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plush-rabbit · 4 years ago

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Aphrodisiac Induced Reader + The Brothers

A/N: The brothers!! I hope yall enjoy!! Aphrodisiac induced is always a fun thing to play with. The brothers,, my beloved

You really should have known better than to take food that was offered by Beel. You know that he has the right intentions in mind- that him sharing food is a miracle of itself and rejecting him would have his brows furrowed and lips pursed into a pout- but he’s also gluttony. He can eat whatever he wants and as much as he wants without so much of a stomach ache. You, on the other hand, cannot. You should have seen this coming when the cupcake you bite into filled your mouth with such an indescribable sweetness that it made your teeth ache, the flavor otherworldly and leaving you hungry for me, taking greedy bites out of the cutely decorated pastry. There was a sharp pang in your stomach, your body on fire and sex dripping with every nudge that your body made.

You couldn’t be alone right now- or maybe you should have been left alone, maybe that would have saved you from humiliation of your dripping arousal that was leaking past your slit. You’re quick to rise, standing on shaky legs, curled over as your cheeks burn, sweat beading against your skin, only worsening the sensitive state that you are in. It’s fast-acting, making your breaths come out in heated gasps, and everything just feels a bit too much, just too good for it to be normal. An aphrodisiac- a strong one that is making you impossibly aroused. You suck in a sharp breath and go to the person who you know will treat you right.

Lucifer:

Lucifer is a gentleman- most of the time at least. But during your time of need he is perfect to go to. He’ll allow you- or more like insist- that you stay in his office until the aphrodisiac’s effects have passed. You’ll lay on the couch, face buried into a throw pillow while the other one is between your legs. Shame has long been gone since you’ve entered his domain, his eyes never really leaving your shaky frame. When you moan his name, he stiffens, the pen in his hand is held tighter but he still rises, walking towards you in concern. He’ll sit beside you, let his hand curve over your forehead, feeling the heat go through his glove.

He clears his throat, pulling his hand away, and there’s this heavy look on your face, the pillow squeezed tight between your legs, the pillow under your head has faint imprints of your teeth. He’ll avoid touching you, pulling his hand away from you and walking briskly to his desk chair. He can hear your steps across the floor, the way you gasp his name and seem to rub your thighs together for any sort of friction. He won’t spare you a glance, eyes focused on the paperwork in front of him. Underneath the desk, his leg jolts as you snake your arms around his shoulders, your lips wet as they touch his neck.

There isn’t enough time in the day and night for him to focus on his work and on your growing needs that are starting to mark everything in his office. Black ink scratches along the pape, the letters growing shaky as you snake your way onto him. He’s actually startled when you situate yourself on his lap, your sex pressed against his erection. He’s surprised by your sudden confidence but writes it off due to the effects of the aphrodisiac. You’re above him, arms snaked once more on his shoulders and you play with the hair that rests on the nape of his neck.

The feeling of shame is not foreign to the Avatar of Pride but even then, letting you know that he is indeed aroused given the situation does bring a bit of heat to his body. His hands find their way to hold onto your hips, trying to ignore the way that you have begun to grind against his. But there is work to do and despite the growing need to pleasure both you and himself, he displaces you, ignoring the way that you call his name and can’t seem to stop touching him.

The only way to gain his attention that you desperately long for is to push him away, the wheels locking against an edge of the floor and you bend yourself over the desk. Lucifer wants to throw you out so you can be another’s problem but you pull your bottom layer off, your fingers searching inside your leaking hole and pride starts to fuel him. You touch yourself in front of him, beg for him to touch you- of course you would. Slender hands come to touch your body, and you’re already leaking onto the floor, thick, sweet arousal staining the very room that he allowed you to enter. His cock is against you, rimming around your entrance, hearing your cries and please for him to simply fuck you but you did cause him to become distracted from very important work and he is going to punish you for that.

Mammon:

Of course you’d go to him. He is your first after all, why wouldn’t you go to The Great Mammon? But wow, he was over his head when you came knocking at his door. Always eager to see and spend time with you, he allows you to enter without seeing the state you’re in. You stagger into his room, holding his hand and stumbling into him and it’s only then that he can smell the sweet, lingering aroma in the air. He wants to believe you’re just trying a new perfume and now it's made you sick, but it’s worse than that when the hand you’re holding moves to your chest. He can feel your rapid heartbeat, the way your body is in flames that can rival hellfire itself, the pained cry of his name as you try to pinch your legs together in the awkward embrace.

Frozen for a moment, Mammon completely blanks on what to do. He can feel your pain, the aching need in your entire body that makes you feel as if you’re going to combust into flames. He doesn’t know whether to touch you or not. But then you cry his name- sobbing it out in broken syllabus and you cry that it hurts and you think you might die and you're in his arms. Your hold on him tightens and he thinks he can leave you to be- let you wait out the excruciating pain in his room until the feeling fades and just thank him with attention or material objects later. He fails to consider that he is weak to you and when you look at him with teary eyes, he falters.

He stutters in his explanation, talking about how he can maybe go out and get you a toy or something- and he promises to be quick, he is the fastest after all. But then the thought lingers and he imagines your sex stretched with some toy that he chose, and his body jerks. Your vision is growing blurrier by the second and the hold on his hand tightens until your knuckles pale. You pull on him, thanking whatever God is watching down on you, that the door to the prized car he keeps in is open. Even he’s unable to know what is going on until you push him inside, crawling onto the back seat, calling his name and begging for him to join you.

In such a closed space, the Avatar of Greed is trying desperately to avoid touching you. He stays seated in the front seat, fingers drumming along the steering wheel. He cares for the car deeply- one of the few things that gives him freedom that is indescribable and yet, here you are. Your sex is leaking, your cries echoing across the closed space and what is music to his ears in his dreams is now a horrible reminder that you are seated behind him, victim to an aphrodisiac. He needs an excuse to touch you, needs to just feel you for a moment and when you threaten to stain the flawless leather seats with your slick, it’s enough for him to crawl to the back seat.

He never realized how crowded it was, how his elbows and knees tend to knock into things. He doesn’t notice how you’ve kicked your shorts off, how your underwear has become dark in color to your dripping sex. You kiss him, and Mammon is weak to you. His hands are on you, the scent overpowering and he promises to keep the touching to a minimum to only touch what you’ll let him touch and kiss where you want him to. But you’re huffing, grabbing onto him and trying to meet his crotch. The windows grow foggy, the car begins to creak but neither of you pay it any mind. It’s cramped and you’re too close but not close enough, you ache to be closer to him, to have him pressed against you until all you can remember is the way that his chest feels against your skin, the warmth of him, and the way his kisses are so tender and feverish all at once.

Leviathan:

Leviathan refuses to make eye contact with you. He won’t even address you. He sits on his desk chair, playing a game that doesn’t need half of the attention he usually gives. You rest inside his bathtub, curled over he presumes, whining and mumbling something that sounds like his name but he can't be so sure nor does he expect you to mumble his name in your current state. But as much as he wants to drown you out, he can’t. You’re too whiny, crying and begging for a solution, peeling your shirt off because it’s too hot. He reasons that’s because of the aphrodisiac because his room is always kept to a cool temperature. So now, he has you topless in his bathtub and the only proof is your shirt that was tossed where he sits and the reflection above, portraying a teasing, blurry image of your torso.

It’s possibly the worst situation for the poor, introverted demon. He finally has you all to himself and you’re in such a needy state and the plot is so close to a top tier hentai of his- Help! My Friend Took a Drug and Now They Won’t Stop Grinding on Me But I Also Don’t Want Them To Stop. But You came to him, you trusted that he would watch over you and whether it was because he kept his room so guarded or because you trust him, he really doesn’t know which. It’s just too muddled for him to believe that you would actively choose him. So, he does what he does best- he immerses himself in a game. The cutest game that he could think of- one that even if he grew and remained hard would make him feel more like a degenerate than he already does. He puts his headphones on and as if everything is trying to punish him, the loading screen takes forever.

The soundtrack plays loud, booming in his headset and effectively drowning you out. But he knows you’re still crying for him- that you're still in the same room with him. The perverted otuka glances up where he can see your reflection and he catches a glimpse of your hands cupping the swell of your chest and his face burns. Had you caught him peeking before? Was this a way for you to play with yourself without actively touching yourself? He can feel his growing arousal, translucent pre-ejaculate spilling past his slit and staining his boxers. It’s humiliating and he hates that the idea of you touching yourself in his room is more than enough for him to get in the mood.

He’s ignoring you- the only way that he can hopefully soften without actually creaming his pants. He avoids your reflection, ignores how your hands grip the curve of the tub until your knuckles pale, how you swing a leg over and it meets the hard layer of the bath, and for a moment, you still. He’s ignoring your decision to remove yourself from the place he rests and staggering to him. When he feels your hands on his thighs, he startles and the game minimizes into a small box. Unaware of what to do in this situation, he freezes, letting his body tense as you crawl onto his lap, your eyes heavy with lust and body feeling so warm above him that he’s unable to breathe.

His breathing is ragged, his hands stopping on the curve of your bum, as he’s unable to look anywhere else but your face. You’re flushed, gripping onto him, your tongue out as you pant and you’re so desperate for his attention that you lean close. His hands raise in an attempt to push you off but as if it were a cliché moment, his hands curve over your chest and you whimper his name at the simple touch. The third born should have been careful, he shouldn’t have let you grind against him and he surely shouldn’t have let himself becomes distracted by a kiss and yet, here he is, undressing himself as you greedily slide yourself onto his cock, your face scrunching up as every scale is pushed further into your aching hole. Leviathan is holding you close, the computer screen dimming as your can fill him spill inside of you.

Satan:

Eager to learn, he knows the effects of what an aphrodisiac can do to a being. So when you come knocking at Satan’s door, begging for refuge, leaning against him and gripping at his shirt, he pats your hand, and welcomes you inside. He allows you to rest on his bed, letting you bury yourself under his blankets. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea for either of you- you’re inhaling his scent during a time of desperate need, and soon when the effects wear off, he’ll be left in a bed that is drenched in your scent. That, however, is a problem for another day.

In order to keep his mind and hands busy, he’ll finally organize his room. He’s able to ignore your whining, the way that you shiver under the covers and bury yourself into his pillow, how you spread your legs so they are uncovered by the blanket; he ignores the sweet scent of your arousal that fills the room and his lungs. He holds his breath, taking few, deep breaths every now and then to avoid inhaling too much of you. You’re whining, talking through the pillow about how it hurts and you just need something- and doesn’t he have a spell he can use to just rid you of at least a tiny bit of it.

