#christian's hair is so fluffy here

[scooteriajierrari]

2000s boy band featuring Christian Horner and Guenther Steiner

[gladiatorcunt]

- # GIVE A FLY SOME HONEY !!

all roads lead to death valley

cw: southern setting & accents, sui ideation/thoughts, protected sex (are you proud of me), dead dove ending and undertones, sort of ambiguous, virgin cowboy!anakin x virgin afab!reader, ROTS coded!anakin, r2’s a horse, the force is in place of the christian God and is referred to as such at times, star wars being a fictional franchise in a star wars au fic, weird mix of a farm and a ranch, spanking, clit slapping, biting, reader’s inner freak has some crazy thoughts, mentions of humiliation and collaring/choking, anakin murders somebody (one scene of violence), what a heat advisory and the south’s sex education does to a mf, implied plus size and neurodivergent!reader, kidnapping????????????, mention of drugs, reader has a lot of internalized shame about where they’re from

wc: 4.2k (unedited)

what if instead of star wars it was called 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 wars

consider commissioning me!

Your unlucky streak rears its ugly head yet again. June was already shaping up to be a hot month, and your junkyard car wouldn’t start. You’re used to driving long stretches of road with nothing but livestock in fields to gawk at, it comes with the territory. But you couldn’t afford gas and decided to push your luck on the way back home, nevermind that the drive would be at least 20 hours. Moving to the city had its drawbacks, the road trip to and back being one of them.

“No, no. Come on, please work. Do you need me to fucking sing to you or something?” You groan, fruitlessly twisting your key in the ignition over and over.

Nope, “Tough shit.” Your engine mocks, death coughs sputtering out one after the other.

“ ‘You havin’ trouble?” A masculine voice shouts from behind you.

You get startled by the sound and gracefully slam your head up into the roof of the car as you turn around. You must look like quite the sight, clutching your now throbbing head and stumbling out of your broken down hand-me-down car on a long open road. Once you’ve blinked enough to adjust to the harsh sunlight, your eyes land on a tall muscular figure riding a horse. The clip clop of the horse’s dirty hooves on the gravel pierce your ears but the gentle sway of the man’s fluffy hair softens the blow.

“Um…. yes, sir. I am actually. My…. my car won’t start and I’m all out of gas.” You burn with embarrassment as you get through your explanation, trying your hardest not to throw up from the sheer social anxiety.

“Well that ain’t no biggy, I think I can help with that.” The man cocks his head and hops down from the horse, a white stallion with a few faded black-gray spots here and there. “Stay here, R2.”

You’re standing there dumbly, ignoring the tiny rocks digging into your shoes and the pounding in your skull as the cowboy wanders up to you. The sun bounces off his dark hat in a way that gives him a sort of halo, and you gape like a fish when he tips it down at you in a silent greeting, reaching out to shake your hand after. The silver spurs on his boots reflect sunlight directly onto your face, so you miss his open palm the first time.

His hand is rough, you can feel numerous old scrapes and cuts when you accept the gesture. But it’s so much bigger than yours, and there’s strange heat coming from his skin that you’re hesitant to pin on the southern summer sun. Too handsome, in a way that just can’t be possible, you quickly swipe a fingertip over his ring finger during the handshake and The Force must be looking out for you because there’s no ring. Not that you’re seeking anything out, but in the town you’re from, you’re lucky if anyone makes it past 18 without having a baby and getting hitched as a result.

Anakin tinkers away at your car for over an hour, finding more problems than just a lack of gas. Eventually he determines that you’ll die in this heat before you can back on the road, so he asks you to accompany him back to his ranch and he’ll send out one of his employees to bring your car around. You try to show him that you’re listening by ‘hm’-ing and nodding every so often, but it’s hard to rip your eyes away from a very attractive man bent over and sweaty while he’s fixing your car. You definitely do not want to cry when his flannel lifts up as he wipes the sweat on his forehead away with his greasy hand, revealing the slight softness over his muscles.

Since your car was no longer an option, Anakin grins as he gestures towards his horse, “R2’s a good horse, won’t give you any trouble. He likes to make a lot of noise and has an… acquired sense of humor, but I reckon we’ll get back just fine.”

He has you practice getting off and on the horse for a good while, the next step is letting you adjust to the feeling of being on one. You’d be embarrassed that Anakin’s having to teach you how to ride but his hands curl around your waist, keeping you steady and whispering in your ear to not be so stiff. Horses can smell fear after all, it’d suck to not only have your car be broken but your bones too. It’s a scene straight out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind that’s a tiny yellowed book sold almost exclusively in run down gas stations with a cover not far off from a porno.

Your cheeks are burning the entire way to the ranch, you relax as much as you can on an animal that’s a few hundred pounds of muscle with a searing hot body pressed right up against you from behind. It doesn't take long to get to your destination though, and before you know it sprawling fields bracket a mid size homey wooden building. There are some smaller pens for the cows to stay in and you follow their movement as an employee unlatches the gate and leads them out towards the left most field.

“They gotta switch pastures every so often.” He informs you, urging his horse into an energetic trot, “And it’s a good rule of thumb to have about an acre per cow.”

You tighten your hold on the reins and try not to focus on your fear of falling off. The pace of R2 isn’t one that you struggle to match but then again this is the first time you’ve ever ridden a horse in a long time. You’ve always been too skittish to do it regularly, and when you moved you got rid of the hobby entirely. You take a deep breath and let the horse’s movements travel through you, coming to enjoy the gentle jostling as you go. Anakin keeps his hands around yours on the reigns, making sure you don’t panic and seize up. R2’s not really beginner friendly unless he likes his rider, he has a tendency to just whinny and take off when the spirit moves him.

“The Force has done me good and given me a nice house on nice land, but it don’t mean nothin’ if i’m all by my lonesome. Ever since my dad passed and my ma’ died a few years after that, the workers and the cows are all I got, plus R2 of course.”

All right, he sinks into the jargon a little too much, but the way the sun accentuates the scar on his cheek makes it a charming quirk. You want to lick his teeth when he smiles, you think, before blaming it on an oncoming heatstroke. You’re no better than a man in this moment, and if you had seen him soaking up all of the attention in a crowded room in a bar you’d have no business being in, you like to think that you could pull him. You play with the slightly waxy feel of the leather reins, allowing the sensation of coarseness in the stitching to overpower any coherent thought.

“Why’d you name your horse R2?” You ask, ducking your head as you feel him guide the animal towards the stables.

“Oh uh, I was real wild over these sci fi movies from back when I was a kid. The hero had this robot called R2-D2, and I guess it just stuck with me.” He answers you with a shrug and a mild blush, curving his fingers around yours.

Your stomach warms at the feeling, but you refrain from returning the gesture, he probably isn’t even thinking that deeply about what he’s doing. He’s not obsessing over every square inch of skin that comes into contact with his own, not like you. You’re already missing the comforting weight of Anakin’s herculean body when he’s pulling the reins to stop R2 and hopping off, clamping his big hands around your waist and helping you down. You wobble for a bit and find your footing before you can pick up on how he momentarily froze in front of you, anticipating an easy opportunity to touch you again. Force, you really are stupid, bless your heart.

You glance up at him and start to say something but then you hear rustling in the bushes, Anakin must hear it too because before you can tug on his sleeve and tell him, he’s pulling his revolver out from its holster and striding off towards the sound. You’re quick to learn that he has a bit of a one track mind, especially when it comes to indulging the serpent twisting in between his ribs like a switchblade.

“I’ll be damned…”

You’re supposed to head inside and awkwardly linger around until your car is in good enough condition to get you back to Coruscant. The only thing is, you’ve now found yourself without your new security blanket, and your curiosity agrees with how much you don’t fucking want to speak to any of the people here without Anakin to hide behind. R2 loudly chuffs at you from his stall in the stables, either saying “That’s just how he is, leave him be!” or "What are you doing? You should obviously go after him!” You choose to believe it’s the latter, so you wander off into the distance, following Anakin’s lead.

You catch up to him quicker than you thought you would, and you have half a mind to scold him like a child if you weren’t catching your breath. All you can see is his wide shoulders because he’s hunched over something, your heartbeat quickens when you spot his gun being pointed at something. You circle around him to find a man squirming on the ground like a toddler, twitching every so often. Anakin seems almost enthralled by the desperate display, so he doesn’t notice you until you gingerly place a hand on his shoulder, soft and looking to soothe. Later you won’t remember the blood on the man’s temple or the matching stain on the muzzle of Anakin’s gun, because you didn’t witness that part.

He snaps out of it, turning his head to nuzzle his nose against your knuckles, “ ‘s alright, sweetheart, just a meth head too out of his mind to watch where he’s goin’. Had a knife with him, probably lookin’ to rob somebody blind.”

Your eyes flicker between him and the man, fully aware of how common stuff like drug addicts trespassing is and the old fashioned black and red ‘Trespassers Will Be Shot On Sight’ sign. You’ve grown up around guns, you’re more used to hearing them in a hunting or taking shots at beer bottles kind of way, but it’s not like Anakin’s the only one to have that kind of self enforced rule when it comes to his property. Still… killing a human man is different than making use out of a successful deer hunt, right?

“Maybe we should call the cops, he can’t hurt nobody like that…” You try to reason, casting a pitiful glance towards the cowering man.

There’s a scratch on Anakin’s face that’s still bleeding from the knife the guy had used before Anakin took it, it just barely missed his right eye, he could’ve lost it. You’ll ask to help him with it when you get back to the ranch, but you know that there’s no seeing to it right now. You don’t want to risk an infection just so you could brush your thumb across the wound, you’re not even sure why you want to, it’s like the urge just materialized in your head out of thin fog. Anakin gently shrugs your hand off and uses his free one to pull you against his chest, and it’s like you’re back on his horse, that same fear entwined with exhilaration like barbed wire. Your hearts are beating at the same pace, some folks say that’s how you know it’s love, that’s how you know it’s fate.

“You don’t got the stuff in ya to be a killer, that’s just fine, darlin’. ‘Cause I sure do.” His words dissolve into a previously unknown to you cold sneer.

Anakin clamps a burly, sweaty hand over your eyes as he empties the entire magnum into the tresspasser’s skull. The bright sun bounces off the brim of his hat, casting a shadow over his stormy eyes. He may not have let you witness the massacre, but you will never forget the sickening yelps the poor bastard gave to Anakin like prayer. And then he got put down in a more inhumane fashion than if he were a rabid dog. To your gracious host, there’s probably not a whole lick of difference. Between a wanderin’ sap and a deranged mutt, that is.

But there’s a far off expression on his face, maybe he was once at risk of having two bullets in his temple at the hands of someone unforgiving.

“Welp.” Anakin exclaims, making a point of slapping his thigh as he holsters his pistol. “Better head on home now, I reckon. Come on, honey, don’t want to lose you to the coyotes.”

It’s said like “kai-yohtes.” You balk at his teasing and obediently trail after him, a vulnerable duckling staying in line. The storm is hitting hard by the time you’re out of the woods, and you briefly wonder if the Angels up in heaven are gonna start bowling soon. A saying that got passed around in your family, when you and the ones before you would stare up in wonder and shiver in fear at the thundering purple skies as kids. You remember being surprised that one of the Angels’ bowling balls never fell down to earth, maybe it’d be somethin’ like a meteorite.

As is the case with many things, it’s easy to lose sight of the fresh corpse in the dry grass. Once you turn around and thread your finger through Anakin’s, dirtying them, it’s almost like that man never existed. There must be something wrong with you, sure the situation is so unimaginable that it would be hard to cope with, but shouldn’t you be feeling more guilt than you do? You feel bad, of course, but ‘easy come and easy go’ has always been the way of things in these parts. God giveth and God taketh away.

You’re back where you should be, a narrow dirt path going under a wooden fence to the ranch. Grand trees line the road forming a moss green canopy. A few workers are goofing off and playing a very amateur game of football, blissfully ignorant to the fact that Anakin can obviously see them from his place next to you.

It would be a peaceful place to die, a bright and clear afternoon-evening in the way that the world can only be when you’re about to leave it. That’s how you’d want it to feel, like you’re rowing a boat across the lake you used to go fishing at to see people you’d never thought you’d see again waiting for you. Fall leaves, blinding pale sun, a serene and calming quiet. You’d be the happiest you’ve ever been, skipping even though you never could as a kid. There’d be no sadness, only relief and a memento of everything that’ll only make sense when it’s someone’s turn to see you again. No buzzing from mosquitoes or chirping from crickets, only little lightnin’ bugs. Maybe you only get that kinda ending if you’re good, in the godly sense, if you come from something worth remembering.

Anakin raises an eyebrow and gently jostles you, and just like that your train of thought is derailed. He chalks it up to shock, and nods his head towards a clearing behind the building. A change of plans. You follow, as you are wont to do.

“That rat bastard had it comin’ to ‘im, hun.” He tries to reassure and squeezes your hand, imploring you to see reason. “The Force decided it was his time, sweet thing.”

You shake your head, not disagreeing, just in utter disbelief. “I just… most everyone in my life I've known that’s died did it when I wasn't there. I’ve never had to actually be there when they… you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” And that’s all he says, regardless of the truth.

It’s what you need, somehow he just understands exactly what that is. You’re starting to think that you certainly don’t have a damn clue. You look up at him again, really drinking in every facet of his entire being that you can latch onto and obsess over. You’re remembering why you were so anxious to get out of this sinkhole, it’s a miracle you ever got out of it in the first place. His hair’s all messy, dark curls strewn about like a windswept bale of hay. A storm is brewing in his eyes, like he could Earth to rotate in the opposite direction if he wanted it to. He works his jaw around in a weird way to get rid of the soreness after grinding his teeth.

It’s tantalizing, being the hand holding a man on the edge back from wreaking his God given havoc.

You dot a quick peck on his cheek, scrunching your nose up at the barest hint of prickly stubble.

His eyes widen, and the sun itself shines brighter. The cutest light dusting of pink spreads across his face, so he one ups you by pressing your lips together. It’s exactly how a first kiss should feel, a simple gesture that leaves you breathless and with more butterflies than a flower garden swarming in your tummy. There’s no fireworks, but you can hear wind chimes and birds singing as your lips glide together, the meeting of your tongues is so natural that you won’t be able to remember when his slipped through the seam of your mouth. You want to keen as he maps out your teeth, his spit has to have some kind of aphrodisiac in it.

Anakin works your jeans open and off your legs completely, his pupils expand when he sees your thick thighs in all their glory but he keeps himself from slapping them and acting like they’re the only part of your body. There’s an ever growing to do list in both of your heads, your combined inexperience brings a flurry of perverted ideas and porn scenarios to recreate with it, and you’re sad that you’ll very likely leave with none of them being fulfilled.

He yanks the collar of your tank below your chest, immediately leaving over to bite your cute breasts with all the grace of a rattlesnake. He doesn’t try to make any marks, he just wants to bite wildly and with reckless abandon, like he’s using your tits to self soothe. You’d do the same if he let you at his pecs to be fair, his chest is practically as big as yours if not bigger.

“This means somethin’ to me, hear that? ‘m always gonna remember my first.” He spits, clutching onto your bruised tit like he’s a split second away from sinking his hand into your viscera and dumpster diving for your heart.

He pauses pawing at your tits to reach in his back pocket and pull out a condom. It’s crumpled and the packaging is worn by rubbing against the denim of Anakin’s jeans, you can tell that he’s excited to finally put it to use. You’re glad that there’s some safety measures being taken, but your heart swoops in disappointment at the dose of reality. It’s the kind of thing that calls for the most diabolical, unhinged, strings of goopy fluid hanging from his balls as they slap against your rippling ass, raw sex. You don’t let yourself pout, Anakin’s making good use of the only working brain cell between the two of you. You scoot back on his lap to give him room to pop to button on his pants and whip his dick out. It makes a heavy ‘thwop!’ as it slaps against Anakin’s abs.

Your mouth waters at the sight, so thick with the just right amount of curve, it would scratch your throat perfectly. His hands shake harder as he rips the condom’s packaging open with his teeth and rolls it on his twitching length. You take a deep breath, finding comfort in the tense muscles on Anakin’s shoulders through his warm flannel. He curls a hand around the base of his cock and grasps it tightly, positioning it right under your empty hole. You’re lucky he didn’t have to tell you what to do, because working yourself down every inch would’ve been much more painful if you already needed to be taught a lesson. It’s weirdly sweet, the chaste pecks he presses along your nose and jawline as you adjust to what feels like a tree log forcing your tender folds to stretch around it. Your slutty body tries to twist itself in a pretzel with the way you’re swiveling your hips, trying to get more of Anakin’s dick inside of you when you’ve miraculously already swallowed him to the hilt.

“I want this pretty pussy weepin’ for me, I’m awfully sorry honey but i’m not stopping till it’s gushin’ all over me.” He speaks in between wet kisses up and down the column of your throat.

“Mmm- It’s okay, I want it like that, Ani. Promise- oh my god, so big.”

You make him feel like a man trying to outrun a forest fire only to get swept up in a tornado. Like there’s a fever in his brain that’s gotten into his blood, black tar dripping into his liver. Drives a man to drink so he can have a sliver of that feeling, that scalding need not even God could give you. There’s no finesse or coordination to anything, his lips frantically scurry along random spots on your upper body. His upward thrusts are heavy hitting and wrangle your breath out in stuttered gasps, he moves as if he were riding a horse, following only the imagined scent of old blood. Anakin’s cock is so big your walls could rip if he wasn’t always keeping a sharp eye on how much he’s bullying you. He doesn’t try anything crazy like fucking your cervix, it might shock you so much that you remeber exactly how long it’s been since he’s had your car “taken to the shop”.

His spurs dig into the dirt as he slaps your ass, the material of his gloves adding an extra bit of ‘umph!’ to the resulting sting. Anakin’s jeans are so warm against your ass that it takes a few more spanks before you really get the urge to bend over his lap and tell him to just have at it until you sob. You’re on an ecstatic high, living in the present with a near stranger’s dick balls deep inside of you. His eyes gleam gold when you make eye contact, and you find it so easy to fall down the rabbit hole, letting this man burn away all your responsibilities until he’s the last one left standing in a sea of ashes.

You don’t mind that he stops talking eventually, switching to gruff grunts and harsh yells. ‘Don’t be so stiff, let the movement roll through you.’ Anakin digs his fingers into the meat of your jiggling ass and delivers a final smack to both cheeks. You sigh in relief, but then you snap out of your cockdrunk haze to yelp at the cruel hit to your swollen clit.

“Need ya to keep squeakin’ sweets.” He orders. “Don’t want the townsfolk to think I fucked your brain out your ears.”

It’d be polite to make conversation with the people you meet when Anakin parades you around with his hat on your head later, something of a pre engagement tour. If the Force is good, you’ll be willing, because rope burn isn’t something you want to become your new normal.

“Chin up, buttercup,” He says almost bashfully despite how hard he’s pounding your puffy cunt, “We can get some ice cream at the fair after if ya like, make it a cute little second date.”

You whimper and harshly pull his hair, earning you a throaty moan and another slap to your clit, saying yes to him like you’ve already done a million times. You thought that the pure social anxiety of being around so many of Anakin’s employees would be nerve wracking, it’s nothing compared to having to speak to them AND keep their boss’s cum from oozing down your leg. Anakin’s discarded belt catches your eye when a sharp thrust sends your head falling back, and you picture the scuffed up belt buckle as the O shaped ring of a more traditional collar. The black stains from working on your car only add to the appeal, it scares you exactly how much you’d let the man fucking you with a cheap gas station condom get away with. You’ve already heard him kill a man, finding yourself in a relationship is pretty much the natural next step.

When he cums deep inside with a hoarse growl, there’s the sound of a bear trap slamming shut on an unsuspecting bunny rabbit. Your simultaneous orgasm is the tiny squeal it makes before it dies.

“I forgot to ask, hun, what stuffed animal do ya want me to win for ya?”

- faetreides 2024. do not repost, translate, or put my works into ai

[dubina-dawkins]

FORD MUSTANG '66 BACK SEAT

~2k words (i got carried away :p)

pairing: teen! dean winchester x teen!virgin! reader

> your uncle got you a perfect 18th birthday gift - white ford mustang '66, and dean is in awe. not only because of the car, but because of the birthday girl too

warnings/notes: smut, minors dni! f! masturbation mentioned, loss of virginity, fingering, p in v, unprotected (done by professionals don't try at home), softdom! dean, afab! reader, really fluffy and gentle, lots of kisses i mean how do they still breath, may be kind of continuation (but not a direct one but after some time yk) of my previous work with teen! dean and teen! reader, reader is hunter btw but this is mentioned less, no usage of y/n

REPOSTS WILL BE APPRECIATED

"Are you kidding...he gave you that baby girl? Damn it, your uncle has taste!" Dean laughs, approaching the vintage car from the bumper, palms wide on the cold metal. He stares out the windshield, then walks around the car in a circle before turning back to you, one arm around your shoulders.

Your birthday was literally, like, a week ago? But since your uncle was busy, he didn't get you a present until yesterday. And today Dean was here on your call. Secretly from dad, of course. Sam's at school somewhere, so there's no need to keep an eye on the kid, so, uh...

"Uh-huh. A useful gift for hunters, huh? Especially since uncle let me hunt alone or with you now... Cool stuff. And even though I'm a bit of a machine builder 'cause I'm always helping him, I think I'm gonna need some help, you know..." You start, turning so that your fingers slip into his messy hair, and Dean laughs.

"If you want me to drive this hottie until you get your driver's license-"

"Bingo!"

Dean laughs, his hands finding a place on your ribs as he pulls you into a tender kiss. The touch of his lips on yours was always too gentle, and it was infuriating sometimes. Knowing Dean, he could have done so much more. Just cared, I guess?

You kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. Knowing Dean freakin' Winchester, it was easy to see that he loved you very much. Well, loved you as much as he could. Sometimes it was a fight, but not a big one - hell, you're only 18, what the hell is there to fight about?

Especially since you now had official permission for alone time - soon you'd be hunting together, which meant lots of adventure, blood, sweat, and lives saved. Sometimes that last point was purely functional, and yet. Just you and him.

You couldn't call yourself an innocent Christian girl. You hated the church, God and angels with all your soul after all you had seen and gone through. They're in, they're out, it doesn't make much difference. So sinning didn't seem like a bad idea. Especially when you're just getting back from a walk with Dean in the night, when he's running away from home in his father's car - let's just say he wasn't promised his own car until he was 21 - and the feeling of his hands on your cheeks, ribs, waist and hips still hangs in space...

Then your fingers traveled south, stroking first the lower abdomen, then the labia, then the wet passage, and finally up to the clit.... you could've sworn your panties hadn't been dry after any encounter with your boyfriend. Dean's wink or a glance at your neck, your waist, and you'd be drowning. God, why's he so pretty all the time?

"Okay, now..." Dean pulls back and walks around the car to open the door and land in the driver's seat. His eyes glisten, and you can tell he's enjoying this immensely. Somewhere along the lines of his favorite movies and listening to Led Zeppelin.

His strong palms grip the steering wheel, and he leans back to keep it at arm's length. And Dean laughs again, stroking the leather of the steering wheel with his thumbs. "Pretty one, that's for sure..."

You land in the backseat, and he turns to you, raising an eyebrow. Without even hearing his question, you smile and fold your hands in your lap.

