what you see?”

“Oh, shut up,” You mutter, heat crawling up your neck when he catches you staring at him. You lay back, tilting your head to rest on his shoulder, and you begin to watch the sky darken, the stars growing brighter. He pulls you in closer to him and, for a moment, the two of you sit there in silence.

“You see that one, right there?” He asks, pointing towards a star and you nod. You turned your head and saw how big his smile was. “That’s Libra. Scales, or whatever, for balance. Kind of proves the stuff I’m doing means something.” His smile falters for a moment.

“The stuff you’re doing?”

“With those rich assholes. The ones I’ve gotten rid of. I’m kind of like the metaphorical scales, keeping the balance of the world. Getting rid of the people who deserve it.” His eyes were darker now, his jaw set. He was angry. You never saw Red angry, though you assume it’s because you weren’t one of the people he hated. His eyes squeeze shut and he breathes in deeply before releasing it slowly.It was something he had learned in therapy. His eyes pop open and he’s back to normal. “Sorry about that, honey. I guess I just got a little carried away.”

“S’alright,” You say, kissing him on his cheek and moving back to the position you had been in moments ago. You wanted to ask him something but were worried. You didn't want to make him mad or uncomfortable. You loved him. “Keiji, can I ask you something?”

“Ooh, my real name. Am I in trouble?” He asks, laughing at his own joke. You bite at the inside of your cheek and he notices your silence, sitting up to get a good look at you. His eyebrows furrow and his hand comes to your face, his finger tracing your jaw. “Of course you can.”

You sigh, kissing his hand before asking. “Why do you hate those people so much?” He takes a sharp intake of breath and for a minute the look he gives you is one that raises goosebumps. It’s gone in a split second, leaving you unsure if you had really seen it.

“They’re evil, plain and simple. They take from people, ruin their lives, all for their own benefit. It’s fucked up.”

“Yeah, but what about the good ones?”

He scoffs, his hand leaving your skin immediately. You had angered him with that statement, that much was certain. He sits up, his hand rubbing his face harshly. His other hand was flexing into a ball, like he was fighting back the urge to hit you. For the first time ever, you felt scared of him.

“There’s no such thing as a good rich person. Come on, let’s just… let’s just watch the stars and talk about something else, alright?” His voice is thick and he ends the conversation, laying back down and grabbing ahold of your hand with his, squeezing tightly for a second.

“You don’t know that there isn’t-”

“Y/N. I said, let's talk about something else.” He doesn’t look at you. You watch him clench his jaw, his head turned up to the sky, and you sigh, leaning into him. You had learned in your pretty short relationship that you had to pick your battles with him.

“Sorry.” His body deflates as you apologize. He pulls you in closer, kissing the top of your head.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so… I just get angry about that stuff, you know? I’m such an asshole,” You shake your head.

“You’re not. I shouldn’t have tried to pry, that’s all. Let’s talk about your band. How’s practice been going?” The tension in the air immediately disappears as he begins to go off on a tangent about the issues he’s been having with his amp and you try to listen as much as you can. But you kept going back to how he had been just a moment ago; angry. Scary. It was a different side of him you hadn’t seen before, honestly.

He turns to face you, a large smile on his face, as he hands you a small dandelion he had found, and your thoughts cleared. He was good. He had to be.

#keiji devlin #red devlin #slasher oc #s1mping4slashers writing #s1mping4slashers masterlist #s1mping4slashers works #s1mps slasher oc #i love that yall love him #he's a little complicated but it doesn't matter #light of my life fr #my oc #slashers

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oftenderweapons · 4 years ago

Text

Love talk - Yoongi

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (nicknamed Kitten)

Wordcount: 10k words

Genre: fluff, smut

Rating: 18+

Hello bunnies! I know you’ve been streaming Dynamite (I’m doing so as I revise and edit). I decided to postpone publishing the piece, so that we can focus on streaming and then as soon as the 24h are over and you’re well-rested you’re hopefully all ready for this 😏

Basically, I’ll do a quick recap of Yoongi and Kitten’s sliver of backstory. They’ve been dating for a couple months on again off again (he’s quite busy with schedule) and have been on several dates, however the situation escalates when the two start playing a steamy late-night after-date 20 questions game.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Consumption of alcohol. Swearing. This is smutty, especially in the end. This is intended for an adult public. Some of the themes are only discussed by the characters. Strong language, alcohol consumption, masturbation both male and female receiving, same for oral (feat. face riding). Mild voyeurism/exhibitionism, quite detailed description of sexual positions and fantasies, discussion on STDs, mentions of previous relationships and past traumas (abusive boyfriend and one very sorry fuck). Choking, breast worship, mentions of restrictions, sensation play and switch Yoongi. This should be all. Also, watch Kitten thirst for Yoongi’s hands (and tongue. and lips. and all the rest of Yoongi) for 10k words. (On a second note, watch Yoongi drool -- only metaphorically, much to his dismay -- over Kitten’s tits).

Yeah, it’s date 10 and these two haven’t kissed yet, I somehow think that Yoongi is the kind of guy who would wait till he’s dying and then just pounce. Also these two just want to jump each other’s bones and I can’t wait for you to see them in Illicit Affairs (definitely my 2nd favourite couple -- ‘cause Joon will be A Lot™)

Wordcount is around 10k.

Since I need to start planning next scenarios, I need you to help me choose the theme, you can vote at the link in my bio!

Here is my masterlist, enjoy 💜

“God, what’s with the weather tonight?”

“Man, this is a nightmare, get in quick.” The arm around your shoulder loosened a little as he let you move quickly from under his umbrella to the passenger seat of his car. As you got comfortable and tried to fix your hair and makeup a little, he walked around the car, opening the driver’s door, sliding in quickly and, with a sleight of hand, shaking the umbrella, closing it and smashing the door shut as fast as possible.

“Damn it.” He moved the soaked object at the foot of the backseat, stretching in the process with a groan.

You set with your hands pressed together, shoved innocently between your thighs.

This was your tenth date with Yoongi and you were smitten over him. Also, horny, but that’s for another moment. You’d been dating without commitment for about two months, the timing absolutely awful – he was in the middle of promotion with the group – but he had been too hung up on you to wait. He had wanted to do things properly, but after two weeks of stalking your profiles on social networks and making a fool of himself anytime you accidentally met, he decided he needed to act, and quickly so.

You went for a coffee once, then he brought you lunch, then you started with your sneaky dates at the cinema, walks at Han river late at night and dark and discreet bars dominating the rooftops of Seoul.

But the cinema was your most recurrent. You were just back from one of your dates at your go-to theatre, at two a.m, the late night show allowing him enough privacy to sneak around and protect you from any prying eyes.

He started the car and asked if you needed the AC on. “You have goosebumps on your arms.” He commented.

He is attentive. And caring. Which really makes you want to jump him. But again, digressing.

“No, thank you, Yoongi.” You replied kindly.

“Okay.” Moving out of the parking lot he started driving to your house, stopping at a couple traffic lights, looking at you as he waited. You looked back at him, smiling affectionately. He took your hand, holding it and warming it up in between his.

“Who would believe it’s September, it feels at least November out there.” You commented, feeling extremely dumb in discussing the weather, but too afraid of letting your mind delve in more mature or appropriate topics.

“Sure you’re okay?” He asked, as he placed your hand back, the lights turning green.

“Yeah.” You risked evaporation, looking at his focused expression as he drove. Could you believe he hadn’t kissed you yet? No. Could you imagine why he hadn’t done that yet? Hell, no. You had squeezed your brains trying to imagine why he hadn’t kissed you while at the same time keeping on asking you out, date after date.

The night lights reflected beautifully on his delicate features, on his cute nose and his round and soft cheekbones, on his pouty, blatantly soft, deliriously pink, wildly wanted lips, on his flashy silver watch, on his sparkly, delicate necklace, on his small and sober earrings. You wanted him. Your heart skipped a beat at the way your body and mind aligned in that statement. The pressure you felt within you was a living, beating, ravenous thing, enlarging its size like a bird puffing its feathers.

His hands on the wheel were extraordinarily pale and sturdy, skeletrical but also undoubtedly strong. You wanted them on you, grabbing and groping your flesh. And the way he seemed to chew on his lower lip, opening and closing his mouth in that gesture which is so his, as if he were tasting wine or coffee.

You didn’t even realise you had arrived at your place, since you were so caught in staring at him. “A picture will last longer, Kitten.” He teased.

You blushed, turning quickly to look out your window.

“Oh, you’re shy now...” He smirked. “Go figure, I had a proposition for you.” He commented, almost with disinterest, his mouth speaking through a fake pout, the corners of it turned downward.

“I’m curious.” You said, turning to him.

“I don’t wanna let go of you yet.” He admitted, catching your hand again. “I’ll be away for ten days. With the guys. We’re leaving tomorrow evening.” He explained. “Tonight is my last available moment with you and I know it’s two in the morning and all the rest, but I want to spend more time with you.”

You raised your eyebrows, surprised. “Do you mean…?” You hoped he had somehow sensed your longing. He seemed to have a direct line to your brain, reading you in a way that scared you too often.

He grinned. “I mean, whatever comes from this. Just talking. Just watching you as we talk. It’s not the same over the phone.” He said with a frown.

You nodded. “Do you wanna talk here? Would you like to come upstairs?” You asked, trying to feel the mood.

He bit his lip and laced his fingers together, placing them between his knees and hunching his back. “You see, I kinda wanted to take this to my place. But I promise you I won’t make a move. It’s really just talking.”

Please, do make a move. You silently begged – although you were too shy to actually speak.

“Yeah, nice. Okay.” You replied with a happy smile.

“It’s okay if you want to stay here. Or go upstairs. It’s just that I really wanted to see you at home.”

The tenderness of his domesticity killed that hunger rumbling in your insides and made your head float up high, with cute pink clouds and angels singing and stars glimmering.

This is a crush.

“Show me your crib, kitty cat.” You joked. He laughed adorably at that. He looked radiant.

As he started driving to his place you got back to your thirsting over him, this time openly oogling at his confident charm, at the way he looked so used to all of this. The way he lead you out of the car in the underground parking lot of the residence, the way he locked the car and punched in his passcode to the apartment.

“Here’s the crib, kitty cat.” He taunted right back.

The place looked immaculate. Spot on. Tidy. Neat. A bit cold but his. And it smelled so good. Like cinnamon and fir. Like a cosy, winter cabin. You wanted a blanket and a hot chocolate and a Christmas tree. You wanted him in an ugly turtleneck jumper and flannel sweats and furry slippers.

You wanted home.

“It feels very nice in here, Yoongi.” You couldn’t stop looking around, drinking in every small detail. You understood why he had wanted you here. He wanted to see if you could fit here.

He noticed you did.

“I got these, for you.” He said, offering you a pair of slippers, gesturing for you to take off your shoes as he did the same. He didn’t need to ask twice.

He led you through a quick tour of the house, moving quickly away from his most private places – the bedroom and the studio. You understood his reserve on those, giving his hand a quick squeeze in understanding.

“Finally, the living room.” He explained as he switched on the lights illuminating a large space with a thick cream carpet covering the cold white marble, the room completely dominated by a black leather couch. It looked very traditional and “grandpa”. It really resembled him. “Might as well settle in, we’re gonna be here for a while. Want to drink something?” He asked.

You. “What do you have in mind?” You asked, shutting up your inner slut.

“Well, I was thinking I wanted to do that ‘get-to-know-each-other’ kind of thing.” He said, opening a cabinet in the console under the gigantic tv. In the meantime ha started a slow rap playlist from his phone. “I know this will sound like usual fuckboy who’s trying to make a move, but I have no intention of getting you drunk. I’ll drink, and I promise I’ll be perfectly responsible for my actions, but you don’t have to drink or do anything you don’t want to.” He said, putting some whisky on the coffee table together with two tumblers.

However, you opened the bottle and poured some alcohol first in his glass and then in yours. “Now it’s me the one with a proposition, mr. Min.” You cocked your head playfully. “We play twenty questions. In turns we will ask twenty questions to each other. If you don’t want to answer you pass and drink.” You explained quickly.

“Okay. Let’s get it, Kitten.” He said with a smirk, as both of you sat down at the two sides of the L-shaped sofa, near the corner. “You start, ____.”

“Warm up round, yeah?” You asked.

“Play your advantage carefully.” He suggested.

You nodded, quickly leaving aside dumb and obvious questions, but still going for an innocent one. “How many exes do you have?”

“Okay, nice. Well. I’ve “officially” had three girlfriends and two flings. All the relationships ended because of my job and lifestyle.” He offered you a free piece of information. He didn’t mind anyway. “My turn?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m satisfied.” You replied. “For now.”

He grinned devilishly. “What about your exes?”

You nodded as if expecting the question. “Officially one. It was a long, painful relationship. I’ve had flings though. Maybe eight or nine occasional partners.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Okay. I really didn’t expect that but it’s cool to me.” He said. He really didn’t mind. You’re a woman in her midtwenties, and you have the freedom to do what you want with your body. “Next.”

You looked down and toyed with your fingers, then looked up with a curious smile and gleaming mischief in your eyes. “I’ve gotta ask. When was your first time?”

He smiled. “I was nineteen. I had been dating this girl for a few months. We did it on my birthday. She was two years older than me, showed me the ropes. But even if I really liked her, it all got to hell when we debuted. She was only in it for the fact that I was an idol, she wanted an in, I think. Changed her mind when she realised I was sort of a loser.”

“Well, look at that loser now.” You said, looking him up and down and licking your lip.

He laughed embarrassed.

“I won’t do that mistake.” You promised, this time with a serious expression.

“We’ll see.” He commented, looking you up and down himself. God, he was getting flirty. A pleasured shiver ran down your spine. It wasn’t the cold. “My turn. When did you do it for the first time?”

Again you nodded. “I was with a childhood friend. It wasn’t a relationship. Just, we thought it was a good idea to do that together, because we knew each other and we trusted each other. It was nice. It felt nice. It was the summer after our senior year in high school. He moved out for university afterwards and we lost each other. But it’s a good memory, I must say.” You reminisced fondly. “No unrequited feelings, though.” You clarified, afraid that he would misunderstand.

“Okay. I’m glad it’s a good memory. I was afraid that the painful ex had been your first.” He commented, leaning towards you slightly.