It’s the growing arousal of himself and your constant whining that edges him closer to annoyance. He holds books tight in his hand, orders them by author and published years, height and volumes, but it isn’t enough to drown you out. He regrets letting you enter his room but in the same second, he regrets having the thought. He’s happy that you came to him, trusted him enough to see you in a disheveled state. He doesn’t want to scare you off or make you feel unwanted, so he edges closer to you, tugging on the bottom of his shirt as if he were a nervous boy instead of a grown demon. The bed creaks under his weight and your hand latches onto his thigh. He jerks his leg, your hand only squeezing tighter and when he makes eye contact, your eyes are filled with tears, glistening and catching on your lashes like fresh dew.

You’re aroused, deeply and sweetly. It's a nervous thing to be attracted to someone like you, a demon that has been round and born with blood and wrath etched deep into soul and yet here he is, nervous to even touch your trembling hand. He knows the effects of something as strong as an aphrodisiac and for a demon made one, there is no real spell for it. He lets you lay on his lap, your mouth close to his sex, eyes lidded and holding tight to his hand. His control is fading, his growing need pushing past logical thought. He offers himself, and you rise quickly, already straddling his lap, your chest pressed against his, asking if it is okay. A cold shiver runs through his spine and he nods, offering that he’ll take care of you.

The trembling, nervous demon fades just as quick as it came when your lips are on his. You kiss him, need so transparent that he’s teasing, pulling away, letting your back meet the bed. His smile is sharp, leaning to kiss your pursed lips, grabbing your leg and pulling it upwards, mumbling praise under his breath when you hook your leg around his waist. Satan is heavy when above you, and maybe it’s the aphrodisiac that still lingers on your tongue, but he is unwilling to move away from you, kissing you and hooking his fingers in your mouth when you moan. You’re needy and he wants to hear you beg for him, calling his name. He cups your face with spit coated fingers, asking you to be good for him and mew for him.

Asmodeus:

As the Avatar of Lust, Asmodeus immediately knew something was off in the house when he felt lust in the air. It’s sweet. Intoxicating and bitter all at once. It’s like the sweetest honey known to mankind and he knows the feeling well enough to open his door before you have the thought to knock. He welcomes you into his room, letting you rest on the bed, a small part of him on the inside crinkling when you ruffle the sheets. But, of course, he knows this isn’t you- you would never be so careless. It’s all because of the aphrodisiac making your movements more frantic.

He knows the cure to end it- sex, plain and simple. Masturbation might help but he fears your hand will become sore. Always eager to have somebody in bed with him- out of his own sin and own need for company- he offers you two choices. You can borrow a toy- new, still in the box and all- or he could take care of you. Perhaps he shouldn’t have offered the second option, he knew how excited you were to simply enter a room with another living being but he couldn’t help himself. You look absolutely adorable with your flustered face.

A kiss from the living Avatar of Lust is better than any pleasure that you’ve ever received. And he knows it. You moan under him, your body shaking and eyes rolling to the back of your head, clawing at the shirt on his back. He smiles into the kiss. So eager to be taken care of that a simple kiss was enough to make you climax, your arousal dripping onto your underwear, so heavy in the air, that he pulls away as he feels your breaths start to shorten due to lack of air. But even as he pulls away, you still reach to pepper him with kisses, your breathing reggae against his face, gasping for breath with every parting kiss.

Your hands are on him, eager to pull him into another kiss. You want him and it’s evident from the way that you don’t push away when he removes his clothing. But, he stops for a moment, watching your gaze on him, wide and dazed and you stare at him as if he was something more than just a demon, you give him your worship and you pull him into another kiss. He stiffens, pulling away and asking if this is what you want, touching your bare skin only to flinch away as if it burned him. And when your lips are on him, your smile returns for a moment, telling him that you came to him because you knew he would tend to you in any way, and he melts.

His lips return to yours, kissing you eagerly, wanting nothing more than to just keep his lips on you. And as last time, you shudder beneath him, another orgasm washing through your body, your release spilling pass your slit. Limps entangle with each other and you cry the name Asmodeus, moaning it as if it were the only thing on your mind, sobbing under him and telling him how good it feels. You pet his head and let him bury his face into our chest, peppering kisses until he reaches your neck. His eyes close, an unexpected climax teases at him, as you pull him closer to your aching body. Every sigh from you in a gentle gust of wind, every cry a song that not even choir from the Celestial Realm can rival. He pushes deep inside of you, letting you feel every curve and texture from his cock as it molds your leaking hole into his shape.

Beelzebub:

Beelzebub feels incredibly guilty when you come to him, his shirt knotted in your hands as you explain what you ate. He blames himself, going to hold you only to flinch when you hiss and pull yourself closer to him. It’s an aphrodisiac, he should have known that you’ll be more sensitive to touch during this time. He apologizes as he leads you to his bed, shaking his head and holding your hand. He’s gluttony- he should have been able to smell the scent of an aphrodisiac.

Of course, he’ll let you hide in his room until the effects wear off. He won’t make a single peep but it’s difficult for him. His clothes are sticking to him, his body is in an odd sticky situation where sex clings to him clothes and skin. He knows the effects of the aphrodisiac but he feels guilty for giving it to you so when you cling to him, begging for him to not let go of you, he sighs and stays beside you. He’s stiff, unwilling to move and can only let out a shaky breath, when you press yourself closer to him, hooking a leg over his and curling it over. He can feel your sex- hot and pulsing and he leaves ripped bedsheets as his hand curls into the comforter.

He’s rubbing your back, letting his fingers drum against your spine as he hears your panted breaths. He knows he should stop, that he should at least go and take a shower so he can at least smell good but you hold a tight grip on him. You’re feverish, burning against him and he can tell you want more, your lips open up and kiss along the side of his ribcage but he can’t move.

It’s getting too much- even for him. He doesn’t want to take advantage of this needy state that you’re in but as he rises with a feeble explanation that he’s going to take a shower, you pull him down. He’s above you, your eyes watery and cheating rising and falling with heavy breaths. He can’t kiss you but you’re leaning closer, your lips brushing against his and he can smell the aphrodisiac that still rests like heaven on your tongue. You don’t blame him for the accident slip, you’re just begging for him to take care of you, letting your hand rest over the swell of his breast and he’s growing weaker by the second.

When your lips are on his, your tongue slipping past your lips, Beelzebub can taste the aphrodisiac and he’s melting. His tongue has made its home on your mouth, curving over your pink muscle and feeling the way you shudder beneath him. His name is muted by the kiss, your hands clawing at his clothing and he’s sweaty and aroused, watching you as you strip yourself of your clothes. The lovely pastry that still lingers isn’t enough for him to go into a full rut, but it’s enough for him to bend your legs to your chest, your hole pulsing as his cock aligns to it. The way that you call his name is enough for him to push himself fully into you.

Belphegor:

Belphegor is asleep under the covers, pillow tucked under his head and he does not awaken to your scent growing closer and closer, heavier and sweeter than usual. He doesn’t awaken when the doorknob wiggles, a frantic turning but he does awaken when you slam the door. He is startled awake, his eyes wide for a second before narrowing, teeth flashing as he lets out a low growl. He stops when he notices it's you, yawning and telling you to get into bed with him. It’s only until you’re beside him, greedily taking the invitation, that he realizes the state you’re in.

He has to prod you until you tell him what’s happened, watching as you bury your face into a pillow, whining out pathetically as you tell him what happened. He laughs, it’s sharp and teasing. Of course, you took an aphrodisiac by accident. It could only happen to you. He tries to be sympathetic with you. He knows you must be in a great deal of pain, but then again you came to him and that makes him stay awake for a bit longer, turning over on his side and watching you struggle to not touch yourself despite the aroma of your arousal that is thick in the room.

Sloth offers to put you under a deep sleep- he can’t promise that you’ll be still- but he can promise that you’ll wake up without the effects of the aphrodisiac. When you refuse, he merely shrugs, turning over with a pout. He’s disappointed but he can’t do much. He does tell you that he is tired, so he’ll be sleeping but you’re allowed to spend the rest of your heightened arousal in the attic with him. The power of an aphrodisiac- one made a devil no less- is strong, and giving it you in even worse. He can sense the neediness in you, the way you watch him with lustful eyes, your mouth parted the eagerness to get into bed with him.

As promised, he slips off into a sleep, leaving you alone. But your body is on his, legs parted with his single leg. He isn’t asleep long enough for him to be in an actual slumber before he feels the bed move ever so slightly. It’s constant and your whining, mumbling apologies and he opens his eyes to find you humping his leg. It’s pathetic and hot all at once, watching you get off on his leg alone, so desperate for release that you’ve succumbed to humping him. His smile is tight, turning over and letting his tail curl around you, the static in the air only causing you to arch your back when his demon form pops out. It pricks against your wrists, the fur unkempt as he rises above you.

You wanted his attention and now you’ve gotten it. You’ve woken him up from nap, it’s normal and expected for him to be grouchy but thank goodness that the smell from your leaking sex is more arousing that anything else he’s encountered. You’re on your knees on the mattress, his hips meeting yours and letting out a loud grunt when he finishes. He’s tired and over it but his cock still stands upright and you’re still needy and awake, your sex leaking with his arousal. Belphegor will lay on his back, offer himself in his sleep to you until you’re content. The last coherent thought he has is sighing at how warm and squishy you feel against him.

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sunflowerharrington · 3 years ago

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“Don’t Be A Cheeseball, Twinkie!”

just some peter fluff x

warning(s) - mention of sex

wc - ~1.7k

tags - fluff, declarations of love, pete being a lil’ floofball, friends with benefits to lovers i guess? i think? i don’t know, man.

what’s this? me posting twice in one day? i’m on a roll, babes! also, my first gn!reader fic.

It’s late, and home-time for the students. But a fight has broken out on the training field and seems to be growing in intensity, with students jumping to conclusions down each other’s throats about whatever it is they’re arguing about. Logan is trying to calm the situation down, but seems to only make every heated situation he steps into ten times worse than they needed to be.

“Hey, can you all just calm down, even for a few seconds?” You ask, a sense of calm rushing through your voice, not wanting to startle the students, but they ignore you as they always did.

Through the shouting, you barely manage to hear a soft whoosh come from in the distance, but you do, and immediately your senses warm. Your stomach empties of all emotion bar one, and the butterflies replace your organs as your insides fire up. Not by anger, not by irritation, but by the power and hypnotic spell one man has over you.

Even the smallest of gestures manage to light your body on fire, aching for some attention from him, for his touch, his lips... But he always seems to give it all away to every other woman who crosses his path, especially the new women who arrived at the mansion a few days ago.

Jealousy became your middle name within your first day at the Academy. Choosing him was a mistake, but you couldn’t help falling under his spell the moment he mentioned Pac-Man and his love for Pink Floyd. There’s something about him that none of the other men at the academy have, a split personality. Or rather, two versions of himself. He has child-like qualities to his personality. He acts like a kid sometimes, in the sense of having a carefree attitude and no filter. He’s what you would call a ‘Man-Child.’ But as soon as those lights turn off at night, and the sheets are thrown over your head, away from your adult responsibilities, the devil replaces his pure soul, leaving you breathless at every touch, every mention of your name, every acknowledgment of your existence. His presence intoxicates you.