"I can't get used to the fact that it's all, like, mine. And I'm kind of scared to sit in the front. I guess it'll pass with time." You don't have time to finish the sentence when he gets out of the car, and a few moments later he's standing in front of the open backseat door.

"Then I should join you," he laughs, jumping to you, putting his hand on your lower back. You shriek and laugh, pressing your lips against his. The kiss is long, sensual, and at some point Dean's hands move down to your thighs, spreading them wide, and he pushes you back against the seats, towering over you. When he pulled away from the kiss, you looked up at him wide-eyed, doubt flickering across his face instead of a smirk.

"Uh...I hope you've-...you've already had someone, right...?" he gently takes you by the hips, wrapping your legs around his waist, and you only blush.

"Well...no?"

Dean closes his eyes for a moment and frowns, stroking your thighs with his thumbs, the same tenderness he used to stroke the steering wheel of your Mustang. Yeah, well, considering you were a hunter too, you didn't have much of a chance for a relationship...

"Ah, so...I get to be first? Woah..." he'd be lying if he said it didn't excite him even more, but it scared him too. However, he smiles and bends towards you, not allowing you to give an answer, his lips pressed against yours again. He places one hand on your chin, gently, two fingers opening your mouth for his tongue as his other hand creeps down to your stomach, stroking it.

"God, you're so- aah, fuck..." Dean sinks down between your legs, unzipping the fly of your jeans and pulling them down your legs. When his teeth snag the elastic of your panties, you whimper, putting your hand on his head, and he laughs. "Shh, not yet."

He looks at your glistening, wet folds, and God, it means everything. Dean licks his fingers - though it wasn't necessary at all, you were fucking soaked - and gently presses his thumb against your clit. When that elicits a soft moan of his name from you, he chuckles.

"Are you okay, baby?" He whispers, kissing your stomach, and gently pulls up your t-shirt. He kisses your collarbones while his free hand works on the clasp of your bra.

But God, you're too good to respond with anything but a whimper. You take off your shirt, and he pulls off your bra, and for a moment he just stops, staring at you. A low growl escapes Dean's lips. "You're so beautiful for me, baby..."

He brings his hand back to your pussy, gently stroking the space next to your passage, and your already tight walls tighten around nothing. He whimpers at the mere sight, pressing his lips to your nipples. Every sensation is new, every touch sending shocks of pleasure through your entire body. You put your arms around his neck, one hand creeping up to his disheveled hair, the other reaching down to his back.

Dean throws off his leather jacket and flannel, leaving only a T-shirt, and the cold material of his amulet burns your skin as he leans in again to leave kisses on your skin. "It might hurt now. Tell me if you need me to stop..." But you both know that neither you nor he wants to stop it.

Dean rises to capture your lips again in a kiss, and his middle finger slides into your channel, and you let out a loud sob at the sensation. His fingers are different, feel completely unfamiliar. And it's too exciting, especially when he gently pushes his finger deeper, and your core squelches so lewdly that you blush.

"De...feels so good," you whimper, hugging his shoulders, your hands in fists clutching the fabric of his t-shirt. "I'm trying, love," he laughs against your lips, his finger stroking your walls in a circular motion, and you grind against his hand - at which point Dean presses his hand to your stomach and begins to move his own finger inside, discreetly adding his ring finger as well.

You arch your back, and he kisses your cheek. "So good, you're so good, baby. So good at taking me like a good girl," your walls clench around his fingers at his praise, and Dean groans at the sensation - the bump on his jeans getting noticeably harder as he muffles both his and your moans with a kiss.

You feel bratty, pulling your hands to his belt, and Dean growls against your lips. "Can you handle this? I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart," he pulls his own jeans down, tossing them off his legs somewhere on the back of the driver's seat, followed by his T-shirt. Your fingers stroll phantomly over his waist and hip bones as he slides his fingers out of you with a squelch of your walls, and you whimper unhappily.

"Please, Dean-"

"Shh, shh, shh..." He strokes your cheek, bending down to kiss your swollen lips again, and his free hand guides your palms to the waistband of his boxers, and you obediently pull that down, letting him away from the kiss. Your eyes widen as you stare at his erection, and Dean chuckles shyly.

"Whoa..." you lick your lips, and purely out of interest, you touch your fingers to the tip. His shaft throbbed, and Dean let out a high-pitched whimper as his precum began to glisten under your finger.

"Baby, let's not make any more comments," he picks up your hand, intertwining your fingers, and gently positions himself between your thighs. Dean can't resist the opportunity to rub me against your swollen clit, and you synchronously make almost identical sounds - something between a high-pitched moan and a sob.

"...Are you sure?"

"Dean, shut up and get to work."

He laughs, leaning down to your face again. "That's my girl."

And he pushes into you in one, slow thrust, inch by inch, swallowing your moans of pain and pleasure in another kiss. God, a little more, and your lips would have turned blue.

He pulls away from your lips, arching his back, and catches your hands in his, intertwining your fingers again. Dean hisses, squeezing your hands. "So fucking tight...just for me, huh...?"

He doesn't just fill you up - his hardness overwhelms you, and you feel complete for the first time in your life. Your fingers grip his hands as if your whole life depends on it. "F-fuck, it's so huge-"

"Believe it or not, you're the first person to tell me that," he leans to you again, kissing your cheek as his hips move and he begins his slow pace. His thrusts may be measured but they're precise, each time his tip taps harder on that most sensitive point inside you, and it seems there are more stars in front of your eyes than there are in the night sky.

"You're doing well, baby...So tight, so wet, so pliable, just, just for me..." He whispers into your ear as his thrusts become less controlled, more needy. Your walls quiver and his length throb more and more inside-you're both close, and that knowledge drives you insane.

"D- yaaah, Dean, I'm close-" He doesn't answer anything, just presses his lips against you again and roughly penetrates your mouth with his tongue, his palms gripping your waist hard enough to bruise it, but one hand does drop down between your bodies to caress your swollen clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

And this is it, you cry out his name, your walls tighten around his cock, and he hisses, with a loud pop of your bodies releasing his length from your heat.

But you don't let him out that easily.

"My turn," you grin weakly, your hand taking his erection in your fist, giving it a few quick strokes, and he fucks your fist like he's in heat, nuzzling his face against your neck, making a moan so pathetic it's even cute.

"I love you so much...Baby, baby, sweetheart, fuck-" He whispers frantically, and with one final thrust, shots of his seed crash into your palm, your side, and the leather of the seats. Dean wraps his arms around your shoulders tightly, pulling you close, his face finding its place in your hair as he exhales hoarsely. "So fucking much..." he says, breathing heavily, his voice muffled by your locks.

There were tissues in the glove compartment, right?

a/n: still love my baby. still a tooth rotting fluff. your honor I'm sorry!! was working on reqs but i just thought of this idea and couldn't get it out of my head so that's it.......

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Infinity

Christian Yu/Mito x Y/N - drabble - 1K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: depression, mention of self harm, mention of suicidal thoughts, Christian and Mito being supportive af, very fluffy

--------------------------------

You had been awake for hours but hadn’t made a move to get out of bed. Your glassy eyes watched the rain spatter against the large windows in your shared bedroom. You didn’t even hear the front door open and close or the pad of his feet coming upstairs.

“Love?” Christian said when he walked in, closing the door behind him.

You made no sound, your body rigid. 

“Honey?” he tried again as he gently rolled you onto your back, sitting next to you on the bed. 

Your eyes remained on the ceiling, never glancing at him.

“Have you stayed in bed the whole day? You’re in the exact same position you were in when I left this morning.” he said, rubbing his hand across your waist comfortingly. 

Your lip quivered while silent tears fell from the corners of your eyes. You shifted, bringing your hands to hold his large one on your waist. “I’m wallowing in self pity.” you said.

Christian chuckled, you always had a knack for being funny even when you felt like shit. “Bad day?” he asked gently.

“I’m so tired all the time… No - not tired, exhausted. Everything feels so heavy and overwhelming. And I constantly have these negative thoughts… intrusive and… violent.” you whispered the last bit. 

Christian knew of your past and present journey with self harm. He felt and saw your scars on the daily. He never thought less of you for them, he had the same struggle. Christian’s other hand slipped beneath the blanket, letting out a small sigh of relief when he felt no new cuts on your thigh. 

You pulled both of his hands to your chest, resting them over your heart. You held them, playing with his long digits every so often. “I just want it all to stop.” you whispered, finally looking at him.

Your eyes were bloodshot, it was obvious you had been crying off and on the whole day. But that comment, that is what worried him the most. “You want the thoughts to stop or do you want life to stop?” he asked gingerly. 

You looked away shamefully before shrugging. 

Christian’s heart broke for you. He got out of bed, walking over to your side. He pulled the covers back before picking you up bridal style. He carried you to the bathroom, setting you on the counter. He filled the tub with warm water, adding epsom salt and bubbles just the way you liked it. He slowly peeled your clothes off before setting you inside. The warm water and vapors made you let out a sigh of content. Christian sat outside the tub, carefully washing your hair then you. You watched him with the most thankful eyes but couldn’t manage to say anything. After a while he just let you rest in the tub, he knew you liked being surrounded by water and in lieu of the ocean the bath would suffice. 

“I’m so sorry… this isn’t fair to you. I can’t make you happy, I can’t even…” you said before dropping your gaze to his crotch. You couldn’t remember the last time you two had sex, your depression getting especially bad in the harsh winter months. 

“Hey,” he said in a slightly different tone. 

You snapped your eyes to his, they were darker, rounder. You knew it was Mito. 

“I think - no, I know I speak for all of us when I say we could never have sex again and we would still be here. We will always be here, you’re it for us. We love you.” He said before draining the bath. He helped you stand before drying you off. He walked over to the towel warmer you forgot you had bought a while back. He pulled your clean pajamas out, they enveloped you like a hug. 

You rested your head on his chest before wrapping your arms around him tightly. You breathed him in, felt his strong arms around you. He picked you up, hands under your thighs as you snuggled further into him. He set you down on the kitchen counter, “Have you eaten today?” he asked. 

You shook your head ‘no’ at him. 

He tutted before making you a cup of tea. You watched him cut up fruits for you as you sipped the tea. He knew how much you liked them, especially the summer fruits when it was cold and snowy outside. Every once and a while Mito would stop to give you a kiss on the cheek. He walked to the living room briefly to set down the cutting board before coming back to carry you over. 

“I can walk.” you said squirming slightly, feeling somewhat like a burden to him. 

“I know,” he said before setting you down on the couch softly. He pulled a blanket over both of you before wrapping his arms around you. He pulled a slice of peach off the cutting board for you, smiling when you ate it without hassle. He knew your heart. He knew these times were tough and he knew he would always be there to care for you just as you did for him when he got like this. He sat and watched music videos with you, knowing you liked the dances and bright colors. Joking around with you when he could, especially when you watched his music videos. He dramatically did the breathing part of “Don’t Go Insane” which caused you to let out a shrill giggle. It was like music to his ears, seeing you finally smile and even laugh. He cuddled into the crook of your neck, giving you a cheeky kiss. 

You pulled his face to yours, “Thank you,” you said before kissing him deeply. He held your face as you pulled away, lips following yours slightly as he could never get enough of you. Your foreheads leaned against each other, soaking in the moment, “I love you more than anything.” you said. 

Mito smiled softly, “I love you more than anything times infinity.”

You chuckled again, happy that the person you were in love with was deeply caring and so incredibly goofy. 

“Everything will work out in the end. And if it doesn’t, it’s not the end yet.” he said before pecking your lips once more.

-------------------------

Naboo's Note:

Hey! Hope ya'll like this one, very fun to write and based off a request. Thanks for all the like and comments! Send in a request and I just might write it! XOXOXOXOXOXO

[dreamescapeswriting]

History Repeats Itself ~ MYG

WORD COUNT: 5.9K

PAIRING: Yoongi x fem!Reader

GENRE: mafia, music video inspired, twin brothers against one another, history repeating itself, fluffy ending, mentions of blood, murder, drowning, fighting, swearing,

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - July 2023

⤜MASTERLIST

Crashes sounded from above your head and you flinched ever so slightly, your grip on the counter in front of you tightening more with every second that the low-punk thieves were on the floor above you. They'd stormed in over 20 minutes ago depending that you give them money from the tills and safe - clearly having no idea who frequently came to the restaurant otherwise they'd never have the gumption to attempt to pull off a stunt like this.

"You called him, right?" The waitress beside you question, your eyes slowly moved over to Jules as you nodded your head slightly and squeezed her hand gently. The two of you had been working inside of your uncle's restaurant since you'd been in high school together, nothing like this had ever happened until now and it was safe to say you were a little worried. But you had hope that Yoongi would be here to fix everything and soon, he'd never let anything happen to you or the restaurant.

"I did, he'll be here soon-" Before you could finish what it was that you were trying to say you had glanced over at the doors of the restaurant to see Yoongi making his way over. Dressed in some casual jeans, a white shirt and a blue jacket that honestly made your heart pump at the mere sight of him. Joining Yoongi today though were six masked men each of them carrying a 2x4 piece of wood and a metal baseball bat acting as though the world couldn't touch them even if it wanted to. Seriously though, they were untouchable to anyone around them and they knew it. No one would mess with them if they knew what was good for them.

"Yoongi," You breathed out as he reached the front desk where you were standing, a small smirk tugged on the corners of his lips as he took the bright red chopsticks you would always carry in your hair out and held them in his hand. You were shaking your head trying to figure out how to tell him all of this had even started but it had gone so fast you could barely process any of it. One second they were eating inside and the next they were yelling and screaming for everyone to give them all of the money, waving bats and knives around like they were some kind of mad-men.

"They were yelling, I was trying to distract them but before I could even think they'd gone upstairs to get the safes, my uncle is up there," Your eyes glanced in the direction of the stairs as you heard something smash, your stomach sinking as you tried not to think of what could be happening up there. They'd taken your uncle as a hostage since he was the only one with the codes to the safe and you didn't even want to think about what they could have been doing to him right now. 

As if reading your mind Yoongi's hand took your chin into his grasp gently and turned you to look at him, his facial features softened as he nodded at you. Anger bubbled inside of him as he saw the cut in the middle of your lip it was obvious that one of them had hit you and he wasn't going to let it slide. His eyes flashed a slight darkness and you looked away from him, whimpering a little as you saw his hand flex. Yoongi didn't take well to people hurting those that he loved and you knew that this cut was going to mean bad news for all of those upstairs not just the one that had hit you.

"I'll fix it." Although he didn't say it, you knew it was a promise and you nodded your head and he smirked a little giving you a quick kiss on the cheek before winking and sprinting his way up the staircase. 

After spending most of his time here he knew the place like the back of his hand, he also knew that if they were holding your uncle hostage he was going to be in the back part of the building where he kept the safes.

"What's the plan, boss?" Christian asked as they stood at the top of the stairs, Yoongi wanted to kill the man that had even dared to look at you let alone touch you so he had no need for dramatic effect.

"We just walk in," He smirks. The thing about Yoongi was that he wasn't about dramatic effect, he might have been one of the most feared men in Seoul but he didn't want to turn into someone that always put on some kind of show for everyone. Today was personal, everyone knew you worked here and everyone knew that you'd worked here for years and that Yoongi was a frequent visitor maybe he should have been more careful but you knew how to protect yourself thanks to Yoongi.

"What are you doing here?!" Someone screamed out as soon as Yoongi and his men walked into the top floor corridor, the man - who Yoongi assumed was a "guard" - threw down the newspaper he was reading calling for other men to come out and see what was happening. Yoongi looked at him, glaring a little.

"You come to my favourite place and expect me not to retaliate?" He smirked, shrugged his shoulders but the man just stood up and said nothing to him. He had to be around 6''2, built like a house with muscles the size of Yoongi's head but he didn't care, right now all he cared about was hurting whoever had hurt you,

"Which of you hit the girl downstairs?" He questioned, his eyes scanning the big man in front of him while a group of men stood further down the hallway watching the display. Yoongi bet that they thought their man would win, but they severely underestimated Yoongi if that were the case.

"The little slapper who was running her mouth?" The bone-headed guard clearly had no idea who Yoonhi was and Yoongi wasn't sure if it excited him more or if it drove his anger over the top level. 

"Was it you?" He stared at the man who sneered a little, 

"And if it was? What are you going to do? Slap my wrist and tell me I've been bad?" He cooed out, waving his hands around like he was a little girl but this only further angered Yoongi.

"The little whore deserved it. She should know not to run her mouth in front of Agust's crew." The anger that had been inside Yoongi had basically tripled more than it normally would have and he clutched the red chopsticks in his hand, running over the possible outcomes if he and his men were to kill all of those that were inside the restaurant this morning.

"Cat got your tongue?" Before the man could even process what was happening Yoongi flung himself toward him, jumping onto him before plunging the chopsticks into the guard's eye, twisting them around and killing him instantly as they went into his brain. Yoongi's men already ran ahead of him to take control of the men that were running through to come and see what all of the yellings had been about. Fights were breaking out around Yoongi as he walked down the hallway toward the main office of the building.

"You piece of shit!" Someone screamed lunging toward Yoongi who simply ducked out of the way causing the man to fly into a wall, smirking Yoongi grabbed him by the scruff of the collar, pinning him to the wall as he leaned in closer to him.

"Who's your boss?" The man was shaking as he stared up at Yoongi, something flashing in his eyes as he took a close look at Yoongis face

"A-Agust?" A smirk flashed on Yoongi's lips before he nodded for one of his men to take over for him, dropping the man as he made his way down the hall.

It was unknown knowledge that one of the most well-known police detectives was also Yoongi's twin brother, the two of them had always had a strained relationship and had never really gotten along. Both going to different private schools and making their own names for themselves in different parts of the huge city they lived in, Yoongi enjoyed the fact that no one knew of him while his brother...Agust. Practically lived off the attention he craved from those around him. 

He wanted to be the most rich and powerful man in all of Seoul, maybe even the whole country but it was hard to do that when you came from nothing. Now he was a "detective" working in one of the highest-ranking police forces but also ran his own gang on the side, using his pull within the force to get away with almost anything he wanted. It had never bothered Yoongi up until this point.

Until now Agust and Yoongi would do everything that they possibly could to stay out of each other's way, deciding it was better than starting fights all of the time. Yoongi couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen his brother, maybe it was the time he'd given him that nasty scar that ran down the right side of his face/eye. The two of them had been in a car accident, they’d been out all night looking for you after you’d called Yoongi terrified that you were drunk and at some party where you didn’t know anybody. It was a simple accident, you’d ran out into the road when you saw their car coming but because the two had been bickering inside of the cap when they noticed you, Yoongi swerved into the road to miss you. Agust had hit the dashboard with a force so heavy it caused the scar meanwhile Yoongi had gotten off with a broken arm and dislocated shoulder. You’d blamed yourself for all of it but Yoongi would never make you feel bad for an accident that happened when you were drunk.

"Yoongi," Your uncle breathed out as soon as he walked into the small office, the man that was standing in front of your uncle slowly turned on his heel but before he could even open his mouth Yoongi threw a knife in his direction, hitting him in the chest and smirking as he fell down to the ground.

"Did Yn call you?" Your uncle questioned as Yoongi made his way over to him, cutting the ropes that tied him to the chair,

"Yeah, I took care of everything." He smiled at your uncle who was quick to wrap him in a tight embrace, he knew Yoongi didn't like physical touch that much but this was something he was in need of.

"Someone called the cops, they're on their way." Someone panted from the doorway, your uncle shoved some cash into a duffle bag and handed it to Yoongi.

"Payment for keeping us safe as well as some extra," He winked before shoving Yoongi out of the room and watching as he sprinted down the hallway, they needed to be out of the area before police arrived. If Agust had arranged this then he needed to be gone before his brother could see him, the last thing anyone wanted was for Agust to know Yoongi was still seeing you.

The three of you had been close when you were younger, back before jealousy had taken over and Agust grew to hate Yoongi for everything.

"Where's Yn?" Yoongi asked as he came back down the stairs to find Jules cleaning up on her own, she shrugged her shoulders a little when sirens began to bast from outside,

"Yoongi!" Your voice rang out from down the street as you opened up the passenger side door of your car, waving him over as he sprinted in your direction sliding into the car before the door slammed and you sped off.

"Don't you have a shift to finish?" He questioned cockily as he did up his seatbelt - he trusted your driving of course but it was the other drivers on the road he wasn't so sure of.

"Agust was coming, figured it best I get out of there before he caught wind I was still in Seoul," You mumbled, your hands tightening on the wheel as you sped through the roads trying to make your way toward the main stretch of roads. Yoongi's place was right on the outer parts of town "shadowlands" he called it to you and him.

"Teaching you to drive might have been the best idea I ever had," Yoongi smirked at you, his eyes lighting up as you focused on driving.

"It's hot," He groaned as he watched you concentrating on weaving yourself in and out of other cars on the road as well as doing your utmost best to avoid the cops.

"What? Me driving?" You laughed weakly, glancing in the mirror to make sure there was no one tailing you, as soon as you did you slowed down a little trying to blend into the other cars around you.

"Yeah," He growled leaning over and kissing down your neck, his hands running up and down your thighs as you whined at him.

"You're a pig." You joked, slapping his hands playfully as he smirked at you even more.

"A pig that loves you," Your heart practically lept into your throat as you turned and smirked at him,

"I love you too handsome." You quickly kissed his cheek before heading in the direction of his place, ready to relax for the night and show him just how appreciative you were of him coming to save you today.

"Are you ever going to quit that shit?" You grumbled, snatching the lit cigarette from your boyfriend's mouth and throwing it out of the open window. 

"I thought you found it hot." Yoongi quipped at you, remembering all the years you told him how hot he looked whenever he would smoke. But that was years ago when the two of you thought smoking was "cool" and the "bad person" type of thing to do, now it just ruined your life and took people you cared about away from you.

"Yeah, when I was 18 and you were the "bad boy" type. Now it just means you're going to die sooner than me." You pouted a little before Yoongi chuckled a little watching you from behind. You were staring out into the city below you, wondering how long it was going to be until you could finally get away from it all and run away together.

"Nothing can take me away from you baby," He told you, putting his hands onto your hips and drawing you back into him, your ass pressed against his crotch as he placed kisses up and down your neck. Your hands found his as you held onto him and whimpered a little, he was always so touchy with you in private and you adored every second of it.

"Yoongi," You giggled, wriggling away from him and going over to the fish tank that the two of you had gotten a few weeks back to check on the little guy.

"I'll put the money away," Yoongi told you as he made his way over to the small safe inside the apartment. It wasn't the only place he stored your money, of course, he had placed different hiding spots all over Seoul where he'd decided to hide money in.

"How close are we to the goal?" You questioned as you carefully fed the goldfish that the two of you had gotten together. You'd won him at a funfair a few weeks back and never imagined it would have survived this long since not many of them did.

"Closer than you think," He promised as he opened the safe, it was practically full to the brim with cash that the two of you had been saving up for years. All with the intent of running away to get a completely fresh start together, somewhere you didn't have to hide from a detective and Yoongi didn't have to steal for a living. 

"My tips tonight will help," You called out as you walked toward the bedroom area of his studio apartment, going through the small suitcase of stuff you kept over. You needed to get changed before your shift at the club you worked at and if you didn't head off soon you were going to be late and that was the last thing you needed tonight.

"Trust me, we're not going to need much more," He watched you as he sat down on the sofa, smirking at you as he watched you strip down into nothing before pulling on a brightly coloured bikini and pulling some jeans and a baggy shirt over.