“No, thank fuck.” You muttered. “Let’s move on, yeah?”

He nodded.

“I kinda have to ask this one, out of curiosity and for personal reasons. Have you ever been tested for STDs?”

He blinked and crossed his legs. “I have. It’s part of my medical check-ins. Of course the tests are more for... completeness, so to say, rather than actual need. My sex life is not that active, and when it is, I always use protection. I’m quite obsessed with it, to be honest.” He explained, his defensive stance opening up. He answered thoroughly, not even thinking of how much he was offering freely. “Do you mind me asking the same question?”

“Not at all. I also got tested. After my relationship I had to. My ex wasn’t very faithful.” You replied, blushing. “During all my flings I’ve always used protection except once. I was a bit dumb back then.” You admitted, wincing painfully. “And after my last one I got tested. He didn’t make me feel like a condom was safe enough. Thank God, everything is absolutely fine and I’m clean.”

“Oh, yeah, same here.” He offered back, with a shy laugh. “Ready for question three?”

“Yeah. I’ve got to ask one last question, for my peace of mind. Do you expect monogamy from me?” You asked.

“Do you?” He deflected.

You smiled “I asked you, Yoongi. Do you want me to date you exclusively?”

“Well I do. Do you? Want to date just me? I mean.” He asked.

“Yes, I will date you exclusively if you’re dating me exclusively.” You replied, matter-of-factly.

He shook his head, incredulous. “Of course I’m dating only you.” He murmured with a pout. “Why would I be seeing someone else?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged.

“Well, I’m strictly monogamous, ____. I’m giving you my undivided attention and all my spare time. Don’t you ever doubt my commitment. I don’t cheat.” He seemed almost too serious for a moment.

“I needed to know.”

“It’s okay. But just because you got burned once, that doesn’t mean that everyone wants to burn you, okay? That’s a bastard’s move. I promise you I won’t.” He said. And for the first time you felt like believing in it.

You took a deep breath, then smiled. “Well, anyway, you already asked your question. So it’s my turn again.” You said, cheekily.

He huffed, offended, but let you go on.

“Time to start drinking, Yoongles.” You chanted in a sing-song voice.

He laughed silently. “We’ll see.”

“What’s your favourite position in bed?” You asked, trying to peek into his private life.

“Should I drink? At this? You have to seriously one-up your game, kitten.” He stared at you intently. He was desperately trying to keep a poker face to hide how much he wanted to climb over your body and hide in the crook of your neck, inhale your sweet scent, which was enhanced by the rain that had hit you earlier.

“I’m quite traditional. I like anything that allows me to see the face of my partner. So missionary, cowgirl and lotus. When I’m a bit angsty I go for doggy. Spoons is another one I like – and also an awfully underrated one. My past lovers all said that the angle is amazing. It’s very rewarding.” Again, he gave you more than what you asked for. He wanted you to know these random things about him. He was telling you everything he wanted you to know. Who cares about vulnerability and offering too much? His aim was to earn your trust. And for you to repay his prodigality in kind. He wanted you to open up and overshare things about yourself. He wanted to know what to imagine when he thought about kissing you. When he thought of you while touching himself. He wanted to understand what he could ask, what you could possibly like, what scared you, what you needed comfort in.

At this point you were imagining him behind you, a hand at your waist, the other on your breast, his low moans caressing your ear, eyes closed, lost in bliss. Snap out of it, slut. “Wide choice.” You commented with an awkward chuckle, still trying to get back from your fantasy.

“It really depends on my partner, though. Whatever works for them.” He shrugged, his arms leaning forward, palms up. “My turn, right?” He waited for your confirmation.

“Off you go.”

“What’s your most frequent fantasy?” He muttered, shy but also sultry, his voice a low rumble.

You inhaled deeply, noticing how close he had got to what you were thinking a few seconds ago. “Dammit, I might drink.” You looked at the glass, almost lunging for it. But it was a feint. ”Actually lately I’ve been thinking a lot about having sex in the kitchen.”

Fuck. He was out. He licked his lip. He almost thought you were done with your confession, but you went on.

“Being pushed up against the counter and bent over. Or being lifted up and sat on the counter. Having someone tease me while I’m spread on the table. Or having to keep a straight face while someone is toying with me underneath the table.” You scratched your cheek, “You pick.” You whispered slightly embarrassed, laying your hands on your cheekbones in an attempt to calm down your blush.

He lifted the glass. He needed to calm down.

When you noticed his gesture you sucked your lips in, trying to hide a smug grin.

“Are you proud of getting under my skin, Kitten?” He asked.

“Yes, of course.” You replied immediately.

“Well done, ____.” The way he almost moaned your name made your blood soar to your ear. “Your turn, kitty.”

“Are you more on the dominant or submissive side?” You asked. You honestly couldn’t figure this out. He showed small signs leaning towards both sides. He was traditionally courteous, giving you attention and taking care of you, paying for food and using his body language to show you were taken, that you weren’t hanging out with a friend or a relative, but a possible love interest. At the same time, he never initiated openly intimate contact, rather he waited for you to initiate. And he had never kissed you, nor shown any interest in doing so.

“I’m leaning dom. But it’s a slight preference. It has a lot to do with my partner’s preferences. I’ve both dommed and subbed in the past. I like the protective, possessive side of domming, but I also like the receiving, caring side of subbing. Still I enjoy the control that comes from being more dominant. I would say it’s 65 to 35 for domming.”

You nodded. That sounded good. “That’s nice. I’m also a bit in the middle. Leaning sub, though.” It felt natural replying. It felt like he should know.

“Thank you for giving that up.” He smiled, warming up to you, trying to associate a positive outcome to your sharing personal information about yourself. “Now, about my question.” He fumbled a bit in his head, trying to go for something intimate, but not openly sexual. “Okay, if you could kiss any part of your significant other but their face, what would it be?”

You smiled at the cute question. Because you honestly didn’t think of the sexual side of it. “Well, you said no face. Let me think... I think I really like giving hand kisses. They’re old school, but also so meaningful. They’re apparently platonic and innocent, but they have that side of worship and adoration that just makes me weak.” You hugged yourself, growing smitten at the thought.

He cocked his head to the side, looking at you with a curious and endeared expression.

“I also like kissing on the chest, like the breastbone, like the very center of the chest. Another not openly sexual spot, but I think it’s so tender. There’s the heart there, so it’s an especially fond spot. It sort of implies that the other person is hugging you, and that you’re laying your head on their chest.” You gushed, turning absolutely tender at the thought.

“What about the face?” He asked. He wanted your hand kisses. He wanted his fingers in your mouth, but that was not the point of the question at all and you were there smitten and cute and he should stop sexualising your cuteness outburst.

“Isn’t that another question?” You smirked, brow creasing.

“I should have asked for ‘anywhere but mouth’. Dumb me.” He huffed out and sulked.

“Then, forehead kisses. Underrated. Affectionate. Platonic but so tender. They go to a whole other level of intimacy.” You murmured, anything to stop his sulking, which was making your heart twist in your chest.

He grinned “Thank you.” He said, sinking his head between his shoulders.

“Well, pay up for it with question six. Thoughts on being vocal during sexy time?” You asked.

“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate one second. “Tendentially I’m not very verbal, and I try to keep it quiet. After such a long time with roommates, that’s kind of ingrained in me. Since I moved out, I kinda got more vocal, still not very verbal, but don’t expect pornographic feats.” He laughed, trying to relax the mood. “For my partner, any sound is a nice sound, as long as it’s not fake porn screaming. Subtle moaning and heavy breathing get me going quickly. Sensitive ears and stuff.” He scratched his neck. He was getting worked up again. Deep breath, boy. He scolded himself. “Anything else?”

You shook your head. “I’m good, thanks. Come on, shoot it.”

“It’s my number six?”

“Yes, champ. Go get it.” You teased cheekily.

He took in a big breath, licking his lips.

God, any more lip game and you’d throw yourself at him.

“Quick reminder: you have your drink there, just in case.” He offered. “Have you ever had a sex dream?”

Yes, about you and your dirty mouth and naughty hands. Wait, do dirty daydreams count?

He misunderstood your pause for a sign of reluctance. “Your drink is there, ____, waiting for you.” He reminded you.

You took your glass.

He nodded with little movements of his head, his expression neutral. That’s how much is too much, he though.

“I’ve dreamt of a classmate performing oral on me, once during that relationship I mentioned.” You admitted after taking a sip. Indeed, liquid courage. “I felt awful when I woke up. But it was an epiphany of sorts. It really made me understand how fucked up it all was. I don’t usually have those dreams.” You admitted. “Although I have dreamt random stuff about being naked and sexual feelings related to non-sexual contexts. Like once I dreamt I was canoeing on a rough river and I had this complicated torso bondage thing going on.” You laughed awkwardly.

Breast bondage. He was salivating. Maybe he was overthinking it but his mind had reserved a special spot for your breasts and maybe you didn’t even like nipple play that much and he was just making it up in his head. He closed his eyes to avoid checking your chest. He knew it would kill him. He was already dealing with a semi, elbows propped on his knees to hide it, hoping that the angle and the dim lights would help him. In a part of his brain he started building a folder about your previous relationship, saving there all the useful information. He sort of assumed, because of the dream you had recollected, that oral was some sort of hot topic during that time.

“Thank you, Kitten. I was afraid I had gone too far.”

“It’s okay. It’s just… I do wanna open up to you, but there’s hurtful stuff in the process.” You admitted. “I’m a bit fucked up.”

“We all are, sweetheart.” He reassured you, wanting nothing but to hold your hand, bring it to his heart, to his face, to his lips.

“My turn!” You smiled excitedly. “Sleeping habits: pjs, underwear or naked?”

“My sleeping habits or my preferences for my significant other?” He asked, trying to understand the answer you expected.

“Well, since you asked, both? For the kisses question earlier.” You reminded him.

“Nice, okay. I often sleep in pjs, especially when it gets colder. Naked feels nice too, I guess. Usually in the summer. When I’m on vacation.” He thought about the other one. How would he want you to sleep next to him? “I think I like my partner in very loose clothing. Oversized t-shirt and panties.” No bra, of course. He wants his hands to move there freely. “Naked sounds nice, but I don’t expect it. Some people feel vulnerable like that. My ex did.” He explained.

You understood, people are different, et cetera, but at the same time you asked yourself who wouldn’t want to sleep naked next to him. Feel him waking up, his warm skin enveloping you, his hands and mouth having free access to anything he craved, being completely laid bare for his whims and wants.

He noticed you were distracted and asked you his question right away.

When you noticed him staring you moved your head forward, waiting for him to speak.

“I’ve already asked, but maybe you were distracted, Kitten. How would you rate your sex drive from one to ten?” He asked. “To understand your needs, you see.”

You settled back against the back of the sofa, smiling and thinking. “I’d say around seven? Maybe eight? Like, usually I fool around about two or three times a week. Maybe four if I’m feeling very spoiled and needy.” You explained, fumbling around with the words. Yeah, you have toys and use them. Yeah, you masturbate and have an healthy sex life. Getting laid helps you deal with stress and mood swings, and endorphins help you keep your mood up, what’s wrong with that?

“Reasonable.” He didn’t comment on your fooling around. He might as well try to figure that out with the next question.

“What about you?” You asked.

“Is that your question, Kitten?” He waited for your confirmation. At your lively nod, he smiled. “I think I’m also around seven. As you said, I fool around about three to four times a week, when I’m quite relaxed. Sometimes I might get too tired and just avoid it entirely. Sometimes I’m tired but nervous and just do it more often but take shorter sessions. My question now.” He wanted to speed things up a little. It was around three now and he was afraid you wanted to bail on him.

“Go.” You said, already expecting this one to be bad.

“Do you use any sex toys?”

You laughed. “Yes. I do.”

“That’s it?” He asked, impatient to know more.

“When did this conversation become so explicit?” You asked.

“It was you who started it. But since I’m interested in knowing what you like and what you need, I realised I could use it to my advantage. I want to build intimacy with you before I start actually messing with you. I want our first time to feel right. I want to be able to laugh it out, were things to get messy. I want to know how to make you lose your mind beforehand.”

“If you say so…” You smiled suspicious but also curious. “I have a vibrator. A simple, practical one. Very old school, a bullet number. I also have a double density dildo. Expensive ordeal, but most definitely worth the money. And nipple suction cups. They’re still new. It’s a gift from myself I did a few months ago after a tough time at work.”

Fuck, he wanted to shove his head in a frozen lake. Could you? For real? He dragged his hands down his face.

“I wish I could see what’s going on in your head right now.” You wondered, faking aloofness. You were most likely ready to spread yourself on the coffee table and ask him to feast on you. “Now, about my question.” You followed your intuition. “What’s the body part that turns you on the most?”

He took a sip.

Don’t leave me hanging, Yoongi, please. “I like eye contact. Makes me understand the mood of my partner. It really turns me on when my partner maintains eye contact during sex. And I’m a breasts man. A hopeless one at that.” Again he shrugged in an “I can’t help it” kind of way.

You laid your head back against the sofa, looking at him with a knowing glance from under your lashes. “Interesting.” How long would it take to convince him to rip your shirt, slip the cups of your bra under your tits and suck your nipples until you orgasmed a couple times and fell asleep?

He took another sip. He was blushing. You liked your nipples sucked. And he liked sucking them. How convenient. “What’s a blatantly nonsexual thing that turns you on?” He asked, putting down the glass.

You did consider drinking. Could you handle him knowing such a sensitive piece of information? To hell with reason. “If you cup my face I’ll go smitten. Pair that up with a term of endearment or a little praise and I’m ready to drop to my knees.” You admitted.

“Praise kink?” He asked.

“No. I just get soft when someone cups my cheek. It makes me want to please them.” You admit.

“You know I’ll use this against you the moment you allow me to, right?” He states openly.

“Yes. I don’t mind.”

“Ask your question. It’s number ten baby.” He looked at his watch. “It’s late. Tell me when you want to go. I’ll understand.”

“I want to keep going.” You said. In more ways than one. “What’s something you want to try in bed?”

He stared off in the distance. “Oh. Let me think.” He started bouncing his leg. “Specifically in bed?”

“Yes.”

“I’m pretty sensitive. Maybe I would try something with blindfolds and restraints and sensation play? Like a feather or silk or something along that line.” He blushed and his his eyes in his hands.