Your cheeks flush as you come back to your senses, hoping no one notices, or knows what you have just been thinking about. You take a deep breath and remove yourself from the argument and away from the students who are still ignoring you. Even though you have been marked as the peacemaker and the mediator of the X-Mansion, sometimes the peacemaker needs some peace of their own.

You stretch the tension from within your shoulders and exhale deeply, the only thing that would be even more relaxing than this is a massage from the man with the fastest fingers in the world. And every night, when the lights go down, he lives up to that name.

You shudder with pleasure at the memories as your eyes fall on him, lying down on the grass with his hands behind his head, looking up at the stars twinkling in the night sky.

The scent of the grass and pollen fills your nose as you breathe in and out in time with the crickets and birds chirping in the distance. You stroll towards him, and notice that he hasn’t been looking at the stars, but has fallen into a light sleep.

He’s exhausted from the training and all of his missions, you think to yourself as you lay next to him, carefully pulling him up into your arms, and he welcomes your embrace with a sleepy smile.

The breeze causes your hands to grow ice cold, and you try your hardest to not touch off Peter with them, but you can’t help it. You need him in your arms, like a child with their favourite teddy bear, never wanting to let go.

“Hey, Twinkie…” he says, eyes still closed as he moves to lay his head on your chest.

You don’t reply, with words, instead cradling his jaw with your free hand as finally, he opens his eyes, immediately waking up the ravens inside your chest, and they start flapping about, trying to break through your rib cage and set themselves free.

He rubs his hands over his face and whines in protest over the argument still present over the far side of the training field. “Why can’t everyone just be friends?”

“Life doesn’t work like that. Some people are going to hate each other no matter what they do, or don’t do.”

“Are you talking about…?”

“Logan’s birthday? Yes.”

That goddamn party. When Peter allegedly hooked up with not only one, not only two, but three different women. And kissed Logan. Apparently. But it wasn’t like that. He did none of that. His feelings towards you are so real, so genuine, and so pure. And you have never felt this amount of gratitude towards someone, and some may even call it: love.

But against all odds, you have pushed through the comments, the snarky remarks from students and colleagues behind your backs, and even getting past the fact that Erik tried breaking you and Peter’s friendship up. And Peter was there for you, every single step of the way. Reassuring you. Checking up on you and making sure you were okay. He is always there for you. Always.

Peter’s little sister, Wanda, seemed like the only one on your side, calling you Y/N Maximoff, and never your real surname. Mx Maximoff. Imagine having the same surname as him, you think to yourself just as Peter returns your embrace, running his calloused fingers up and down your back, catching you as you fall to your knees.

The falling doesn’t hurt you, as it isn’t a painful fall. In fact, it’s a fall you have never had before. Falling for somebody. So hard that you almost can’t even handle it.

“Don't listen to what other people say. Do what’s right, for you, and nobody else,” he says, comfortingly, pressing a gentle, platonic kiss to the side of your forehead. “And if that means going against what everyone says, screw them. You do you, ok?”

Your body shudders once more as his magic touch sends waves of warmth throughout you.

“You’re all tense? What’s the matter, babe?” He asks, softly as he circles around behind you, placing the pads of his fingertips on your shoulders. He begins kneading your muscles like dough with firm pressure.

“I’m just- I’m not feeling like myself today,” you sigh, leaning backwards slightly before Peter pushes you back to sit up straight, continuing to melt each and every speck of tension in your shoulders.

“It’s going to be okay…” he whispers, following up by saying your name quietly. “I’m here for you.”

You melt once more under his touch, the tension of the argument and the party rolling away like the ocean retreating back from the sand on the beach. His hands are warm against your cool skin, and shivers travel up your spine and through your shoulders as he trails his fingers down your back. “Here, lie down.”

He releases you from his grip before speeding off to who knows where, before coming back moments later with a few pillows and blankets stacked in his arms. Peter lines the pillows and blankets up and lets you lie down comfortably on top of them before returning his hands to your shoulders. You close your eyes, enjoying the closeness of his body to yours, feeling the heat radiate off him. Almost like a human radiator.

“Honestly, I’ve not done that many massages… But it feels like I’m doing something right.”

He walks his fingertips down the length of your back slowly, and under the fabric of your shirt, exposing and giving him access to every part of your cold, delicate skin. You have no idea where his magic hands will go next, but then he rolls his hands back up, melting the last of the tension out of you.

“You really are,” you breathe out, almost to the point of falling asleep.

“Glad I can help.” He kneads your hips gently before travelling to the small of your back where he feels more tension, so he immediately makes it disappear. The massage continues for several more pleasant minutes, before the pressure on your back lifts and Peter removes his hands from your shoulders.

“Pete…”

“Hm?”

“There’s— I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, babe?” he asks softly, brushing the free strands of your hair from your face, cradling your chin in his hand.

Here it goes…

“I—” the words get stuck in your throat, and you just smile, hoping the words will come to you soon.

“Don’t be a cheeseball, Twinkie. I know exactly what you’re going to say,” he chuckles, cocooning his arms around you, burying his face in your neck.

“You do? Go on then, what was I going to say?”

“Are you challenging me?” He lifts his head up, quirking a brow, and a smirk crawls its way onto his lips.

“I am.”

“Okay,” he begins, throwing his arms around dramatically like he’s in a soap opera. “You’re madly in love with me, and you want to tell the whole world! Want me to get you a megaphone to help with that?”

How in the…?

“So, was I right?” He asks as he takes a bow, fanning himself as he listens to the fake audience clapping for him.

“Y-yes, Peter,” you say, almost breathless. “I love—” you begin, and the words still aren’t there. You dig deep to find them, but unfortunately, they’re locked away.

“I know.”

I know? That’s it?

He stands up, ready to leave. Extending out his arm for you to take, you walk arm in arm back up to the other group, just before Peter stops the both of you with the biggest grin on his face you have ever seen and says, “I love you too, Twinkie.”

taglist: @xxlangdon, @sympathyforher <3 wanna be added? ask, dm or comment and i’ll add you :)

#peter maximoff #quicksilver #peter maximoff x gn!reader #friends with benefits to lovers #quicksilver fluff #peter maximoff fluff #quicksilver xmen x reader #quicksilver xmen #xmen fluff #evan peters quicksilver #cute #logan howlett

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randomshyperson · 4 years ago

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The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - The First Year

Series Masterlist || Read on AO3

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies.

Chapters will have additional warning when necessary.

Tag list ( let me know if you want to be tagged or removed idk haha) @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia

//////////////////////////////////

Part I - The First Year

Hogwarts will be fun was the first thought you had when you opened the letter in your hands.

Tony, your older brother, ruffled your hair slightly as he came down into the kitchen and watched you open the mail.

"Your letter finally arrived, huh, little witch?" He joked with a smile as he sat down at the table.

"I can't wait to go!" You commented excitedly rereading the acceptance letter for the third time.

"Miss, after coffee, can we go to diagonal alley if you like?" Jarvis, your butler, asked you politely as he poured Tony's coffee making you hesitate slightly. Tony, who had his eye on you, forced a smile as he patted you on the arm.

"I'll go with you, don't worry." He assured and you nodded.

"I wish dad would come." You grumble as you sit down and Tony sighs.

" Yeah, me too." He says. "But you know he's busy, and we can't leave it to the last minute."

You mumble in agreement as you serve some sweetbreads on your plate.

Eating in silence for a few moments, you are startled slightly when Tony lets out an exclamation.

"Damn, I forgot to write back to Steve." He announces getting up and walking over to the next shelf where there were some stationery and pen.

"Your boyfriend will be upset." You tease lightly, and Tony mumbles softly without responding.

When he finishes writing the letter, he goes to the kitchen window and opens the metal, whistling loudly in a familiar rhythm. A few seconds later, Iron, his barn owl lands in front of him. Tony stroked the animal gently before dangling the letter in his paws.

" Please take this to Steve, Iron." He ordered and the animal made a noise before flying away again.

"Jarvis, I'll get ready to go." You tell the man as soon as you finish eating and head off toward the stairs.

//-//

Diagonal Alley is a noisy place.

Tony asked you to walk beside him, but you stopped walking at the first Quidditch shop you spotted, and he had to turn back halfway when he noticed you were no longer beside him.

"Don't do that." He warned, mildly annoyed, but you glazed over at the exposed broom in front of you, and he let out a chuckle when he noticed. "Come on, Y/N, you already have a broom."

"But that's no ordinary broom." You retorted with an impressed look. "It's a Nimbus 2000, it's the fastest broom there is."

"You have the 99, I don't understand the difference." He retorted with his hands in his pockets and you shrugged.

"Tony, can we buy it?" You asked pleadingly, making your brother laugh slightly.

"Let's buy your stuff first please" He retorted with a smile and you grumbled but accepted the arm he offered for you to hang on. Jarvis walked behind you with a keen eye on your surroundings.

After you had bought the vast majority of your supplies and replenished your stocks of potions items for Tony, Jarvis took you to Blossoms and Blurbs to buy this year's books.

"Good morning! Hogwarts, third and first year books, please." You heard Jarvis tell the clerk who approached you three. Tony nodded his head signaling you to feel free to walk around the bookstore in the meantime, and that is exactly what you did.

You found many interesting books in the place as you walked among the shelves. One in particular caught your attention, as there seemed to be little miniature magical creatures trying to jump out of the cover, and you grabbed it on a table, watching the item carefully.

You smiled when an ink dragon jumped into your hand, moving your head as if you were looking around. Distracted by the book, you let out a low exclamation when someone bumped into you.

"Sorry, kid." You heard a female voice speak in a humorous tone. It is a girl taller than you, short red hair. "I ended up tripping over some of those runner books."

"It's okay." You said with a smile. The girl looked at the one book in your hands for a moment.

"Do you enjoy creature tracts?" She asks casually as she reaches for a book on the bookshelf beside her.

"I don't know yet." You say and she looks at you slightly confused, "I never studied."

"Ah, first-year." She understands and you nod in agreement. "Hogwarts too or some other?"

"Hogwarts."

"Cool, I guess I'll see you there then." She says. "I'm from Slytherin, third year."

You let out a surprised exclamation.

"Maybe you know my brother." You say and the girl takes her gaze from the books in her hand she was checking to look at you with her eyebrow raised in curiosity. "His name is Tony Stark, he's also from your house."

The girl lets out a short laugh.

"I can't believe you are Stark's sister." She says. "We're not exactly friends, but I've seen him around the dorm several times. And your brother is a pain in the ass, by the way."

You laugh lightly, agreeing.

"I am Natasha Romanoff." She introduces herself next, balancing her books in one hand to greet you. You introduce yourself with a gentle smile. "Good luck with your books." She says before turning away.

You think it's cool that you already know someone besides your brother before you start at Hogwarts.

//-//

Buying your wand is a rather strange experience.