"I'm going to send Jin to watch over you tonight." Yoongi couldn't put his finger on it but something didn't sit right with him today and he wanted you to have some protection while you were dancing tonight.

"He scares the men away when you bring him," You turned to look at Yoongi, slowly making your way over to him before sitting down in his lap and smiling at him. Yoongi knew Jin scared the men off since that was his job, Yoongi loved and trusted you more than anything in the world but the thought of having random men ogling you all night drove him wild. On the nights he couldn't go to the club in disguise he would send someone he trusted, someone who would watch over you for him.

"He does?" Yoongi questioned, playing dumb but you rolled your eyes at him and shook your head.

"I need my tips Yoongi and if he's there I can't get them," You'd been working as an exotic dancer for a few years now to help bring in some more money for your escape plan. The money was exceptional on good nights but even on bad nights, the money was still relatively good enough for you to survive on.

"You need to lay low tonight so you can't come either," You warned him, your fingers slowly running up and down his chest as he looked you in the eyes.

"How do you know everything I'm thinking before I say it?"

"I'm special." You wink at him, leaning down and kissing him deeply. As soon as your lips connected it was as though everything around you melted away, the worries from earlier that morning were gone and replaced with a feeling of warmth and home. Yoongi had always been your safe space, that one person you could go to when the whole world was falling apart around you and yet somehow he made it all feel okay again.

"As soon as I'm back tonight we'll pack, okay?" You questioned as you finally got up from his lap, looking over at the bath that stood in the middle of the room. Yoongi nodded his head, bringing you into a quick kiss once again before you giggled a little,

"Have a bath, you're covered in blood and sweat." You gently ran your thumb over his cheekbone before getting up and heading for the front door. Yoongi's eyes didn't leave your body until the door was shut and even when it was the crushing feeling that something was wrong never left him.

"Everything is fine," He whispered to himself, grunting as he made his way over to the bath filling it with hot water before making his way to the kitchen to get something to drink. He put his uneasy feeling down to the adrenaline of earlier and he shook his head, pouring himself a nice cold glass of whiskey, downing it before making his way over to the bath and striping down.

A few minutes of shut-eye under the hot water would make him feel better, hopefully it would relax him enough and he could chill out until you got home for the night. Once you were home he was going to make a move on getting all of the cash he had together so that the two of you could leave.

You'd barely made it onto the streets under you were grabbed from behind, your arms pinned against your back as someone pressed something against your temple. It didn't take a genius to work out that there was now a gun pressed against your temple,

"Don't scream, don't kick and don't try and make a scene," The familiarity of that voice was like nails on a chalkboard for you and you bit back an insult to spit in Agust's direction,

"Not even a comment? I'm hurt, usually, you have a few choice words when you see me Yn." You stared at him as he came into view, one of his men tightened his grip on you as you struggled a little. Whenever you saw Agust it was like an instinct took over you and you wanted to kill him for even breathing the same air as you.

"Dressed like this on a night? I can only assume you're going to CooKee's," He knew the name of your club meaning he'd more than likely been watching you and Yoongi for a while and knew exactly what you were up to. You hated that he'd been watching you and neither of you had even noticed, all of this had to have been a set-up.

"Was today part of your plan? Huh? Stalk me like the creeper you are and then kidnap me? Because if you think taking me and forcing me to stay is going to make me fall in love with you, Agust, I have news for you," You stared at him glaring a little, as much as you wanted to bite your tongue and not give him the satisfaction of knowing he was pissing you off you couldn't help it,

"You've been watching too many movies. The beauty doesn't fall in love with the beast." You spat down at his feet and instantly he grabbed your face, holding it tightly in his grasp as he forced you to look at him. Your eyes found his as he glared at you, a darkness behind his eyes you'd never seen in anybody else before and you knew if he really wanted to he could just kill you in an instant.

"And whose fault is it that I'm a beast?! Huh?!" He shook your head forcibly before letting go and staring at you, a laugh erupting out of him as he shook his head. 

"It was an accident, I was drunk." You mumbled at him, your arms beginning to ache with how tightly they were being held against your back.

"Let's go inside, you can let my brother know I'm here to see him and take back what's mine." You scoffed at that, none of that money was his.

"Yours? The money you sent your boneheaded men to come and steal? From MY uncle?" 

"You're a gobby little shit, I can see why Bruce busted your lip. I see that you kept your vicious little mouth."

"Bruce? Nice to know the name of the man Yoongi killed." Suddenly you were lifted into the air by the man behind you who was growling a little.

"Yn, meet Bruce's brother, Vincent," Agust smirked as you were carried back into the building where Yoongi lived, your legs kicking as you attempted to get out of this man's arms and stop them from going inside. 

"YOONGI!" Agust's voice rang out chipper as he booted the door to his apartment open to see Yoongi sitting in the bathtub. As soon as Yoongi saw you in someone's arms and struggling to get away he reached for his gun but Agust shot a bullet into the ceiling.

"I wouldn't touch that if I was you." Agust aimed the gun at you this time and chuckled darkly to himself. He prided himself on being the brother that didn't care about hurting anyone around him and he enjoyed hurting people.

"Yoongi, listen to him." You pleaded as you looked at him, he glanced at you and smiled weakly. He knew that his sinking feeling was for a reason and he hated that you were being dragged into all of this.

The gun that Agust was holding slowly turned to be aimed at Yoongi's temple this time,

"You're going to tell me where all the money is," Agust told him, cocking back the gun and taking the safety off, you threw your legs around to try and get out of the man's grasp but you were stuck.

"Why? I thought you had more than enough with your job and side hustles." You hated that Yoongi was taking the time to be cocky toward his brother despite a gun being pressed toward him,

"You have dirty money, it belongs to other people. People you stole from," The barrel of the gun was pressed against Yoongi's skin but he didn't flinch, he didn't even so much as break a sweat.

"At least I'm not a dirty cop." He spat out before he was hit with the gun, you screamed out watching as Yoongi's head fell forward and a bit of blood dropped from his mouth.

"Last chance, give me the money." The gun was once again aimed at Yoongi, Agust's finger was on the trigger but Yoongi was refusing to answer or even look at his brother. Instead, he was staring at you with a weakened smile on his lips, as if this was his way of saying goodbye. Before you could think about what was happening you threw your head back into the nose of the man holding you, busting it as he dropped you onto the floor,

"I'll tell you! I'll tell you where it is just leave him alone!" You screamed out, rushing to Yoongi's side and slapping the gun out of Agust's hand and knocking it onto the floor. The twins stared at you as Yoongi eyed you up suspiciously,

"Let Yoongi go and you can have the money," You made your way over to the safe, looking at Yoongi as your eyes quickly flicked to the cigarette that was lit and inside of Agust's mouth.

"You're too slow!" Agust boomed out as you unlocked the safe, pulling it open to reveal stacks of cash that were now falling onto the ground.

It was mere seconds that it had been open before Yoongi took the cigarette from his brother's lips, smirking before throwing it into the safe. You'd never seen money go up in flames so fast before and you moved away from it all.

"Now no one can have it." You smirked, looking at Yoongi with a proud smile as he winked at you a little. If it was between giving the money to Agust or burning it, you'd burn it 10 times over.

"You're a silly little bitch!" Agust screamed before pushing his brother's head into the water. You didn't have time to react before you were grabbed by the same goon as before, your legs flailing around as you attempted to stop Agust from killing Yoongi.

"LET FUCKING GO OF ME YOU CUNT!" You squealed before something hit the back of your head, your legs suddenly felt too heavy to move and you watched helplessly as your boyfriend struggled to fight back against his brother,

When You eventually woke up you were tied to a chair in some kind of shipping container yard, surrounded by a bunch of men in all-black suits. In front of you was Yoongi who was hunched over a barrel of water, his hair dripping wet and his hands tied together in front of him as he panted heavily. You had no idea how long this had been going on but you wanted it to end and you wanted it to end right now.

"How nice of sleeping beauty to wake up and witness all of this." You struggled against the chair as a bald man dipped Yoongi's head back under the water, you screamed out begging for them to stop but none of them would listen to you and you knew that.

"Now, now. No struggling or you might hurt yourself," Agust made his way over to you, smirking as he took your chin into his hand and turned your head to look up at him. You hated him with every fibre of your being and all you wanted to do was kill him but being tied to a chair didn't give you many options on how to do that.

"You know if you'd wanted me instead of him he never would have corrupted that pretty little brain of yours." You stared at him, nostrils flaring as you held back your comments,

"You wouldn't have to be a dirty little whore that stripes for spare change." By now he was face to face with you and you spat into his face, earning a slap across your face as you let out a small whimper.

"I may not be rich like you, but at least I have morals. I'm not a dirty cop." You grumbled before he started laughing rather loudly at you,

"You sleep beside a murderer, you've killed a few people as well, now, what kind of morals are those?" Your smile fell from your face, he knew everything? You'd only killed when you had to or when you were in real danger but you knew Yoongi had killed too. 

"Or when you're working three jobs to keep yourself fed," You stared at him as you shook your head, you didn't care what you had to do in order to survive. You loved Yoongi and nothing would change that.

"If you were with me, you'd never have to work a day in your life, everything you could ever want would be at the snap of your fingers." Agust was standing behind your chair now, his hands on your shoulders as you watched Yoongi constantly being dipped under the water only to be dragged up right before he could drown or pass out. You had no idea how long they'd been doing this to him but he looked exhausted, his face pale and his facial features were beginning to look sunken.

"You never wanted this life, Yn. I remember what you wanted," He whispered in your ear, his breath on your skin made you want to crawl into a ball and die.

"You wanted to be treated like a queen. Long walks on the beach, waking up with someone by your side.  Richer than you could ever imagine being."

"That was when I was young and foolish," You hissed out at him, you hadn't thought about that kind of life in years. You knew it was practically impossible.

"It can all be real, just come to me,"

"Why? Why do you want me?" You questioned, staring at him as he smirked at you. Agust had always wanted everything that Yoongi had, nothing was ever good enough for him. If Yoongi was happy then Agust wanted that thing to be taken away from him and he would stop at nothing until that happened.

"Because he has you." Yoongi was once again dipped into the water and you whimpered, watching helplessly as he was pulled back out. Your eyes flashed behind the bald man that was drowning Yoongi and you tried not to let a smirk show on your face.

There were some things that Agust clearly didn't know about his men or about life in general and that was that not everyone could be trusted. A few men that were standing and watching his display worked for Yoongi and you'd even seen them at your club before. Among the men though there was Jin, who was staring at the barrel and waiting for you to notice. There had to be some kind of plan in action and you had no idea what it was, you swallowed the lump in your throat as you tried to distract Agust from watching him.

"If I agree, you'll leave him alone and you won't touch him." You told Agust suddenly, trying to get him to stand in front of you again but he simply moved to stand beside you, his eyes on his brother the whole time.

"Sure." He shrugged, not really agreeing to it. You knew that there was no way Agust would just let him go but you needed to distract him long enough for whatever plan Jin had in play.

"I want your word on it! Look at me!" You screamed, wriggling in the chair as you attempted to move it but Agust's handheld you in place as he turned to look down at you.

"You'll let him leave Seoul, no one tailing him. He gets out and you get me." You told him, staring him deep in the eyes as he smirked at you, pretending to think it over as he looked down into your eyes.

"You have my word, princess." You could tell by the smirk on his lips that you couldn't trust him but you smiled weakly.

"T-Thank you." He turned to look at the man who was holding Yoongi under the water and made a throat-cutting action,

"You asshole!" You screeched out kicking the chair out from under you as you hit the ground with force, the chair smashing as you watched the display. Yoongi was pulled from the water, a gun cradled between his hands as he took aim at his brother. Seconds felt like hours before Agust's laugh began to die down, shots ringing loudly.

"Yoongi," You breathed out as he lent against the water barrel, catching his breath as he tried to calm down from almost drowning, his head rushing with adrenaline.

"Untie her, NOW!" He boomed out, four men rushing to your side as they untied the ropes from your ankles and wrists. You scrambled to your feet and rushed into his arms, looking at him as he smirked down at you,

"I told you nothing could take me away from you." You hit his chest softly,

"You knew he was going to come for you?" You frowned, wondering why he'd let it get this far if he'd known from the start but Yoongi shook his head. He was smart but he wasn't that smart,

"No. But I always make sure I'm ten steps in front of him. I've had my people with him for years," He kissed your temple softly before carefully lifting your wrists to his lips and kissing them softly where you had been bound.

"We can get out of here now. We'll go wherever we want," He told you, kissing your wrists again as you nodded at him,

"Japan," You told him as he smirked at you. The two of you had always planned to go to Japan together and he was more than happy to oblige with whatever your heart desired.

It had been months since the incident in Seoul had happened and as you sat in the small restaurant in Japan you watched the news. It was reported that the case for Detective Agust's case had run cold and would officially be shut by the end of the year.

"After information was found that Dectivie Agust was dirty we have reason to believe his own men took him out." You gulped a little and looked at Yoongi who was smirking at you.

"I told you everything would work out." He fed you some noodles with his chopsticks and you felt your body heating up a little,

"You're always right," You mumbled, leaning across the table and kissing him softly before he laughed softly.

"I know I am." He winked before you shook your head, going back to reading the book you had in front of you. It was a history book about the Kingdom of Joseon and about two twin brothers who had fought for their right to rule the kingdom. Ending in the death of the tyrant ruler and leaving his brother to rule by the side of his girlfriend.

"These twins look too similar to you," You mumbled, turning the book around so that Yoongi could see the picture of the twins that was inside the book.

"Maybe history repeated itself." He winked at you before eating from his bowl and letting you get back into your book.

Tagline: @chiisaiblog​ @rjsmochii​ @tinyoonsblog​ @sw33tnight​ @cherrybubblesandvodka​ @acciocriativity​ @mitzwinchester​ @heyjiminnie​ @halesandy​ @jin-from-the-block​ @aerastus​ @namjooningelsewhere​ @psychosupernatural​ @lyoongx​ @royallyjjk​ @critssq​ @laylasbunbunny​ @lenfilms​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @meowmeowisdaname​ @imafivestarkpopstan​ @ratherbfangirling​ @backintomykpopphaseagain​

[johnwickb1tsch]

young!Constantine x witch!Reader imagine

Imagine you’re a psychic, and an earth witch. And…you’re the love of John Constantine's life. You met in India a long time ago, when you were learning about Ayurvedic healing, and he was doing research on Rakshasa demon possessions. In the common area on the roof of your hostel in Varanasi, it was as though your eyes were glued to him. You couldn’t look away–and neither could he. Something tugged at you, like there was a string tied to your insides, and the other end of it was wrapped around that man’s finger.

He tried to play it cool by throwing a snide comment your way when you sat nearby. “Let me guess. You’re taking a year off to find yourself and learn yoga.” You threw it right back, taking in this handsome weirdo in his pressed white shirt, with his gorgeously fluffy raven hair and eyes that could steal a woman’s soul. He had a stack of books at his elbow, one of which you were wary to see was a Bible. “Let me guess, missionary boy here thinks he’s going to save some polytheists whose perfectly good religion predates Christianity by five thousand years?”

The corner of his mouth quirked in kudos, those dark eyes shining for you. “Actually, I’m a demon hunter. Know any, little witch?”

You bantered the rest of the evening, the lights of the sacred city around you, a cool night breeze coming off the Ganges, while he pretended to read and you toyed with your Tarot cards. You continued to snipe at each other through the hall, going back to your rooms, all the way until you grabbed him by his stupidly dashing shirt and kissed him–just to shut him up, of course. You certainly didn’t expect him to kiss you back like he meant to devour you, pinning you against the door of your room until you managed to fumble out your key. You barely made it under the mosquito netting before you fucked like it was imperative you try out the whole Kama Sutra by morning. (OK, maybe you had been learning a little yoga. He never ridiculed you for it again…)

The rest was history. You were inseparable from that day, and you were fire together–and water. You balanced each other out–his magic and your magic meshed. You completed each other in a way you didn’t entirely understand, but you felt it though, and nothing had ever felt so right. Though he didn’t tell you about being damned, you saw the scars on his wrists, and you sensed he had a rough childhood. You felt the sorrow of it hovering over him like a dark cloud, and all you wanted in the world was to chase it away for him. Sitting in a secluded alcove of the Red Fort with his arm around your shoulders, he admitted to you that for the first time in longer than he could remember, he felt happy, with you. 

You had a grand adventure traveling around the Great Subcontinent, reveling in its wonders from the Himalayas to Tamil Nadu, until you had a close brush with that demon he was tracking, and Constantine realized how utterly it would destroy him, if something happened to you because of his calling. He pushed you away when it was time for you to fly home, even though it killed something inside him to let you go.

For years, you feel like you are bleeding out from a wound that will not heal, after losing him. Eventually you manage to make a life for yourself, living in your little cottage in the woods, growing your plants and making your potions, healing people and caring for animals…but you never love again, the way you loved John Constantine.

You hear whispers of him here and there, you know he’s become a legend in his field. You wonder if he ever thinks of you, the way you still think of him. 

The answer to that, is every day that ends with y. He misses you like a severed limb, but he takes some twisted comfort in imagining that you are safe, far away from him.

But when you start having visions of him sitting in a pool of blood and glass, dying, you have to go to him. You know he’ll be mad–but you always had a knack for talking him down--or fighting him, if you have to. He needs your help, whether he likes it or not…

TBC?

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me 🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - age gap,, i think thats all

all of the songs and celebrities mentioned in here are from the time periods this was written if you are confused🩷

Chapter 1

It was 1956. I was living with my family at the Bergstrom Air Force Base in Austin, Texas, where my father, then Captain, Joseph Paul y/ln, a career officer, was stationed. He came home late for dinner one evening and handed me a record album.

“I don’t know what this Matt guy is all about,” he said, “but he must be something special. I stood in line with half the Air Force at the PX to get this for you; everybody wants it.”

I put the record on the hi-fi and heard the rocking music of “Blue Suede Shoes.” The album was titled Matt Sturniolo. It was his first.

Like almost every other kid in America, I liked Matt but not as fanatically as many of my girl friends at Del Valley Junior High. They all had Matt T-shirts and Matt hats and Matt socks and even lipstick in colors with names like Hound Dog Orange and Heartbreak Pink referencing names of his songs. Matt was everywhere, on bubblegum cards and Bermuda shorts, on diaries and wallets and pictures that glowed in the dark. The boys at school began trying to look like him, with their fluffy hair and turned up collars.

One girl was so crazy about him that she was running his local fan club. She said I could join for twenty-five cents, the price of a book she’d ordered for me by mail. When I received it, I was shocked to see a picture of Matt signing the bare chests of a couple of girls, at that time an unheard-of act.

Then I saw him on television on Jimmy and Tommy Dorsey’s Stage Show. He was sexy and handsome, with his deep brooding eyes, pouty lips, and crooked smile. He strutted out to the microphone, spread his legs, leaned back, and strummed his guitar. Then he began singing with such confidence, moving his body with unbridled sexuality. Despite myself, I was attracted.

Some members of his adult audience were less enthusiastic. Soon his performances were labeled obscene. My mother stated emphatically that he was “a bad influence for teenage girls. He arouses things in them that shouldn’t be aroused. If there’s ever a mothers’ march against Matt Sturniolo, I’ll be the first in line.”

But I’d heard that despite all of his stage antics and lustful, tough-guy looks, Matt came from a strict Southern Christian background. He was a country boy who didn’t smoke or drink, who loved and honored his parents, and who addressed all adults as “sir” or “ma’am.”

I was an Air Force child, a shy, pretty little girl, unhappily accustomed to moving from base to base every two or three years. By the time I was eleven, I had lived in six different cities and, fearful of not being accepted, I either kept to myself or waited for someone to befriend me. I found it especially difficult entering a new school in the middle of the year, when cliques had already been established and newcomers were considered outsiders.

Small and petite, with long y/hc hair, y/ec eyes, and an upturned nose, I was always stared at by the other students. At first girls would see me as a rival, afraid I’d take their boyfriends away. I seemed to feel more comfortable with boys—and they were usually friendlier.

People always said I was the prettiest girl in school, but I never felt that way. I was skinny, practically scrawny, and even if I was as cute, as people said, I wanted to have more than just good looks. Only with my family did I really feel totally protected and loved. Close and supportive, they provided my stability.

A photographer’s model before her marriage, my mother was totally devoted to her family. As the oldest, it was my responsibility to help her with the kids. After me, there were Don, four years younger, and Michelle, my only sister, who was five years younger than Don. Jeff and the twins, Tim and Tom, hadn’t yet been born.

My mother was too shy to talk about the facts of life, so my sex education came in school, when I was in the sixth grade. Some kids were passing around a book that looked like the Bible from the outside, but when you opened it, there were pictures of men making love to women, and women making love to each other.

My body was changing and stirring with new feelings. I’d gotten looks from boys at school, and once a picture of me in a tight turtleneck sweater was stolen from the school bulletin board. Yet I was still a child, embarrassed about my own sexuality. I fantasized endlessly about French-kissing, but when my friends who hung around our house played spin the bottle, it would take me half an hour to let a boy kiss my pursed lips.

My strong, handsome father was the center of our world. He was a hard worker who had earned his degree in Business Administration at University of Texas. At home he ran a tight ship. He was a firm believer in discipline and responsibility, and he and I frequently knocked heads. When I became a cheerleader at thirteen, it was all I could do to convince him to let me go to out-of-town games. Other times no amount of crying, pleading, or appealing to my mother would change his mind. When he laid down the law, that was that.

I managed to get around him occasionally. When he refused to let me wear a tight skirt, I joined the Girl Scouts specifically so I could wear their tight uniform.

My parents were survivors. Although they often had to struggle financially, we children were the last to feel it. When I was a little girl my mother sewed pretty tablecloths to cover the orange crates that we used as end tables. Rather than do without, we made the best of what we had.

Dinner was strictly group participation: Mother cooked, one of us set the table, and the rest cleaned up. Nobody got away with anything, but we were very supportive of one another. I felt fortunate to have a close-knit family.

Going through old albums of family photographs showing my parents when they were young fascinated me. I was curious about the past. World War II intrigued me, especially since my father had fought with the Marines on Okinawa. He looked handsome in his uniform—you could tell he was posing for my mother—but somehow his smile looked out of place, especially when you realized where he was. When I read the note on the back of the picture about how much he missed my mother, my eyes filled with tears.

While rummaging through the family keepsakes I came upon a small wooden box. Inside was a carefully folded American flag, the kind that I knew was given to servicemen’s widows. Also inside the box was a picture of my mother with her arm around a strange man and, sitting on her lap, an infant. On the back of the photo was inscribed “Mommy, Daddy, y/n.” I had discovered a family secret.

Feeling betrayed, I ran to phone my mother, who was at a party nearby. Within minutes I was in her arms, crying as she calmed me and explained that when I was six months old, my real father, Lieutenant James Wagner, a handsome Navy pilot, had been killed in a plane crash while returning home on leave. Two and a half years later, she married Paul y/ln, who adopted me and had always loved me as his own.

Mother suggested I keep my discovery from the other children. She felt it would endanger our family closeness, though when it did become known, it had no effect on our feelings for one another. She gave me a gold locket that my father had given her. I cherished that locket and wore it for years and fantasized that my father died a great hero. In times of emotional pain and loneliness he would become my guardian angel.