“That sounds interesting. You want to try that on someone else or on yourself?” You asked for clarification.

“Myself. But I’m not opposed to doing that to someone else. Okay, let’s go on, I’m suffering here.” Inhale. Exhale. “Do you want to take it down a notch or keep going?”

“Keep going.” You murmured, afraid of what would come next, but also excited.

“Kitten, what makes you wet in seconds?” He whispered.

“You want to use this against me too?” You suspected.

“Only in your best interests.”

“Do you mean sexual things that turn me on innocent ones?” You pushed your head behind your ear.

“Do your thing, kitten.”

“On a more innocent level, I’m really sensitive to voices. I must say that yours unsettles me a little.” You confessed on a small note, with a tiny voice. “On a sexual level, I’m a mess for anything around my chest and neck. It makes me weak at the knees, it really drives me wild.”

“Touching, kissing, biting, sucking, licking…?” He suggested, fixing his posture.

“Yes to all.” You whispered, stretching to get the glass.

“Yeah.” He took a sip himself.

You gulped and put down the tumbler. “Do you ever willingly deepen your voice?”

“Yes. I did it for you, when we met. I saw you shiver when I did it accidentally, the first time we met at the office. So I did it again. I wanted you to notice me, I wanted to get you flustered.” He admitted shyly.

You sucked you lip. “You did. I was squeezing my legs so bad. You know when you stood up and said goodbye?”

“You were holding the edge of the table.” He remembered, nodding.

“My knees were wobbly. I don’t think my legs could hold me up.” You confessed, shaking your head timidly.

“Poor Kitten.” He said, hiding his mouth behind his hand. “Can I ask you a tricky question, sweetheart?”

As you nodded he huffed out a question, scared to ask. “Oral: giving or receiving.”

“Giving. Receiving is a difficult matter. My ex didn’t really… enjoy that.” You spoke vaguely.

He did a double take. “He didn’t eat you out?”

You shook your head gingerly.

“He was shit.” He muttered, pouring himself another shot. You were eleven questions in and he’d drunk only sips. And it was not because he didn’t answer but rather because he needed to calm his nerves before he jumped you.

“I guess so.” You giggled embarrassedly.

“Never?” he asked again, shocked. “Never in 3 years?”

“Never.” You confirmed. “He said the taste made him gross.”

“Gross… And he wanted you to suck him, quite obviously.”

“I didn’t mind. I like the view”. You admitted with a playful gleam in your eyes.

He saved that for later, but at the moment he was too busy handling the matter of your ex. “Fucker.” He replied and took a sip. “But are you opposed to it?” Yoongi asked, curious and honestly worried. He would give anything to convince you to let him change your mind.

You blushed. “I’ve done it a couple times with a few flings, but just like you and noise-making, my mind is kind of set on giving rather than receiving. Still, I think I could give it a try.” You announced.

“I’m glad you’re not letting that fucker take that from you.” He admitted, keeping the glass in his hand and holding onto it like it were his sanity.

“If I’m being honest, after that time we went to the park– you remember the ice cream right?”

Yeah, he remembered. Most importantly he remembered the huge boner he’d got as he watched you eating it, his body losing it like a teenager. He nodded.

“I think I’ve started to think about… Your head. There.” You were getting loose-lipped.

You were going to make him sin. He swore under his breath, downing the shot. Again you laughed, enjoying how you were affecting him. “Gonna show you how good it is.” He teased.

“Hope you’ll show me many, many things.” You joked cheekily.

“Trust me, I’m keeping a list, sweetheart.” And the final smirk made you want to rip your own panties and offer yourself to his pink, wet tongue. “Are you okay, Kitten?” He asked, reaching for your knee.

If he touches me, I’ll fucking explode. And there was his hand. On your knee. “Have you ever had sexual fantasies about a man?” The words left your mouth quickly.

He let his fingertips caress your clothed skin. He wished you were wearing a skirt. “I consider myself attracted to people regardless of their gender identity. I had a very brief fling with a man once, but nothing truly ever happened. We just kissed a couple times, but we weren’t right for each other, emotionally. He was too reserved for me. And he was incredibly untrusting.”

“So trust is the dealbraker? Trust?” You asked, immediately interested in something that had changed his relationship so dramatically.

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Okay. I understand.”

“Moving on. What are your thoughts on the last time you had sex?” He kept spurring you on, going deeper and deeper under your skin, getting closer and closer to your soul, trying to discover the very heart of you, and most importantly if he had any chance to settle there.

“Oh God.” You laughed. “It was almost eight months ago. It was traumatic.” Again you laughed.

“Is that an exasperated laugh?” He asked, worried but also interested in your ironic reaction.

“I’m laughing to hold back tears. Last time I had sex, the dude had a dick too big for his own good and didn’t know how to use it. I definitely faked the second one because he kept poking me with his fingers. I asked to change positions so I could touch myself and cum. It was awful.” You laughed some more. “When I went back home I just had to take care of myself.”

“Promise you won’t fake with me.” He almost begged. “Promise me you won’t go home and take care of yourself.”

“I can promise you the first.” You bit your lip. And drank. Don’t ask me the second, please don’t. Please.

“I’ll need the other one too, you know.” He said, pressing you in the matter.

You have no idea, Yoongi. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” He murmured, frowning.

Because I did that so many times already coming home from dates with you, every time silently begging you to kiss me, to touch me, to ruin me. “I’ll try to from now on.”

“I’m sorry if I sent you home frustrated before. But I honestly needed to take my time.” He shoved his hands in his hair, combing it back. “I tend to rush. Once I let go.” He confessed exhaling loudly. He looked at you with a lustful glance. “But I promise I’ll take care of you. Completely.” He was getting flirtier.

“Quickies or long session?”

“Is that your question, kitten? Are you sure?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Answer me, Yoongi.” You laid back, opening your legs just lightly. Anything to lessen the discomfort lodged in your crotch.

He looked amused. “I can do both. But long sessions for the win. The devil’s in the details and the sex is in the foreplay.” He also leaned back and parted his legs, mirroring you perfectly. “What’s the best sex you’ve ever had?”

“A guy I was dating on-again-off-again, before I met my ex. I was twenty. I let him go because I was starting to fall for my ex. He showed me half the stuff I like. The other half I picked up myself.”

He wanted to know more. He wanted to know what you liked, what he owed some horny teenager and what you had discovered yourself. How you had discovered it. Most importantly, he wanted to excel in everything you liked. He wanted to please you again and again, till you were drunk in bliss and his taste, your skin glistening in a gross and divine mixture of his sweat and drool and your own perspiration. He wanted messy and loud and obliterating.

He wanted…

“Have you ever touched yourself while thinking of me?” You asked, bold, spitting the question out of your tongue like ripping off a band aid.

He threw his head back, groaning in something that looked like pain. It wasn’t arousal. You were quite sure.

He was burgundy with shame and effort. He grabbed the glass and downed the alcohol in one go. “Yes.”

You rolled your neck and exhaled, moaning.

“Almost every day.” He went on. “I can’t get you out of my head and I need it to stop for just. One. Second.”

You gulped, then took a big breath through you mouth. “I have too. Thought of you, that is.”

“I assumed so.” He whispered. “I’ve thought of things I’m not proud of, Kitten. I’m a grown, respectful man, but you’ve made such a sorry mess of me.”

“I am so sorry, Yoongi.” No, you’re not.

“You’re truly sadistic, aren’t you?” He asks.

“Is that your question?”

“No.” He pauses. “What’s your favourite body part on yourself and on me?”

Your heartbeat felt like a joke. You closed your legs. No need to try and play it cool. You were drenched, and you were afraid that by now it was actually starting to show. “I think I like my hands? Or maybe… I don’t really know. I think my hands are nice.”

“They are beautiful, ____, really.” So were your tits, but it didn’t feel quite right to point that out in that precise moments.

“Thank you.” You took a long break, biting your lip before going on with your answer. “On you... I’ve been thinking about those hands a lot”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You deadpanned. The background music shifted to something sultry and so slow you felt like desire was spiraling in your loins with that cool, rich drawl.

“What about them?” He continued.

You took a sip of your drink, looking at him from under your lashes. “Around my throat.”

Yoongi sat back, undoing one button of his shirt. “Keep going.”

“One around my throat, the other in my hair as you kiss me, drawing me in. Keeping me still.”

“Keep going.” He said, closing his eyes and rolling his shoulders.

“Maybe I’ve been thinking of your hand on my chest. Your fingers pinching my nipples.”

“God bless you, Kitten. What else did my naughty hands do in those dreams of yours.”

Your voice got breathy and shy. “Maybe… Just maybe they got between my legs.”

“And how did that make you feel.” He was going to lose it.

“Horny.”

His heavy breathing stopped for a second. “Did you touch yourself?” His eyes opened to look at your reaction.

You nodded slowly, trying to get some saliva in your awfully dry mouth. The whisky helped. “I needed it.”

“Good girl.” He praised your honesty, again trying to work on that association between your openness and a positive outcome. He thought it was over. Your confession.

“But to be honest what really made me cum was thinking of your pretty pout on my breasts, licking my tits and biting into the soft skin there.”

He growled, pushing the balls of his hands against his eyes. “Kitten, I think I just came in my pants.”

You laughed wildly at his honesty, rolling your head back and teasing him, showing the expanse of your neck and chest.

“Cruel, ain’t you?”

“I’m also sweet.”

“I don’t care, I’ll lick you up anyway.” He teased downing his glass. His second.

You both did a refill. You were tipsy and his eyes had a gleam that wasn’t there at the beginning of the evening.

“You won’t be able to drive me home.” You murmured.

“Do you really want me to?” He asked.

“No.” You answered.

“Remember, I promised not to fuck you tonight, Kitten.” He reminded you.

“Not even foreplay?” You pouted. “Not even making out? A small peck on the lips?”

“I’m hungry for you. That shit just ain’t it.” He growled. You knew he had deepened his voice for you.

You crossed your legs. “Do you like massage?”

“What number is that?” He asked, referring to how many questions you’ve gone through.

“Fifteen. Do you?” You pressed him, trying to get him to talk.

“I mentioned being sensitive. I do like that when I’m in a stressed mood. I like it after a warm bath, with warm lotion or massage oil. It really makes me weak. An ex introduced me to it and I think I got a bit addicted to it, whenever I feel like I need to be taken care of.”

“It sounds nice.” It felt like a nice pause from the kinkfest that had been going on until five minutes ago.

“Have you ever cried while you were in bed with someone?” He asked, his voice delicate as he reached for another intimate, although innocent side of you.

“The first time I hooked up after my ex. It was so liberating I cried. The guy beside me freaked out a little, but he understood. He was kind, just very emotionally dumb, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry for that. It sounds like he scarred you so much.” Yoongi commented, his boiling desire subduing at your vulnerable, tender side. A silly, egotistic part of him wanted to heal you. Try as hard as he might.

“It’s cool.” Your mouth quirked to the side. “Let’s move on to brighter themes, yeah? What’s your favourite thing to do, sexually speaking?”

He looked at you with doubt in his eyes. You knew the past scars conversation wasn’t over. Still, he smiled bright and replied. “I want to suck your nipples. Bite your soft, round tits, leave hickies all over them.” He leaned over, feeling bold as he let his hand catch yours. He scooted closer to you, his voice so deep he sounded like Hades, god of the Underworld. “That’s one of my favourite things in bed. And not just there, honestly.”

Could a person die from arousal? Because you felt your heart burst at that moment, explode like a match and light up your bonfire body. “Yoongi.” You murmured as he let the back of his fingers travel along the outer side of your thigh in a phantom touch.

“You wanna know what else I really, really like doing in bed? Another fantasy of mine?” He asked, his tone patronising but his posture all the opposite, respectful and tender, like a man talking to his woman. He leaned down, close to your ear. “I want you to sit on my face, Kitten. I wanna lick you up like you’re dripping in cream. I want my face covered in jour taste. I want to choke between your legs. Will you give me that?” He asked, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and placing a soft kiss on your temple. “Will you give me that, Kitten?”

You had gone completely still, afraid that even your smallest move could break the spell. “Take it now, please, Yoongi.” You begged. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m so wet. I’m so tired of needing you all the time!” You whined, grabbing his hand and placing it between your clothed thighs, where your wetness had started to diffuse.

“I can’t, Kitten. You know our promises. But what about my question, uh? Have you ever had a threesome, sweetheart?”

“Once. After leaving my ex I had some wild times. A couple of university friends asked me to join them. I sort of liked it.” You admitted, as your hips tried to grind against his barely-there fingers.

“Liked doing it with a girl?” He asked, gripping your thigh and pressing you down, stopping your attempt at release.

“I liked eating her out.”

“Kitty girl likes using her tongue. Good for her.” He murmured, trying to stop the image of you doing that. He needed to try. Needed to see. Fuck monogamy, he could try this before you became too his to share.

By now he was sitting at your side and you were doing everything, everything in your power to stop yourself from straddling his lap and shoving his head between your breasts. You took your glass and took a sip, his nose drawing a thin line following the outline of your throat while swallowing. You almost choked. “What’s your favorite part of sex?”

“Foreplay. But it was already clear, wasn’t it?” He taunted. “You need to focus, Kitten. Ask the right questions. Mirror sex?” He queried.

“Yes.” You replied. Alcohol spurred you on. “Honestly, I want to try giving a man a hand job while stading behind him, in front of a mirror. I’d like to feel the power of that.” You shrugged.

“That sounds nice.” He played it cool, the erection in his trousers now too blatant to even bother covering.

You almost wanted to ask him if he had a full-length mirror nearby so you could get started right there and then. But you didn’t like how cool and unaffected he seemed. You wanted him to get flustered and drink and undo another button. You wanted him to throw his head back so you could lick a stripe up his neck. “And I would whisper dirty stuff in your ear. Don’t think I didn’t notice how flustered you were during our gallery visit.”

“Darling, that was an exercise in restraint. I almost smashed you against the closest painting at least three times.”

“Only three times?” You lifted your eyebrows dramatically.

“I’m almost offended, Min Yoongi.”

“Careful there, Kitten.” He warned.

“Unless?” You provoked him.

“I’ve promised I won’t fuck you tonight.” He murmured.