Mr. Ollivander has a glint in his eye as if he knows everyone's secrets, and seems to disappear and reappear in his store very easily.

Tony sat on one of the stools while he waited for you, and Jarvis went to buy something for you two to eat.

After trying almost five wands, and exploding a glass vase when he tried the last one, Mr. Ollivander sighed.

"Sorry, I don't know why it's not working." You asked feeling nervous, but he smiled.

"Don't worry, dear." He said. "Difficult customers are so much fun."

He walked back in between the shelves after that, and then reappeared with three new packages.

"I remember when Howard Stark bought his wand." He told smiling nostalgically as you opened one of the packages, a black wand in front of you. "Phoenix, Cedar, slightly flexible."

"Dad has changed wands thousands of times." Added Tony wryly, but Mr. Ollivander didn't seem to mind.

The wand you tested let out a faint spark when you tried to cast a simple conjuration spell, and the man in front of you was quick to take it from your hand the next second.

"I think I have a better idea." He announced turning around, and then climbed the ladder supported by the wall, picking up a package at the top.

"Try this one dear." He asked handing you a dark wand, the wood was shiny, a color you didn't know exactly what it was, but it was beautiful.

When you grabbed the item, you felt a tingling sensation spread throughout your hand, and the wand vibrated slightly for a few seconds, causing Ollivander to let out a noise of excitement.

"You see, I knew I would find an owner for you dear." He spoke and you realized that he was speaking with the item in your hands. Soon he turned his gaze back to you. "Take good care of this one, will you, it was quite difficult to get dark elf blood for the core."

"R-right." You said with a slight frown, not quite sure what to make of that information.

Tony laughed lightly at the interaction, he should be used to Mr. Ollivander's eccentric manner by now, since he kept breaking his wands just like your father and often returned to the store to get a new one.

After paying, you and Tony met Jarvis outside, he was carrying some sweet rolls.

//-//

July ended too quickly for your happiness. You were very eager to go to school.

You spent most of August at home, playing quidditch with Tony in the backyard, curiously reading the magic books you bought, and trying to peek into the basement where your father worked, but he always caught you looking and smiled, asking you to go back to your room.

You would like your father to take you to the station, but he said he had a magic conference in September, and would be traveling for the next few weeks. Tony was upset, but he put his arm around your shoulders and asked you to hurry to get your bags.

When you finally got to the station, you were slightly nervous about going through a wall, but Tony laughed, and showed you how to go first.

You hugged Jarvis good-bye before following your brother along the way.

Tony dragged you across the train cars to the first empty cabin he could find. He commented that it would be nice if you made your own friends, but that he would like you to sit with him.

So here you were, sitting with Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, Tony's best friends since the first year. The boys smiled encouragingly at you. You already knew them, because Tony kept inviting them to spend holidays with him all the time.

"Hey, Y/N, how was your vacation?" Steve asked as soon as you sat down next to him. You shrugged, saying that it was nice, but that you were looking forward to attending Hogwarts.

Soon the boys started talking about what they were excited about next year, and you did your best to keep up, not knowing exactly who the people they mentioned were, or knowing the classes they talked about.

Many minutes after the train was moving, a girl opened the cabin door.

"Hey, strangers." She greeted with a smile.

"Hi Peggy." Steve said with a smile, you frowned at the slight scowl on your brother's face.

"They're calling for us in the prefects compartment, Steve." She warned and Steve nodded, getting up. He and the girl then left, and Tony crossed his arms.

"What's wrong?" You asked noticing his posture and the way Bucky had a little smile on his face.

"It's nothing." Grumbled your brother, and as he turned his face to the window, Bucky who was standing in front of you, whispered to you.

"Tony thinks Peggy likes Steve." He recounted. "So he doesn't like Peggy very much."

"Oh." You said, pretending to understand the whole plot. It didn't make much sense to you because everyone couldn't be friends, but you figured that when you were your brother's age you would understand better.

//-//

The Hogwarts Express only stopped at night.

Properly uniformed, you smiled when your brother patted you on the shoulder, telling you that he would meet you at the castle, since the first-year students had to go by boat.

Your hands were sweating a little as you walked up to the extraordinarily tall man who introduced himself as Drax.

"First-year students, please, six in each boat." He shouted to the crowd, and the students moved closer together.

You sat in one of the first little boats, five other children you didn't know surrounding you.

"I'm so excited." A blonde girl commented cheerfully, waving her hands. She smiled at everyone as she introduced herself as "Harley Quinn".

"I bet you''ll blow something up once we get there, Harley" Added a redheaded girl sitting next to you, you could tell by her tone that they were probably friends. The blonde, Harley, laughed.

"Shut up, Ivy." She said, and then Drax was back, climbing into one of the boats beside her. He checked the boats one last time, then waved his hand, and the transports began to move.

Everyone, including you, let out a chorus of excitement.

When you noticed the castle, you smiled. It was huge, and just as amazing as Tony used to tell you.

"Wow, it must be amazing to fly over all that." You quietly observed, and the girl next to you turned her head in your direction, smiling.

"Do you like flying?" She asked, and you nodded. She looked at you for a moment and then held out her hand to greet you. "I am Diana. Diana Prince."

"Hi, Diana." You said introducing yourself next. "Do you also like to fly?"

"I love it." She says. "I hope i can make it onto the team."

"I don't know if the first-years have any chance, but I'll be rooting for you." You assure, and Diana smiles.

When the boats stop in the harbor, the students are all excited to get out and see the castle, but Drax's almost intimidating posture makes everyone properly behaved.

He leads the crowd to the staircase, and then there is a lobby. There is a woman waiting for everyone, her strict posture makes you think she is someone you wouldn't want to upset.

"Welcome to Hogwarts." She announces. "I am Professor Okoye, head of Gryffindor house."

The students exchange burbles next, but the teacher's gaze shuts them up almost immediately.

"As long as you are here, your houses will be like your families." She continues. "Your triumphs will earn you points, and if you break any rules, those points will be taken away."

She says, casting a disapproving glance at one of the students in the corner, who giggled. "In a few moments we will begin the sorting hat ceremony."

The teacher then turns around, heading toward a large bronze door, and talking to someone on the other side. You hear someone laughing near you, and you turn your head to the side in curiosity.

It was a blond boy, and he seemed to be enjoying himself as he balanced one of the gold cups he picked up from the surrounding shelves. You thought he would be in trouble if he knocked it over, and this seemed to be exactly the same opinion as the girl next to him, who was looking at him disapprovingly.

"Stop being an idiot, Peter, put that back." She complained and he laughed, shrugging.

"Gamora, you're a spoilsport you know." He retorted and when he put the cup back, it spun and fell to the floor, breaking into several pieces. The boy turned pale as Teacher Okoye turned her head in his direction.

You rolled your eyes, walking over to them.

"Reparo" You said drawing your wand as you pointed at the broken object. Some children let out impressed exclamations when they saw the bowl form again, but you just put your wand away in shame. It was no big deal. Okoye caught up with the three of you next, looking reproachfully at the boy.

"I expect better behavior during the ceremony, sir..."

"Quill"

"Mister Quill." She completed and took one last look at the boy that had with his head down before turning back to the front of the crowd again, waving for the students to follow her.

"Hey, that was pretty cool." Peter commented beside you as you walked. You shrugged, focusing on the path.

//-//

The sorting hat was something exceptional.

Tony never told you how the choice was made, and you knew it was only to annoy you. He had sometimes joked that the students faced each other in a duel, and even though you told him to shut up, you had a look at his spell book before you came.

The actual ceremony was much simpler, however.

When it was your turn to climb onto the small stool, you bit your lips, hoping that everything would go smoothly. Just as the old cloth of the hat fell over your eyes, blocking your view of the rest of the hall, you heard a voice in your head.

" Hello, dear, no need to be so nervous." Announced the hat gently. "You are a curious little thing, I see."

"Is that a good thing?" You thought, and the hat chuckled lightly.

"It might be." He said mysteriously. "Interesting what I see here. Very interesting."

"What are you seeing?"

"Your memories, dear."

"Oh." You thought, feeling slightly embarrassed. That seemed like an intrusion of your privacy. The hat laughed again, and you remembered that he was on your head.

"You're hard to sort out." He says, and you squeeze the stool. "Don't worry, I'm not going to send you home, that's not how it works."

"Oh, right."

Hat was silent a few moments.

"I see courage in your heart." He says and you try to remember the characteristics of the houses. "But that courage is well forged with your loyalty."

You swallow dryly, feeling your anxiety rising. This was definitely taking much longer than the people who went before you.

"You are as smart as your father and brother, both members of the Slytherin house." He says. "There's a willingness not to let them down."

"That's personal." You grumble feeling your cheeks flush, but the hat doesn't care to apologize for bringing up your insecurities.

"Ah, this is interesting here. A pure kindness, yet pruned in your origins of shallow paternal affection”.

You frown, not understanding what he is saying.

"You are quite adaptable child, it has always been one of your best virtues." The hat remarks, and you get the impression that the next part is only said for you. "Tell me, where would you like to stay?"

"Isn't that your job?" You retort in thought, and hear him laugh again. You rush to correct yourself, not wanting to be rude. "Sorry, hat. I don't really know. I'd like to stay where I fit in best."

"You would do well anywhere." He retorts, and you frown. "And that's pretty impressive, you know. I haven't met another hatstall since the last century."

You swallow dryly, not knowing if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"I'll work hard, sir." You tell him. "I don't want people to think I'm a special witch just because of my family. That's something I'm sure, I don't know if it helps you choose."

Hat lets out a sigh of relief.

"Actually, that's exactly what I needed."

It takes a moment for him to speak again, and when he does, you feel your whole body shake.

"Hufflepuff"

//-//

Steve Rogers is the head boy of Hufflepuff and he celebrates excitedly when you sit down at the table next to him.

"That's so cool" He comments. "I'll be able to tease Tony all year about it."

After that, director Agatha Harkness, made the announcement of the beginning of the year. If her goal was to scare the students, she succeeded when she talked about the deadly dangers surrounding the forbidden forest and the punishments for the disobedient. Professor Strange interrupted her speech as he cleared his throat, awkwardly waving for Agatha to stop saying such things, and the woman giggled.

Dinner is delicious, and then you are following the crowd of students into the communal rooms.

"Butterbeer" Steve said to the portrait on the wall, and you blinked in surprise when the painting moved to the side, a door behind.

You sighed when you realized how cozy the Hufflepuff's common room was.

"Everyone please come in." Asked Steve in the center of the room, waving to the students who stayed behind. When everyone was around him, he smiled. "The dorms are divided by gender, but you can sleep wherever you feel most comfortable. I will only suggest that none of you try to sleep with the seventh graders, because they are scary." Steve joked making the crowd laugh lightly. "We have a supply of food in those lockers, just in case you feel like having a snack in the early morning, outside of the permitted hours for walking around the castle." He continues and stands thoughtfully for a few moments. "Most of the things you need to know are on the bulletin board on that wall, and you can also ask me anything you want. Your belongings have already been taken to the free beds, but if you want any help, you can organize among yourselves or just come talk to me."