By the end of the year, I’d been nominated to run for Queen of Del Valley Junior High. This was my first taste of politics and competition and it was especially trying because I was running against Millie Collins, my best friend.

We each had a campaign manager introducing us as we went from house to house knocking on doors. My manager tried to talk each person into voting for me and donating a penny or more per vote to a school fund. The nominee who collected the most money won. I was sure that this competition would jeopardize my friendship with Millie, which was more important to me than winning. I considered quitting but felt I couldn’t let my parents or my supporters down. While my mother was out looking for a dress for me to wear to the coronation, my dad kept reminding me to memorize an acceptance speech. I kept putting it off, certain I was going to lose.

It was the last day of the campaign, and a rumor began circulating that Millie’s grandparents had put in a hundred-dollar bill for their vote. My parents were disappointed; there was no way that they could afford to match that much money and even if they could, they objected on principle.

The night they announced the winner, I was all dressed up in a new turquoise blue, strapless tulle net formal that itched so badly I couldn’t wait to take it off. I sat beside Millie on the dais in the large school auditorium. I could see my parents with happy, confident looks on their faces though I was sure they were going to be disheartened. Then the principal walked up to the podium.

“And now,” she said, hesitating to heighten the suspense, “is the moment you’ve all been waiting for  . . . the culmination of a month of campaigning by our two lovely contestants: y/n y/ln  . . .” All eyes turned toward me. I blushed and glanced at Millie. “ . . . and Millie Collins.” Our eyes locked for a brief, tense moment.

“The new Queen of Del Valley Junior High is  . . .” A drum roll sounded. “ . . . y/n y/ln.”

The audience applauded wildly. I was in shock. Called up to the stage to give my speech, I had none. Sure that I was going to lose, I’d never even bothered to write one. I walked, trembling, to the podium, then looked out at the crowded auditorium. All I could see was my father’s face, growing more disappointed as he realized I had nothing to say. When I finally spoke, it was to apologize.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m not prepared to give a speech, as I did not expect to win. But thank you very much for voting for me. I’ll do my very best.” And then, looking at my father, I added, “I’m sorry, Dad.”

I was surprised as the audience graciously applauded, but I still had to face my father and hear him say, “I told you so.”

Being elected Queen was a bittersweet victory, because the closeness that Millie and I once shared was restrained. Still, to me that crown symbolized a wonderful, unfamiliar feeling: acceptance.

My newfound tranquility ended abruptly when my father announced that he was being transferred to Wiesbaden, West Germany.

I was crushed. Germany was the other side of the world. All my fears returned. My first thought was, What am I going to do about my friends? I turned to my mother, who was sympathetic and reminded me that we were in the Air Force and moving was an unavoidable part of our lives.

I finished junior high school, my mother gave birth to baby Jeff, and we said our goodbyes to neighbors and good friends. Everyone promised to write or call, but remembering past promises I knew better. My friend Stephanie jokingly told me that Matt Sturniolo was stationed in Bad Neuheim, West Germany. “Do you believe it? You’re going to be in the same country as Matt Sturniolo,” she said. We looked at a map and found that Bad Neuheim was close to Wiesbaden. I said back, “I’m going over there to meet Matt.” We both laughed, hugged each other, and said goodbye.

West Germany

The fifteen-hour flight to West Germany seemed interminable, but finally we arrived in the beautiful old city of Wiesbaden, headquarters of the U.S. Air Force in Europe. There we checked into the Helene Hotel, a massive and venerable building on the main thoroughfare. After three months, hotel living became too expensive and we began looking for a place to rent.

We felt lucky to find a large apartment in a vintage building constructed long before World War I. Soon after we moved in, we noticed that all the other apartments were rented to single girls. These Fräuleins walked around all day long in robes and negligees, and at night they were dressed to kill. Once we learned a little German, we realized that, although the pension was very discreet, we were living in a brothel.

Moving was out of the question—housing was too scarce—but the location did little to help me to adjust. Not only was I isolated from other American families, but there was the language barrier. I was accustomed to changing schools frequently, but a foreign country posed altogether new problems, principally that I couldn’t share my thoughts. I began to feel that my life had stopped dead in its tracks.

September came and with it, school. Once again I was the new girl. I was no longer popular and secure as I’d been at Del.

There was a place called the Eagles Club, where American service families went for dinner and entertainment. It was within walking distance of the pension and soon proved an important discovery for me. Every day after school, I’d go to the snack bar there and listen to the jukebox and write letters to my friends back home in Austin, telling them how much I missed them. Drowning in tears, I’d spend my weekly allowance playing the songs that were very popular back in the States—Frankie Avalon’s “Venus” and the Everly Brothers’ “All I Have to Do Is Dream.”

One warm summer afternoon, I was sitting with my brother Don when I noticed a handsome man in his twenties staring at me. I’d seen him watching me before, but I’d never paid any attention to him. This time, he stood up and walked toward me. He introduced himself as Steven Wright and asked my name.

“y/n y/ln,” I said, immediately suspicious; he was much older than me.

He asked where in the States I came from, how I liked Germany, and if I liked Matt Sturniolo.

“Of course,” I said, laughing. “Who doesn’t?”

“I’m a good friend of his. My wife and I go to his house quite often. How would you like to join us one evening?”

Unprepared for such an extraordinary invitation, I grew even more skeptical and guarded. I told him I’d have to ask my parents. Over the course of the next two weeks, Steven met my parents and my father checked out his credentials. Steven was also in the Air Force and it turned out that my father knew his commanding officer. That seemed to break the ice between them. Steven assured Dad that I’d be well chaperoned when we visited Matt, who lived off base in a house in Bad Nauheim.

On the appointed night I tore through my closet, trying to find an appropriate outfit. Nothing seemed dressy enough for meeting Matt Sturniolo. I settled on a navy and white sailor dress and white socks and shoes. Surveying myself in the mirror, I thought I looked cute, but being only fourteen, I didn’t think I’d make any kind of impression on Matt.

Eight o’clock finally arrived, and so did Steven Wright and his attractive wife, Carole. Anxious, I hardly spoke to either of them during the forty-five-minute drive. We entered the small town of Bad Nauheim, with its narrow cobblestone streets and plain, old-fashioned houses, and I kept looking around for what I assumed would be Matt’s huge mansion. Instead Steven pulled up to an ordinary-looking three-story house surrounded by a white picket fence.

There was a sign on the gate in German, which translated as: autographs between 7:00 and 8:00 p.m. only. Even though it was after eight o’clock, a large group of friendly German girls waited around expectantly. When I asked Steven about them, he explained that there were always large groups of fans outside the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of Matt.

I followed Steven through the gate and up the short pathway to the door. We were welcomed by James Sturniolo, Matt’s father, a tall, gray-haired, attractive man, who led us down a long hallway to the living room, from which I could hear Brenda Lee on the record player, singing “Sweet Nothin’s.”

The plain, almost drab living room was filled with people, but I spotted Matt immediately. He was handsomer than he appeared in films, younger and more vulnerable-looking with his haircut. He was in civilian clothes, a bright red sweater and tan slacks, and he was sitting with one leg swung over the arm of a large overstuffed chair, with a cigar dangling from his lips.

As Steven led me over to him, Matt stood up and smiled. “Well,” he said. “What have we here?”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I just kept staring at him.

“Matt,” Steven said, “this is y/n y/ln. The girl I told you about.”

We shook hands and he said, “Hi, I’m Matt Sturniolo,” but then there was a silence between us until Matt asked me to sit down beside him, and Steven drifted off.

“So,” Matt said. “Do you go to school?”

“Yes.”

“What are you, about a junior or senior in high school?”

I blushed and said nothing, not willing to reveal that I was only in the ninth grade.

“Well,” he persisted.

“Ninth.”

Matt looked confused. “Ninth what?”

“Grade,” I whispered.

“Ninth grade,” he said and started laughing. “Why, you’re just a baby.”

“Thanks,” I said curtly. Not even Matt Sturniolo had the right to say that to me.

“Well. Seems the little girl has spunk,” he said, laughing again, amused by my response. He gave me that charming smile of his, and all my resentment just melted away.

We made small talk for a while longer. Then Matt got up and walked over to the piano and sat down. The room suddenly grew silent. Everyone’s eyes were focused on him as he began to entertain us.

He sang “Rags to Riches” and “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” and then with his friends singing harmony, “End of the Rainbow.” He also did a Jerry Lee Lewis impersonation, pounding the keys so hard that a glass of water he’d set on the piano began sliding off. When Matt caught it without missing a beat of the song, everyone laughed and applauded except me. I was nervous. I glanced around the room and saw an intimidating life-size poster of a half-nude model on the wall. She was the last person I wanted to see, with her fulsome body, pouting lips, and wild mane of tousled hair. Imagining Matt’s taste in women, I felt very young and out of place.

I glanced up and saw Matt trying to get my attention. I noticed that the less response I showed, the more he began singing just for me. I couldn’t believe that Matt Sturniolo was trying to impress me.

Later, he asked me to come into the kitchen, where he introduced me to his grandmother, Minnie Mae Sturniolo, who stood by the stove, frying a huge pan of bacon. As we sat down at the table, I told Matt I wasn’t hungry. Actually I was too nervous to eat.

“You’re the first girl I’ve met from the States in a long time,” Matt said, as he began devouring the first of five gigantic bacon sandwiches, each one smothered with mustard. “Who are the kids listening to?”

I laughed. “Are you kidding?” I said. “Everyone listens to you.”

Matt seemed unconvinced. He asked me a lot of questions about Fabian and Ricky Nelson. He told me he was worried about how his fans would accept him when he returned to the States. Since he’d been away, he hadn’t made any public appearances or movies, although he’d had five hit singles, all recorded before he’d left.

It felt like we’d just begun talking when Steven came in and pointed to his watch. I had dreaded that moment; the evening had gone so fast. It seemed I had just arrived and now I was being hurried away. Matt and I had just started to get to know each other. I felt like Cinderella, knowing that when my curfew came, all this magic would end. I was surprised when Matt asked Steven if I could possibly stay longer. When Steven explained the agreement with my father, Matt casually suggested that maybe I could come by again. Though I wanted to more than anything in the world, I didn’t really believe it would happen.

a/n - thoughts on this story so far? all the fashion and technology and things is still based in the time period its set in but i promise it gets better as the story goes on! i know the age gap is crazy but back in the day it was normal and its the age gap in Priscilla’s book so i just stuck with it. I in no way support this at all🎀

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

This material may be protected by copyright.

[riahollywood]

the lucky one | christian pulisic

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notes: just a whole load of fluff that i wrote when feeling like absolute shite at the weekend. enjoy 🥰

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

the shooting pain in your lower stomach awoke you from your slumber, shifting your lower body in the bed and clenching your eyes shut as you waited for the particularly bad pain to settle down.

you picked up your phone and after seeing no notifications unlocked it to go into your conversation with christian, your lips forming a pout when you noticed the message had still not been delivered.

after being together for a couple of months, you had spent many a lazy day bundled up under the covers of christian’s cosy bed. whilst you much preferred your boyfriend to be cuddled up with you, staying wrapped up under the luxurious duvet on his cloud-like mattress sounded like the much better option for your period pains compared to the basic set up you had at your uni accommodation.

it had been easy making the decision to bail on uni for the day, deciding to stay put till your pains eased up and you made any attempt to drive home.

knowing christian would be worried when he returned from his training session to his apartment and saw your car still parked where it had been when he left hours ago, you managed to type out a quick message letting him know you were blowing off your classes and hoping to sleep the pain off a little longer.

upon hearing the rattle of christian’s keys unlocking the front door, your concerns about worrying him were soon confirmed as you heard him shout your name as soon as the door closed.

“‘m here.” you called out weakly, knowing there was little point as he wouldn’t have been able to hear you.

noticing the lounge and kitchen untouched from when he left earlier that morning, christian rushed down the corridor to his bedroom, his heart racing in his chest when he saw the bedroom door closed. just how he had left it earlier so he would not wake you when leaving.

he swung back the door, his heart twinging in his chest when he saw you cuddled up on his side of the bed, pale face resting on his pillows that carried his musky smell, able to bring you a little bit of comfort through the pain. your cheeks were flushed and stray hairs clinging onto your clammy forehead, worrying christian immensely.

you managed to lift your head slightly to take in christian’s appearance, that familiar warm, fuzzy feeling overcoming you as you looked him up and down. he had clearly had a shower at training, his fluffy curls looking fresh whilst he was dressed in grey jogging bottoms and his black puffer coat, clearly in too much of a rush to check you were okay to take it off.

“baby, are you okay?” he rushed over to you, perching himself on the edge of the bed and cradling your pale face in his large hand.

“‘m okay, i just- i have the worst cramps and i just wanted to stay in your bed all morning. i’m sorry, i did try to message you, i’m not sure why it wouldn’t send.”

christian’s heart swelled at your words. he felt awful knowing you were in pain and there was little he could do about it, but knowing you felt safe in his space, that you felt comfortable enough to just stay there, that made him so happy.

too caught up in his mind, when he didn’t reply, you started to get a little worried.

“you- you don’t mind that i stayed, do you?” feeling your already pink cheeks burning as concern filled you. he had been at training all morning after all, the last thing he probably wanted was to come back to you moping about. “i’m sorry, i can go if it’s a probl-“

christian furrowed his brows, shaking his head. “no y/n, i-, i’m so glad you felt comfortable enough to stay.”

you matched his smile before a particularly painful cramp took over. the discomfort on your face made christian’s heart ache.

“is it bad?” he asked softly and you nodded. “stay here, i’ll be back in a minute.” he planted a soft kiss to your forehead making your heart swell.

in that moment christian was grateful he had grown up with a close relationship with his sister, feeling fairly confident he knew what to do to ease your pain as much as possible. he hurried around, not wanting to leave you waiting too long. preparing a hot water bottle before grabbing a cold bottle of water and some pills from the cupboard.

when he returned, you all but melted at how thoughtful he was.

after gladly accepting the water and pills, christian stayed stood next to the bed, unsure on his next move. “is there anything else i can do to help?” he racked his brain for what his sister would do when she was suffering. should he get you some chocolate? ice cream? or was that all a cliche. he remembered his sister throwing up sometimes. would that just make it worse?

a dazy smile took over your face. despite the pain, you couldn’t help but soften at the sweetness of your boyfriend. “i think a cuddle would help.”

he gladly obliged, slipping himself under the duvet and settling down before immediately opening his arms up for you to fall into his chest.

christian was quick to wrap one of his arms around your body, the other reaching to reposition the hot water bottle, holding it to rest on your lower stomach.

“is that okay, sweetheart?” he moved his other hand to stroke softly back and forth at your hip just above where your pyjama shorts sat.

“mhm.” you let out a satisfied sigh, the warmth from the hot water bottle immediately providing you with a little relief. you managed to edge yourself closer to christian and tangle your legs with his, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

“you want to try sleep it off?” he asked and you just nuzzled yourself further into his chest, the steady sound of his heartbeat and being wrapped up in his arms settling you.

“what did i do to deserve you?” you lifted your head up slightly to look at christian, your insides bubbling at how beautiful he looked. his dark honey eyes staring into yours, the freckles scattered across his face, his rosey pink lips turned upwards into a smile at your words.

he hummed, leaning down and brushing his soft lips against your forehead once more.

“i think it’s the other way around, sweetheart.”

you shook your head, grinning as his hand slipped up the back of your pyjama top to rest on the small of your back, the feel of his cold hands on your burning up body welcomed.

“i’m definitely the lucky one.” you grinned till a further pain erupted in your lower tummy, causing you to clentch your eyes shut and let out a small groan.

christian’s expression dropped seeing you in pain.

“come on, let’s have a nap, see if you can sleep it off, baby.”

you nodded, resting your head back against his chest and closing your eyes, gladly accepting his embrace as you managed to drift off into a peaceful sleep.

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Gator Tillman x Fem! Reader

Valentine's Day Blurb from the Badge Bunny AU

Valentine's Day is one of your favorite holidays! You're a little bratty when you think things aren't going your way. Gator takes matters into his own hands.

Special thanks to @starksbabie for all your help! 😘

18+ Only! Minors DNI!

Warnings: Reader is referred to as "Bunny" or "Bun". Fluffy and sweet moments. Porn with plot. A little bit of Dom!Gator/Sub!Reader. Spanking. A hint of orgasm denial. P in V (wrap it before you tap it). Creampie.

Word Count: 3K

Valentine's Day was a few days away. One of the few holidays you secretly enjoyed.

That bitchy facade you carried around melted away this time of year. You'd had boyfriends in the past that went all out. Roses, fancy restaurants, some nice jewelry.

In no way were you expecting that this year. Gator was not a mushy, lovesick puppy that followed you around. He was very rough around the edges, but he could surprise you with how gentle he could be.

You weren't even sure if he remembered what day it was, having to remind him when Halloween was this past fall. Maybe it was the way he was brought up. Roy only recognizing Christian holidays in his household when Gator was a child.

Henry was letting you decorate the bar to your liking. Paper hearts on walls. Red and pink garland strung about.

He just shook his head putting some more glasses away as you hummed to yourself hanging another paper mâché heart from the ceiling.

It was a slow lunch giving you plenty of time to decorate.

“What do ya’ think, Henry?” You called over to him.

“I think it looks like some lovesick fool threw up in here, but it could be worse.” He chuckled, heading to the back once more.

It was then your lovesick fool walked in the door, the little bell above his head announcing his arrival as you caught his eye. Grin plastered across his handsome face at seeing you.

“Hey baby!” You shouted, climbing down from the ladder to meet him, throwing your arms around his neck for a hug and a quick peck.

“Hey sweet thing.” He had his arm slung around your waist, keeping you close to him. “Look at this place. All your doing, huh? Bunny has a heart after all.”

He laughed as you batted his chest, moving out of his grasp.

“Oh stop, you'll ruin my reputation saying shit like that.” You moved to go get him his usual Mt Dew as he sat in a booth.

“No Andy today?” Sitting the soda in front of him as he grabbed a straw from the front of your apron.

“Nah, he's off. Takin' his fiancé away for the weekend.” You nodded, thinking it must be nice.

You'd secretly held out a little hope he might surprise you with something.

The 14th rolled around. It was a beautiful Sunday morning. Picturesque. No snow today and the sun was shining.

You'd slept in. Gator saying that he had something to do a little later but kept tight lipped about it, as usual.

You eased out of bed, letting him sleep in a little longer. You'd been waiting to surprise him all week.

You made heart shaped pancakes, burning the first few and throwing the evidence promptly into the bottom of the trashcan. Hoping like hell you didn't set the smoke alarm off ruining the morning.

Adding chocolate chips to his and fresh strawberries to yours, they were finally done.

You'd just finished setting the plates down when you heard your bedroom door finally swing open. He grumbled, making his way down the hall.

Sleep mussed hair sticking up and across his forehead, eyes barely open, blinking when he noticed the table was set.

“What's all this then?” He asked, with a groggy voice.

You smiled, “It's for you. Happy Valentine's Day!”

“You did all this for me?” He grinned, looking over the table and looking back at you. Your hands splayed on your hips, thoroughly proud of yourself.

He rounded the table, pulling you in by your hips kissing you softly.

“I'm so glad you didn't burn the house down.” Chuckling as he pulled away.

“Shut up.” You giggled along, pushing him toward the table. “Sit down, before it gets too cold.”

He immediately grabs the syrup, eyes twinkling like a kid on Christmas morning, smothering his cakes with the sticky sweetness.

It made you wonder how many times growing up he actually got to indulge himself as he took the first bite, humming around his fork.

“Bunny, these are fuckin' amazing.” Humming, around another mouthful.

You smiled, as you dug into your own plate.

He wolfed down a second helping before cursing to himself after checking the time.

“Fuck. I've got to get a shower.” He huffed, putting his cleared plate in the sink, kissing your cheek before heading down the hall.

That blissful little bubble you created burst. Duty calls… again.

“I love ya’ Bun. See you this afternoon.” Kissing your cheek once again and he was out the door, while your hands were deep in the sink washing the dishes from this morning.

You typically had Sundays off to laze about. This one was no different. Tidying the house up a bit before watching a little reality TV to pass the time.

You definitely weren't trying to distract your thoughts of Gator leaving without so much as a cheesy card or even a box of chocolates for you. You'd seen half expected one of those gas station roses that were actually thongs rolled up to look like a rose. At least that would mean he actually thought about it.

It's a stupid, made-up holiday, right? At least that's what you kept telling yourself.

You'd grown a little more frustrated as the day went on.

You finally got a text from him a couple hours after he left.

Should be back in about an hour. We have the afternoon to do whatever you want.

You just responded with a quick “sure,” leaning back onto the couch cushions making yourself more comfortable.

The rumble of the truck engine pulling in woke you. You’d drifted off after texting him back, finding the couch much too comfortable and the TV a relaxing background noise.

He shot through the front door, immediately clocking your messy hair and half lidded eyes.

“Take a nap, sweet thing?” Coming over, rubbing his knuckles across your cheek.

“So, what if I did?” You grumbled.

“You're always grumpy when ya’ wake up.” Planting a kiss to your forehead. “Did you wanna go out later?”

“No.” You shook your head, running the back of your hand across your eyes.

“No? Thought today was your favorite?” He grinned.

“Yeah, but you don't seem to care about it so neither should I.” Throwing the blanket off you, as you stood.

He rolled his eyes, letting a hard breath out through his nose, knowing exactly where this was heading when you'd sent that text.

“So that's it, huh?” Following you down the hall. “Thought I just forgot about it? Bunny, you should know me better than that by now.”

You huffed a laugh. “Do I? Not so much as morning fuck? I mean I thought I would at least get that. You jump at any chance to get your dick wet any other day. No stupid holiday needed.”

“God, you are such a fuckin' brat when you don't get your way.” He grabbed your arm, making you turn to face him. “I had some shit to do. I couldn't just bend you over the table and fuck you over the pancakes, could I?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to look at him even as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him.

“Bunny, quit with the fuckin' attitude or I'll make you quit.” His voice was a little more gravely, going straight to your core knowing exactly what that meant.

A game you usually liked to play. Pushing his buttons until he caved, being a little rougher than usual. Spanking your ass until you were welted, then railing you into oblivion.

“No Gator, I'm not in the fucking mood for your shit right now.” You tried to wrench out of his grasp, but he held you tight.

He leveled his gaze, “Oh, but I bet you are. Bet she's already drooling f’me. Need me to bend ya’ over my knee? Give you somethin’ to whine about?”

His hand traveled from your lower back to your ass, grabbing a handful before pulling off coming back down with a harsh smack.

“Ahhh, Gator!” You arched forward, hands planting firmly on his chest. You looked up when he hissed at the contact.

“What was that?” Running your hands across his clothed chest. He grabbed your hand, keeping it in place.

“Maybe if you weren't bein’ such a whiney ass, I would show ya’. I uh… I got a little surprise.” He grinned, crooked smile that you adore plastered across his face.

“Show me then.” You whispered. “I'll be good. Promise.” Looking up through your lashes, doe eyes he couldn't resist.

“Fine.” Stepping back, removing his jacket.

His fingers reached the hem of his shirt, pulling it up, your eyes trailing his toned stomach up to his chest. His left peck was partially covered at the top.

“You got a new tattoo?” You deadpanned. This is what he had to do today?