“Such a coquettish tease you are.” You huffed, looking away.

“I want you to ruin me, Kitten. We can’t do that until promotion is over and you can leave marks all over me as much as you want.” His deepened voice made you squirm on your seat, legs crossing in desperate need to ease the pulsing under your panties.

“It’s almost four a.m. Are you sure you want to finish this?”

I want you to finish me. “Question...”

“Eighteen, babe.”

“Mh, nice. If your partner ever caught you touching yourself, would you keep going?”

“Depends, but yeah, I think so.” Pause. “I would put up a nice show for you.” He palmed his erection through the fabric, trying to get more comfortable.

Yes, you noticed. No, you did not comment. Self combustion is not your current goal, after all. “That’s all you’re gonna offer me?” You asked piqued, dragging your fingernail from his knee to his hipbone slowly. He didn’t manage to hold back a shiver.

You chuckled lowly. “Sensitive little thing.”

“My turn, little devil. What of masturbating while dirty talking?” He asked, his arm moving behind your back and climbing up, snaking around your shoulder, his hand grabbing your chin to shift your gaze from his lap to his face.

“Want to know a secret, baby?” You lured him in, carefully.

“Everything.”

“I’ve touched myself while listening to you.” You whispered at his ear, goosebumps raising everywhere, his whole body growing too sensitive as your hand moved to his inner thigh.

“Really?” Yoongi asks, trying to push his crotch in your palm.

You retreated your hand, offering only the tip of your index finger, which started lazily tracing the outline of his hard on. “I’m sorry. Does it bother you?”

He winced. He would really come in his pants like a teenager. Was your question about your hand or about using his voice to get yourself off? He didn’t mind, both. “I’m perfectly good with it, Kitten. I’m just surprised. What was I talking about.” His voice was neutral, but his eyes were closing, mouth hanging open.

You neared your mouth to his ear and started explaining. “It was a voice note. You were discussing a beat, describing the vibe of the piece you had just finished, murmuring stuff about the bass and not being sure of the tempo, maybe slowing it down.”

“And you came to that?” He asked, opening his eyes and meeting yours.

You were stroking him through his clothes and you hadn’t even kissed him yet. I told you. A slut. That’s what you are. You reprimanded yourself. “I came to the sound of your voice. The pattern of stresses. It was so relaxing. The way your voice resonated.” You kissed his jaw, taking courage.

He smiled. “Next time I’ll send you something more... stimulating, then.” He cocked his head to the side, showing you the soft skin below his chin.

You kissed there too. “I’ll look forward to it.” Another kiss. “Final question.” Another. “if you could do anything to me right now, what would you do?” You placed another kiss on his neck as he moaned, his hips moving shamelessly.

You offered him your palm.

He groaned when he started answering. “Tear your clothes off. Suck your panties clean ‘cause they must be soaked.”

You squeezed your hand around his shape. He was rock hard, the curve following the waistband of his pants. He didn’t feel excessively big, but still his thickness felt nice on your palm. You just wished you could see him naked. He emitted a low whine, his hand dropping from your chin and hitting your chest. “Keep going, Yoongi.” You encouraged him, needing to know what he wanted to do to you.

“I would lick you clean. Fuck you on the sofa, you on top of me. Riding me while I suck on those gorgeous tits.” His hand reached lower, holding your breast and rolling it expertly in his gentle grip. “I’d cum in your cunt while I’m balls deep inside you. And when we’re done I would fuck my cum back inside with my tongue.” He growled like a vicious beast and you just couldn’t help it, you needed your hand between your thighs. You obeyed to your need.

“You’re a filthy, greedy boy, Yoongi, aren’t you?” You asked, giving him more, rewarding for the glorious image he’d just gifted you.

“It’s with you. Just you.” He called out, his voice broken, his mouth desperate. “My final question. Why haven’t you kissed my lips yet?”

“I was waiting for you.” You murmured, bringing your lips upwards, against his throat. He was completely immobilised as you lingered a hairsbreadth from his plush pout. “Yes?”

“Yes.” He whispered.

That’s when you lowered yourself on him, once hopeless, starved and now finally hopeful and nourished.

He feeded you milk and honey, his assault sweet and rich, a balm to your tarnished soul. His lips latched onto your lower lip, sucking and sucking in a way that made you want to offer him every inch of your body. Yes, you would still wait for this. You would keep waiting. For this moment to come back, for this feeling to bloom and fill you over and over again, anytime he kissed you, from now to the rest of eternity. You murmured his name on his mouth and he spoke yours, with alarm over his features.

“Too much, too much, Kitten, please.” He whispered, pressing harder against your hand. “Want you. Please. Touch yourself. I wanna cum with you.”

He was lost and desperate, grinding against you like a fool.

You undid your zipper and put your hands on your sodden folds. You delivered a peck on his lips. “How close?” You asked.

“Very.” He replied, wetting your lips with the tip of his tongue, making you open your mouth and licking you up, flirting with your own tongue.

You pulled away to bite his jaw gently. “I’ve never been this wet, Yoongi. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Gimme...” You studied the geography of his lap, finding his tip and focusing there. “Yes.” He murmured, before intensifying his pushes. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Please, ____, let me hear you.”

You let out an embarrassed, tentative whine, then, trying to properly assist him, you started getting carried away, losing your damper, clenching your inner muscles and whispering his name. “Yoongi, I’m close.” You murmured. “Need you to…”

“Yes, Kitten, baby, please… I–” With a groan, he hid his head in the crook of your neck, biting on the skin, not too harshly.

It was all it took. “Yoongi!” You screamed, pushing into your own hand and collapsing against the back of the couch, dragging him with you.

When you regained conscience, he was already out of his high, looking flustered and sleepy and glowing. Beautiful.

“Can I?” He uttered quietly.

You nodded, barely coherent.

He helped your hand out of your waistband, careful not to stain your clothes. And granting you a fine view, he brought your hands to his mouth and licked them clean.

His tongue delved into every angle and plane, making sure he got every drop. Licking his lips, he stared into your soul and murmured deeply. “The fucking sweetest.”

And then he held you close. “There’s a spare bathroom, at the end of the hall. It has everything you need.” He explained. “I’ll get cleaned myself. Will you sleep in my bed?” He asked, his voice so vulnerable it shattered your heart.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

#bangtan sonyeondan #bts smut #bangtan smut #min yoongi #min yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenario #yoongi imagine #yoongi one shot #yoongi reaction

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lovely-ateez · 4 years ago

Text

Silver Nights With You~

ꕥPosted: 12/18/20

ꕥGenre: College!au, Christmas Imagine, Fluff, Angst & Smut (You know it’s gonna end happy, I’m a sap)

ꕥPairing: FemReader! x Mingi

ꕥSummary: You get stuck in a cabin with Mingi and shit goes down( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

ꕥWord Count: ~4.9k (Holy shit I’ve never written this much before I am so sorry)

ꕥWarnings: Angst, Thigh riding, Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it my dudes), Praise (m & f receiving),

ꕥA/N: This is the most angst I will ever write, I was genuinely on the brink of tears while writing this because I honestly can’t stand people being sad. Anyway this literally took me days to write and I really hope you all like it :)

ꕥTagging: @raysanshine

“It’s fucking cold.” I took a sip of my hot cocoa, burying myself deeper in the mountain of blankets on my lap, glancing at the snow falling outside.

Wooyoung scoffed and spread his arms along the back of his couch, “It’s December, of course it’s gonna be cold.”

I turned back to him, “Okay, yeah, but I’m still gonna complain about it.”

“You complain about everything.”

“That is a gross over-exaggeration that portrays me in an unfair light and, frankly, you should be ashamed.”

My closest friend smiled, showing his slight dimples. His eyes drifted to my own, smile fading slightly. “What do I have to do for you to join us? Even for an hour or so?”

I sighed. Wooyoung had been bothering me about coming to our friend Yunho’s annual Christmas party for days now, but I simply wasn’t in the mood.

“I’d rather not go at all.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

A year ago at the same party, my boyfriend Mingi broke up with me. It wasn’t a bad breakup, but it still hurt. He was set to study abroad for the next year and it just made the most sense to him, he told me. So who was I to stand in the way of his dreams? We decided to cut contact shortly after, it being too painful for us to even have small talk. We hadn’t talked since.

I’d spent the following year in a limbo, trying my hardest to enjoy my newfound independence, but ultimately failing, my thoughts somehow finding their way back to Mingi. Everything reminded me of him.

Rainy days made me think of the way he loved to dance with me in the rain, spinning me and smiling wide, warm raindrops messing up our hair. Sunny days made me think of the times we’d both take off work to have picnics, making wishes on dandelions. Stormy days made me think of how we’d cuddle up to one another and watch a trash movie, making fun of the characters’ bad choices. He was a part of me. He always would be. I suppose two years of dating does that. I suppose they take a part of you with them, too.

I told myself I healed. I told myself I was over him. But deep, deep down I knew I wasn’t. Part of me never would be.

“He won’t be there this year, if that helps at all.”

I remained silent, refusing Wooyoung a response, looking down at the carpet.

“I get it. I know what you’re going through. It really wasn’t that long ago that Aisha broke up with me.”

My eyes darted up. Wooyoung hadn’t talked about their breakup with me yet. I refused to push him, knowing he was still in pain and that he’d tell me when he was ready.

“It was for the best but I can’t pretend like I’m gonna move on soon. We were dating for a year and a half for god’s sake.” He let out a bitter laugh and turned to me, “I know it’s tough, but would you do it for me? Please come.”

“Okay.”

The high shrill of a female voice rang out through my phone, leading me to pull the device away from my ear.

“I knew Wooyoung could get you to change your mind!”

“Arin I get that you’re excited, but I’m gonna go deaf if you keep yelling.”

“Ack I’m sorry! I’m just so excited to see you! It’s been, what? Five months since I saw you last?”

“Yeah something like that.”

“Well anyways, I know it’s probably tough for you but I really appreciate you going. I know everyone else will, too.”

I tried to push down the longing I felt for Mingi, remembering the previous year in far too much detail.

“Yeah it’ll be nice to see them.”

“Okay I hate to cut it short but my boss might actually fire me if he finds me on my phone again.”

“You’re literally dating him. There’s no way in hell he’d fire you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Shh not so loud!”

I rolled my eyes, knowing I was speaking no louder than usual.

“Alright. Take care then. I’ll see you at the party.”

“Yep! Love you, girly!”

“Love you, too. See ya.”

My phone beeped, signaling the end of the call.

I checked the calendar hanging on the wall of my bedroom. Three more days till the party and I was dreading it more and more.

A knock at the door startled me and I made my way over, opening the door to find Wooyoung standing before me with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“What are you doing here?”

“What? Can’t a guy just drop by to say hello to his best friend?”

“He can, but you only do when you’re up to something. What is it this time?”

“Nothing! Scout’s honor!” He lifted a hand to make the famous three-fingered salute.

“You were never a boy scout, dumbass.”

Wooyoung brought a hand to his chest, mocking offense, “I’ll have you know that I simply brought flowers over as a thank you for agreeing to come with us.”

“Aww really? Do you wanna come in?”

“Yeah, really. But nah I can’t stay, I just wanted to drop them off.”

“You’re sweet.”

A cocky smile formed on his face, “I know.”

He passed the flowers over to me, giving me a hug and saying his goodbyes. I watched him walk to his car, a little skip in his step, wondering how anyone could let him go.

I grabbed my warmest jacket and walked out to my car. Today was the day I’d been dreading for weeks. Today was the day I’d have to put on a brave face and pretend I was alright. I mentally hyped myself up as I slid into the driver’s seat.

You’ll be okay. You’re strong. You can do this.

Snow was already starting to fall and I made a mental note to be careful. After all, Yunho’s cabin was roughly an hour away.

As I drove, the snow began to fall much faster, leaving me no choice but to feel concerned. My car didn’t have four-wheel-drive and what if my car got stuck? I was only fifteen minutes away but in snow like this with such a low temperature, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk the rest of the way.

The sun had already begun to set and seeing the road becoming much harder. Only four more minutes with the current speed I was going. I could make it.

Of course, the universe wasn’t having it and my car broke down almost immediately after I had the thought.

“Fuck.”

I panicked for a brief moment, trying to start up my car with no success.

Wait. My phone.

Grabbing my phone at rapid speed, I found it out of battery.

“I literally just charged it what the hell?”

I tried my best to cope with the fact that I had no choice but to walk the rest of the way. Taking a deep breath, I opened my car door and braced for the cold wind.

Trudging through the snow storm, I felt my ears and hands begin to hurt from the cold. I could barely see where I was going, having to rely on remembering where the cabin was based on the times I had been there prior.

Eventually I spotted a cabin in the distance and kept going, feeling myself lose heat with every step.

Finally, I climbed up the stairs and reached the main doorway.

I knocked loudly against the large wooden door, silently pleading for someone to answer. After waiting a few seconds with no response I tried to turn the door knob, grateful to find it unlocked.

I pushed the door open and entered, quickly closing it behind me. Warm air rushed over me and I never felt so thankful for indoor heating. The inside looked the same as it always did; the main door lead to the living room which had the same snow globes above the fireplace as always, the same Christmas decorations scattered throughout, and the Christmas tree in the same corner as usual.

I shivered and moved to find a blanket when I saw a tall figure enter the living room. I looked up, feeling my heart drop. Standing before me was the one man that I didn’t want to be here.

Mingi’s eyes widened and mouth opened, looking at me with surprise. It seemed both of us were frozen, unable to do anything other than look at one another.

His rich chestnut hair was longer than when I saw him last, it was parted in the center, reaching his eyes. He was wearing a fitted green sweater that complimented his honey skin and tight ripped jeans. I refused to allow myself to acknowledge how attractive he truly looked. I refused to tell myself how much I missed him and how I wanted nothing more than to jump in his arms.

“What are you doing here?” I managed to say, hating how timid my voice sounded. It’s because of the cold, I thought.

He seemed to come out of his trance, “I could ask you the same.”

“I’m here for the Christmas party.”

Mingi gave me a confused look. “The party isn’t until the twenty third.”

Annoyed, I narrowed my eyes, “It is the twenty third.”

He raised a brow and took his phone from his pocket, turning it to me, ‘December 19th’ it read.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I huffed, moving to sit down on the couch while running my hands along my arms for some sort of warmth. Mingi noticed immediately and left the room only to bring back several thick blankets.