Steve smiled as the crowd moved. You headed in the direction where he said the rooms were.

//-//

You let out a surprised exclamation as something landed on your head.

"Damn, sorry!" Asked an asian girl approaching you, and pulling the small being out of your hair as you entered the room. "Groot, I told you to behave yourself."

"I am groot." Grumbled the little creature. You looked at it wide-eyed, impressed.

"Wow, is that a tree?"

The girl laughed, putting the small creature sitting on her shoulder, sitting on the bed next to the one you identified as having your things.

"Yes and no." She said. "I found Groot in my garden over the vacations, and well, I don't know what he is exactly. But I think he was trying to make my mother's plants grow."

"He's really cute." You commented approaching with your finger extended. Groot smiled, accepting your touch.

"I am Mantis." Says the girl next and you smile at her as you introduce yourself. "We're going to be roommates."

"Yes, and so is Groot." You add as you take off your cape to throw on the bed that would be yours.

After eating so well at dinner, it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep.

You dream of glowing green eyes and a red light, but you don't recognize them or understand what it means, and when you wake up, you no longer remember.

//-//

Two weeks since you started at Hogwarts, you are used to how eccentric everything can be.

The classes weren't as difficult as you imagined, but that's probably because you've had contact with magic all your life and always had an easy time learning things. All the teachers were unique in their own way.

Professor Rocket, for example, taught Transfiguration and spent almost the entire period transfigured into a raccoon, even outside of class hours. He was temperamental and got irritated very easily when students talked too much in his class, so it was not recommended to do so.

There was also Professor Fury, who had an eye patch as a mandatory piece in his daily costume, and all the students spent more time trying to guess how this happened, than listening to his explanations of defense spells against the dark art.

Your astronomy class on Wednesdays was taught by Professor Odin, who like to claim that he was a descendant of the Olympian gods, but no one believed him. He was also the father of two of your classmates, Thor and Loki Odinson, who were the exact opposite of each other. While Thor was warm and friendly, Loki was cold and reclusive, plus the former was from Gryffindor and the other from Slytherin. Surprisingly, you liked them both.

You ended up meeting the head of your house only on the second day.

Professor Heimdall taught Divination, so you wouldn't have any classes with him until the third year.You bumped into him when you were late for fifth period and had to run to the common room for your Potions books, and almost fell on the floor when you turned the corner without looking and the professor was there. He prevented you from falling with a wave of his wand, smiling gently.

" Forgive me." You said clumsily, feeling slightly intimidated by the yellow irises as the magic set you on your feet properly, as well as catching your books in the air and placing them in your hands again.

"Be careful with the castle corridors, Miss Stark." Said the man, and for some reason, you thought he wasn't just talking about this little incident.

"Professor Heimdall, let's talk in a private place, please." Asked Professor Okoye, who was standing at his side, she looked at you with a certain disapproval, and you couldn't tell whether it was because of your intrusion, or the fact that your tie was hanging loosely around your neck, in addition to the open buttons on your shirt.

After this little incident, you asked Steve who Professor Heimdall was, and he explained that he was the head of Hufflepuff, and might seem intimidating at first glance, but that he was very kind.

But so far, the professor who has intrigued you the most was Professor Erik Lehnsherr, who taught Potions. He didn't say anything that wasn't related to the subject, didn't make any comments about behavior or events at school. And he had such a stern and mysterious look in his eyes that no student had the courage to ask him anything. You heard Peter Quill make a bet with Thor Odinson that Professor Erik was unable to smile because of some particular sorcery, but you thought it best not to laugh, especially since Mr. Lehnsherr was looking at your direction.

When you had your first Potions period with Slytherin, after herbology professor T'Challa needed to reschedule classes for an appointment, you were surprised to discover that professor Lehnsherr had children.

Gamora ended up on the same bench as you, and she was talking to her sister, Nebula, about an incident that occurred in their dormitory.

"Clearly, the professors' children have an easy time getting away with punishment." Nebula bitterly remarked, and you frowned in confusion.

"I don't think it was the girl's fault." Gamora retorted as she put the ingredients into her cauldron. She looked at you quickly, realizing that you were listening to the conversation, but she didn't scold you, she just kept stirring the mixture.

"What happened?" you asked next, and Nebula looked at you with mild irritation. She seemed about to tell you to mind your own business, but Gamora smiled, moving closer to whisper to you.

"A girl lost her temper in the Slytherin dorm bathrooms last night." She told. "She's a second year, her name is Wanda Maximoff. She and her brother are Professor Lehnsherr's kids, and everyone is saying that she didn't go to detention because of it."

Your jaw dropped, impressed.

"I can't believe Magneto has children." You said making Gamora and Nebula laugh at the nickname. Last week you found out that the school had been calling Erik that since he stopped the hall chandelier from falling on the teachers' desk two years ago when he used non-verbal magic to attract the metal, and everyone started calling him that behind his back. Tony told you and you liked the story.

"I know right, he seems so self-contained." Gamora remarked looking back briefly. Professor Erik was focused on his own potions book.

"That noisy kid from Gryffindor said he's married." Nebula added next and Gamora laughed lightly.

"Peter Quill?"

"Yes."

"Wow, that's surprising." Says the girl. You both return to stirring your cauldrons in silence after that little conversation.

When you have finished your mixing, Professor Erik gives Hufflepuff five points for your good work, and you smile with red cheeks.

"You're nice." Nebula suddenly said beside you as you were leaving the room. Gamora stood next to her. "Do you want to walk around with us?"

"We're already walking." You joked and Gamora laughed unlike her sister who grimaced.

"Yep, definitely cool." She added. "Do you want to have lunch with us?"

"At your table or mine?"

Gamora and Nebula exchanged glances.

"I'm not sitting with Hufflepuff." Nebula declared and you sighed, rolling your eyes.

"You know I'm from Hufflepuff, right?"

"I'm reconsidering the invitation." She retorted and you frowned, but Gamora smiled at you.

"Will you sit with us, please?"

You sighed, nodding in agreement. You could talk to Tony after all.

//-//

Lunch at the Slytherin table became an everyday thing after that day. It took two weeks for Mantis to start joining you, and then you realized that you had a small group of friends now.

At Christmas, neither you nor Tony came home, because your father was working and you didn't want to be alone in the Stark mansion. You ended up turning down Tony's invitation to spend Christmas with Steve Rogers and his family, because you weren't really friends with Steve. Tony insisted, not wanting you to be alone, but you assured him that you would be fine in the company of your friends, and that he needn't worry.

On Christmas morning, Groot woke you up by jumping on your face. You laughed lightly because he was so small that he was like a tickle, and stood up as you returned the little creature to Mantis' bedside table.

A few hours later, as you were opening your presents at the Slytherin table along with Gamora, Nebula, Mantis, and Peter Quill, who had also stayed at Hogwarts for the end of the year, you let out an excited exclamation.

"I can' believe it." You spoke, opening the package in front of you. It was a large box, it was bewitched and only revealed the actual wrapping once you tore the paper off. It was actually a broom.

"Wow, that's cool." Peter remarked as he looked at your present.

That's how you ended up in the middle of the snow, testing your new broom while your friends cheered and celebrated below you.

"Are you sure you can fly?" You asked Peter as soon as he asked you if he could ride. He shrugged, smiling.

You and the girls watched as he controlled the broom for a few feet above the ground, and then he overspeeded it and sped away.

You all ran into his direction, while the broom seemed almost annoyed at his lack of control, and knocked him into a tree. Peter fell between the branches, onto someone who was resting under it.

When you all reached him, you frowned when there was a boy pushing Quill.

"Watch it, dude!" Warned the boy, but before you could say anything, Gamora was already stepping forward, wand in hand.

"It was just an accident." She said and the boy looked at her surprised with her wand outstretched. He crossed his arms however, not looking scared.

"Oh, you're going to spell me now, are you?" He teased.

"Piss off, Maximoff." Warned Nebula next, taking a step beside her sister. So this was Pietro Maximoff. You figured that confidence should come from being the son of one of the professors.

"I suggest you leave my brother alone." Warned a voice behind you. You turned next, only to catch sight of a girl with brown hair, green eyes that glittered with anger.

Gamora clenched her jaw, and Nebula drew her own wand toward the girl, who also had her wand in her hands.

You sighed, raising your hands as you stood in the line of fire.

"Would everyone please calm down?" You asked. "It was just a misunderstanding, and the broom is mine anyway, no need to fight about it."

It takes a moment, but Gamora puts down her wand, and everyone follows her after that. She has an insinuating smile on her face.

"You really are a Hufflepuff, aren't you Stark?" She teases, and you laugh sheepishly, putting your hands in your pockets. "Come on Quill."

Gamora warns and the boy shoots Pietro an ugly look as he leaves. You accept your broom that he hands to you, and turn around, your gaze meeting that of the girl who is supposed to be Wanda Maximoff for a moment. You feel your face heat up at the intensity of the angry look, and you look away, following your friends.

//-//

The months went by quickly as the rest of the school year passed. You managed to do very well on the exams, and didn't get involved in any near-fights again.

When the year ended and the Hufflepuff didn't win the House Cup, you thought you should have been more upset, but you didn't mind having Gamora and Nebula celebrating beside you, laughing and hugging you excitedly.

You also didn't understand why you felt your stomach turn when you caught Wanda Maximoff smiling amidst the Slytherin celebration when you looked around.

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hansolmates · 4 years ago

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busted in busan

summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k a/n; for @suhdays holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u

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“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.”

You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh.

Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans.

Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea.

Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease.

“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile.

“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head.

“Will the weather let up?” A frown.

Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive.

“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him.

“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment.

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter.

It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first.

“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.”

He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.”

“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down.

It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care.

“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.”

That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him.

He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.”

“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.”

“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?”

“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.”

“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?”

“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.”

The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line.

“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.

“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot.

“Nah, been booked since last month.”

It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?”

He pats his luggage as a response.

“That’s not fair!”

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.”

“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”

“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.”

It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face.

“You want my ticket,” he states.

“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle.

Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—

Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those!

“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks.

“Who said I was offering?”

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?”

If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides.

“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”

“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake.

“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.”

“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate.

“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10.

The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy.

“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes.

The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes.

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.”

“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?”

“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.”

“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—”

“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain.

The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard.

“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.

Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not.

Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good.

Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell.

It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things.

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer?

Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price.

A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice.

“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.”

He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?”

Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution.

“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.”

He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.”

“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.”

“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.

“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.”

It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks.

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.”

“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut.

At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty.

Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh.

You huff, and shift in your seat.

“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him.

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply.

“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.”

“Why, I’m engaged!”

“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.”

You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind.

“Holy fuck, have you two not—”

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!”