“Yeah. For you babe.” He lifted the tape at the edges to slowly reveal his new ink. Bunny was written there with a Playboy bunny graphic.

“Really Gator?” Voice showing no hint of amusement.

“What? You don't like it?”

“It's not even my name. At least I have your name. And the Playboy bunny? Seriously?” You laughed out, but when you looked back at him, he almost looked hurt.

“It's what I call you. You're my Bunny, that's never going to change.” He huffed out while you were still laughing. “You know what, I'm done with this fuckin’ attitude. Bend over the table.”

“Now.” He added, when you didn't move.

Shit. You knew the tone. You'd pushed too far.

“Gator, I…” You stopped when you looked back into his eyes that were almost black.

“Bend. Over. The. Table. I'm not going to tell you again.” There was a glint in his eye, followed by a devilish smirk.

You quickly nodded, padding over quickly. Planting your hands firmly on the wooden tabletop as you bent at the waist, pushing your ass up into the air barely covered by your sleep shorts.

His boots loud against the linoleum flooring as he came to stand behind you. Close enough you can feel the heat radiating from him but barely grazing you.

He brings his large palm to rest on your cheek, kneading it softly only for a moment. You knew it was coming.

He landed one hard smack, jolting you forward, the edge of the table already digging into your thighs as you let out a soft moan.

He quickly slid his hand back over your ass, soothing the burn slightly. He bent over to get close to you, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as he spoke.

“You wanted this, huh? A heavy hand and a hard cock fixes you right up, huh sweet thing?” He kisses your temple before continuing.

He slid his fingers underneath the waistband of your shorts pushing them down past your thighs as they pool in the floor around your feet.

You knew the drill, as you leaned over dropping to your elbows to brace yourself anticipating another heavy blow that didn't come. Instead, you rocked forward when he ran a finger up through your folds.

You let another wanton moan slip past your lips as his thick digit circled your entrance.

“Fuck, you're soaked,” pushing in slightly, before moving it quickly away. “You didn't think it'd be that easy, did ya’?”

Another hard smack to the other cheek.

“Fuck Bunny, how many you need? 10 more? 20?” You whimpered at his words.

“I… I don't know, sir.” Your voice came out a little weak, already sounding wrecked.

“Fuck, she's got manners.” He growled. You used that title sparingly, but he fucking loved it. Hearing “sir” roll off your lips in that sultry tone made him weak in the knees.

“We’ll do ten since you're being such a good girl. Count em.”

“Yes sir.” You hummed, as he laid one more smack to each cheek.

“Two.” You huffed. The welts were already forming.

“Three.” You bit your lip briefly, distracting you from the sting.

“Four… mmhmm five.” A tear rolled down your cheek.

“Six. Fuck.” Your nails dig into the surface of the table, trying to grasp anything to ground you.

“Seven. Eight. Nine.” In quick succession, as your legs started to give out, knees buckling as your thighs shook.

One last smack sent you reeling.

“Ten.” You choked out.

“That's it baby. Now, let me take care of you and this pretty cunt.” He said, undoing his pants taking his aching length from its confinements.

Pulling your hips up, he gave you no warning before his cock was nudging your sopping entrance. He pushed in slightly before completely burying himself to the hilt in one swift motion. There was no resistance with how wet you were.

“Fuck, Gator.” You hissed out but arched your ass further into him. The sting of being stretched out so suddenly, almost borderline painful, had a few more tears running down your cheeks as your pussy clenched around him.

“Fuck, always so goddamn tight. Fuckin' pussy was made f’me.” He pushed you down, hand between your shoulder blades, cheek now resting on the cool surface of the table.

He pulled back, only to snap his hips immediately back into yours with such force the table scooted across the floor.

He set a brutal pace, your moans were high pitched and whiny. The angle had your ass further in the air and his cock hitting that sweet spongy spot with each thrust. You knew you wouldn't be able to hold back your orgasm if he kept going.

Your arousal was dripping down your thighs, and coating his balls that were slapping at your puffy clit with each rock of his hips. The sound of skin slapping skin echoing off the walls in the small space.

“Sir, please. I'm going to… Can I please… “ you were begging, as it was building. That pressure slowly creeps up your lower belly, tingling up your spine.

“No, Bunny!” He growled, fingertips digging further into your hips pulling you back in time with his thrusts.

“Gator, I'm… I can't.” You sobbed, trying to pull in a deep breath.

“No, baby just wait. I'm… fuck … almost there.”

Your teeth sank into your lower lip, as your pussy began to clench around him.

“Gator, please, fuck…” you cried out.

“Come on Bunny, come on my cock.”

No sooner than he got the words out, the damn inside you broke. Clamping down around his cock, as he began to fill you full. Your eyes were shut tight, fireworks exploding behind them.

Your walls pulsed around him, milking every last drop, as he let out a string of incoherent words before collapsing against your back.

“Goddamn Bunny,” he panted as his cock kicked up within you one last time making you whimper.

He gently moved off you, removing himself, holding your hips steady as you got your feet under you. You knew you'd feel this one for a few days to come.

He pulled you up, as you wrapped your arms around his neck completely blissed out, eyes half lidded as he smoothed the hair from your face.

“Feel better?” He chuckled lightly.

“Mhmm… much.” You hummed.

“Good, sweet thing. Now go take a fuckin' shower and get dressed. I've got a surprise for my girl.” His grin grew wide with your confused expression.

“You really thought I'd forget Valentine's Day? After everything you did for me? Everything you do for me?”

You smiled, looking down at his new tattoo.

“Thought this was my gift?” you giggled, tracing just under the new ink. It was endearing. He wanted to match what you'd gifted him this past Christmas.

“Part of it, yeah. Now come on.” He pecks your lips, before dragging you down the hall.

You showered, examining the angry, hand shaped welts on your ass in the mirror, knowing it would be a pain to sit on any hard surface for a couple of days, but it was worth it. You just smiled to yourself, wrapping a towel around you.

You were standing in front of the mirror when he came to stand in the doorway, watching your after shower routine.

You could feel his gaze as you met his eyes through the mirror.

“What?” You smiled up at him.

“Just thinking how pretty y’are. But I feel like something's missin’.”

He moved his hand from behind his back revealing a small velvet box.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

“What's that handsome?” You tried to speak evenly though your heart was beating so hard you thought he might hear.

“Close your eyes.” You gave him a pointed look. “C’mon. You'll like it.”

You slid them closed, as he walked behind you. You felt the coolness of a thin chain come to rest on your collar bones. You breathed just a tiny sigh of relief, as he clasped it to, kissing your bare shoulder.

“Perfect.” He said as you opened your eyes, a tiny gold chain that held his initial “G” hung delicately around your neck as you examined it thoughtfully tracing the small letter with your fingertip.

“You don't like it?” He deflated a bit when you didn't say anything.

“It's perfect baby.” You turned around pulling him in for a kiss.

“Promise?” He pulled back, slightly, lips ghosting yours.

“Promise.” You giggled.

“Good, since you won't let me knock ya' up, at least this way everyone’ll know your mine.” You rolled your eyes, hand batting at his chest as he laughed.

“God, you're ridiculous.” Pulling him in by the collar for another kiss. “Ruining a perfectly sweet moment with that damn mouth.”

He let you finish getting ready, then drove you to the little diner you frequented weekly. Sharing a couple of burgers and milkshakes, it was the perfect way to end the day.

“Happy Valentine's Day Bunny.” He grinned, catching the glint of his initial on display for all to see as he held your hand from across the table.

[zyonsay]

Wildfire, Chapter Three MV1

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: Someone snitched on you and now you are stuck in a team building camp with Max!

Reader: Male

Warnings: Nothing really? Beer is mentioned ONCE at the very end

Now playing: 'Boys will be bugs' by Cavetown

AN: Im so sorry for not updating this story! I've got a lot going on at the moment. I have lot's of upcoming exams, i've been practicing for a concert i'll have soon and i participated in a horse riding competition last weekend, so yeah, my calendar is FULL. But anyways, this part isn't as long as id' like it to be, but don't worry! You and Max will be staying at the camp for a little longer...

(Here's a little Social Media AU to go along with this chapter)

(Here is the previous chapter)

(Here is the next chapter

Somehow word of your fight made its way to Christian, which was the cause of you now sitting on a bench at a camping facility, squeezed in between mechanics and other team members of Redbull Racing.

Just a few days before, you were sitting in a leather chair in Horner’s office, not squeezed between people but suffocating in the room’s atmosphere. He wasn’t one to get angry with his people, but you and Max’s behavior was a pain in the ass and very counterproductive.

He sighed heavily, “Guys, this has to stop. You’re both adults, behave like it. I know you two are very stubborn, but it’s for the sake of our team.” He gave you both a stern look, you heard Max swallow hard beside you. “Have I made myself clear?”, he looked you right in the eye, then shifted his stare towards your Teammate. “Yes.”

The air smelt fresh and clear; the sun was high up in the sky accompanied by thousands of fluffy clouds. The ranger standing in front of you was explaining a few rules you had to follow while staying at the campsite and its surrounding national park. He looked a little bit like a bison, you thought. His curly dark brown hair had a few strikes of silver in it, making him look old and experienced.

“…lastly, please keep away from the swampy areas, they are indicated with yellow signs.”

Many of your fellow Redbull mates looked bored, no wonder, they have been listening to this man talk for about an hour.

“Does everyone know how to not get killed now?” He looked pleased as he earned a loud ‘yes’.

Christian thanked the ranger, then took his place in front of you guys. “So, fellas, we’ll assign the cabins now!”, he gave you an unreadable look. He fumbled around in the pockets of his jeans before pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. He began reading out names and telling the people to go and take their stuff from the bus and settle into their new stay. Then after a few minutes, more and more people left, and it was only you and Max sitting on the bench.

“As you two might’ve guessed, you’ll be spending a lot of time together on this trip. And I don’t want to hear any complaints.” Horner looked serious, meaning what he said. You were annoyed, of course, but you understood why he wants you two to get along. Max nodded, glancing your way, but quickly looking away as soon as you meet his gaze. “Now, head off. You’ll be staying in cabin 33, here’s the key.”

You pulled your suitcase over the gravelly path, searching for a sign with the number 33 on it. Soon enough you found what you were looking for, the two numbers were burnt into a beautiful wooden sign, decorated with various little details. You unlocked the door, holding it open for Max after entering. He threw one of his Bags on the bed on the right side of the room. “I’m taking this one.”, he stated dryly. You shrugged slightly, setting down your suitcase next to the other bed. The cabin was decorated simply but had all the necessities. Besides the two beds there was a couch with a coffee table and a small bathroom.

The room felt awkward, and you started getting annoyed with Max being unusually quiet. You turned towards your fellow firecracker. “I don’t want to start shit with you, so just stay out of my way.”, he then spoke before you could even open your mouth. “It’s hard to do that when you’re all over the place Max.” He glared at you, definitely not appreciating your words. “We should head back to Christian, come on.”, you swiftly changed the topic.

“Looks like you all settled in! Now, let’s take a look at our first activity”, Horner held up a bag of Maps, “We’ll be doing a scavenger hunt. The price is… well, your dinner. There are clues scattered throughout the Woods and they’ll lead you to an opening with a grilling space. I’ll be waiting for you there!” He then passed around the bag, there was a Map for every group in it.

“Obviously you can’t just all work together, that would be way too easy. Every group has a different route, so you can’t just follow the group in front of you.” Murmuring erupted around you, discussing what the clues might be. You looked at the first clue that was posted to the map.

“Like goliath i tower over them, making them shiver beneath my needles.”, you shifted slightly, showing Max the Map along with the clue. He then pointed towards the forest, where a Pine tree stood, taller than all of the surrounding oak trees. “Let’s go.”

You’ve been wandering around the forest for about 45 minutes, hunting down clues and discovering the national park’s beautiful landscape.

But now? Well, now you and Max were lost. All the trees looked the same, no matter what direction you walked. The map was of no use in the depth of the Woods and your phones would continuously read “No Signal”. Not being able to do anything you two just sort of strolled along bushes and trees of all kinds, hoping to end up on a trail or a familiar opening. Birds were chirping and to your surprise you heard frogs quaking. “Do you hear that?” You turned your head towards Max, still walking. “The Frogs? Yeah, really weird…” Suddenly the thicket spit you out onto an opening, revealing a forest pond, which must’ve been the source of the quaking.

And indeed, a green, slimy frog hopped into the water right in front of you, disappearing in a log beneath the water surface. “Can we stop here really quick?” Max only sighed, but then plopped down on the floor. You sat next to him, gazing over the reflective water. Would you two still find the grilling space before sundown? You hoped for it, at the very least.

“This is nice.” Max closed his eyes and rested the back of his head against the tree behind him, taking in the smell of the forest. His usually tense shoulders looked much more relaxed, and he had a pleased expression on his face. You silently agreed with him, copying his movements.

"You know, i don't actually hate you." The words that flowed from your lips felt fragile and just like glass they fell to the floor and shattered. Your advance was met with a sigh and then a warm silence. You really wanted to try and get along with Max, for the sake of your team's future. But if he was gonna be stubborn, you wouldn't gift him your friendliness.

"Nevermind."

The leaves rustled beneath your feet as you two went back to walking after resting by the pond for a while. The golden light was slowly disappearing from the trees crowns. You really weren’t prepared to sleep under the stars tonight, but luckily you wouldn’t have to. Laughter could be heard in the distance, announcing the presence of humans. Your steps quickened ever so slightly, same for your companion. You two reached the opening and were greeted with the smell of food and the chatter of your teammates.

“Maxie! Y/N! I almost thought we’d lost you two!” Chris came walking towards you, handing each of you a beer. “Come on, join us!”

[paddockbunny]

I need to know more about Christian catching max downtown on the reader pls does he really tell someone on the team ? Bc I feel like he could do that

Caught!!! - Part 2

Summary : Part two of what happens after Christian catches Max going downtown on you in his drivers room

Rating : 18+

Pairing : Max Verstappen x Reader

Word Count : 1, 311

Trigger Warnings : 18+, mature themes, discussion of oral (female receiving), mentions of swinging & car sex, a little angsty but also a little bit fluffy too

You walked out of Max’s drivers room in a thunderous mood. Not only had you been denied a much needed orgasm from the tongue of your big dummy of a boyfriend, but you were now 100% convinced everyone in the paddock would know all about Max going down town on you due to big mouth Horner having just walked in on you. You felt like you were practically seething anger as you stormed into the hospitality suite. You had asked Max to handle it. To talk to his boss and tell him to keep his motormouth firmly closed but Max just scoffed and refused. His reply played around in your head;

“Honestly, babe, just relax. It will be me they’ll rib for it not you.” And he wound you up even more when you claimed it wasn’t the point and you now felt dirty and exposed. To which Max dramatically rolled his eyes and missed the point of what you were saying completely. When he muttered something about Horner having seen plenty of women’s intimate regions in his time your blood boiled and you flew out of his drivers room.

“Just a coffee please, a flat white.” You knew your voice sounded angry but you couldn’t help it. There was no way Christian would keep this to himself. He was from a different time. He had that “lad” banter that bolstered men on to pedestals and reduced women down to bimbos and sex objects. For a brief moment you thought it would have been better if Max had been a Mercedes driver. At least their team principle would have treated the situation a lot more delicately, professionally and fuck it, you wouldn’t even care so much if it had been Toto that witnessed you in such a compromising position - the man was fucking hot! But unfortunately it wasn’t and you dreaded to think what Christian was doing right now. Gossiping like an old fish wife. Telling everyone what coloured panties you wore. Explaining the position he found his golden driver in - on his knees on the floor with your legs tossed over his shoulders. God, even how loud you moaned as Max fluttered his tongue against your throbbing clit.

You remained in the hospitality suite for a while, ages in fact. You thought you better move until you saw a throng of photographers outside. You wondered what was going on but suddenly as the door flew open, you had your answer. In came your boyfriend looking himself somewhat frustrated. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He lowered his voice so no one could hear. “I can’t get into the car knowing you’re mad at me.” Here was an honesty to how he was looking at me that told me he was telling the truth. “I’m not mad at you, Max. I’m a bit disappointed but I’m not mad with you. Im mad at him for not knocking.” You sighed and ran your hand through your hair. Max stared down at you and he understood that you weren’t going to let it go and so he sat down beside you instead of hovering over you. You knew he had to be running out of time as you could hear the roar of engines starting up even from as far away as you were sat.

“The only way to shut Christian up is by showing him you’re unbothered by whatever it is that’s going on. If you stay here instead of waltzing into that garage like you own it, he will continue talking about it. You pretend like you won’t be shaken down, he’ll backdown.” You understood exactly what he was getting at. He wanted you to play the part of being nonchalant about it. Display resilience. You sighed but then suddenly he added; “Besides, he gets Geri to wax his back for him.” You couldn’t help but immediately burst into laughter when your boyfriend exposes his boss out of nowhere “Gorilla like apparently.” He adds with an eye roll. You couldn’t stop laughing the more he continued. “Have you seen his chest? It’s like a forest! She must wake up and think she’s sleeping next to big foot!” He exclaimed but in a hushed tone because you were now in fits of laughter. “You’re having me on.” You wipe away a tear. “I am not.” He pouts “when we’ve been away a while you can see it start to poke out the back of his collar.” You knew exactly what Max was doing. He was distracting you. He was making you feel better by making you laugh. “Come with me to the garage and you’ll see, you can check if he’s getting tufty.” Max stood and held out his hand and for a split second you thought of refusing because you didn’t want to walk into the gossipy garage but as you put your hand into Max’s you agreed to do exactly what it was that he had suggested. To show resilience.

Max kissed you deeply and softly before he was rushed over to the car to get ready for FP2. Christian smirked from his position near the back of the car and said something to Max’s engineer who turned to look at you. A small knot formed in your stomach but you refocused your attention back on Max and he made a gesture to the back of his collar before he put his helmet on. The rest of the procedural stuff came and you watched as Max was released from the garage for his next practice session. Only a mere minute or two passed before Christian was sauntering over toward you, placed his hands on his hips and cleared his throat.

“Uh, I have to ask you to refrain from having intimate relations with my driver in the paddock.” He was enjoying exposing you, you could see the glint in his eye. His voice hadn’t hushed at all and you knew he wanted to embarrass you about it. A few mechanics turned their heads and glanced and at first I was ready to break, to take the shame I thought was applicable but then Max’s words echoed through my brain. I had to play him at his own game. “Here was me thinking you wanted to join us Christian. I didn’t hear you knock so I thought it might have been some kind of ploy to get in on the action.” You mocked slightly and there was a definite snigger from the same men that had glanced previously. “I know the swinger thing is big in England, specifically in cars I’ve heard, but I’m afraid I’m not really into that sort of thing and I know Max isn’t either. Im sure I can help you find a better better direction though if you’re and Geri want to explore that.” You watched him swallow and then nervously laugh. He had to know what you were doing. You were playing him at his own game and by the looks of things, you were winning. He faked a smirk and then sauntered back off again and tried to pay attention to one of the screens.

Hours later, as you rolled over and rested your head on your boyfriends chest he asked what it was that you said to his boss when he left you in the garage earlier - apparently all the guys were talking about how you managed to put Horner in his place. “I just implied he was a voyeur, he wanted to watch. He might be into swinging and there must be other people more into it because we certainly were not.” “You called him a swinger?” He exclaimed dramatically and roared with laughter. “I fucking love you!” He bent down and placed a firm kiss against your mouth. His smile still apparent as his lips touched yours.

Horner - 0

You - 1

[julianalvarez9]

you are in love / christian pulisic

author's note: saw @dinonuggiesforliferz asking for some fluffy christian and thought that i could try to write something to unlock my writers block so here we go 🤭

summary: the four times he wants to say that he loves you, and the one time he finally does.

word count: 1.9k

01.

christian and you had been dating for almost two months now, after having met through mutual friends. you had nothing to do with the thrills of the fame he had been so accustomed after all these years in the spotlight, and he couldn't be more infatuated by the breath of fresh air that your presence brought onto his life. today was the first time you came to the bridge, after a bit of begging and a few failed tries from your boyfriend. of course, he understood your motives and why you didn't want to risk being seen there, due to the spark of rumors it would light up, so he didn't push you to it: but you knew he really needed your support for this match, and you couldn't say no to that.

the adrenaline that comes with the win fills your veins, and you rush to the tunnels following the team a few minutes after they finished clapping for the fans that came to support them. you wait for christian outside, making small talk with the people that were at the box with you, other girlfriends and families from the players. one by one they start to come out: you see them greeting their loved ones, some even rushing out to leave the building for some well deserved celebrations after today's achievement. you don’t quite know all of them yet, but you can quickly recognize mason, ben and kai, some of christian's most close friends, and they kindly join the conversation you had going on while waiting on your boyfriend.

the first time the the sensation comes, christian feels it on his cheeks, and the way that they warm up at the sight of you talking so freely with his mates. he doesn't get it at first, why he can't contain the smile that's painted on his face and the wrinkles of happiness adorning his soft eyes. he walks up quickly to you and embraces your figure from behind, lips coming to kiss your temple: an indirect form of saying the three words without actually verbalizing them. you hum at the warmth his body brings, and reach your cold hands into his hot ones to find some kind of heat in the cold london weather. even if christian doesn't quite understand what he feels yet, mason smiles at the sight of you two, because he knows.

02.

the day had been sunny to begin with, prompting christian and you to take a walk to the park near his home. the stroll was peaceful, not a minute of uncomfortable silence between you two while he talks about his day and how training went, and then the conversations drifts into your studies and your family. at first, you hadn't sensed the little rain droplets kissing your skin, and when you became aware of it, it was too late. you should have seen it coming, already familiar with the changing weather in london, but you're too busy trying to catch christian, laughs and agitated breaths filling the empty streets after everyone had seemingly looked for refuge from the pouring storm. even if you did it as quickly as you could, matching his pace had proven to be rather impossible due to him being a literal top athlete, and the two of you reached the final destination completely drenched.

your boyfriend quickly hurries you into the bathroom so you could take a warm shower, and even when you tell him that you wouldn't get sick if you stay in your wet clothes, he has already closed the door before you can say anything else. christian leaves a change of clothes for you to use, and you sigh contently when you can recognise the smell of him in them. by the time you go back down, the rain has already stopped and he's wearing nice, dry clothes, eliciting a smile that you can’t help but show at the sight of the man in front of you, drying his wet hair with the towel at hand.

christian feels it again, now on his chest. the view of you swimming into his clothes way too big for your figure tugging at his heart, pleading him to say the three words he's been forcing to keep to himself. he shuts the thought quickly, before it can cloud his judgment and convince him that muttering his feelings would be the right thing to do at the moment. it's not like he's purposely hiding them from you, but he fears it's still too soon, and he doesn't want to risk it. "you look good," he forces himself to say instead, drowning out the other three words he wants to let out. you snort at his compliment, blurting out "you only say it because i'm your girlfriend" and stopping yourself right before saying the remainder of the sentence. you only say it because i'm your girlfriend and you love me, you want to conclude, but neither of you had categorized your feelings into love previously, and since you don't want to assume, you have to remind yourself that it's only been three months. don't scare him off.

"i say it because it's true," christian finishes, planting a kiss on your forehead and closing his eyes in the process, pouring all his affection into the little gesture.