I removed my jacket and wrapped the blankets around me as tight as I could.

“My car broke down a while back and my phone is dead. Is there anyone here that could give me a ride?” I didn’t want to spend more time with him than I had to. It hurt too damn much.

Mingi gave an apologetic smile, “I’m the only one here, actually.”

I gave the man a confused look, “Why are you here?”

“My second semester ended so I’m no longer studying abroad. I came back to visit friends but didn’t have a place to stay so Yunho has let me stay here for a few days.” He was silent for a few seconds before adding, “I was gonna leave before the party I-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself. It’s fine.”

Silence.

“I would take you home if I could, but my car is being fixed right now so it isn’t here. We could call someone maybe if that-”

“Yeah that’s fine. Can I borrow your phone?”

He nodded and handed it over. I didn’t notice it when he showed me his phone before, but his lock screen was different. It shouldn’t have hurt to see that it changed from a selfie of us to a picture of him with friends I assume he made abroad. It shouldn’t have. It had been a year, I should be over him.

I opened his phone without needing a password and tried to hide a smile. He never had a password in all the time I’d known him.

Good to know some things never change.

I dialed Wooyoung’s number and pressed the call button.

“We are sorry, but at this time your service provider is out of range. Please-”

Great.

I handed back his phone, “You don’t have any signal.”

“That’s odd, we always have service here...Do you wanna charge your phone? Maybe you’ll have better luck?”

“Yeah.”

He left the room and I placed my head in my hands, trying to process seeing him for the first time in a year. He was devastatingly handsome and still as kind as always.

I really miss him, don’t I?

His voice started me, “Hand me your phone, I’ll plug it in for you.”

I passed my phone over, accidentally touching his warm hands and I felt a spark run through me which I did my best to ignore. With almost comical timing, just as Mingi reached a plug-in, the lights went out.

“Uhh...that’s not supposed to happen.”

I scoffed, “No kidding. Do we have a generator?”

“Honestly, I don’t think we do.” Mingi gave me a sad look, “It’s been snowing hard outside for hours so there’s no way we’ll be able to leave now. Even with a car.”

“Awesome. I love to hear that.”

“At the very least we’ve got food to last us a few days. We should be okay-”

“Do I look like I want to spend several days here?” I snapped.

He looked taken aback at my words and I felt a pang of regret in my chest.

“I’m not sure we have a choice.”

I hated to admit it, but he was right.

“Do you want any food?”

“Huh?” I asked, confused.

“Are you hungry? I could make you something if you’d like.”

I thought for a moment. “Yeah, actually. If you don’t mind, anyway.”

Mingi shook his head, walking to the kitchen. I didn’t realize how hungry I really was until he mentioned it, so I didn’t care what he made for me.

Minutes later he placed a plate and cup on the coffee table in front of me.

My favorite sandwich and chips. He remembered.

It should have been considered kind, but it just broke my heart a bit further. It was a simple act, but it proved that he stored it in his memory.

He remembered.

“I hope it’s still your favorite. I got you your favorite lemonade, too.”

I nodded, trying to prevent tears from spilling.

“I’ll be honest, I’m not quite sure what to do.”

“Lighting the fireplace would probably be a good start.”

He laughed, “Ah you’re totally right. I’ll be back with a lighter, call out to me if you need anything.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

Stuffing my face with the sandwich, I hummed. I always loved his sandwiches. There was something special about them, knowing that he made them for me, and this one was no different.

Mingi once again returned, this time with a lighter and a blanket, lighting the fire and sitting down on the couch across from me, wrapping himself in the blanket.

I couldn’t help but wonder how I possibly ended up in the current situation. Maybe the universe was out to get me. Who knows?

I took another bite of my sandwich, hoping I’d be able to leave soon.

I briefly glanced over at Mingi to find him on his phone.

Lucky. I wish I had mine so I wouldn’t be so damn bored.

The crackle of the fireplace was the only noise for what seemed like an hour. Neither one of us spoke. Growing tired of not doing anything, I stood and walked towards the fireplace to admire the snow globes. I noticed that behind the globes rested a photo album. I debated whether or not I should open it for the span of a few seconds before my curiosity got the best of me.

Opening it up, I saw pictures of all of our friends from the previous years of Yunho’s Christmas party. I began to walk back to the couch with my eyes on the book when I tripped, some of the pictures falling out. Mingi noticed and quickly rushed over to my side.

“Are you alright?” He was careful not to touch me, I noticed, but he was still right by my side.

“I’m fine, just help me pick these up.” I motioned towards the pictures scattered across the floor.

“Of course.”

We resumed our silence, picking the photos up and placing them back in the book. Noticing Mingi had stopped helping me I looked at him, prepared to make a quick jab at him for not helping, when I saw why he stopped.

In his hands he was holding a picture of the two of us kissing, dated two years prior.

I let out an empty chuckle, devoid of all humor, “I don’t know why that’s still there. Here,” I reached out to take the photo, “I’ll throw it away-”

“Don’t.” His response was immediate, taking me by surprise. He shifted awkwardly, clearing his throat, “I’d like to keep it.”

My heart felt like it stopped for a moment, hoping he missed us as much as I did.

“Why?” I asked.

Mingi smiled, still looking at the frozen image of the two of us. “Do you remember this day?”

“Of course I do.” My eyes began to water without me realizing, “That day was the first time you told me you loved me.”

His eyes found mine, sadness within them, “Yeah. Yeah it was.” His voice became horse as if he was fighting back tears.

“I didn’t want to let you go.”

“Then why did you?”

His eyes drifted down. “I was traveling halfway across the world for a year. I guess part of me thought you would meet someone else. I wanted to save myself the heartbreak in case you did.”

“I would’ve gladly stayed with you if you had asked. I have no desire to meet anyone else. Ever. You are the only one for me.” I froze, the realization of my words hitting me.

Mingi looked at me, “When I was abroad, I missed you every second of every day and I have missed you every second of every day since.” His hands cupped my face as if I was made of glass and a single tear fell down his cheek, causing my own tears to spill.

I was no longer able to speak, and so I did the only thing I could think of: I kissed him.

I kissed him with all the hurt that I felt after he left me. I kissed him with the deep love that I still felt for him. I kissed him with the fear that I’d lose him once again.

Our kisses soon grew heated, the photo album quickly forgotten, and I found my arms wrapped around his neck, hands running through his soft hair while his found their way to the bottom of my sweater, toying with it.

“Do you want this?” He growled, voice much deeper and raspier than before.

“Yes.”

With that, he pulled my sweater over my head, eyes scanning the red, lacy bra I was wearing.

His favorite.

Mingi chuckled, “This is still my favorite bra of yours.”

“I don’t know, I’ve got some new ones that are pretty hot.”

He let out a groan and began to leave kisses down my neck, setting my skin on fire.

I stopped him, needed to know one thing before we continued, “Did you...have you...since we last...?”

He smiled, “How could I? I’ve only ever been yours. Have you?”

I gave a slight smile, “No. No, I haven’t.”

I kissed him again and lifted his sweater, tossing it across the room. He had slightly defined abs when I was with him before, but they were far more prominent now. His arms were much more defined and it took all of my concentration to keep from drooling.

“Like what you see, doll?”

My voice was a borderline squeak, “Yes.”

“You still into praise, sweetheart?

I nodded, pulling on his jeans. Only slightly embarrassed with how eager I was.

“Not yet, baby.” Mingi easily lifted me to the couch and helped me remove my jeans. He grabbed my hips and placed me on his thigh, tightening his muscles as he dragged my clothed core across his own jeans. In mere seconds I became a quivering mess. I realized how truly long it had been since I’d been with anyone like this, and I had to admit I was needy.

“What a good girl you’re being for me. Aren’t you? You’re doing wonderfully, my love.”

I whimpered and pulled myself closer to him.

“Are you close, baby?”

I nodded, maybe too quickly, and felt my orgasm wash over me. I panted, already out of breath.

“Good girl.”

Bringing my lips to his I reached for his pants again and this time he helped me remove them. As I grinded down against him, he let out a deep growl.

“Let’s rid you of these, hmm?”

He eagerly removed my panties and bra and stared at me for a minute.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

I blushed fiercely. “You’re so incredibly handsome. Somehow even more so than when I saw you last.”

Mingi looked at me with a shy smile then resumed his actions. He removed his underwear and ran his length across my slit, teasing me slightly.

“Mingi, I need you.” I begged.

His eyes darkened and he entered me without hesitation. My back arched as he reached a steady pace and littered my neck with kisses, most likely leaving hickies, marking me as his.

I pulled his hair, bringing him closer to me. Mingi was always fairly vocal, but he could never get enough of me pulling his hair, always moaning in response.

He reached down and toyed with my clit, causing sparks to fly through me.

“Fuck—babe don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t—shit—planning on it, doll.”

Both of us quickly reached our high, cumming at the same time. I pressed a hand against his chest as I caught my breath.

“You’re still really, really good at that.”

Mingi laughed, “You are too, sweetheart. Oh wait-”

He got up and returned with a warm towel, cleaning me up and looking at me fondly.

“You’re cute.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mingi smiled, placing the towel aside,“Now, how about we get under some blankets? We’ll feel cold soon enough.”

I nodded and began to put my undergarments on, reaching for my sweater.

“I think not.” He said, now with his pants on, handing me his own sweater which I gladly took.

“You look hella good in my clothes, miss.”

I giggled at his choice of words, feeling happiness bubble in my chest for the first time in a long time.

“You look hella good without a shirt, mister.”

Mingi raised a brow and ticked my sides, making me squeal.

“I’ll fight you!” I yelled.

He stopped and rubbed his nose against mine, “Sorry I can’t help it. Your laugh is the most beautiful sound in the world.”

“Shut up.” I laughed, feeling shy.

He placed arm around me, nuzzling my neck.

I turned to him, worry in my eyes, “I’m really sorry for lashing out at you earlier. That’s not like me.”

He smiled, “I know it’s not. But don’t worry about it, I understand. It’s a defense mechanism I guess.”

I cuddled up to him then realized I needed to use the restroom. I tried to get up when he pulled me closer to him.

“Please don’t leave me.”

“Silly, I just have to use the restroom. I don’t want a UTI.”

He laughed aloud, “Fine but you better come right back.”

“I will,” I told him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before I walked away.

I soon looked in the mirror of the bathroom, observing my flushed cheeks and the wide smile I couldn’t seem to wipe off my face.

This girl looks happy. I think I can get used to seeing her in the mirror.

I returned and was instantly pulled back into his arms.

“I love you.”

I felt a tear run down my face, feeling beyond happy, “I love you, too. So much.”

I wasn’t sure when, but I felt my eyes began to droop, slowly falling asleep in the arms of the man I loved.

The day following, Mingi’s phone recieved signal and I was able to call Wooyoung. Apparently the power lines had fallen, everyone in the immediate area losing power. The nearest roads had been somehow cleared overnight and he’d be able to come pick me up.

“Wooyoung’s on his way over, apparently everyone lost power.”

“Hmm. well I, for one, am glad we did,” Mingi pulled me into a tight hug.

“Yeah, me too.”

A silence fell between us, but it was comfortable this time.

Mingi spoke up, his voice becoming playful, “I’m taking you on a date soon. There’s nothing you can do about, I’m afraid you cannot refuse.”

“As if I would refuse.”

“Mmm.” I didn’t think he could, but he pulled me even closer to him.

“Mingi you’re literally gonna break my bones.”

He let go of me, eyes wide, “Did I hurt you? Gosh I’m so sorry I can—”

“You didn’t hurt me you goof.”

“Oh good. You scared me.”

The honk of a car horn scared me and I jumped, Mingi hiding a smile.

“Call me if you need anything, okay? You’ve got my number.”

“Of course.” Giving him one last kiss before I bid him goodbye and left the cabin, hopping in Wooyoung’s car.

“Holy shit are you okay? Was anyone even home? My god I feel so bad—”

“Mingi was there.”

Wooyoung’s face froze, quickly turning into a scowl, “I swear if he did anything to you—”

“No, don’t worry about it. We’ve made up,” I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face.

He didn’t say anything, he only stared at me before he spoke again, “You two totally fucked, didn’t you?”

“Wooyoung!” I slapped his arm in shock.

“You didn’t deny it!”

“Oh shut up. Just take me home.”

He playfully rolled his eyes and put the car in drive.

“Just so you know, I’m happy for you. I get why he did it but I am still a little pissed. I swear to fucking god if he breaks your heart again I will actually break his knee caps.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it. I wouldn’t worry to much about it, though.”

“If you insist, okay.”

“I do.”

December twenty third. The day that I had been dreading once, now one that I had been very much looking forward to. I checked my makeup and outfit once more before texting Mingi.

Me: I’m ready whenever you are!

Mingi Mango: I’m outside :)

Me: Shit, already?

Mingi Mango: Language

I scoffed, grabbing my purse and running outside to meet him.

“Babyyyyyy!” Mingi yelled as he saw me.

“Mangoooo!” I yelled back, jumping into his arms.

“How are you? I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Mingi it’s been two days.”

“But it feels like forever! You look absolutely stunning, by the way.”

“You cheese. You look really good yourself.”

“You know it,” Mingi winked and opened his passenger car door for me, “My lady.”

I was unable to keep from smiling, giving him a little kiss on the cheek and climbing into the car. The entire car ride was filled with lighthearted conversation, not a single silent moment between us.

“We’re here, doll.”

“Yes I see the cabin in front of us.” I teased him.

“Well just in case you didn’t I thought I’d let you know.” He laughed, eyes disappearing into crescents, and I felt my heart swell.

We held hands as we walked into the cabin, finding several pairs of eyes turning to us, then to our intertwined hands. I was pleased to find smiles on my friend’s faces, feeling happy that they were happy for us. Arin came running towards me at a seemingly inhuman speed and wrapped her arms around me.

“Ahhh how are you, girly? I’ve missed you so much! And you look gorgeous! I love that sweater on you! And your makeup! Wow! How’d you do that? Have you been eating well?”

“One question at a time, Arin.” I smiled.

“Sorry! I’m just so happy!”

"Me too!” I looked around, “Do you know where Wooyoung is?”