You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing.

The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle.

“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.”

You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you’ve already put him in this position.

Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to.

It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months.

“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.”

Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you.

“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—”

“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman.

Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger.

You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that.

“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses.

Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to.

“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing.

You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook.

“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams.

“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow.

“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside.

The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible.

“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat.

When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van.

Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back.

You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them.

Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off.

Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet.

As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously.

The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots.

“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint.

Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure.

Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey.

“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?”

Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.”

“Do you drive around a lot?”

“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.”

Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach.

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain.

“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.”

“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.

“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.”

Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute.

The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening.

“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!”

You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.”

His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.”

“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose.

“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?”

“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.”

He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like.

It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize: are you flirting with Jungkook?

The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell.

“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind.

“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.”

“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?”

“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.”

“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—”

“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.”

The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air.

Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car.

There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt.

“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we—you just can’t keep doing this.”

“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?”

“Wait, you have a crush on me?”

He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.”

“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.”

Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.”

That singular statement hits you, hard.

Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs.

“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.”

“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself.

You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable.

“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow.

Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route.

“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”

You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.

The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.”

His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath.

The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer.

The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.

You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours.

Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours.

“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?”

“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.”

He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook?

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk.

There’s no drugs.

In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell.

There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real.

Jungkook’s an artist.

“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face.

“Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?”

“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.”

He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you.

“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.”

“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced.

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it.

Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart.

“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him.

Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow.

The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway.

“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it.

The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents.

You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.”

“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours.

“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.”

“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door.

Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed.

It’s been a day.

You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him.

It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought.

It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face.

Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed.

You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks.

Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake.

“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox.

Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.”

“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.”

The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.”

You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.”

“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?”

“I mean, I think I’m in love.”

Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask.

Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.”

“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.”

“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.”

Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble.

The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin.

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you.

“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back.

Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.”

“Impossible!”

You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family.

“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.”

Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door.

You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers.

You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him.

He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window.

“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him.

“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you smile.

“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.”

“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.”

“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself.

“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—”

“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.”

You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible.

“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.”

“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.”

“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.”

“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch.

He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking.

“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown.

“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.”

“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.”

“Will you rile me up now?”

Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.”

You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell.

Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath.

“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—”

“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.”

You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner.

“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #kwritersworldnet #btsghostie #btswritingcafe #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fic #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst

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therealvinelle · 4 years ago

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Hi, I was reading a post here in Tumblr about how Edward has two gifts, he can hear thoughts and is super fast, so I wonder what is your opinion about this topic?.

Furthermore, what others power might the Volturi's leaders and guards might have?

Edward has one gift, and it’s telepathy. Being fast isn’t a gift.

Strength, speed and even senses is varied among vampires. Some, like Emmett, are on the extreme end, but that doesn’t make Emmett gifted, nor does it mean that the rest are at an equal level. The Cullens have clear variations between them.

Physique appears to play a dominant role in how these variations play out: Alice, who was malnourished and never made it past 4′10″, is the physically weakest of the coven, while Emmett at 6′5″ and a mountain of muscles is the strongest. This is made very clear during the baseball game:

“Emmett was hovering close to third (base), knowing that Alice didn’t have the muscle to outstrip Rosalie’s fielding." (Midnight Sun, chapter The Game)

There’s also the fact that it’s taken for granted that Emmett would be intimidating to other vampires, and he is dismayed when James is more worried about Jasper, who is lean.

I suspect this disparity exists simply because a large frame means more tissue to have blood in. Newborns, animal, and human-eating vampires all having a difference in terms of strength is proof that blood has the final say in a vampire’s prowess, so Emmett being able to contain more of it than Alice and therefore being stronger makes sense to me.

This isn’t the meta for me to get into that, but I don’t think vampires have muscles in the sense we do. Or rather, we can’t know that they do. Renesmée is proof that Edward retains his human DNA, or she would be a clone of Bella. Nahuel is proof that Joham retains a Y-chromosome. Does this mean that vampires have different cell types? Does a vampire’s stone-like skin still contain human DNA? One would think yes - except, if you rip a vampire apart, you get rubble. The parts are all solid. There’s also Carlisle theorizing that vampires digest blood by absorbing it through porous tissue, which makes me wonder why he dismissed his digestive system (my guess: vivisection fun times with Aro in Volterra. Carlisle couldn’t have done it on his own, and Aro is the only one mad and curious enough to be down for that). I’m getting off-topic - what I’m saying is, we don’t know how vampires work, meaning I can’t build this meta off of the assumption that they have muscles. I simply can’t know for sure that they do.

The important thing is that a vampire’s physique is a deciding factor in how strong they are.

There’s also Laurent’s warning about James, that he has “unparalleled senses”, meaning some vampires are better at sight, hearing, and smell than others. I can believe that, because we have canon examples of vampires being bad at tracking.

There’s Edward in Port Angeles, who couldn’t track Bella’s, his singer, scent to her location, and (I admit this one is conjecture but it’s so probable that I say it goes) Carlisle’s creator, who after taking care of the mob must have realized he’d bitten one of the humans, meaning a newborn would soon be loose in London. This is punishable by death by the Volturi. The fact that he didn’t return to finish Carlisle off means that he was unable to find him. I remind the audience that Carlisle was bleeding and suffering the effects by a venom intended to paralyze the victim. To put it this way, Carlisle wouldn’t have survived James, or anybody with a trace of tracking competence. By comparison, Carlisle was able to locate a dying Rosalie by the smell of her blood, even though there wouldn’t have been a trail for him to follow, as her body had not been moved.

When it comes to these disparities in strength and speed among the Volturi, I imagine Jane and Alec are the physically weakest members of the guard, and among the slowest. They’re prepubescent, meaning no muscle for them, and their height (a humble 4′8″ and 4′10″) implies very short legs. They’re simply not going to get as far as an adult would, not in the same number of steps. Renata at 5′0″ is another tiny vampire lady who likely isn’t very strong or fast.

That’s not to say I think these physically weaker members of the Volturi guard are necessarily useless in hand-to-hand combat, Alec at least is a boy stuck in a playful age, and the males around him are trained warriors. He’s probably picked up a few things over the years.

As for the others, Aro is described as frail-looking, which hints at him being quite thin. I don’t think he’s weak, if he couldn’t win a fight he wouldn’t be around, but I do think he’s probably below average in terms of strength. Caius I picture as a Harrison Ford type, so of course I’m gonna think he’s a bit burly, but this is me headcanoning and not actually hinted at in canon. Marcus is 19, so I imagine he can only be so strong.

Back to Edward’s speed.

He’s a 6′2″ teen, that’s code for “very long legs”, though I’m actually going to go ahead and posit that he’s not actually that fast. Strap in for this next part:

The guy was a teenager who lay dying for an undisclosed amount of time. The fact that Carlisle had the time to get to know his mother points to a few weeks, at least. And Edward was very ill:

Elizabeth worried obsessively over her son. She hurt her own chances of survival trying to nurse him from her sickbed. I expected that he would go first, he was so much worse off than she was. (New Moon, page 21)

Muscles atrophy quickly, never more so than when you’re a teen ravaged by fever, on your deathbed. And as I’ve explained above, I think your physique in life ties directly into your vampiric prowess.

I think Edward is certainly the physically weakest of the male Cullens, quite likely weaker than Rosalie as well, maybe even Esme.

Now, speed is not the same as strength. However, for humans, the two are connected. It’s the muscle fibers in our legs that determine our speed. Basically, type I fibers make an enduring runner, type II fibers make a speed runner. So, assuming that vampires retain their human musculature, one could argue that Edward had a lot of type II in life. However, Carlisle when he was human was able to outrun the mob he was with:

He ran through the streets, and Carlisle — he was twenty-three and very fast — was in the lead of the pursuit. (Twilight, page 158)

Carlisle clearly had a lot of type II fibers, and unlike Edward he was in peak physical condition when he died. He was also an adult who’d had more time to develop musculature, while Edward was a seventeen-year-old. If musculature was a deciding factor, one would think they would at the very least be of equal speed, though realistically Edward should be slower.

So, if it’s not muscles, what is it that makes Edward faster than the others?

It could be a matter of technique. Except, the way Bella describes movement when she wakes up as a vampire, it’s all very automated. Her body knows exactly how to do everything, and executes it without much input from her:

After that first frozen second of shock, my body responded to the unfamiliar touch in a way that shocked me even more.

Air hissed up my throat, spitting through my clenched teeth with a low, menacing sound like a swarm of bees. Before the sound was out, my muscles bunched and arched, twisting away from the unknown. I flipped off my back in a spin so fast it should have turned the room into an incomprehensible blur—but it did not. I saw every dust mote, every splinter in the wood-paneled walls, every loose thread in microscopic detail as my eyes whirled past them.

So by the time I found myself crouched against the wall defensively—about a sixteenth of a second later—I already understood what had startled me, and that I had overreacted. (Breaking Dawn, page 251-252)

Growling, crouching - those are all distinctly vampiric, non-human ways to act. Bella didn’t learn this, her body knew it of its own accord. When she later runs, she explains it as happening the same way - she just does it.

The way Bella experiences it, vampiric movement is like a package she downloaded, and that executes her instinctual commands with no need for her to actually know how to do any of this. Her grace is another example of this - Bella Swan may be in charge of her own consciousness, but the venom is entirely in control of her body.

Given these facts, I don’t think it’s technique that makes Edward a better runner than others. His technique is likely similar to everyone else’s. If it isn’t, if technique is what makes the difference, then who is and isn’t fast is an arbitrary process.

With that, we get to my controversial theory about why Edward is the fastest Cullen: he’s not.

Running and being fast is the only thing about vampirism that Edward enjoys. This is for another meta, but Edward is extremely depressed about every single other bit of it. Every aspect of being a vampire torments him.

Except the running. He enjoys all of it, especially being the fastest, so much. And as a newborn, he would have been faster than Carlisle.

But after that, when his newborn strength faded…

I honestly think that Carlisle decided to just slow down a bit when running with him, let Edward have this. It’s no skin of his back, and it makes Edward happy, so why not.

Esme joins the family, and of course she would be down for this. Nothing is more parental, more maternal, than losing at checkers to make your child happy, after all. Could also be she’s not very fast herself, but even if she were then she would downplay it to make Edward feel like Jesse Owens.

Enter Rosalie, who would think it’s completely ridiculous, yes, but she would also recognize this excellent opportunity to call in a big favor from Carlisle later on. There’s also the fact that I think Carlisle has a gift (yes, yes, meta is coming, people) that makes him very persuasive people. And also that for all that Rose gets a lot of bad rep, she is very generous and loves her family, if being fast makes Edward happy then alright.

Emmett is an easy-going guy, he goes along with things. Alice adores Edward and would go along with it. She also has tiny matchstick legs and couldn’t outrun him if she tried. Jasper could not care less.