03.

it's one of the few weekends he's got free, and you had invited christian to spend the afternoon at your house, watching movies and cooking dinner together. the evening had proven to be just what you two needed after a few weeks of not seeing each other due to his busy schedule and the hectic exam season you had in college. unfortunately, you were still sleep deprived after days and nights of studying nonstop to ace your tests, so after the delicious dish you two had made from scratch and the second movie of the night, you fell asleep on christian’s arms. he noticed almost instantly that you had dozed off when you failed to comment about the last dumb joke that the protagonist had said, and at first, he debated about what he should do; whether to let you sleep it off or wake you up. he also didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, being the first time that he would stay the night at your house, so he decided that the best choice was taking you upstairs, to your bedroom, and he would sleep in the living room.

christian feels it on his fingertips, digging softly into your skin while carrying your figure up the stairs. when you notice the movement, still drowsy with sleep, you protest against it, murmuring something about being too heavy for him to carry but he denies, tucking you tighter against him. when he finally reaches your bedroom, kicking the door softly so he can make his way in, he lays you carefully on the mattress. christian looks at you adoringly, eyes full of love at the mere sight of seeing you so peaceful on your bed, and that's when he feels it slipping past his lips, the three words he's been trying to say for a while now. 

“stay,” you mutter, voice almost inaudible, before he can say anything. your eyes are still closed, but you show signs of consciousness while holding his hand, the one he had been previously stroking your cheek with. “i don’t want to sleep alone tonight”.

04.

christian was never one to enjoy going out if it was just him. he was always dragged by his friends, who had recently found out that if they convinced you to go too, the probabilities of chelsea’s number 10 to be at the bar increased by 100%. he doesn't really like to drink or dance either, but just being seated by your side with a beer in hand doest it for him. hearing mason and ben speaking nonsense and making everyone around laugh definitely helps, even more when he gets to hear you giggling too.

he doesn’t remember a time where he had seen you drunk, but he’s amazed at the sight. the inhibitions that made you appear shy to others were melting off by the alcohol, and you were cracking jokes that made everyone around cackle with laughter. it doesn’t last long, though, and christian finds out that you're the cuddly type of drunk, but he doesn't mind it either. he finds it funny how you insist on telling him that you're only a bit tipsy, and even if he pretends to believe you,  the giggles that escape your lips at hearing the dumbest puns only confirms your slightly intoxicated state to him.

christian feels the three words at the tip of his tongue while you two hop onto the car that will take you back home. he doesn't say them this time, because he wants you to know that he really means it, and it's not a result of the alcohol cursing through his veins. tomorrow, he promises to himself, and hides it back where it came from, the soft spot on his heart reserved for you only. the words linger at the back of his mind, living there as a form of reminder for his sober self. you kiss his cheek on the back of the cab while giggling softly like a schoolgirl with a newfound crush, and the soft gesture only reassures what he already knows.

05.

the rays of sunshine are the ones responsible for waking christian up the next morning. he doesn’t feel quite as bad as he had thought he would, but still, he curses himself for not closing the blinds the night before and making him wake up way too soon. it takes a second for christian to remember that you’re lying beside him, and he slowly turns around to see your beautiful face once again. except, you're not there, and the sheets beneath his fingers feel cold, making him frown in confusion. had you gone back home without waking him up? were you gone?

he hears sounds coming from the kitchen while he’s making his way downstairs, and the brightest smile shows on his lips when he sees you plating what he guesses is breakfast. when you lift your eyes you see him, leaning against the doorframe, his perfect dark curls everywhere only accentuating  the fact that he had just woken up and instantly left the bedroom to look for you. “i made us breakfast,” you shyly say after coming close to his figure and getting on your tiptoes, planting the softest kiss on his lips. christian feels it lighting up his brown eyes then, warming them into a caramel shade, only for you to see. that’s when he feels the words erupting from his pores, and realizes there's no point in hiding them any longer. "i love you," he says, warmth spreading all over his body not only due to your own, tightly pressed against his, but for the relief he feels after finally mumbling the three little words he's been trying to say to you for way too long. he has finally said it, and though he doesn't expect you to say it back, his heart grows twice its size when you actually do, the three words muffled into his chest, where your head rests. 

"i love you more, sweetheart".

[skele-bunny]

It's jover as Aru has strangled the pumpkin out of me </3/j I LOVED BOTH POSTS YOU MADE It's so fluffy and sweet i will explode. Thank you so much for doing this silly requests i shall keep bothering you. I swear this is the last one (do let me know if there's a limit of request, i don't want to be overstepping) here's a small hc i have i wanted to share with you, imagine this: Fallen angel phantom. I leave the rest to ya *Evil run into the abyss*

-🎃

How did you know I used to be a freak for Angel/Demon tropes, pumpkin.......

Meteor. (CW)

CW - Graphic description of injury, medium mention of sexual assault, negative talk of Christianity/Catholicism

Characters: "Angel" Phantom, Special, Aether, Sarra, Enki, misc Ghouls

(Yippee!! Divider by @ wrathofrats )

Read it under the cut!

Special was deep into pouring a small droplet sample from Sarra's blood on a testing plate, focusing his microscope and eyeing in when the ground began to shake. The null quickly grabbed his table, trying to settle his equipment with a curse of Italian under his breath, feeling his mate's hands grip his waist to keep him steady. Sarra's eyes quickly dilated, eyeing the stained glass that glowed a bright orange.

"Fucking earthquakes in December?! I swear, they pick the best places for the ministry don't they." Phil hissed, jumping as one of his beakers toppled over on his hand. "Mother fucker!-"

"This is not an earthquake." Sarra spoke quickly, deep in his natural tongue of the ancient dialect.

"Huh?—" Special looked at his mate then out the window, his own eyes widening as he seen a giant ball of flame slowly descending from the clouds.

"This is a trespass."

Impact was made quickly after, Phil letting go of his table to grab onto his mate's robe, quickly being lifted and covered by Sarra's wings as the multiple stained glass in his office exploded. He covered his ears, hyperventilating and waiting until Sarra unraveled them from his wings, flapping the glass shards out.

There was a moment where the two caught their breaths and regained their demeanor; now aware of the demonic yells that came outside. "Sarra, take me out there." He panted, yanking his hands down.

Doing as told, the quintessence maneuvered them out of one of the broken windows, pushing himself off the ledge to hover above the abbey, eyes scanning before spotting a group of ghouls far in their true forms around a crater near the vegetation fields. A quick glide down and Sarra's own hackles raised, letting out an angry snap of his jaw, a warning. Phil quietly shushed his mate and approached, completely unaffected by what the other of his species were feeling, tipping his head in to see a small body clouded in white.

It seemed to have a natural glow that began to flicker, tiny feathered wings that mimicked Iris's had quickly begun to molt besides the heavy burning it experienced in the descent. Phil gasped as he watched the creature try to raise itself before falling back down, completely dead weighted.

Did it... Die?

Special carefully adjusted his legs, inching down into the deep crater and getting next to the being. He went to touch the creature before it's glow quickly left, leaving it obvious of a body, blood puddling around its entire form. His hands carefully tilted the creature up, minding the neck. He looked up to see the multiple faces ready to pounce at the creature, Sarra on the verge as well. It was so... Small.

"What are you..." Phil whispered, claw gently pushing back a strand of equally white hair that was soaked in red.

"Angel." Phil looked up to hear Sarra's voice, the ghoul repeating himself. "It's an angel."

The doctor's eyes widened, looking down and processing that he—a demonic entity—was holding an angelic one. "Oh, fuck."

Sarra has no clue how he allowed this to happen. Maybe it was his mate's desperate plea, maybe it was how he looked, maybe he himself was curious. One moment, he's snapping at his fellow ghouls to back away from his mate as he helped Phil carrying this broken body out of the crater, to where he currently stood watching Phil run around his operating room as the rest of the infirmary was past full capacity from injured siblings and ghouls near the impact or who were injured during the earthquake and explosion.

"Twenty two, twenty two, twenty two!" Special rambled to himself, practically running around like a mad man with a plan. "I need twenty two liters, I need— I need—" he gasped, turning to Sarra, eyes wide behind his glasses. "I need Aether and Enki!"

Sarra turned, quickly removing himself from the OR and shivering from disgust. He maneuvered through frantic nurses sectioning the emergency levels, eyes flickering through bodies before Lucifer blessed him. The two people he needed finishing up closing a broken leg, Aether sweating profusely.

"Aether, Enki!" Sarra shouted over the loudness of the infirmary.

The two looked up, quickly whispering to the sibling and laying them back down once they finished. Enki turned, quickly taking off his bloodied gloves.

"What is it?" The second era asked, urgency in his voice.

"Phil needs you both in the OR... But you're not going to like it."

Aether gave a side glare, ears drooping. "I don't like the sound of that."

Sarra carefully led them both through the crowd again, assisting with scrubbing in and placing covers over with masks. As they entered, they both froze, Aether pointing and shouting.

"Absolutely not! I am not going near that thing!"

Enki joined in, "Are you fucking insane?! You brought the angel inside the abbey?!"

Phil whined, eyes not leaving the open stomach on his table. "Yell at me later! Please, please! Please come help me, please! You three are the only ones I can trust with this!"

"No, no, absolutely not!" Aether barked. "You're going to get us all killed!"

"Then I'll break out the book of necromancy, now get your fucking asses over here or you're fired!" Phil stuttered after exhaling. "I can't actually do that, but I'll give you three months off, please, I'm begging you."

Tears began to mist, Special blinking them away as he continued his panicked ramble. "My fucking infirmary is filled to the brim, I have five operations going on, and I'm trying to save the life of a fucking angel by myself!" He heaved. "I need my team— Please, I need my team."

His hands were shaking for the first time any of the quintessence ghouls have seen him work, scalpel delicate in removing a tree limb puncture with no exit wound in the stomach. His forceps pressed down into the organ, desperate to have some kind of leeway in a one-man operation. Sarra eyed the other two before going near his mate, unable to watch him struggle desperately, hands hovered over the angel.

"I'll slow the bleeding. Breathe." He purred against Phil, watching his mate nod frantically and starting to try and calm himself.

It took a moment before Aether cursed under his breath, stepping forwards. "Fuck— Okay, what do we have?"

"M-" Phil inhaled sharply before catching himself. "Multiple GI perforations with thick tissue damage. Internal bleeding in both the stomach and unknown source, I think it's the pancreas. Impalement through the chest with a single exit wound behind the left wing, no visible damage through arteries. Severe third degree burns bodily wise, they're fucking peeling like it's nothing... Looks like a spear puncture through the abdomen that's into the uterus."

Enki turned to the front of the table, quickly double-checking the anesthesia Phil had hastily set up, upping the dosage and changing out two blood bags close to emptying with another. "What type is he taking?"

"I don't know. I couldn't match, he was flat lining. Keep it as human and quintessence as much as possible."

"Yes sir." Enki sighed, his own nerves becoming wracked.

Bit by bit, drop by drop, and nine hours later, Special dropped on the floor as Sarra closed up the surgical openings. Exhaustion wracked through every single of one them, Aether sliding down the nearby wall and regaining his barings the best he could as his entire torso was covered in blood and excessive chunks of unknown. Enki was swaying, now his hands shaking as he began to slowly ease up the anesthesia, sitting on his chair and gagging. Their success was evident through the beeping of the heart monitor.

It was silent in that OR, the rhythmatic beeping they were all too familiar with being the only sound. Sarra wiped his hands on his white—now red—robes, and ever so slowly sat down on the bloodied floor. His wings were drooped, all three quintessences experiencing a magick burn out. Phil had his arm over his eyes, silently wracking with sobs but pulling his mask down a bit just to talk over his own cries.

"We're a-all going on a fucking five month vacation."

"Nema..." Enki whispered back, head between his knees.

It took them equally another hour before they could stand, rinsing out and changing into spare scrubs, Sarra somewhat suffocated as he borrowed one of Enki's after making crude wing holes. Special held a privacy curtain up as they walked to the ICU, the other three on all sides of the angel to keep a close eye before settling the bed in the private room. Once again, they all sat in a deafening silence, Aether's snores being the first one of a chain.

Three days passed and their secret remained zipped still, the four rotating shifts dedicated for Angel. It was on the third night with Aether when a quiet whimper made him look away from the chart, dropping it as he made eye contact with the angel. He stood frozen, watching as tears filled Angel's eyes, confusion written all over. They let out the tiniest gag which woke Aether back up, suddenly more hesitant as he approached. His hand touched his back pocket pager before grabbing gloves.

"Shh, you're okay. I know you're scared." He went into his normal talk, desperate to try and focus. "You're safe, you're in our hospital... You're intubated right now, but I'm going to take it out, okay? It's going to hurt, but just for a little."

Angel flexed their fingers, giving just the slightest nod and letting Aether begin the removal. Angel gagged violently, worrying the ghoul they were about to choke on their own vomit, eyes full of stars as he watched himself internally.

"Almost, almost... There!" His eyes went back to normal as he took the tube out, watching Angel gasp for air, eyes closing as they began to cry harder.

"Deep breathes, okay Angel?" He murmured, walking to the other side and setting down the system, eyeing Angel's oxygen intake on the monitor. "You're doing perfect, beautiful. So very perfect."

They seemed to be calming down, hand weak but touching their throat. They looked at Aether who nodded. "I'll get you water in just a second, okay? I need to make sure you're... Functioning."

A quiet, but panicked, knock sounded and the door opened. Angel quickly went into fear, shaking as they eyed the new company. They had every right to be scared, unable to do anything as three—four?—ghouls now surrounded them. Phil's face lit up, seeing Angel awake, only to quickly lose his excitement as the angel's fear made him realize.

"Hi! I know you're extremely confused right now and scared shitless... We aren't going to hurt you, I promise on everything. This, is my team that saved your life." Special explained slowly, his palm facing the ceiling as he pointed at each ghoul and named them. "It's just us. No one else..."

It seemed to ease just a bit of Angel's panic but not completely, hands releasing the white sheets draped over their body. Special got closer, grabbing his own pair of gloves as he gently inspected the bit of flesh that wasn't wrapped in bandages.

"Are you okay if I look at you? You had a lot of injuries. Aether was about to change your dressings before you woke up." Phil explained again, watching Angel nod slowly.

Aether joined, pulling the sheet back and laying Angel down. One by one they removed dressings, Aether's eyes wide and jaw agape as the burns had simply manifested to discoloration patches—no scarring in sight. Phil laughed in disbelief, his excitement returning with the more bandages he undid. They carefully log rolled Angel and undid the casts around his wings, now it was Sarra's turn to gasp as feathered wings had been replaced by leather. They twitched erratically with the newfound freedom before resting, curling back up to their resting state.

"Self healing... That's... This is amazing." Special was so happy that he snuck a bag of Angel's blood when they had enough to spare. "I can't believe this."

Laying Angel back down, their eyes spoke volume, questioning what had happened to them. Special cleared his throat, pulling a rolling stool up close as Aether began undoing bandages around their head.

"Well... You violently crash landed from the sky into our farmland. You had multiple puncture wounds, which caused us to go in and remove a bit of your intestines, and unfortunately a radical hysterectomy. I'm sorry, your uterus and cervix were unsalvageable. We tried. Your ovaries were left, however." Phil grabbed the chart that was still on the ground as he flipped to the very back page. "Lost a lot of blood, and well, I guess it's not there anymore, but had total third degree burns on your anatomy. We had been doing wet dressings to heal them, but it seems you've done it yourself."

Angel trilled, flinching as Aether took the last bandage off, revealing their other discolored eye. They blinked a few times, adjusting the light and now able to fully see the room and those occupying it. They stared at the group before swallowing roughly, closing their eyes.

The group twitched in surprise as a gentle, soft voice echoed through their mind. "Thank you."

"Oh! You're welcome." Phil replied, amazed again at the lack of internal link yet able to connect.

Enki leaned over, "You heard that too?"

"Me as well." Sarra mumbled.

Excitement only grew in Phil, "Multi-functioning telepathy... I'm going to scream." He turned back to Angel, their eyes still closed but much more relaxed. "What's your name, Angel?"

"Phantom."

"That's a nice name. Do you have a pronoun preference?"

"He and They."

Phil's leg couldn't stop bouncing. "Do you understand everything I've told you?"

"Yes... Thank you... All of you."

Sarra cleared his throat, now standing. "I'm making you aware of where you are. You're in Sweden, at the abbey for those who follow the Church of Satan. Lucifer. Do you understand this?"

Phantom's eyes twitched, squeezing tightly. "...Yes..."

"How did you fall?"

There was static in the connection, but none of them daring to try and interrupt potentially. It took a moment before an answer,

"I was pushed... I-I don't remember. All I know was I was impaled after... After harm, blood coating my legs... And laughter. God had rang out, and I was shoved. I just remember falling. And now, you all."

Aether grimaced, looking at Phil who held the same expression. "Phantom... You did have signs of sexual assault. Could that possibly be what got you thrown over?"

"I don't know."

There was a quiet, but shared angry feeling. A god so cruel to throw out ones who are harmed underneath his watch... Despicable.

"That's okay, maybe your memory will come back to you later down the road. Your body has, for lack of better words, been through hell and back. I'm not surprised your experiencing potential stress induced memory loss."

It was after that comment Phantom's eyes opened, now full of tears, his face scrunching as he brokenly sobbed. His throat was scratched from both the burn and tube, bringing his hands up to cover his face. It was sadistic and cruel, but the ghouls watched as he cried. They all had heard tales, Sarra experiencing it first hand, of angels. How everything down to their tears were the most beautiful sight you could see. And it was true. This broken, fallen angel in front of them still had the tiniest glow, rubbing his soft cheeks repeatedly to try and calm himself, but was so alluring they couldn't look away in his time of sadness.

Almost like an angelic siren.

"Uhm," Enki cleared his throat, shaking his head. "Sorry... Are you alright?"

Phantom slowly nodded, sucking in a few breaths through his mouth. "Y—" He swallowed. "Yes."

Their vocal cords seemed to self-fix, Special responding with a giant smile. "Good! That's good... Tell you what, we're going to step outside for a little and give you some time to process. If you need anything, I'm guessing you now have a link with us. Don't be afraid to connect." He smiled, giving the cue for the others to shuffle out as Aether picked up equipment to properly dispose.

Phantom gave a slight smile, fiddling with his fingers as he watched them close the door. Outside, a moment of silence before Special raised his hand, quickly receiving excited high-fives as they silently celebrated their victory.

An angel. They saved the life of a fucking fallen angel. Phil laughed in disbelief, placing the chart under his arm.

"Unholy fuck we have an angel—" Realization suddenly hit. "Oh fuck... We have an angel..."

The small groups excitement quickly turned to terror, unleashed about the unknown that now awaited. What exactly did they just do...?

[moondust-imagines]

Poly Adam & Christian requester here! (I need another name because that’s a little long to type everytime lol) that was absolutely amazing and it was so great! The angst, the heartache, the allusion to Christian thinking of someone else other than his girlfriend/wife. It had all the elements, I’d love to see another part to Crumbling that has more angst, I’d love to see the friction and problems dragged out a bit more before getting to the fluffiness if possible? I’d love to see more of the reader keeping her kids sheltered from Christian and his problems he’s causing and Adam doing his best to protect the reader and the kids from him also and Christian and Christian just continuing to make their personal (and on screen) lives miserable. I can even see the reader going as far as to threatening to kick Christian out/Divorcing him if he causes a big enough scene or issue at home when it starts getting to be too much

Warnings: SMUT 18+ please my loves

Crumbling Part 2

Christian was gone, again. Your youngest daughter had screamed for him to stay, refusing to let him put her down. She hadn’t stopped crying even when you had pulled her from his arms. You had finally got her to sleep and you were ready to crash into bed yourself.

Adam wandered out of the en-suite as you walked into the bedroom. You hadn’t spoken to him since you had stepped between him and Christian. He seemed to look through you when his eyes landed on you. He perched himself on the edge of the bed then motioned for you to come closer. You stood in between his legs, his hands resting on your hips.

“I’m sorry for fighting with him” He said quietly, his voice hoarse.

“It’s alright, I don’t think any of us are in our right minds just now” You replied. You ran your fingers through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp. His eyes were closed but he was clearly trying to calm his breathing.

“Do you think he’s actually… with Shayna?” He asked shakily. Adam didn’t have the cleanest history in your relationship, 2005 was a year none of you liked to talk about. But he had been trying to make up for it ever since and you had all moved past it. However, it meant his mind always came to the worst conclusion when there was issues in your relationship.

“No. He wouldn’t do that to us” You said. No matter how far gone Christian got, you knew he loved both of you too much to break your trust like that. Adam’s shoulders started to shake, then his tears broke free. You cradled his head against your chest as he sobbed.

“I just want him back” He sobbed, words muffled against your body.

-

The next morning it was Adam’s turn to leave. The kids had a routine when their dads left: they would sit on the staircase facing the front door giving their best puppy dog eyes. Adam currently had your son in a tight embrace as you daughters waited their turn.

“You guys have to be good for Mama ok?” He said quietly. All three of them nodded solemnly. Your youngest clung onto him next.

“Can you bring Papa home with you?” She asked hopefully. Adam looked at you nervously over her head.

“Papa’s really busy remember bug? He’s the champ” You explained gently, picking her carefully out of his arms.

“OK Mama” She sighed. Adam gave you a sad smile before leaning in to peck your lips, cradling the little one’s head with his free hand.

“I love you” He whispered

“Love you, be safe” You replied

You all watched him walk out the door, only turning to blow you all a quick kiss. Anticipating the usual meltdown once the door shut, you quickly put on a big smile.

“Alright, who wants to watch some Bluey?” You asked. Your cheerful question was met with cheers and a stampede to the couch.

-

By the time the whole house was tided it was very late and you were exhausted. Adam had been gone for 4 days already, Christian even longer. At least the kids were settling in to them being gone longer now. You contemplated between pouring yourself a glass of wine or just going to bed. Just as you found the bottle you wanted, you saw someone in the corner of your eye.

“Jesus, Christian I didn’t even hear you come in, give a girl some warning” You joked, half forgetting that he doesn’t do jokes anymore.

He didn’t say a word. He rushed over to you and pulled you into a steamy kiss. One of his hands holding the back of your neck, the other grabbing a handful of your ass. You moaned into his mouth, you mind not quite comprehending what was going on. He pushed you up to sit on the counter before pulling your leggings off quickly.

“Christian, what if the kids wake up?” You asked breathlessly. That probably wasn’t the question you should’ve asked but it was all your short-circuiting brain could think of.

Again, he said nothing. He quickly pulled out his member and pushed into you. He groaned at the tight sensation of your walls. The pace he set was brutal, clearly only chasing his own realise.

“So fucking good for me” He muttered into your hair, so quiet you barely heard him.

Your face was pressed into his shoulder, your hands desperately grabbing at his back for purchase. Your whole body shifted with each powerful thrust. Christian kept mumbling random praise into your hair. He had always been a sweet-talker during sex but you weren’t quite expecting it now. His thrusts started getting sloppier as he got closer to his release, then he spilled into you.

“I love you” He panted

-

“He WHAT?” Adam roared. You were sat on the bed watching him pace the room. You had just told him about Christian’s last visit and his escapades in the kitchen.

“Who the fuck does he think he is? Comes in here, gets his rocks off then leaves again?” Adam ranted. You weren’t sure what to say. Were you upset that the man you love wanted to make love to you? No. Would you have preferred he had at least hung around afterward? Yes.