“Oh he’s out back with San. They’re having a competition to see who can build the better snowman.”

I shook my head with a smile.

At that moment she took a step back, looking at our hands. I had told her about Mingi and I dating again over the phone and she seemed happy for me, but I had to admit I was nervous to see her reaction in person.

“You,” She pointed a finger at Mingi, “If you hurt even a hair on her head I will actually fight you.”

Mingi’s eyed widened, assuring her that he would never hurt me.

She clapped her hands, “Well, good. Now that that’s over, do you all want a drink?” Arin cocked her head, the change in mannerisms throwing me a little.

“Yeah that’s fine.”

“Okay! I’ll be right back! Catch up with everyone you two!”

As if he was a ghost, Yunho appeared next to Mingi, scaring us both.

“Christ, Yunho. Give a man a warning first.”

“Sorry,” He chucked, “How are you both?”

“We’re doing well, thanks.”

“We’re happy.” Mingi turned to me and looked at me with heart eyes, butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

“You all are cute. Speaking of, you haven’t met Mia, have you?”

Mingi and I exchanged confused looks.

“No, I don’t believe so. Who’s that?”

“She’s my new girlfriend. We’ve been dating for a little over a month but if I’m being honest, I’m already head over heels for this girl.” Yunho turned, calling out to a girl surrounded by people, “Mia, can you come here?”

The short brunette walked over, a smile plastered on her face as she made eye contact with Yunho.

“I’d like you to meet my friends from high school.” He introduced us and she nodded, fully invested in the conversation.

“I’ve heard a lot about you both! I’m so excited to get to know you all better!”

I smiled at her enthusiasm, “Aww you, too!”

Arin walked over and handed Mingi and I our drinks, skipping off to meet another friend.

Yunho and Mia wondered off soon after, greeting more people coming in.

“Hey I’ve got something I wanna show you.” Mingi whispered in my ear.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Come with me.”

Before I knew it, Mingi was pulling me into a bathroom and locking the door.

“I know what you’re doing, Mango.”

“And what’s that?” He asked as he leaned down to reach my neck, kissing me gently, arms resting on my hips.

“We’re at a party.” I said, whining at him but doing nothing to stop him.

“I saw that couch when we walked in, you know? I’m never going to be able to look at it the same.”

“Me either.”

My head eventually won the fight I was having with myself, and I promised that if he could wait till he dropped me off I’d be all his. It seemed to appease him as he gave me one last kiss and led us out of the bathroom. Somehow, no one noticed and I was grateful, sure that my flustered expression would certainly give us away.

“Hey, look at this.”

My eyes moved in the direction Mingi was pointing, seeing a mistletoe directly above us.

“Oh you definitely planned that.”

“And if I did?”

“I’d kiss you all the same.”

Mingi bent down to kiss me, a hand on my face, another around my waist. As I wrapped my own hands around his neck, deepening the kiss, I couldn’t help but think that this was what true happiness felt like.

Thank you, Mingi. Thank you for giving me the greatest gift of your love. Merry Christmas, my love.

#atzinc #mingi #ateez #ateez smut #ateezau #college au #atiny #song mingi

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years ago

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80s movie prompt: Geralt started his own construction company right out of high school, but its only been a year and currently its just him. He has been hired to redo the roof and siding of the Pankrats' summer cabin and is allowed to stay there while he works but he isnt expecting the Pankratz prodigal son to return from his year at Oxenfurt and (taking one look at Geralt) decide he wants to spend the summer there too. Cue skinny dipping, sunsets, bonfires, and cuddling under the stars! ❤😏🥰

(Truly nothing could be as adorable as this. I’m going to make it very long so...oops)

Geralt is 23 and Jaskier is 21 in this story

---

Geralt hears the mysterious visitor approaching before he sees them. He’s extremely confused as to why anyone is coming out to the Pankratz family cabin at all; he was supposed to be out here fixing the roof by himself for the next week. There had been a storm earlier in the month and Mr. and Mrs. Pankratz had hired him (mostly out of obligation since he’d grown up next to them) to patch up a hole poked through the roof by a wayward tree branch.

They’d promised him a week alone at the cabin to hang out, thirty bucks for groceries, and (if they were impressed with the finished product) they’d even offered to spread the word of his small business around their workplaces. So he needed to do a good job.

Someone showing up out of the blue and clearly intending to use the property is...confusing, all things considered. Geralt climbs down from the roof and makes his way to the front of the little cottage to greet the stranger.

“And then you put your arms around me And we tumble to the ground And then you say, ‘I think we're alone now, There doesn't seem to be anyone around.’“

The red convertible’s engine cuts and the radio goes just as silent. The driver, a boy maybe a year or two younger than Geralt’s twenty-three, lifts his sunglasses from his shockingly blue eyes and stares back at the construction worker.

Like two dumb, gay deer stuck in each other’s headlights.

“Uh...hi?”

“Who’re you?” Geralt asks stupidly.

“Julian Pankratz. My family still owns this cabin, right? They didn’t sell it and then forget to tell me? I always come borrow it for a week at the end of July.”

“I’m just, uh, here to fix the roof.”

“Oh. Was it that nasty storm?”

“Yeah. Tree branch. I’m Geralt, by the way.”

“Cool. Julian, like I said, but I’d prefer it if you called me Jaskier.”

“Nice to meet you then, Jaskier. I’ve been staying in the guest room but I can move to the couch if you want it instead,” Geralt suddenly offers. Jaskier seems taken aback and waves his hands in front of his face.

“Wouldn’t dream of it! I’ll take my parents’ room.”

“Oh. Yeah, that works.”

Jaskier vaults over the door of the cherry-red Mustang and Geralt tries not to gulp visibly. Why the fuck is this adorable twink wearing a crop top?! Sure, Geralt had a few of his own cutoff shirts in his bag somewhere to use when it got too hot but he didn’t want to burn his shoulders during a job, but this kid was stylish. This was as calculated as Johnny Depp’s look in Nightmare on Elm Street.

The suddenly anxious contractor licks his lips and returns to the roof. He was only here to do a job, after all. There’s really no point in watching Jaskier meander down to the beach with a towel. No point in casting a few scattered glances as the gloriously slender man removes his shirt and lays down to tan.

But Geralt can’t help himself. Jaskier is, unfortunately, really fucking cute.

---

“So my parents didn’t bother to tell you that I was working here this week?” Geralt asks. He prods the dying fire with a stick and watches as the embers catch against a new log. Jaskier is wrapped in the softest looking burgundy sweater that Geralt had ever seen. His cutoff denim shorts were fraying at the hem, just above his knees, and the construction worker had to work to tear his eyes away.

Jaskier was, for lack of a better word, incredibly pretty.

His caramel bangs were feathered and side-swept. His eyes were a bright and sparkling in the flickering light of the bonfire. “My parents don’t talk to me a lot. They’re not super comfortable with my whole, uh sexuality.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“Would it be rude to say I’m not? I mean, I’ve been to enough gay bars to know what a twink looks like.”

“Oh so you...”

“Mhm.”

Jaskier’s smile takes on a slightly predatory edge and he slides closer in the sand, his hand fluttering up to Geralt’s knee. “Well.”

---

Three nights later Jaskier is laying with his head on Geralt’s chest, staring up at the dark sky above them. “You’re so soft,” the contractor mutters. His thumb is making slow circles on the skin of Jaskier’s upper arm.

“Moisturizer,” the younger man shrugs.

“You’re soft on the inside, too,” Geralt clarifies. “Like a fairy tale princess or some shit.”

“You’re like...hmm. I don’t know what you’re like. You’re very unique.”

“I’m just another kid who couldn’t afford college and started his own small business doing manual labor in the American Midwest.”

“You make yourself sound like a Stephen King protagonist.”

“Maybe not that tragic or romantic,” Geralt scoffs. Jaskier rolls up onto his elbows, head dangling just above Geralt’s. A pair of honey-hazel eyes blink drunkenly up at him. They may have broken into his father’s tequila stash (he can replace it later) and they may be a little tipsy.

“Oh you reek of tragedy and romance, my broody, winter-haired darling,” Jaskier giggles. He slides his nose back and forth against Geralt’s and listens as the older man rumbles happily beneath him. “May I kiss you?”

“Feel free.”

Jaskier presses his lips down against Geralt’s the world lights up around him, even in the dead of night. Oh, there’s something incredibly special about the elusive, quiet construction worker.

“Oh Geralt,” he gasps, pulling away for only a moment, “I think I might love you.”

#geraskier #geraskier prompt fill #geraskier 80's au #geraskier 80's #geraskier college au #summer lovin'#geraskier ficlet #tiffany i think we're alone now #geralt x jaskier #thank you for this adorable prompt #i loved it #and i want to turn this into a series #thoughts? would you read it?

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

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For mermay, #25 siren for Sternclay, rating up to you? Thank you so much, I love your fics!

Here you go! I went with SFW and it's set in the same universe as the other siren prompt I got this year

Joseph has sailed so far over the horizon of regret that he’s landed right back on the shores of resolve.

The highway curves through low mountains, extends in interminable straight lines of super-heated asphalt, and he drives both stretches with purpose, eyes fixed on his goal so as not to see the last forty-eight hours lurking in his rearview mirror.

When the sign reading “Kepler: Population 3,000 on land, 50 in water” reflects the setting sun he slumps back in the driver seat, too tired to be glad, excited, afraid, or anything else at all.

He passes the Cryptonomica, proclaiming itself the premier place to learn about the Roadside Sirens. Rolling his eyes means he nearly misses the drawbridge warning, the barrier dropping and bridge rising to allow a small sailboat to pass. It’s aboard this he sees his first siren; dappled tail hanging in the water as she converses with the other passenger and waves to the siren working the bridge.

The bridge lowers and he continues forward as the early evening overtakes the main road. Neon crackles to life, creosote and rabbitbrush drift through the window when he rolls it down. The sign on Amnesty Lodge declares vacancies, so he pulls into the parking lot. It’s a strange lay-out, little cabins dotting the patches of pools that, once upon a time, must have been enclosed in rooms. Now they glisten under the emerging stars, some surrounded by lawn chairs and set ups to play horseshoes or cornhole. The building housing the lobby is precariously perched on the bank of the slow flowing river, another building whose neon is unlit sitting beside it. He pays the young lady at the counter for a week to week cabin and lugs the remainders of his life inside.

In the bathroom mirror, the wear of this trip is clear in the wrinkles on his suit and the dust on his shoes. He strips down, rinses off, and heads into the night in his shorts and T-shirt from Puget Sound. On a whim he turns right, follows a trail that leads him into the state park. He pays the five dollar fee in a little envelope as he continues on his way. Just as he reaches a scenic viewpoint, the singing starts.

Joseph can’t see any of the singers, can only pick up six or so distinct voices swirling around him.

It’s said the roadside sirens will tell you what you need.

It’s said the roadside sirens are the only way Kepler gets new residents

It’s said the roadside sirens will lead you to your hearts desire.

It’s said the roadside sirens are not always gentle.

All that tugs at Joseph’s heart is exhaustion. When footsteps creak across the boards behind him, he turns to find a man in a ranger uniform. Their eyes meet a moment and the man nods in greeting, “Evenin sir, you got any questions?”

“What do you hear when they sing?”

The ranger shrugs, “I hear them singin’. Never been all that susceptible to ‘em. Well, except for one, but he don’t sing all that often and the last time it was to tell me he missed me while I was out here workin’.”

Joseph raises an eyebrow. The man comes close enough for him to see his name tag. All it says is, “Duck.”

Duck chuckles, leans his arms on the railing, “S’okay, most folks don’t believe me when I tell ‘em that. See, thing about sirens is, you gotta have unfulfilled desires for the song to take hold. First time I was in Kepler, didn’t have a goddamn clue what I wanted from life. When I came back, found the two things I wanted right away. Been pretty content since.” He glances at Joseph, “why, you hear somethin that worries you?”

“I don’t hear anything besides-”

A burst of blue and orange light spills across them; the building beside Amnesty Lodge has come to life, and Joseph can see a line out the door from here. More importantly, someone is singing and his body moves towards the source without him noticing.

“I mean, if your main want is you’re hungry, Lodge is a damn good place to start. Put Kepler on the map. Or, uh, guess the sirens put it there and the Lodge kept it there once the novelty wore off.

“Uhumm” Joseph nods, waving an absentminded goodnight as he follows the path back to the Lodge. He’s about to join the others waiting to get through the door when he gets a flash of an image; a draft on a desk, announcing the Lodge needed a cooks assistant.

What the hell, it’s worth a try right?

A knock on the back door summons an older man in a “Joshua Tree” shirt.

“Howdy, if you’re lookin for the line-”

“I’m here about the assistant job.”

“Uhh, o-kay. Not the best time for it, but follow me.”

The man leads him down a set of stairs to a kitchen that is half in and half out of the water in a way that defies logic and physics. Swimming about are several sirens, plus two humans on the shore, cooking and sending food up to the main building in a dance that borders on chaos. In the middle of it all is a siren with a deep copper tail that matches his short beard and long hair tied back in a bun.

“Barclay! You got a minute?”

“Not really!”

“Okay then. I’ll just have this fella wait in your office until dinner rush is over.”

“Sure great yeah Moira wheres the crawfish for table ten?”

Which is how Joseph finds himself sitting in a cabin, twiddling his thumbs. His manners fight his boredom until he pulls a paperback from the nearby shelf and loses himself in the exploits of a someone recreating dishes from ancient civilizations. Doesn’t look up until the door opens and the same man, now with legs instead of that beautiful tail, walks in.

“Phew” he shuts the door with a satisfied smile, rests his head on the wood, then whirls and slams his back against it when Joseph clears his throat.

“GAHWHATTHEFUCK”

“I’m, I’m so sorry, I thought you heard, um, Thacker, tell you he was having me wait here.”

“W-wait here for wh--Oh, oh right, the assistant thing.” The siren scrubs his face, “yeah, uh, guess Mama must've put the ad out. Uh, would you say you’re organized?”

“Extremely. But honestly it doesn’t seem like you need that much help on that front.”

A deep, rich laugh, “I cleaned this morning, last night it looked like an earthquake hit this place. Guessing from the fact you didn’t freak out in the kitchen you’re cool with the supernatural?”

“Yes. It’s an area of interest for me.”