Bella does get outrun by Edward after waking up, but she also did zero exercise in life (listing this in case musculature matter), had Renesmée devour her from within rendering her emaciated, and then died like a slasher movie murder victim. There’s not a lot of blood in her, and what little blood there is doesn’t have a lot to work with. She does defeat Emmett at arm wrestling, so I’ll concede that. However, there are enough extenuating circumstances surrounding Bella that I think my “Edward isn’t that fast” theory survives his ability to outrun her.

So, I believe Edward is the fast Cullen because Carlisle told a white lie in 1919, no one ever corrected that, and now it’s too late.

#tumblr ate this ask and i had to spend twice as long writing it #i'm dying #edward cullen #carlisle cullen #volturi #alec #twilight vampires #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #twilight #long post #Anonymous #ask #edward speed debacle

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drarrily-we-row-along · 4 years ago

Text

Day 124: Joke

"Draco?" Harry asked as he twisted his fingers in Draco's hair.

He hummed, feeling too content and comfortable to use any actual words or even lift his head from where it was resting over Harry's heart. Lightly he trailed his fingers over Harry's rib cage in response.

"Do you think-" he broke off and Draco felt him swallow, "I want to tell my friends about us."

He froze for a moment, unable to quite believe his ears.

"Or not," he said hurriedly, "If you're not-"

Draco sat up and pressed his lips to Harry's because he knew it was the fastest way to get him to stop talking. And because he couldn't quite believe that he would ever be someone that the other man would want to tell the world about, he'd never imagined Harry would be proud to be with him.

Harry sighed into the kiss, wrapping Draco tighter in his arms.

When Draco pulled back he said, "Do you mean it?"

The corner of Harry's mouth tipped up and he nodded, "If it's okay with you." He brushed his fingers over Draco's cheek, "I really like you," he confessed, "and it just keeps getting harder and harder not to tell my friends how happy you make me."

Draco swallowed past the lump in his throat, "Really?" he whispered.

Harry nodded, tucking a strand of Draco's hair behind his ear. "Would you come with me? Maybe we could go out to dinner with them?"

"Yeah," he said, "Yes, if you want me to."

"I'd like that," Harry replied.

"Can we tell my friends, too?"

The smile that Harry gave him made him a little breathless, "If you want to."

"I'll owl them tomorrow."

Harry kissed him again and if they didn't get much more talking and planning done for a while after that who could blame them? They had far better things to do.

(Read more below the cut)

As fate would have it, they went out to brunch with Pansy, Blaise, and Greg first. They met at a muggle restaurant that wasn't far from Harry's apartment and when they arrived, Draco's friends were quite taken off guard by Harry's presence.

Harry held the door for them and Draco stepped through, Pansy following close behind and hissing, "What the bloody hell is Potter doing here?"

"Relax," he said, hooking her arm through his and following the hostess to a table.

After they ordered drinks Draco cleared his throat, "There's something I wanted to tell all of you," he started and Harry draped his arm over the back of the chair behind him, brushing his thumb over Draco's tricep in a silent show of support. "Harry and I are dating," he said, glancing over at Harry and giving him a little smile.

"I'm sorry?" Pansy asked and Draco glanced over at his friends' shocked faces.

"We've been seeing each other for a few months," he said.

"And we're serious about each other," Harry added.

Draco nodded, "So we thought it was time to start telling our friends."

Pansy blinked at him and Blaise was still staring with his jaw dropped but Greg just nodded, "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Harry said with a smile at Greg.

Greg looked between the two of them, gave a nod, then opened his menu, "So what's good here?" he asked and Harry started to list off some of the dishes they'd enjoyed when they'd come on lazy Saturday mornings.

He glanced across the table to find Pansy still staring with an inscrutable look and Draco felt a tingle of apprehension at the base of his spine.

Everything was fine while they ordered and ate their breakfasts, it wasn't until Harry got up to use the loo that Pansy started to speak frankly.

"Draco, you're not serious," she hissed.

"About?"

"You dating Harry Potter! This is an elaborate joke, even for you, how on earth did you manage to convince him to go along with it?"

He shook his head, "I'm completely serious. We ran into each other at work, started talking and realized how much we enjoyed doing that. Then we started fucking and realized how much we enjoyed doing that too. And it just makes sense," he said with a little shrug. "We spend all of our free time together and I can't even remember the last time I slept in my own flat-"

"Draco, be reasonable," Blaise said. "He can't possibly," he broke off as though he didn't want to finish that sentence.

"He can't possibly what?" Draco asked, putting years of practice making his voice sound cold as ice to good use.

"Darling, it's just that you're you," she said, "And he's Harry bloody Potter."

"The press is going to destroy you," Blaise added. "Imagine those headlines."

Pansy shook her head, "And not only that but don't you think that Potter is going to end up with someone that the wizarding world will approve of? A wife who'll give him three kids, a home, the whole nine yards."

"I think it's nice," Greg said. "He looks happy, you look happy. What more is there?"

"Thanks, Greg," he replied with a nod.

"Oh sure, trust the person who's been single all his life to give you dating advice," Pansy said, rolling her eyes. "By all standards, he's too good for you and everyone knows it."

Blaise cleared his throat then, "What do you all think of ordering a few of those delicious looking cinnamon buns to share?" he asked.

"Sounds good to me," Harry replied as he slid back into his seat and bumped his knee against Draco's. "The only real question is if you want the iced ones or the honey ones," he said, turning to look at Draco, "What do you think, love?" he asked.

Draco looked at him and something cracked in his heart, Pansy and Blaise were right. Harry Potter was a dream and it couldn't last. He swallowed, "Let's do the iced one."

He supposed a little while longer before he talked some sense into Harry wouldn't hurt too much.

----------

Harry was in a great mood when they got back to his flat. "Well," he said as he toed his shoes off at the door, "That went well, didn't it?" he asked.

He didn't reply, he just stared at the other man and wondered how to tell him that they were never going to be able to work.

"Tea?" Harry asked, oblivious to Draco's inner turmoil as he headed into the kitchen without waiting for a response.

"You should break up with me," he blurted.

Whatever Harry had been holding shattered as it hit the floor. "Shite," he murmured. "Reparo." Then he returned to where Draco was still standing, a few feet away from the door. "I'm sorry?" he asked.

Draco couldn't quite meet his eye, "You should break up with me now," he said, "Before either of us can get more invested."

"Draco, what-?"

He shook his head and a tear slipped out, "You're too good for me, Harry, and when the press catches wind of this-"

"Stop it," Harry said, clasped Draco's shoulders, "What on earth has gotten into you?"

"Even my friends, the people who have loved me through some pretty dark places, say it's true!" he exclaimed, "Even my friends think you're too good for me, that I'm being delusional."

Harry took his hands in his and it was only then that Draco realized he was trembling. "Hey," he murmured, leaning in so their foreheads were touching. "Your friends are arseholes. I am not too good for you. Draco, I can't even match my socks properly."

And it was such a ridiculous thing to say that a startled laugh burst from his mouth.

Harry tilted his head up to kiss his nose. "Look, they won't be the last people who spout of complete nonsense about us. I'm sure that comes with the territory," he added. "But it doesn't change who you are."

"An ex-death eater," he said. "A school bully, a complete-"

"That's not who you are," Harry said, leaning back so he could see Draco more clearly. "It might have been a part of who you were but it's not who you are." He pressed a kiss to Draco's cheek, "You are brilliant," he said, "and you are gorgeous, and you're kind. And you've got a wicked sense of humor. You're passionate and you work hard."

"I've had to."

Harry nodded, "You're not the boy you were when we were in school just as I'm not the boy that I was when we were in school."

"But people will always remember-"

"What they think or remember doesn't matter," he said. "Because I know who you are and I don't give a rat's arse about what they think."

"I don't know, Harry," he said softly. "My past-"

"Do you think I'm the person they paint me to be?" he asked.

Draco shook his head, "Of course not but the wizarding world isn't going to accept this."

"I love you," he said simply. "And you, as you are, are more than enough."

"It's not going to be easy," Draco said softly.

The other man kissed him softly, "You're probably right," he said. "But I'm all in, if you are."

He pulled Harry into a tight hug and Harry hugged him back, "I'm in," he whispered.

"Then that's all we need," Harry said with a nod.

And Harry was right their friends came around but they found that they could weather the storms. There wasn't any trial or challenge they couldn't overcome when they were both willing to fight for the other.

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

Day 123: Feather | Day 125: Accidental Bonding (Part 1)

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #one year of drarry drabbles #drarry ficlet #drarry drabbles #coming out to friends #love #sorry i'm pretty tired today so this definitely isn't my best work

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andypantsx3 · 4 years ago

Text

statistically significant | 7 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

One month later

The Hero Awards certainly did not disappoint the second time around.

Though you’d spent the last few months in the company of some of these heroes, you couldn’t help but linger on the sidelines as they stalked their way down the walkway, staring in awe. As before, they were decked out in their absolute best, glimmering in jewel toned dresses with daring cutouts, or carving dashing profiles in well-fitted suits. Reporters and fans swarmed the sides of the red carpet, roiling like a pot reaching an agitated boil.

Their excitement was so palpable it hung heavy in the air, absolutely contagious. Maybe it was the fact that you knew some of the heroes up for awards tonight personally, but the potential of the evening simmered under your skin, a soft but constant hum of frenetic energy.

Or maybe some of that was due to the fact that this year, you’d been able to convince your boss to shell out the extra cash for the full dinner option. No longer would you need to smuggle snacks into your dress--this evening, you were a solid professional.

Which was a good thing, really, as the dress in question was not altogether any more secure or supportive than your dress from last year. You’d tried to angle for a thicker fabric and a little more of a conservative design, but several people had aired opinions on your choices over the course of the last few weeks, and you’d ended up in a thin swathe of delicate fabric that was really quite pretty, if you did say so yourself, but would support a grand total of maybe two popcorn kernels.

“You’re looking awfully forlorn over here,” someone chirped by your ear.

You startled, whirling to find Mina behind you, looking rosy and radiant in a form-fitting dress only a few shades lighter than her skin tone. Tiny pearls and clusters of glittering pink diamonds were stitched carefully into the fabric, winking at you as she moved, as bright as the conspiratorial grin she wore. She looked absolutely fabulous--she was one of the people who’d bullied you into the snackless gown, and you could begrudgingly admit that the girl had taste.

“Is it because a certain hotheaded blonde isn’t here yet?” she asked, a pink eyebrow going up.

You flushed. “Mina--oh my god, no. Not everything is about him, you know.”

She idly inspected a nail, looking supremely unconvinced. “Someone should tell him that, then.”

You huffed a laugh. The last time you’d been at the Awards, you’d said as much to him yourself. But a year later, the message was still not exactly being received.

“I’m actually thinking about dinner. I’m literally starving,” you complained, trying to divert the subject.

Mina nodded sympathetically. “I have a six pack and I still had to suck in to fit into this shit.”