“Are you ok?” He asked, finally turning to face you. You hadn’t really thought about that. Before you could even think, tears pooled in your eyes. Adam was by your side in an instant, both hands cradling your face.

“I think it’s time he moved out, honey. He can’t keep acting like this” He said softly. More tears cascading down your face as you nodded in agreement.

[straightouttheslendermansionn]

𝙱𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚢𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝙿𝚃. 1

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓(s): Jeff The Killer, Homicidal Liu/Sully, Jane Richardson, Nina The Killer, Clockwork

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: Tbh there aren't many mentions of anything happening, but here's a warning for very brief mentions of human experimentation and demonic presences.

These are all HEADCANON and I do not intend for any of these interpretations to be entirely canon. These are how I see the characters and some rules of the world.

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚜

Aging in my Creepypasta universe works like this– unless you don’t completely have a physical form and died early, your body can only age until 25 years old. This is in place to make sure that the body is useful enough but also so that it’s easier for the pastas to get around. For those over this age, they stay at the age they currently are.

The mysterious haunted woods and the Slendermansion therein exist, but not many actually reside there permanently. If the pasta needs technology, is a proxy of Slender, or is willing to meet the requirements to stay, mainly being serving Slender, then they reside there. Other pastas visit but they either live in their own settlements in the woods, or they look and behave in a certain way that allows them to live among society.

Anybody listed as “Nonconforming Humanoid Entity” in regards to species just means that either they are/were human and  we don’t know what they are or that they were never human and… we still don’t know what they are.

Slender isn’t fatherly to anyone that he doesn’t need to be and is not afraid to take away privileges he has given the people who live under him. He is manipulative and crueler than hell itself. 

Creepypasta fans do exist in this universe. They can see you. :)

𝙹𝚎𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛

Name: Jeffrey Allen Woods ("Allen", not "Alan") Age: He was 15 at the time of the original incident, but is about 18-19 Species: Nonconforming Humanoid Entity (Because he was human but sure as shit isn't now) Sex/Gender: Cis Male Sexuality: Aromantic-Heterosexual Race/Ethnicity: European-American Nationality: American, from a small town in Alabama Religious Alignment: Atheist, family used to be Roman Catholic Body Build: William Afton from "Silver Eyes" type beat (Jeff doesn't have a strong-looking body and I'm sick of us thinking he does) Features: (often tangled/super messy) ivory, shoulder length hair, leathery skin bleached white with some more severe visible burn scars throughout his body (including part of his head), skin is also scarred by the various lacerations he has obtained, dark circles and no eyelids, icy blue (almost white looking) eyes, the infamous cut smile (that never heals because he constantly strains it) Aesthetic: Pretty much just grunge style for this guy

𝙷𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚕 𝙻𝚒𝚞/𝚂𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢

Name: Liu Vicki Woods Age: He was 17 at the time of the original incident, but is about 20-21 Species: Human (Liu) + Inner Demon (Sully) Sex/Gender: Cis Male Sexuality: Demisexual-Heterosexual (Sully less than happily abides by his demisexuality) Race/Ethnicity: European-American Nationality: American, from a small town in Alabama Religious Alignment: Roman Catholic (Semi-Practicing) Body Build: Looks lanky or barely built from afar and isn't jacked, but he has some muscle Features: Liu got the pretty genes, I'll start with that. Slightly tanned ivory skin, Fluffy brown hair on the shorter side, 47 stitched-up scars all throughout his body (including one that goes down his face, splits at his nose onto his upper cheeks, and the infamous smile again), pale green eyes, dark circles from sleep deprivation. Aesthetic: I once saw someone say that he dresses like it's "Christian Girl Autumn" all year and I cannot find a better descriptor.

𝙹𝚊𝚗𝚎 𝚁𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜𝚘𝚗/𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛

Name: Jane Tod Richardson-Vaughn Age: 26 Species: Enhanced Human (as a result of gov't. experimentation)(Liquid Hate) Sex/Gender: Cis Female Sexuality: Lesbian and happily married to her wife Mary Race/Ethnicity: Chilean-American Nationality: American, from Los Angeles, CA Religious Alignment: Christian (Practicing, though many in other Christian communities question or talk down on her regardless) Body Build: Muscle Mommy. 6ar6ie6 body type. Hands down. Features: Black mid-back length raven hair, fully black eyes (sclera and all), pale white skin, slight darkening under eyes, various types or scars as a result of experimentation. Aesthetic: Classy and casual, but she also really likes black.

𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚊 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛

Name: Nina Hopkins Age: 17 Species: Superhuman Sex/Gender: Cis Female Sexuality: Bisexual, male lean Race/Ethnicity: European-American Nationality: American, from Gulf Shore, Alabama Religious Alignment: Atheist Body Build: Skinny young woman, but healthy skinny. Features: Long black hair with a hot pink coon-tail side bang, sewn open eyelids, signature smile, icy blue eyes (slightly brighter than Jeff's), white leathery skin and minor scars all over her body. Aesthetic: Scene girl style. I like this version of Nina so I keep her.

𝙲𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔

Name: Natalie Oulette Age: 24 Species: Superhuman Sex/Gender: Cis Female Sexuality: Bisexual, female lean Race/Ethnicity: French-Canadian Nationality: Canadian, from Victoria, British Columbia Religious Alignment: Atheist Body Build: Lanky-looking but has hella muscle built up Features: Almost ginger-looking, shoulder-length auburn hair, one green eye while the other socket has a clock inside (which she is constantly bleeding from), sewn-up chelsea-grin, pale ivory skin with barely visible scars all over Aesthetic: Simple, sometimes grunge style preference.

[itsbeeble]

Merry Bad Ending

Summary: He'd been sent to protect you, to guide you, and keep you on the path the fates had set for you. He knew he couldn't get involved with you, it went against everything he was taught. But he can't help it, can't help but love you no matter the consequences.

Genre: Angst, fluff, Guardian Angel!au, Soulmate!au

Pairing: Lee Hyunjae x fem!reader (feat. oc, Eric, Sunwoo, Sangyeon, and I think that's it)

WC: 8.5k (I'm sorry)

WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT

Warnings: mentions of religion (mainly Christianity); hurt and kinda comfort; age gap (I'm sorry. Reader will be 24 and Hyunjae will appear 25 but is actually a couple thousand years old); major character death; illness; honestly there isn’t a ton of romance it’s just kinda sad (there will still be some); mentions of death; violence; minor injuries; threats of death (Hyunjae gets violent); illness (LOTS OF IT); alcohol mentions and consumption; Idk let me know if I missed something; brief mentions of kind of bad home life; rude friends; swearing; MINORS DNI 18+

Listen to Merry Bad Ending by The Boyz if you want idk

A/N: yall i'm sorry this took so long and I'm sorry if it isn't my best work. I didn't really wanna do anything too romantic for this one, so there's no spice this time bjghsugs. I hope you enjoy it either way!

~

Hyunjae remembered when he was first assigned to you. You were both young—  at least, you were. You’d been seven at the time, young, curious, and ready to learn about all the cruel things the world could throw at you. He’d appeared to you in the form of a 25-year-old man. Tall, fluffy brown hair, and a pretty face. He looked so young, and he enjoyed the attention that was drawn to him. He enjoyed seeing the human population watch this young man walk by in black clothes, soaked by the rain as if he hadn’t a care in the world. They weren’t aware of who he was. They didn’t know that he couldn’t feel the cold, couldn’t get sick from the rain that was slowly falling from the clouds above them. It always rained when a Guardian began their assignment. Some religions take the rain as a sign that God is angry with them, but only a few know the truth. 

This storm is a goodbye, as the angels will not see their Father or their brethren for a long time. Not until their assignment is fulfilled. Nobody knows where they will be until they are finished. No one except for their Father. Hyunjae hadn’t seen his brother, Sangyeon, in over 600 years. He has no idea where he is, and no idea if he is alive. All he knows is that he is assigned to a bloodline and that he has to care for them all until there is no one left. That can take anywhere from 100 to 1,000 years. 

A crack of thunder overhead. 

Children run to their yelling parents as rain begins to pour down. 

He walks slowly, watching you in your little violet jacket and black rain boots. You sit on the mulch, playing with trucks and ignoring the way your little body is shaking from the cold. Hyunjae sniffs, pushing his sopping wet hair behind his ear as he opens the umbrella in his hand and holds it over you. You don’t notice at first, so focused on that old, yellow toy truck that was covered in stains and rain and all sorts of things that would have your parents yelling for you to put the toy down and play on the swings. 

Parents. That’s right. Your parents. They should be here with you, why aren’t they here with you?

“Who are you?” You’re looking at him now, big eyes full of curiosity and caution. Good. Your parents at least taught you not to trust strangers you meet on the street. 

Hyunjae takes a moment to think. Should he introduce himself yet? Should he tell you his human name or the name his Father gave him?

“My name is Hyunjae,” he flashes a smile at you. Angelic, stunning, everything an angel should be. Your mouth parts in awe. That dopey little lip part that children get when they’re stunned by something. “What are you doing out here all on your own, little bug?”

“I’m waiting for my mommy. She said she would be here soon!” You smile brightly and continue playing with the truck. Hyunjae frowns. 

“When was that?” You shrug.

“I dunno. Before school.”

“And…when was school?” You scowl at him.

“You sure ask a lot of questions, Mister Hyunjae.” Your lack of trust is amusing. Hyunjae crouches down, making sure that the umbrella stays over your head.

“You don’t ask enough, little bug.”

“Why are you calling me a bug?” You turn towards him finally, crossing your legs and folding your hands neatly on your lap. “Bugs are gross, Mister.” He laughs and you crack a smile. 

“Bugs aren’t gross, silly.” He lifts his arms, his hand palm-side down. When he flips his hand over, there’s a butterfly on his fingers, fluttering its wings and waiting to fly. “At least, not all of them. This butterfly is fairly beautiful, don’t you think?” 

Your eyes are wide with amazement, and he watches you try to do what he did. 

“How did you do that!?” You cry. “That’s so cool!”

“Maybe one day I’ll teach you, little bug.” He pats your head, and you beam at him. The butterfly drifts from his finger, and Hyunjae shifts so you can’t see the small, beautiful creature struggle to reach the large oak tree behind you. 

~

You’re nine now. Two years, and yet somehow he’s never seen your parents. He’s watched every day as you leave your house and trudge down the busy sidewalk to get to your school two miles away. He walks where no one can see him except you, and he watches you look at him out of the corner of your eyes. Hyunjae sees the curiosity and the annoyance whenever you see him, and it couldn’t make him more amused. 

“Why are you always following me?” You ask him one day. He’s standing beside you while you swing, giving you a little push here and there. People can see him now, and the mothers are cooing about what a nice young man, playing with his niece. He rolls his eyes at them. 

“I’m not following you. You just happen to be going everywhere I need to be.”

“Are you sure? And why haven’t you changed at all?” You ask him. He just smiles. “And also, why couldn’t anybody see you when we were at school? I was talking to you and Eric and he thought I was crazy for some reason.” You stop your swing and kick the dirt with a pout. Hyunjae crouches beside you and puts his finger under your chin to lift your head. There are tears in your eyes, and he frowns at that.

“Why are you crying, little bug?” You don’t speak at first, your lip trembling and your eyes shining. Hyunjae lifts his hand, and when he flips it over there’s a butterfly. A monarch, just like the last time. He holds his hand out for you to hold the small insect, but you just start sobbing. The butterfly, now startled, flutters off toward the road. He watches as a car zips by the poor creature, and he doesn’t see it fly away. When he looks back at you, you’re trying to wipe your tears. 

They don’t stop, and he wraps a hand around your shoulders, pulling you in for a tight hug that you find yourself returning. He feels you shaking against him, feels the tears starting to soak into his crisp black button-down shirt.

“Y/N,” he says your name in a quiet yet stern voice. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” You sniffle against his chest and he sighs.

“I don’t wanna die like mommy.” His body goes rigid and you pull away from him. 

“What did you say?” He breathes out. 

“I don’t wa-wanna d-die like m-mommy.” You hiccup and Hyunjae’s eyes become dark with an emotion you haven’t seen before, and he can only pray to his Father that you never have to. 

“You aren’t going to, little bug.” He promises. “Not if I can help it.”

~

That night he speaks to his Father. He finds himself alone in the park, sitting on the same swing you had when you spoke to him. 

I don’t wanna die like mommy. 

You’d been so afraid when you said that, and he couldn’t help the twinge in his heart. Sometimes it was hard to be a Guardian. You weren’t allowed to stop the fate of your assignment. You weren’t allowed to change details. You could only sit and watch and turn your eyes away when things got bad. Most angels turned their emotions off like a switch, only acting as if they cared for their assignments until it was done. 

Hyunjae couldn’t do that. He had promised Sangyeon that, no matter the cost, he wouldn’t turn them off. He intended to keep that promise. 

“You asked to see me.” 

A voice around him. Not in front, or behind, or on either side. It surrounds him as if it was the water in a lake he’d submerged himself in. He flinches at the sound but doesn’t raise his eyes.

“It’s good to see you, Father.” No response, so Hyunjae continues. “Why didn’t you tell me anything about my assignment?”

“You knew everything you needed to know about the girl. Nothing else matters.”

“She’s only a child, and she’s terrified of dying like her mother. How can that be what the fates have intended for her?” Hyunjae keeps his voice level, but his hands are beginning to shake with anger. 

“Are you questioning your abilities to continue this assignment?”

“No, Father.” Hyunjae shakes his head and sighs. “I’m just…I want to understand why you did this.” There’s a warm feeling across his shoulders, and he feels his body beginning to relax. There’s a comfort in his Father’s shadowy embrace, one that he cherishes no matter what he feels for Him. 

“You will understand when you are both ready. For now, proceed as you were. There is still time.” Hyunjae’s eyebrows knit together and he raises his head at last. The warm embrace has vanished, along with the overwhelming presence that had accompanied it. 

“The hell do you mean there’s still time?” He mutters, rising to his feet and taking a few steps forward. “Time for what?”

~

Hyunjae watches as you celebrate your sixteenth birthday with a few of your close friends. There’s a smile on your face while you cut the cake and open presents, but he can see something weighing on you. He can see the emotions rolling off of you in waves, even when you smile brightly at him. 

A storm rages outside your house, and Hyunjae can only imagine what is happening in the heavens above him.

“Are you two dating?” He hears one of your friends ask, but you vehemently deny it. You claim that he’s far too old for you, that he’s just a family friend that’s in town for a while. One of your friends side-eyes him and he raises an eyebrow. He does admit that, in his black attire, he does look mildly intimidating. He understands where she’s coming from and why she’d be suspicious of him. 

Hyunjae doesn’t acknowledge her otherwise, keeping his narrowed eyes on you for the rest of the night. As a Guardian, he should be able to gauge some idea of what you’re thinking and feeling. He should be able to gauge your health status, whether you’re sick or not. He senses nothing from you. 

He senses nothing and that’s terrifying.

“You okay, man?” Eric is beside him, gazing curiously at the older man that he’s almost positive hasn’t aged a day in seven years. He’s the same height, has the same broad shoulders and chiseled jaw, and his eyes haven’t formed the wrinkled lines many 30-something-year-olds have. He still has that smooth, unblemished skin that looks perfect always.

“I’m fine,” Hyunjae tilts his head to the side, gazing at the younger boy. He eyes the little acne scars on the young boy's face, the dried strands of his bleached hair, and the lankiness of his limbs. He knows the boy will grow into himself. He knows the fate of nearly everyone in this room, save for you. Guardians can’t know their assignment’s fate. They can only guide them down the path they deem correct. Everyone else, though? Their fates are open for practically everyone to see. 

Eric, for example, falls into a downward spiral when he’s twenty-five. Mental health is his downfall, and he never recovers. 

The girl that gave him a dirty look won’t make it past her second year of college. Poor child.

“What’s your skincare routine?” Eric blurts out suddenly, and Hyunjae raises an eyebrow. “I just— your skin is really smooth and I really just want to know what your routine is. I have a lot of, uh, blemishes?” The more Hyunjae looks at the young boy, the more nervous Eric seems to get. Hyunjae smiles at this, smiles knowing that he is, in fact, superior to the human race in more ways than deemed important. 

“Just basic cleansers, some moisturizer. Face mask here and there.” Eric nods quickly, foolheartedly believing the lie, and Hyunjae can practically see him making a list of things he needs. 

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” Eric claps Hyunjae on the shoulder, grimacing at the solid impact and the pain that shot up his wrist. “Maybe I should get your gym routine, too. Shit, you’re built like a goddamn brick wall.”

“You shouldn’t swear too much,” Hyunjae sniffs and kicks himself off the wall. “Never know who might be watching over you.”

~

When your friends leave, you finally allow yourself to sit, and Hyunjae watches as you put your head in your hand and just sit at the small dining room table. The small waves of emotion are becoming tsunamis, and though he can’t tell exactly what you’re feeling, he knows that you’re upset by something. He knows that there’s something wrong, something that he can’t figure out. 

“Little bug,” he sits down next to you, his large frame practically dwarfing yours. “Can I tell you a story?”

You look at him, your eyes heavy with emotion. You try to smile, but he can see how difficult it is and places a hand on your shoulder. 

“You heard of God, and of Adam and Eve, and Lucifer, and all of them. You’ve heard the Bible stories and learned of the angels that fought against the demons.” You nod and he proceeds. “Have you heard of the angels that stood alongside them? Not the ones that were deemed threats, or ones that everyone could see. Ones that protected them, and guided them along their fated paths.”

“What, guardian angels?” Your eyes are curious again and he smiles. “I mean, I’ve heard people talk about them but I’ve never seen them in Bible stories or anything like that.”

“That’s because they aren’t in the Bible,” Hyunjae explains. “God made it clear from the start that these Guardians weren’t to inform their…people of their existence. Guardians were to play alongside the children, befriend the adults, and take the form of whatever they found their people needed.”

“If they weren’t supposed to be common knowledge, why do you know so much about them?” You ask, and Hyunjae shrugs. “And why are you telling me this?”

“Such a curious little bug,” he nudges you and you crack a smile. A real, beautiful smile that warms every inch of his body. “I’m telling you this because I want you to know that even if it doesn’t feel like it, there is somebody watching over you. Someone is here to protect you, keep you safe, and ensure that you’re happy, even if it doesn’t feel like it sometimes. I want you to know that maybe your guardian angel is closer than you think, lingering out of the corner of your eye. Just out of sight when you turn your head.” 

From his pocket, he pulls out a little box wrapped in violet paper. There’s a bow on the top, black and satiny. Your eyes widen when he places the box in your palm and squeezes your shoulder. 

“Open it.”

“You didn’t have to, Hyunjae…” He just shrugs. 

“No, I didn’t. But I did.” You smile and gently do your best not to rip the delicate wrapping paper while opening your gift. Despite your efforts, Hyunjae watches you wince at the small tear in the paper. 

“You don’t have to be so careful,” he tells you, “it’s just paper.” You shake your head.

“Purple is my favorite color, you should know this by now Jae.” He just sits back against the couch cushion and lets you open the jewelry box he’d gotten you. You look back at him with a confused pout and he just gestures for you to open it. 

A necklace. Thin silver chain, and a pendant attached. 

A butterfly made of delicately crafted wings. There are jewels attached to the butterfly, creating the wings and the eyes. 

“Diamonds?” Your eyes narrow and he feels his heart sink a bit. Did you hate it? “Jae, how did you afford this?”

“Call it a family heirloom,” he lies. “My mother’s.”

“Your mother had a brand new diamond necklace just hanging around the house, and you gave it to me instead of giving it to your girlfriend?” You turn fully toward him and scowl. “Lee Hyunjae you shouldn’t have gotten me a gift so expensive.”

“Why not?” He challenges.

“I’m not worth this much!” It’s his turn to scowl.

“You know that’s not true, little bug. You’re worth far more than you know.”

~

Hyunjae hovers over your shoulder, watching you bite at your nails while you write your essay.

“I still don’t understand why colleges make you write these things.” His fingers wrap around the back of your chair and you roll your neck. Your head brushes against his abdomen and you flinch away. 

“They want to know about us, what makes us good candidates. Now can you read this and make sure it sounds like a sob story?” He rolls his eyes when you push him into the chair and take his position. 

You’d written about your mom. About how she got sick when you were little, and about how your dad was basically never there. You wrote about how you would walk yourself to school every day, and walk yourself to the nearby park until your sick mother could get you. Often, you would be at the park until the sun went down and the street lights would come on. 

“This is sad,” Hyunjae takes a pause and your eyes shoot to him nervously.

“Good sad or bad sad?”

“Good. Let me finish reading.” You nod and he turns back to the computer screen. 

Halfway through the essay, he sees something familiar. 

You’d written about him. About how he helped you stay alive through those hard times. How he, this mysterious man that claimed to be a family friend, was the only consistent person in your life. How he helped you grow into the woman that he’d convinced you was real, and that you didn’t have to struggle through life on your own.

“You called me your guardian angel?” His lips twitch into a smile and you laugh nervously. 

“I— I just meant that— that you were always there for me, y’know?” You spit out quickly. “You kept me on the right path, even when I started going astray.” Hyunjae’s smile grows and he lifts himself out of the chair. 

“Little bug, I didn’t do anything. Every choice you made, every path you chose, that was you. I was just a bit of moral support,” he denies, even though he knows you’re right. Although, you don’t need to know that he’s literally your guardian angel. You don’t need to know that yes, he was guiding you through the motions. He kept your boat from capsizing from even the most dangerous waves. 

He can’t take all the credit for your success, even when it was due. 

Still, you squeeze his shoulder and place your chin on his shoulder while he reads. His hands are beginning to shake, and he isn’t quite sure why. 

“What do you think?” You ask, and he feels your breath brushing against his ear. His skin grows warm. 

“I think it’s very well done.” He starts to rise from the chair and you take a few steps back, sitting on the mattress of your bed. He crosses his arms, steeling his body so you can’t see the shaking of his hands, the sweat on his neck. “I think these colleges would be foolish to not accept you.”

“You think so?” You’re hopeful, and he smiles, walking toward you until he’s hardly a foot away from you.

“I know so, little bug.” Your body goes rigid when you feel his lips against your forehead. Your cheeks go ablaze, the heat spreading down your neck. It’s the first time he’d shown this kind of true affection toward you, and you aren’t quite sure what to do with it. 

He’s still smiling when he pulls back, laughing to himself when he sees your stunned expression.

“You keep working, I’ll go make some food.”

~

You were twenty-one when Hyunjae finally gave up on stopping you from going to parties. For years he’d forced you to stay home, to “not waste your time getting shit-faced with a bunch of nobodies who couldn’t give less of a shit about you”. He’d caught you a number of times when you tried to sneak out the window of your dorm room, sitting in the tree you were going to climb down in a flimsy skirt and some heels. He’d stopped you from sneaking out the main doors by waking your RA. Anything you could think of trying, he somehow already knew and was prepared to stop you.

“I’m just keeping you safe,” he’d say with a smirk and a shrug. “Besides, you won’t have to sneak out in a couple of years. Just hold off a little longer, focus on your studies, and hang out with your friends at a cafe or something.”

“What am I supposed to say when they ask me why I keep ditching them?” You stomp your foot, and Hyunjae raises an eyebrow. 

“Tell them your guardian angel said no.” You think he’s kidding, that he isn’t taking you seriously, and that he’s mocking you. He isn’t, and he wishes he could tell you that but he could be killed.