There’s suspicion in Barclay’s voice, hidden but very much present, “why’d you end up in Kepler?”

“I came here on purpose. I wanted to be somewhere where strange things were celebrated and out in the open. Not...not kept from the world.”

Barclay leans back on his desk, arms crossed, “Where’d you work before now?”

“The…” he sighs, resigns himself to finding somewhere else to go, “the FBI. UP branch, I was at Nellis when they, um, relieved me of my duties.”

For a long moment, Barclay studies him. Then he turns to his desk, setting stacks of papers in order as he hums. Joseph closes his eyes, takes calming breaths; all he wants is to be safe, to not have to run. All he wants is for Barclay to hold him, he’s never seen a man so handsome and a useless, primal part of him fixates on that fact. Also he’s starving, god, he hasn’t eaten since his breakfast of black coffee.

Barclay stops humming, “Come with me.”

Joseph follows him back down into the strange kitchen (“couple of friends of mine are pretty powerful magicians. They rigged up the kitchen for me”). All the lights are off, and without them he discovers Barclay’s eyes glow an eerie yellow-green. When he smiles, Joseph sees only the points on his teeth, not the crinkle at the edge of his eyes.

“Hungry?” Barclay rumbles.

“Starving.”

“You eat fish?”

“...Yes?” Will the wrong answer get him drowned.

The cook leaps towards the water, tail appearing and clothes vanishing at the last moment before he hits the dark surface. Joseph stands, on edge and curious, until the siren emerges, newly-dead trout in his hands.

“Tastes best fresh.” Barclay swims to his grill, turning it on in a click of a knob.

“Why not just stay human when you cook?” Joseph makes his way over to the station as Barclay butchers the fish and sets it into a heavily buttered pan.

“The charm only holds for so long before I need to be back in the water, and I get so busy during meals I don’t want to risk passing out because I went too long on shore. Besides” he spins elegantly to grab two spice jars, “I learned to cook in the water, so this is the most natural way for me.”

“Fascinating.” Joseph sits down, keeping himself out of arms reach of the water. Barclay seems nice, but sirens did not become famous for offering people things and then following through; hundreds of dead travelers prove that much.

“Where are you from?”

“Chicago, originally.”

“Ever see the great lake mers?”

“No.” He can’t help but feel disappointed that he’s only learning of their existence now.

“Quite a few out there. Sirens too.”

Well, that introduces some new reasons for all the shipwrecks.

“How do you know? Are you from there?”

“Nah. Been in Kepler my whole life. Even during the bad years, singing people into that godawful, overpriced casino buffet. Convincing them the shitty cold cuts were prime rib.” His hand stills a moment, clenches and then releases, “yeah. Every now and then” he starts chopping shallots, “one of the drunks would get it into their heads to pet the sirens tail or hair and I had to sit there and let them. My tail” he shudders, swipes the shallots into the pan so roughly Joseph starts.

“Sorry.” Barclay mumbles.

“Don’t be. I’m on edge, that’s all. And you have every right to be angry. Being forced to do something you know is wrong is....there’s no winning.”

“That why you just want a place to feel safe?”

It’s so easy to confess in the darkness of the cave.

“I put up too much of a fight about something. Refused to do something that went against my conscience. They let me go, which I feared but expected. Then I found my bank accounts were cut off and someone had manipulated the records to say I’d been fired for criminal activity so it’d be harder to find a job.”

A clink of metal on china, and then Barclay is holding a plate out to him with tenderness in his eyes, “I’m so sorry, Joseph. Here, at least you won’t be hungry.”

Joseph murmurs out his thanks.

“You a wine drinker?”

“Right now I could certainly go for some.”

A few flicks of that stunning tail and Barclay returns with a glass of white for each of them.

“To getting free of shitty pasts.” The cook raises his glass and Joseph bumps his against it. Barclay brings it to his lips, but smiles rather than sip, “and by the way: you got the job.”

-------------------------------------------------------

Being Barclay’s assistant is fifty percent clerical work and fifty percent following the siren around as he gathers ingredients or tests recipes. On Ned Chicane’s recommendation, Barclay had published a cookbook of both traditional siren foods and his own creations. It became a bestseller which, among other things, means Joseph has a brand new wardrobe, regular deliveries of gourmet food, and his cabin is now full of books. Whenever he points out that Barclay is already paying him and doesn’t need to buy him things, the siren simply rubs their cheeks together (a thing Joseph is only now getting used to) and tells him he likes doing it.

So when he’s not getting his recipes in order or typing up scribbled note cards into something legible, he’s following Barclay on foot or in a boat while he harvests or buys ingredients. Sirens have permission to fish and forage in areas, including the park, that humans don’t, which means he runs into Duck and his siren husband, Indrid, on more than one occasion while hauling lines into the boat.

The one time it gets stuck, Barclay pulls it out all on his own. Almost like he’s showing off the muscles in his back, arms, and tail.

The only thing Joseph won’t do is get in the water with the siren. He can’t get the images of drowned sailors, of fishermen torn to shreds, from his mind. Barclay is powerful, sharp-toothed and slit-pupiled, dangerous yet so gentle he once purred when Joseph complimented his food. And if Joseph never goes in the water with him, he’ll never have to confront the fact he wouldn’t mind if those pointed teeth dug into his skin and that tail trapped his legs while he thrashed in Barclay’s hold.

He assumes Barclay doesn’t notice; after all, swamps and marshes, even the river, are far less suited to a human swimming in them than an ocean or lake. This conclusion is bolstered by Barclay never, ever asking him to join him in the water. The siren is less careful about singing; he usually just hums as he works, but sometimes he sings wordlessly and Joseph nearly dives head first into the water (Barclay’s lap, if they’re on land).

Tonight, he’s cleaning up after Barclay’s test session of new recipes in the kitchen. The cook went out to visit some friends who live further in the state park, so when his voice drifts across the stones Joseph is surprised.

Cool, calloused hands on his cheeks, a tail stroking his thighs, his lips tracing up a sturdy leg. Copper hair twined in his fingertips, a heart beating in time with his own, teeth sinking into his skin, marking him, claiming him.

Water fills his nose and his body jerks back to the present, standing up in the shallow water that he stepped and stumbled face-first into.

“Joseph? Oh fuck, are you okay?” Barclay rounds the corner, swimming over to look up at him with concern.

“Yes. I, um, I think I got caught up in your song.”

“I’m sorry, I thought you were already upstairs or I wouldn’t have sung so loud. I know you can’t swim.”

“I can.” Joseph kneels, face down-turned in shame, “I was scared to, um, to be in the water with you. It’s, I was afraid of what might happen.”

Barlay swims back, “you thought I was gonna eat you?”

“No! Or, um, at first I didn’t want to foolishly assume that sirens in Kepler were harmless, since death isn’t high on my to-do list. Then I thought suddenly starting to swim would tip you off to the fact I’d been suspicious and I didn’t want to hurt you.” He runs a hand through his hair, “that song, though, Barclay, lord almighty is that what I want?”

“It’s what I want, I never sang it to bring you to me.”

“Oh.”

Barclay swims back to him, rubs their cheeks together, “Can I try something?”

“Anything” is all he gets out before he’s pulled into deeper water. He gasps for air, his own moans ricocheting across the room as Barclay bites his shoulder. On instinct his body tries to tread water, but copper scales trap his legs together, keep him flush against Barclay’s body.

“It’s okay babe, you can relax. I got you, I could keep us both afloat in my sleep.” He hums as he trails his lips across Joseph’s throat, “you’re safe. You’re with me.”

“Don’t make me leave.” The song pulls it out of him, because he wants to say it, wants to admit that losing what he has in Kepler terrifies him, just so he can hear-

“Never. You make me so fucking happy.” Barclay kisses him tenderly, keeps tracking his bite marks with a finger, “please stay. Stay for as long as you want."

"What if I want forever?" He rests his face on Barclay's shoulder as the siren spins them, dance-like, in the water.

"I think we can manage that."

#mermay #sternclay #agent stern/barclay #TAZ Amnesty

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antoine-roquentin · 4 years ago

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NERVTAG gave no details about where in Kent the variant was first located, but the Covid-19 Genomics UK Consortium said that a key sample came from a patient living ‘near Canterbury’. A medical source, who wanted to stay anonymous, told me that the variant was first identified in Margate and came from someone with a weak immune system. Some in Kent jibbed at the prospect that the new virus would be known to history as ‘the Kent variant’, drawing a parallel with Trump’s ‘China virus’ or the ‘Spanish flu’ that didn’t even come from Spain (it first reached epidemic level in military training camps in the US).

It would be difficult to find a place where coronavirus was more likely to flourish and to enhance its mode of attack than Thanet and Swale. As in much of coastal Britain, few of the towns here are still working ports or seaside resorts. What industry there once was is largely gone, taking with it the few well-paying jobs. Of the fifteen most deprived neighbourhoods in Kent, seven are in Thanet and six in Swale. ‘We lost the mining industry and Ramsgate harbour, which was a big employer,’ the Labour councillor Barry Lewis says, lamenting the repeated blows to Margate over the past forty years. The hotel and tourism industries collapsed ‘when everybody started going abroad for their holidays’. The last big manufacturer in the area was the Pfizer plant near Sandwich, which closed in 2011 with the loss of 1500 jobs. The jobs that remain are often on zero-hours contracts. A map showing areas of maximum deprivation fitted neatly over one showing high rates of viral infection.

Everything about the average working life of someone in Swale or Sheppey puts them at risk. Much of this is to do with the need to go out to work. As Jackie Cassell, a public health specialist at the Brighton and Sussex Medical School who grew up on Sheppey, put it, ‘poverty is a mechanism for increasing social contact.’ People on the island are more likely than the population at large to use public transport to get to work, doing shifts of eight or more hours a day in warehouses or on construction sites. And people with little money are more likely to look after sick or ageing relatives. In a study of working patterns, Cassell found that on average someone who goes out to work has twelve prolonged or close periods of contact with people and seventeen brief or distant ones; those working from home have only two close or prolonged periods of contact and two brief or distant ones.

The effect this has in practice depends on the nature of the job and the employer. Riddell, the railway conductor and trade union official, says that the proportion of train passengers wearing face masks varies from line to line, but the stretch from Sittingbourne to Sheerness on the west side of Sheppey is particularly risky for rail staff because ‘between 50 and 60 per cent of people, mostly the young ones, don’t wear masks.’ As a conductor, he is allowed stay in the front cabin with the driver and doesn’t have to check passengers’ tickets. But Sue Saunders, who works as a cleaner on the trains, has to walk through the carriages spraying sanitiser and cleaning surfaces. ‘We have visors, masks and gloves,’ she says, ‘but we fear for our safety and several of my friends have caught Covid.’ The cleaners are often the only official-looking people on a train and, according to Saunders, are frequently stopped by passengers who want information. She says that sanitising could be done when the trains are standing empty between journeys, but the train companies want passengers to see that the cleaners are at work.

Compliance with restrictions on social interaction largely lapsed over the summer. Sharon Goodyer, who runs the Margate Food Club, says that her volunteers sometimes couldn’t safely distribute food in poor areas because they had to push past people sitting in doorways and mixing in the street. ‘I have a feeling,’ she says, ‘that if this new variant started in Margate, then we earned it.’ But she points out that even poor people need to get outdoors: ‘You can’t be too judgmental if you’re living in a nice house and don’t have mice dying under your chair.’ Barry Lewis mentions one street in Margate with two hundred overcrowded houses where residents rent tiny rooms at high prices. ‘It’s almost a prison, so to get out to the front of the house is your normal way of life and to be stuck in one overcrowded room is not possible.’

The arrival of the variant changed attitudes. Vanessa Crick, a mother of three in Herne Bay, a rundown town on the coast between Swale and Thanet, has two jobs, in the local library and in a supermarket. ‘Since last November,’ she says, ‘more people have started wearing masks because they are frightened for their granddad or their nan.’ Charlotte Cornell, who runs a charity distributing laptops for homeschooling to children in deprived areas, says that none of the families she deals with is cavalier about the virus: ‘They are all terrified of it.’

When public health experts were sent to Kent at the end of last year to investigate the reasons for the local epidemic, they suspected that the spread would be attributable to human actions at home or in the workplace. Everything they knew about the lives of people in Thanet and Swale would favour accelerated transmission of the virus. The physical environment was a factor too: decayed seaside resorts have many former hotels with sea views whose faded grandeur make them ideal for conversion into care homes. Last May, seventeen residents died from Covid-19 in one such care home in Margate, but mass deaths in care homes were a scandal all over Britain and hardly peculiar to Thanet.

A more likely reason for the rapid spread is that many people had good reasons for not getting Covid tests. People who test positive but need to go out to work and won’t get sick pay can’t afford to quarantine. ‘Young males in economically deprived areas do not want to get tested,’ Jackie Cassell says of Swale. She points to a study in Liverpool where only 4 per cent of people in one of the city’s poorest neighbourhoods volunteered for a test. Since the pandemic began, the government has been voluble about the restrictions it has imposed but evasive about how far people comply with them. A study by King’s College London showed that, while 70 per cent of people said they would self-isolate if necessary, only 18 per cent did so.

People not getting tested because they can’t afford to quarantine will keep a low profile. But other groups aren’t keen to catch the attention of anyone in authority. Graham Tegg, the director of the Kent Law Clinic, which provides free legal assistance, says there is ‘an underground system’ of migrant workers, many of whom have lived in Britain for a long time, who want to keep their distance from state institutions. Many of his clients are Czechs, Poles and Roma. Some pick fruit and vegetables or work in packing factories; collected by minivans in the morning, they work for ten hours and come back in the evening in the same van. ‘Three or four of them may be living in the same small room,’ Tegg says, providing perfect conditions for the virus to spread.

But most people in Thanet and Swale are ‘disconnected from authority’, according to Barry Lewis: the only time they see authority in action is when the police stop them doing something they want to do. Some of them are third-generation unemployed whose only prospect for making money is in the black market or the drugs trade – described by one resident as the only growth industry in Thanet. ‘What we have here is a whole community who have no investment in society at all,’ Sharon Goodyer says. ‘What do they owe anybody? They don’t. They don’t have a decent education, a decent home, a decent job. Why should they behave responsibly?’