When he finally does let you go, he comes with you and Eric, playing along as your chauffeur and as a guest. You’re a bit too excited, and Eric has to calm you down before Hyunjae puts the car in park. He can see you looking at him out of the corner of your eye, eyeing him up and down. He’s smirking. It isn’t as if he’s dressed up, at least no more than he usually is. A white tee shirt, a leather jacket that’s been left unzipped, some black pants, and black boots. No change from his usual colors, just a bit more style to fit in more with the college kids. 

Nobody would question a 25-year-old at a college party. Half the men in the frat were nearing that age anyway, and Hyunjae’s lip curled in disgust when he saw one chatting up a freshman, just barely out of high school. 

He feels your arm looping through his, and his gaze turns back to you. You’re talking with Eric, and he sees your arm also looped through his. You want to keep them both close, at least for a while. Hyunjae’s eyes narrowed at the young boy. Since high school, he’s put on some muscle and cleaned up the acne he’d been so worried about. He’d have no problem finding someone to settle down with, and he knows the Guardian watching over Eric is pleased with this.

“…don’t you think, Jae?” You look up at him expectantly, your eyes glittering with excitement. You don’t know he has no idea what you said, and he doesn’t plan on you finding out so he smiles and nods.

“Sure thing, little bug.” 

The music is overwhelmingly loud. Not nearly the loudest party he’d had to attend, but nonetheless he hated every second he was in the disgusting house. You and Eric had peeled off in another direction, somewhere across the room and he was on the landing, leaning on the banister with a half-empty red cup in one of his hands. Every time he takes a sip from the plastic cup, he grimaces at the disgusting taste. Human alcohol had become more and more disgusting as the years dragged on. Every time he was dragged to an event, such as this one, he prayed to his father that the drinks wouldn’t get any worse. And, every time, his prayers went unanswered. 

“Hey,” a girl appears at his side and he doesn’t even spare her a glance. “What’s a handsome man like yourself doing at a party like this?” She’s too close for comfort, her clothing too revealing for his taste. He scoffs, ignoring her. She keeps talking. “You seem a bit too old to be going to lame frat parties. Shouldn’t you be at a bar or at a club?” Now he looks at her, his eyebrow raised. She smiles, her lips colored ruby red and her eyes flashing with mischief. 

“I go to the university.”

“My point still stands.” He sighs, returning to leaning over the banister. You’re talking with a man now, and he picks up bits of your conversation. 

My name’s Sunwoo.

Y/N.

What’s a pretty girl like yourself doing at a party like this?

Humans, similarly to their drinks, get less and less creative with time. Recycling the same useless tactics over and over again until someone is desperate enough to fall for it. 

Sunwoo twirls a piece of your hair around your finger, and Hyunjae’s teeth grind together at the way you swoon. Of course, you would be one to fall for the stupid comments and greetings. Of course.

“You seem awfully close to that girl.” Hyunjae rolls his eyes.

“What’s it to you?”

“You should be careful.” Her finger is trailing down his arm now. “You never know what sort of evil will catch up with the two of you.” His body goes rigid and his head snaps to the side. 

Her eyes are boring into his, red meeting gold. She’s still smiling, her hand still trailing up and down his arm. Hyunjae bites down on his tongue, rising to stand straight. 

“What are you doing here?” He hisses. The demon beside him just continues to smile. 

“I’m a warning. Someone sent me to warn you, Guardian.”

“Who sent you?” He yanks his arm out of her grasp, and she sighs. 

“I can’t tell you that, Guardian. But you should be careful. They’re watching, waiting. Soon enough, they will take one of you. They don’t care which.” The demon begins to back up, and Hyunjae follows. To anyone around, it may look like she’s seducing him. Bringing him to one of the bedrooms upstairs. 

“Why should I believe you?” 

“Your brother did.” She shrugs and Hyunjae’s breath hitches. “In fact, he sends his regards from his assignment. The man he was assigned to recently got married and his wife is now pregnant. You should be proud of them.”

“Why do you know Sangyeon?” 

“I told you, I’m just here to warn you.” 

She’s gone before he can respond, disappearing into the crowd and no matter how he strains his neck, he can’t spot her anymore. But he sees you. You’re alone now, and Sunwoo seems to have found a new interest in a pretty girl by the “bar”. He walks over to you, shoving through the crowd and ignoring those who snap at him. 

When your eyes lock on his, that warm feeling returns to his chest. All thoughts of the demon have disappeared, and now his mind is consumed by you. Protecting you, caring for you, being with you, having you. 

“Jae?” Your voice is soft, barely audible even with his superior hearing. Your eyes are wide, staring up at him. Your hand is wrapped around his jacket, holding tightly. “Is everything okay?” He isn’t sure what comes over him. Maybe it’s the thought of someone hurting you. The thought of losing you. Maybe he’s scared of failing his assignment. Maybe he’s scared of failing you. He isn’t sure, but whatever it is has him drawing to him, his hand tilting your head up. He can hear and feel your heart beginning to pound. Hyunjae feels your grip on his jacket tighten, feels you beginning to stand on your toes. 

You’re inches away from him, the two of you tucked into a darker corner of the party with not a soul watching the two of you. His hand is still loosely gripping your chin, the other holding your waist. Your skin is warm to the touch, almost too warm. He watches your eyes, the way they begin to flutter shut and the way you almost seem to lean into him. 

His lips brush against your forehead, and you flinch against his touch. He goes to pull back but you keep him close, holding him against you. The two of you don’t move for a while. You just stand in that corner, holding each other as if you’re afraid the other will let go too soon.

~

You were just barely starting your third year of college when it happened. Just barely starting to live when your life was ripped out of your hands. 

See, the thing about illnesses is that sometimes they take time. Sometimes they are slow acting, and you don’t see them until late in the victim’s life. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you don’t get symptoms at all and are able to pass away peacefully. Sometimes those slow-acting illnesses begin to show, but treatments work quickly and they’re able to be stopped. 

But sometimes, on certain occasions, that isn’t the case. Sometimes illness strikes out of nowhere, sinking its teeth into the nearest unsuspecting victim. It latches on, feating until there is nothing left but a shell of the person that once was. 

You were linked up to monitors, needles sticking in your arms, and a number of nurses and doctors standing around your bedside. 

Unconscious.

That’s how Hyunjae found you. You were unconscious, and your skin was pale. Your eyes were sunken in. A doctor tries to make him leave, but there was something in the Guardian’s eyes that had the older man stumbling over his words and averting his eyes. 

It was a look of unfathomable rage. Like he had more power inside him, and such contempt for the world that he could cause more damage than the wrath of God. 

Hyunjae walked forward, pushing past the nurses trying to protest. In the reflection of one of the monitors, he could see his eyes. They were gold. Not just little flecks, not a shade of yellow that televisions tried to excuse as gold, but pure, vibrant gold. The anger in them darkened them, but anyone who looked into this man’s eyes was struck with awe. With amazement, confusion, and horror when they, past the screaming voices in their mind that told them death was imminent, realized how much danger they were in.

“What happened to her?” The doctor behind Hyunjae stuttered over his words again, and Hyunjae turns around. When he spoke again, it was as if there were millions of voices speaking all at once, overwhelming the medical professionals. “What. Happened. To. Her.”

“We…we aren’t sure yet,” the doctor breathed out, lowering his gaze to the floor. “It— she was brought here by a young man. He said that she collapsed in the middle of a presentation. It could be nothing, we just want to make sure.”

“If it was nothing,” Hyunjae hissed out and there was a swell of triumph when he sees the fear in the doctor’s eyes, “she would not be here, would she?”

“N-No, sir, I suppose not.” The doctor whimpered. 

“Fix her.” The order was clear, and the doctor knew without saying that his next phrase was not a threat, but a promise. “Fix her, or I swear on thy God that I will kill each and every last one of you. I will kill you, and I will kill your families, and I will kill anyone that you have even passed on the street if that’s what it takes for you to comprehend the importance of this.”

“Calm yourself, Hyunjae.” A hand on his shoulder, and he feels something inside of him jolt. His heart, maybe. He can feel it beginning to pound, can feel his lungs empty of air. “We don’t need any accidents today.”

For a moment, he just stands there frozen. He doesn’t know if he should turn around. Doesn’t know if he should react positively or negatively. Hyunjae’s heart is pounding, and for that moment he stands frozen, the fear and the anger begin to kick in.

“Sangyeon,” Hyunjae breathes out. His brother is smiling when he turns around. He’s smiling, and healthy, and he’s alive. “You’re…you’re here? But— but how did you— how are you—”

The doctors have left the room, and he can hear them whispering amongst each other. They’re debating calling the police, or just leaving him be. Someone picks up a phone, and Sangyeon pulls Hyunjae to the side, ducking into an empty hospital room and shutting the door. 

“How are you here?” Hyunjae hisses, pushing his brother back against the wall. There’s pain in his voice. Fear, even. There’s no possible way that Sangyeon could have found him. Guardians can’t track each other. They have no way of finding each other when on assignments. 

“You have to know the truth.” Sangyeon doesn’t push his younger brother away, just lets himself be shoved against the wall with a strong hand digging into his chest. Something warm is beginning to burn against his skin, and he bites down on his tongue to numb the pain. “Someone had to tell you, and it wasn’t going to be our Father.”

“What are you talking about?” Hyunjae pulls his hand away when smoke begins to rise from under his palm, tightening his hand into a fist to cool himself off. “What truth?”

“About this assignment. Didn’t she warn you?” The door behind them opens and closes, and Hyunjae whips around. His hands are glowing, radiating with heat that begins the catch on the fabric of the bed next to him. The woman— the demon he’d met just a year prior stands with her body leaning against the wall. She’s dressed in a nurse’s garb, his lips curled into that same smirk that he’d dreaded. 

“I tried, but your father must be a very convincing man.” Sangyeon smiles sadly, beckoning for her to join him. She tucks herself under his arm, practically wrapping her body around him. A lump is forming in Hyunjae’s throat, and his vision beginning to swim. 

“What the hell is going on?” Sangyeon frowns, taking a step toward his younger brother. Hyunjae takes a step back. “Why are you…brother, why are you with this creature?” The demon scoffs. 

“Creature? I would hardly call myself a creature, you stupid Guardian—”

“Hye-Ri,” Sangyeon interrupts, “that’s enough. Let me talk.” Hye-Ri’s lips purse and she takes a small step back. The older angel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jae, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Everything Father has told you up until now has been a lie.” Hyunjae bites his tongue, fighting the urge to argue with his brother. He might not believe Sangyeon, but he will not disrespect his brother. “He’s told you that this is just an assignment, that you need to guide her down the right path until she passes, is that correct?”

“Yes.” He keeps his response short and Sangyeon nods.

“He lied. This isn’t an assignment. This is a slaughter.”

“What are you talking about?” Hyunjae asks. “A slaughter?”

“Her mother wasn’t supposed to die,” Hye-Ri informs him, and his eyes narrow on her. “Sangyeon here was the woman’s guardian. She was supposed to live a long, fruitful life, but your Father fed her a disease. An angelic disease.”

“The same one Y/N has now.” Sangyeon nods and Hyunjae exhales heavily. “You said this was a slaughter?”

“Y/N is…different from what you’re used to. I’m sure you’ve noticed that you can’t get a reading on her. That you can’t quite understand her like you can other people.” Hyunjae just nods, and Sangyeon continues. “That’s because she’s a Link.”

“A what?” 

“Think of Links as soulmates,” Hye-Ri explains. “Links basically latch onto an angel, guardian or not, and link them to the human realm. Not a very creative name, but it does the trick.”

“Stay on track, Hye-Ri.”

“Right,” the demon nods, “your Father isn’t sure where it started, or with whom, but he intends to wipe out any and all links he can find.”

“But…but why does he need to do that? I mean…it can’t be dangerous to have a— a soulmate, as you called them.” Hyunjae gnaws on his lip, folding his arms over his chest.

“Father has never truly loved the human race as he claimed he did,” Sangyeon says. “He despises how we, the Guardians, grow close to them. How we grow attached to them. He fears another rebellion, should one grow too close to an assignment. He fears that the Links will be the very root of his angels betraying him. That his angels and these Links will produce heirs that are powerful enough to take down even himself.”

“So Y/N…” Hyunjae’s voice is trembling more than he’d like to admit. “She’s my…she’s my Link? My soulmate?” He receives a sad nod from his brother and tilts his head back to look at the ceiling. 

“Father saw you growing attached. He knew that it would only be a matter of time before you began to break the rules he’d set in stone.”

“But I haven’t…I haven’t done anything. I’ve kept myself under control, nothing has happened!” Hyunjae protests. “It isn’t fair to me, and it isn’t fair to her.”

“I know.” Sangyeon wraps his arms around his younger brother, feeling Hyunjae’s body shake with rage and fear, and pain. “I know, little brother.”

~

A crack of thunder shakes the building, and the pounding of rain fills the awful silence of the hospital. It’s surprisingly quiet for this time of day, but nobody would ever say that out loud. 

Hyunjae is in your hospital room again, his head lowered and his foot tapping against the ground. A nurse enters the room, flinching when she sees him. Her body remains tense the entire time she takes your vitals. 

“Is she getting better?” He asks before the nurse leaves. There’s a moment of silence before he looks up at her. She looks afraid, but there’s sadness in her eyes.

“No. She’s not.”

The door shuts again and Hyunjae lowers his head back down. The beeping of machines begins to overwhelm him. It’s constant, and he begins to wonder if you can hear it too. If you can hear what’s going on around if you’re screaming for someone to hear you and see you and listen to you. 

When the door opens again, he knows who it is.

“Have you been here the whole time?” Eric is breathless, his voice hoarse and strained. 

“I have,” comes Hyunjae’s monotone response. 

“Has she woken at all?”

“No.” Hyunjae looks up again, resting his face against his laced fingers. “No, she’s comatose right now.” Eric’s face twists with pain, and Hyunjae barely flinches when the young boy’s hand collides with the concrete wall. There’s an ugly crunch, and he watches Eric bite back a scream. His knuckles are now bleeding, and his hand already going from red to purple. 

“Fuck.” The boy hisses quietly, cradling his fist to his chest. Hyunjae scoffs out a laugh.

“That was idiotic.”

“I know.” Eric sits beside the Guardian, squeezing his eyes shut and willing away the pain. Hyunjae eyes the bloodied and bruised fingers and rolls his eyes. 

“Give me your hand.” Hyunjae holds out his own hand, palm facing up, and Eric shoots him a look.

“No offense, you’re hot and all, but I’m not into you.” Hyunjae bites his tongue again and continues to hold out his hand.

“I’m not into you either. Glad we’re on the same page. Give. Me. Your. Hand.” Eric slowly stretches his arm out, placing his fist into Hyunjae’s outstretched palm. There’s a soft glow and a few cracking sounds. Eric’s face goes pale, watching his fingers snap into place as if they had never broken. The blood remains on his fingers, and he wipes them with a tissue.

“How the fuck did you do that?” Eric asks, gazing at his fixed hand in amazement.

“I have a number of tricks up my sleeve, kid.”

“Is this the same thing that keeps you from aging?” Hyunjae hesitates before he responds. “And don’t try lying to me. I’m not dumb. At first I just thought your skincare was hella good, but after twelve years of you not aging past twenty-five it kinda gets obvious that there’s something up.”

“You’re not afraid?” Hyunjae asks curiously. Eric shrugs.

“Unless you think I should be, not really. You’ve protected Y/N our whole lives, you’ve done nothing to make me think I shouldn’t trust you. I don’t know who or what you are, but I trust you.”

“Interesting.” Hyunjae sits back in his chair, leaning his head against the wall. “So if I told you I was her guardian angel, you’d believe me?”

“I mean…I guess?” Eric shrugs. “Unless, for some reason, that’s a lie?”

“No, it isn’t. And this isn’t a human disease.”

“What do you mean it isn’t a human disease? Like…this is from Heaven?”

“Mhm. Given to her directly by Father dearest to spite me.” Eric’s jaw drops open a bit.

“God wants to kill my best friend?”

“You pick up on things fast.” His head snaps to the side and he hears Eric hiss in pain. When Hyunjae turns his head back, Eric is sitting quietly, eyes trained on his best friend. “Are you glad you did that? Did that make you feel better?”

“Yeah, a little bit. Keep talking.”

“She’s what we call a Link. She is, essentially, my soulmate.”

“Ew, age gap much?” Hyunjae snorts, his lips curling into a smile. He’d expected Eric to be less accepting of all of this, but apparently, he’d underestimated the boy. 

“My Father, God as you call him, doesn’t necessarily approve of Links. He wants to eradicate them all. He gives them diseases, angelic diseases that have no cure in any world. Not in Heaven, not in Hell, and certainly not here. Any medications given are just prolonging the inevitable.”

“So…She’s just…gonna die?” Eric asks, and Hyunjae gives him a pitiful look. “Is there anything that you can do? You’re her soulmate, there’s gotta be something. True love’s kiss?” The Guardian shakes his head and Eric lets out a shaky sigh. 

“My brother is…trying to find something. Anything that can help her. We just have to be patient.”

He isn’t entirely sure who he’s trying to convince, himself or Eric or both. He knows that these attempts are futile. He knows that he can’t save you like he’d promised you so long ago. 

I don’t want to die like my mommy.

I won’t let that happen.

~

“We need to consider that she might not wake up.” Hyunjae stares down at the doctor, his hands shaking and his eyes narrowed. “It’s…it’s been two years, sir.”

“I don’t give a damn how long it’s been,” Hyunjae snarls, standing over your comatose form. Protecting you. “We aren’t pulling this plug. Not now, not ever. Do you understand me, Doctor?”

“Sir,” the older gentleman tries to plead, “I understand your frustration but… you need to face that she would be better off just…going on her own terms. Keeping her alive, in this state where she has no control over her bodily functions, where she can’t communicate with us or feel the things that we can, it isn’t good for her or for you.”

He knows the doctor is right. He knows he’s just prolonging the inevitable, he always has. But he can’t let go of you yet. It’s too soon. He hasn’t had enough time with you. Hasn’t had enough time to talk to you, to take care of you, to love you, cherish you, adore you. He hasn’t had time to show you the world, as he’d wanted to for so long. He hadn’t had time to tell you the truth. 

Although, at this point, the truth is…unfortunate. His wings had been stripped from his body, his and his brother’s. His rights as a Guardian have been removed. Anything he could’ve used to save you…there’s nothing left. He has Fallen, but he couldn’t be more proud of it. He doesn’t have to hide himself anymore, doesn’t have to fear the man he once called Father. 

“Hyunjae,” Hye-Ri stands at his side, her eyes tired. “You know the doctor is right.”

“Shut up, Hye-Ri.” The young demon snarls. Hye-Ri doesn’t snap at him this time. She looks sad, almost pitying him. Sangyeon stands at the door, his arms crossed over his chest. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. None of you do.”

“Lee Hyunjae,” Sangyeon says sternly, “use reason. I understand you’re upset, but you need to understand that your soulmate is suffering and that you are being selfish.”

“Am I not allowed to be selfish?” Hyunjae cries. “Even now that I am finally free from God’s hands, am I not allowed to be selfish for once?” Hye-Ri leaves the room, her eyes lowered to the ground. Sangyeon steps forward. Hyunjae moves even closer to you. 

“You are allowed to want things, little brother,” Sangyeon speaks softly, so as not to anger Hyunjae further. “You are allowed to want her. You are allowed to crave more time with her, but you cannot have her like this. You know that.” For a brief moment, Hyunjae wants to scream. He wants to throw the vase of flowers that sits beside your hospital bed, he wants to tear this building down until there’s nothing left but a pile of bricks. 

But he doesn’t. He stands there, gazing down at you and brushing his thumb across your cheek. Your body is cold, and when he touches you, you don’t so much as twitch. His hand drops to his side. 

“Get Eric. Get the doctor.”

~

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the beach in front of you. You’re laying in the sand, water washing up to your ankles. The sun is warm on your skin, but you aren’t sweating. In fact, nothing about your situation is uncomfortable. You’re at peace, more comfortable than you think you’ve ever been.

The second thing you notice is that you’re in nothing but a bathing suit and a beach cover. You don’t remember changing into this. In fact, you can’t seem to remember anything after the party.

“You’re awake,” you turn your head and you begin to smile. Hyunjae is dressed in a simple tee shirt and shorts, two classes and a bottle of champagne clutched in his hands. He’s grinning at you, and you rise to your feet.

“You’re wearing something other than black, I see.” You tease him. He lets out a laugh, and you think it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. 

“Hilarious, little bug.” He nudges your side, guiding you to a nearby table with two long beach chairs sitting side-by-side. “Come have a drink with me.” You follow him, the beach cover blowing behind you a bit. Your hair isn’t quite tussled by the wind around you, just brushed over your shoulders. Everything is perfect.

Too perfect.

Hyunjae takes a seat on one of the chairs, gritting his teeth when he removes the top of the champagne bottle. 

“I always get nervous opening these things. Far too dangerous for their own good if you ask me.” You sit beside him, and he side-eyes you. “I got you your own chair.”

“What if I want to sit next to you?” You challenge. He pauses, and for a moment you think he looks…sad. That moment passes quickly, and he’s smiling again and laughing to himself. 

“I won’t stop you then.” He takes one of the glasses and slowly fills it with the bubbling alcohol before passing it to you. You thank him quietly and briefly turn your gaze to the ocean. 

“Have you ever seen water so clear?” You ask, half rhetorical and half curious. He hums.

“Once or twice.”

“I didn’t think Heaven would have beaches this nice.” Silence behind you, and you turn back to Hyunjae, still smiling. He’s staring at you, his body completely frozen. You can see his body shaking, the liquid in his glass sloshing up the sides. You take the glass and the bottle from his hands, setting both on the table beside him. Tears are beginning to wet his cheeks, and you reach forward to wipe them away. 

“I didn’t…I’m so, so sorry little bug.” His voice cracks and the tears keep falling. 

“Jae, you knew it would happen eventually. I did too. That’s just…I just got the shit end of the stick in this life.” You slide closer to him and he lets his eyes close. “Besides, did you really think that I believed you had really good skincare? For almost twenty years?” 

Hyunjae wraps his arms around you tightly, pulling you as close as he possibly could. You let him hold you, you let him whisper his apologies, and his regrets, and his whispers of I love you, I adore you, I’m sorry this happened before I got to show you the world. You just smile, running your fingers through his hair and rubbing his shoulders. 

When he pulls away from you at last, his cheeks are red and stained with tears. You’re still smiling, assuring him that everything is okay. 

“So,” you raise the two glasses of champagne and hand him one, “what are we toasting?” Hyunjae shakes his head, his smile returning.

“Whatever you want, little bug. Anything you want, I will give you.” You hum, kicking your legs a bit and digging your toes into the sand. 

“Anything, you say?” You wiggle your eyebrows and while he laughs, you know that he means every word. You know what he doesn’t have the strength to say yet. I am yours. You are mine. I will cherish you, adore you, and love you how I should have when you were alive. “Fine then.”

“Have you decided?” He turns toward the beach and you do the same, leaning your head on his shoulder briefly. You feel him flinch when you press your lips to his shoulder blade, where you can feel his wings once were. 

“I have.”

“So?”

“To merry bad endings, and to you for going against what you’d been raised to do, for believing in me and in your brother.” Hyunjae smiles, tipping his glass to yours. A small clink echoes across the beach.

“To merry bad endings.”

~

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