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iwantthedean · 4 years ago

Text

Ma’lak

Summary: Dean helps someone close to him lock away her demons. Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 3130 Warnings: Canon divergence, implied smut, mental health issues, exorcism, angst. Square Filled: Late Night Call for @breakthezone Bingo (LOVE that I can tag now!) A/N: This was borne of a new thing I’m trying in trauma therapy. I hope you all can enjoy it, but please skip it if you think it might trigger you! This is a comfort for me, but I know it may not be that way for everyone. AKF/YANA. Huge thanks to @crispychrissy for making the ma’lak box GIF for me!! I appreciate it more than I can say! A/N2: You may see this again much later in a saga I’ve had running for several years now; that wasn’t how I started out with this in my head, but it quickly turned into that. Just putting that out there ;) If you think you know, shoot me a DM!

“I have an idea. Can you come get me?”

Dean was up and out of the bed in record time. “On my way. Stay there.”

As he pushed his feet into his boots, Dean’s mind raced. It was after midnight; he had been deep in thought about a recent case and hadn’t even realized he dozed off until the phone rang.

She had been on her own for months. Maybe even a year at this point? They talked at least once a month, but hadn’t seen each other since she left in the middle of the night — since Dean had let her go. Demons were dwelling within her and it took all of their strength and focus to keep them at bay. She had lashed out at all of them, more than once, and the last fight she and Dean had gotten into had almost come to blows; the thought of it made him sick to his stomach.

He put those memories and the bunker in his rearview mirror. A stop at the gas station put coffee in his hands and kept him going for the next few hours. Well, the coffee, and a couple rounds of Metallica’s best hits.

“Y/N?” he called after slamming the Impala’s door behind him. He walked carefully up to the isolated camper, catching that the door was slightly ajar. No lights were on and the place was deadly silent. He pulled the handgun from the back of his waistband and called for her again.

Still no answer. Carefully and silently opening the door, he aimed at the driver’s end of the camper, then back towards the bedroom — and right at Y/N.

“Fuck, Dean!” she hissed, pushing the gun away.

He rolled his eyes and clicked the safety before placing the gun on the counter. “You always leave your damn door open at all hours, Y/N/N? Any psycho would waltz in here and —”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Dean. Oh, and check your phone every once in a while. I texted you and told you I’d leave the door open and the hideaway made up so you could crash when you got here. You know, so you wouldn’t wake me up.”

With an exhausted, ironic chuckle, Dean held out an arm and stepped closer to her, but then immediately stepped back. “How are you with physical contact these days?”

“Ha. The last time I had physical contact was the last time you and I had physical contact. I keep to myself. Safer that way.”

Y/N flipped on a dim light over the sink and pulled a plastic cup from the small cupboard, filling it with water. She motioned the cup toward Dean after she emptied it, but he shook his head. She shrugged and left the cup upside down in the sink. She offered coffee; that he took her up on.

As she moved about the camper, Dean now took notice of all the things the moonlight through the couple of windows hadn’t allowed him to see in the chaos of his entry.

Her thin-strapped, cotton nightgown hung to her curves and conjured up memories of his hands running over her curves, his lips on her bare skin — was it possible for her skin to be softer now than it had been before? Her hair was longer and, maybe because he was tired, but Dean was having a hard time not carding his hands through it and tugging just enough to pull a whimper from her perfect lips. He had expected those demons swimming within her being to make her harsher, worn out, tired. Maybe she was all of those things, but it didn’t show when he looked at her.

“Coffee’ll be ready in a few minutes.” She said, turning back to him from the small machine. “Dean? You okay?”

He nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah, sorry. It’s just, you know — for hiding out for so long and keeping those demons maintained, you look — you look good, sweetheart.”

“You’re a sight for sore eyes yourself.” Y/N smirked and hopped up to the counter. She looked down at her hands as her expression grew somber; sorrowful. “I know that a lot of things have happened, that we said a lot of things. I said a lot of things. This whole thing has been … it’s driven me to be a person I never wanted to be or thought I would be. I didn’t think about the consequences before I did it, I only thought about keeping everyone else safe.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I guess me of all people, I can’t fault you for that.”

One end of her mouth tugged up. “Have you forgiven me for all the things I said to you? For how far I let it go before I left?”

He stepped up to the counter, gently pressing himself between her knees. He caressed her face with his rough hands — her skin was softer than he remembered — and pressed the ghost of a kiss to her forehead.

“The only thing I’ll never be able to forgive is myself for letting you stay away for so long.”

Y/N’s head fell, as did her tears. Dean’s hands went to her shoulders, pulling her to him. The top of her head butted against his chest. His hands fell down her arms, his thumbs rubbing over her forearms; on her left arm, he felt the scar of The Mark, the thing that had pulled her out of life. Pushed her out. Whatever it was, she had been gone and he had missed her.

Dean cupped her face again, forcing her to face him. Her eyes were red from the tears, but still the same color he had always been able to drown in. Even the quickest of looks from Y/N had commanded his heart to skip a beat, and he had missed that feeling, too.

She sniffled. “I really missed you, Dean.”

“Missed you, sweetheart.”

The words were uttered against her lips, hanging in the air even as he pressed his lips to hers for the first time in too long a time. She whimpered, not the way he had imagined a couple of minutes ago, but in a way that told him she honestly had missed him as much as he had missed her. Maybe even more. The kiss quickly deepened under the pressure of the chemistry between them; the connection that had always been there. Y/N’s arms wrapped around his middle, holding tight and pulling herself against him as her tongue searched out his.

The urge to touch her hair became a need Dean couldn’t ignore. His fingers slid into her hair at the root before his hands formed fists and he gave the slightest pull. Her whimper this time was exactly what he had wished to hear when he was imagining the scenario earlier.

She gripped his jacket lapel again and used it to push him out of kissing reach. Her chest was heaving, one strap of her nightgown had fallen down one shoulder. Her eyes were wide, filled with both fear and lust.

“What if I hurt you?” she whispered.

“If this is how I die,” Dean replied, tucking his fingers under the strap and kissing the top her shoulder before replacing the strap, “then this is how I die.”

Y/N giggle and kissed his cheek. “Then take me back to bed, Dean. It’s been too long.”

Dean tossed off his jacket before lifting her from the counter. He kissed her soundly as he worked them toward her bed, thinking he couldn’t agree with her more.

Their activities still allowed for a few hours of sleep before they were back on the road toward the bunker. Dean had pressed Y/N for what she had in mind, but she wouldn’t tell him. He didn’t like it, but memories of past arguments that had pushed her away stopped Dean from giving in to his tendency to push the issue.

By the time they neared the bunker, the tension was radiating off Y/N like steam and smoke from an overheated engine. Dean pulled the Impala up to the front door and turned off the engine.

“You ready to talk to me about this?”

“Sam called me once since I’ve been gone. He was panicked.” She swallowed so hard, he could hear it. “When Michael was still possessing you, when you didn’t think you were going to be able to stop him, you went away for a while. To Donna’s cabin.”

Dean shook his head. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Is the box still here?”

“No. Jack’s soul was gone, we tried to put him in the box, Lucifer got to him. He blasted the box.”

She nodded. “But you could make another one? You know how.”

Dean drew in a breath and shook his head. “That box is not an option. All right? Me going into the ocean with Michael, that’s one thing. You spending eternity with these demons, with that Mark, is not.”

She licked her lips. “What if it was only the demons and the Mark? What if we could lock them away?”

“How’re we gonna do that?”

“Are you going to help me make the box?”

He met her eyes for the first time since the conversation had started. He pressed his lips into a thin line and reached for the door handle.

“C’mon. Let’s get inside. Sammy’ll want to see you.”

Sam was just as perplexed as Dean as to what her plan was. Y/N was only sharing bits and pieces with them, promising that when the box was done and she was sure the plan could be executed, she would tell them more.

Dean set to work right away. If there was something that was going to make this all go away, he wasn't going to be the one standing in the way of it. Y/N had promised him that if this worked, maybe they could put the whole thing behind them. She could come home and they could start new. He held on to that promise as he worked to complete the Ma’lak box.

The assignment she had for Sam was less physically exhausting, but still exhausting nonetheless. As far as Sam could find, there was nothing that would allow the Mark or even solely its effects from someone to be locked away for all of eternity.

“The Mark has to have a host.” Sam shrugged and pushed away the thick book in front fo him. “If there was an answer, Y/N/N, we would have found it when Dean had the thing. Before Amara, before — okay, well, a lot of things that you don’t need recounted.”

“Yeah, thanks for that. The difference, Sam, is that I didn’t take this. I — okay, you know how it happened, and I won’t recount that for you, either. Favor returned. My point is, if I didn’t ask for it, why do I have to keep it? Why couldn’t I force it out?”

Sam licked his lips. “I don’t think it works like that. And — and ‘force it out’? Listen, I want this to be over just as much as you and Dean do. I do. But I think you’re getting your hopes up about something that isn’t gonna work. I haven’t heard it from your mouth but I think I get where you’re going with this and I don’t think it’s gonna work. I don’t see how.”

Y/N looked around before taking the seat across from Sam and taking in a breath. She licked her lips and looked him in the eye.

“You still feel the demon blood in your soul sometimes,” Y/N stated. “You have dark moments, especially moments of anger, when you want to pull from that power. You want that darkness to take root and grow. You want it to be a part of you still.”

Sam stood from the table. “Stop it.”

Y/N stood, too. “I live with that darkness, multiplied by numbers we don’t comprehend, every day, Sam, and I keep it at bay. I’m that strong — strong enough to command this darkness out of me.”

His shoulder’s rolled back before he turned to her. “But how?”

Y/N’s hand raised, palm up, level with her waist. She curled her fingers up, and Sam felt his soul squeeze. He could breath, his heart rate increased only a few beats, but he could feel the last effects of the demon blood leaving his soul, his veins, his muscles. His whole being.

Black smoke started to appear between them, plumes shooting out in every directions. Sam’s brow furrowed, but Y/N’s face stayed calm and stoic. When he could feel no lingering drops in his system, Y/N still held the dark, polluted smoke between them, but pulled it closer to herself, until the smoke had disappeared into her body in much the same spot as it had been pulled from Sam’s body.

His jaw dropped. “How did you do that?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. One I day, I was in town to get groceries. There was a dark streak in this little boy and I thought about everything we’ve all been through, and I wished that I could take it away. I saw him again in the parking lot, and I had the thought again and that streak started to draw out of him, like I did with you. I’ve been working with it, strengthening the ability. I can take in small darknesses, like that one from that little boy, and pull it out later. But I’ve been letting them back out into the open. My own demons, the Darkness locked within The Mark? I can’t let those out into the open.”

“That’s why you need the box,” Sam surmised, “to lock them away.”

“I don’t know how else to do this,” she returned. “I can’t keep living like this. I finally had a family, and this bullshit took it away from me. I’m not going to take that laying down.”

Sam drew in a deep breath and gave a single nod. “Okay. Well, the lore isn’t going to help us. What else can I do?”

Y/N licked her lips. “If things go south — if I’m wrong about this — don’t let Dean came after me. Whether I’m alive or dead, you’ve got to keep him from coming after me. I don’t want him to come after me. No deals, no spells, nothing. This is my only option and if it doesn’t work …”

Sam stepped slowly towards her, remembering that sudden movements could sometimes trigger her. He reached his arms out, and Y/N accepted the hug he was offering.

Dean ran his hand over a warding on the box, brushing away some dust. He licked his lips and stood back.

“All right. I made the box. Now what?”

Y/N exchanged a glance with Sam, who gave her an encouraging nod. She told Dean about the little boy, about the dark pieces she had been pulling from people, and then from herself.

He raised his brow. “So, you want to exorcise yourself?”

“Essentially, yes,” Y/N answered quietly. “I know that it sounds crazy. I know that but if this is even potentially an option, I have to try it. If I don’t try this, or hell, if it doesn’t work, I don’t know how much longer … I just have to try.”

Dean’s eyes glassed over as he considered the part of the sentence she had left unsaid. “So, if this works, we get you back?”

Y/N shrugged. “As far as I can tell. I’ll be back to being me, anyway, and if you want me back, I’ll come back.”

“If,” Dean snorted. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

“I need you to open the box. And to close it when I tell you.”

Sam nodded. “We can do that.”

“Okay.”

Latin words dribbled from her lips in the form of a whisper as she placed her hands on the front of her ribcage, fingers sprawled. She closed her eyes as she continued to say the words.

When the words stopped, Y/N opened her eyes and set her jaw. She moved her hands slowly forward, pulled plumes of black smoke from her body. Agonized screams and angry growling accompanied the smoking, growing louder the further her hands moved out in front of her. The brothers could see her struggling to stay with it, but neither of them moved for fear of hindering the process.

She gasped in relief when the last plume joined with the others and she pushed the thick, black smoke into the Ma’lak box. The screams grew louder; Sam covered his hands with his ears to ward away the screeching. Dean stood firm at the lid of the box though, waiting for Y/N’s signal.

“Now!”

Dean let the lid slam shut before he quickly latched the locks. As soon as the box was secure, he turned to Y/N where she was on her knees on the floor.

“Hey, c’mon, you’re all right,” he encouraged, pulling her into an embrace. “Y/N, look at me. Tell me what’s going on.”

She leaned into his shoulder. “They’re gone. They’re all gone.”

Dean took her left arm and checked; the Mark was still there. “Y/N …”

“I know,” she answered, pulling her arm away from his grip, “but The Darkness is not in here. If that box is opened, she’ll come back. In the meantime, it’s like — it’s like an abandoned house. As far as I can tell.”

Dean’s head fell back in relief as Y/N continued to lean on him while she regained her strength. Sam went for a glass of water, which seemed to help.

“So where do we drop the box?” Sam asked.

Y/N shook her head. “I don’t want to know. If I feel the pull, I don’t want to know where to go looking. You take it, make sure it’s secure, and drop it somewhere I won’t think to look.”

Sam and Dean both agreed, but they weren’t about to take the box anywhere until they knew for sure she was good. A quick call to Donna and Jody had the two sheriffs making plans to come get the box soon and drop it somewhere none of the three of them would know to look.

Dean picked Y/N up off the ground, kissing her temple before pressing his cheek to hers. He knew that she might be able to walk by now, but, after everything they had been through, he needed to take care of her for a while, for his own sake if not for hers.

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