As if on cue, your stomach growled sympathetically. You weren’t proud of what it was going to be like when you were finally unleashed on that multi-course dinner, but god it was gonna be worth it.

Several shrieks went up in the crowd of fans behind you, and you looked over your shoulder in alarm. Your pulse relaxed slightly when you realized it was just another pro sauntering down the walkway, but then the lights flickered off ashy blonde locks, and your pulse jumped violently. You jerked in surprise.

Mina didn’t even try to suppress her snort as you turned around fully, eyes pulled like a magnet to Bakugou as he stalked down the red carpet. Even looking like he would rather be anywhere else, and moving briskly over the carpet like he was going in for a kill, he still looked better than he had any right to. The charcoal of his suit--stitched with deep ruby flowers so dark they were almost black--brought out the piercing scarlet of his eyes, and your heart leapt into your mouth when those eyes cut over to meet yours.

His expression didn’t change, and he kept moving, but you flushed all the way from your head to your toes at the intensity behind his look.

Mina made a disgusted noise. “You’re both like a dog with a bone.”

You glared at her accusingly. “We literally just looked at each other.”

She clicked her tongue. “Please, he all but just pissed on you to mark his territory.”

Before you could reply, she called out, catching sight of Kirishima, and seized you to drag you over to say hello.

You let Mina drag you around for the next half hour, making polite conversation with her high school friends, a couple of friends from other agencies, and one fashion journalist who Mina had converted into a weekly drinking buddy. Mina kept the conversation light and easy, and you enjoyed yourself for the most part, though you almost passed out when a very distinct head of green curls materialized over her shoulder and then Midoriya Izuku--better known as the number one hero Deku--was smiling at you eagerly.

Things got even weirder when he appeared to not only already know who you were, but knew a great deal about your work, enough to ask some very detailed questions about your training model software that was going into production a couple months from now. Mina had the gall to cut into the conversation to call you both huge nerds, though she’d directly benefited from the model herself.

The conversation was unfortunately cut short when a calloused hand flung itself in front of your face and a rough voice sounded from over your shoulder. “Stop sticking your nose in my fucking business, Deku.”

You whipped around to find Bakugou glaring over your head at his former classmate. His hand closed around your shoulder and dragged you closer to him.

“I was just asking about her model, Kacchan,” Midoriya said patiently. “It’ll be great to be able to compare my movements directly with some of the other heroes in almost real time! Ojirou’s been trying out some new fighting forms and I was thinking I should try to adapt them to work into my shoot style--”

“Just because you couch it in nerd shit doesn’t mean you’re not trying to spy on me, fuckstick,” Bakugou said. “Stop poking your nose into my relationship like the town fucking gossip.”

Midoriya flushed a little, looking slightly chastened when you turned back to him in question. He gave you an embarrassed little smile. “I did want to meet you for reasons other than your model. Kacchan’s been my friend since I was little, and I wondered what kind of person could interest him so much he wanted my perspective on your work--”

“Shut the fuck up,” Bakugou demanded, but he wasn’t fast enough.

You perked up in interest. “He asked you what?”

Bakugou bristled like a cat being dangled over a bath, but Midoriya was paying him no mind. “Right after the last Hero Awards, he’d done all this research and he asked me about whether your model results lined up with some of the personal analysis that I was doing--”

“Deku,” Bakugou’s fingers tightened on your arm, growing alarmingly warm. “If you don’t shut the fuck up right now I’m going to punch all of your teeth straight down your throat and into your stomach.”

“Kacchan,” Midoriya protested, but he was interrupted by a call on the overhead for everyone to start taking their places in the theater interior for the awards to begin.

Bakugou used the distraction to pry you away from Midoriya. In the blink of an eye, he’d gotten you across the theater and was corralling you towards the Miruko agency tables, looking like he’d sucked on a lemon. You stifled a laugh. You’d wondered a couple months ago exactly how and when he’d figured out you were quirkless, and he’d once asked if you thought you were the only one who’d done their research.

If things were anything like you were starting to suspect, your demands that he do better at the Hero Awards had apparently aroused his interest in more ways than one.

You and Bakugou hadn’t exactly settled on formal terms for your relationship yet, and he still more often than not answered any of your interest with the assertion that you were the one with the crush on him. But this was more evidence--beyond the mysterious coffees that showed up at your workstation almost every morning--that your interest was more intensely reciprocated than he was willing to own up to.

By the time you’d settled at a table and been flanked by a grinning Mina and Kaminari, the awards were getting underway. They were thrilling to watch, something you’d had to miss out on last year when you needed to sneak out with a giant hole in the front of your dress. The heroes you’d worked with this year raked in an insane number of awards, and their elation was palpable, so thick you could almost taste it in the air. The pair of men with satyr horns were named the Best Rookie Duo, Miruko was awarded Takedown of the Year, and Kaminari clocked the Fastest Fight Win for a battle last month in which he’d rendered a villain with an aluminum quirk insensate only seconds into the fight.

A very unfortunate match up, you thought.

Mina nabbed an award for Fan Favorite, and in almost no time, it was the moment that you’d been nervously awaiting since nominations had gone out. You’d cheated, doing your own calculations behind everyone’s backs just to get a clearer picture of what his chances were, and you rather liked his odds, but there was always a chance it wouldn’t go how you thought. But this was the moment that Bakugou was up for Most Valuable Hero.

You barely heard any of the words the host was saying as he trotted out the names of the nominees, detailing some of their key accomplishments. He covered Bakugou's latest slew of assists and rescues, stats that made you feel kind of weirdly warm and proud, and then your ears strained for the syllables you’d hoped to hear.

And then:

“The winner is...our explosive number six, Ground Zero!”

It took everything in you not to leap out of your seat in joy, though something like a strangled squeal managed to escape you. Bakugou gave you an evaluating look as he got to his feet, stalking up on stage with his usual intensity.

As soon as he was up there, it struck you that allowing him time for an acceptance speech was maybe not a great idea. Graciousness was not exactly a strength of his.

“Obviously I’m the most valuable,” he growled into the mic. The stage lights glinted off his hair and teeth, making him look slightly more predatory than usual. “I didn’t need you fucks to tell me.”

A choking noise could be heard from Kirishima’s seat a couple tables over, and Mina put her head in her hands.

“What’s important is that I’m number six now and it only took me a month,” Bakugou’s head swiveled in the direction of Midoriya and you suppressed a groan. “Don’t get fucking comfortable. I’m gonna wipe the floor with every one of the top five, and next awards you’ll all be kissing my ass.”

He didn’t seem like he had much more he wanted to say, which was an incredible relief as both the host and nearby security looked about ready to wrestle him offstage.

He leapt neatly down from the stage, and when he made it back to the table, he didn’t take his seat again. Instead, he grabbed your arm, hauling you out of your seat, and then he was pulling you down the aisle and through the door to the reception area.

He pulled you past the snack table and you thought he was steering you towards the stairwell again, but at the last second he took a sudden turn, shoving you through a door into the women’s powder room. You didn’t even have enough time to formulate a question before he had you backed up against the wall, your shoulders hitting the cool stone at the same time his mouth hit yours.

His kiss was hot and demanding as always, and you lost yourself in it easily. He trailed a line of burning kisses down your neck and over your shoulder, making you shudder and shake when he lingered too long over any particular spot.

It was hard to think past the press of his body on yours, but you tried your best to formulate words.

“Katsuki--it’s--we’re in the women’s room,” you panted, embarrassed by the fact that even as you spoke, you were clutching him closer. “This is--what are you--? S-someone’s gonna come in.”

Bakugou broke apart from you just long enough to level a searching glance around the room and--spotting what he’d been looking for--hefting the trashcan in front of the door with a forceful kick to stop it shut.

“There, nerd. Now stop fucking complaining,” he rasped, immediately attaching his mouth back under your jaw. You shuddered.

“What the fuck has gotten into you,” you demanded, seizing a fistful of his blonde hair to pull him back from where he was leaving what felt like a very deep bruise over your collarbone.

He leveled you with a burning, red-eyed stare. “Like you don’t fucking know.”

You looked at him in question. “...I actually don’t.”

He tried to lean in again but you gripped his hair harder. “What? You can’t just keep throwing me up against walls, especially here. What is it with you and shoving me into weird places at the Hero Awards?”

Bakugou growled. “If you don’t shut the fuck up and let me do what I want, I’m gonna burn throught this dress too.”

You froze up, then glared at him accusingly. “I literally write the code that processes your rank. If you ever wanna come within sniffing distance of the top three, you won’t touch a single thread of this dress.”

The hands on you grew hot, but not hot enough to burn. Bakugou slid a calloused hand over the curve of your waist, thumb brushing the underside of your breast.

“God, the fuckin’ attitude on you,” he said, almost reverently.

You felt your face warm under his scrutiny as he leaned closer. “You wanna know what's gotten into me? I wanted to melt that entire fucking thing off you last year. You were so fucking mouthy, such a little brat to me. Wanted to rip your dress off and fuck you right in the stairwell until you forgot you’d ever even heard of numbers.”

You shivered. Bakugou smirked, eyes darkening, leaning back in to bite under your jaw. You realized you’d lost your grip on him and willed your fingers to cooperate again.

“I fucking won that stupid award because I let you boss me around. I've waited an entire year. Now you’re gonna let me do whatever I want with you.”

Your legs went out from beneath you but Bakugou was already there, catching you under your thighs and hauling you up onto the countertop between the sinks. Your back brushed the mirror, glass cold under your shoulder blades.

“Y--you know, if you actually want to be number one, you can’t make speeches like you did,” you babbled nervously as he filled the space between your thighs. “Your public approval rating is part of your ranking, right? It’s weighted right below rescues…”

Bakugou paid you no mind, fingers already searching over your back to find the zipper to your dress. He yanked it down with little ceremony, seizing the front of your bodice to pull it off of you.

“I don’t need to be fucking nice if I’m the one saving the day,” he announced imperiously, leaning down to capture a nipple with his mouth.

Your hips jerked, and he pressed a hand to your thigh, holding you back down against the counter. Dimly, you registered that the words were familiar. “N--not--ah!--not this again.”

Bakugou didn’t deign to respond, instead doing something absolutely mind-bending with his tongue. You swore loudly, catching a fistful of his jacket. “Fuck, Katsuki!”

A hot palm slid up your thigh, gathering up the soft material of your skirt until he could slip a hand underneath. Calloused fingers trailed over your core with obvious intention. You inhaled sharply when he pressed them into you, leaning up to cover your mouth with his again.

Bakugou had you squirming wildly against him in barely a minute, snorting when you tried to get a hand on his zipper.

“Want me that bad, nerd?” he asked, pressing forehead to yours in an oddly tender move.

“If you don’t hurry the fuck up I’m gonna finish things myself,” you threatened, though Bakugou did not look at all as if he believed you.

He helped you get his zipper down, taking himself in hand, but he stopped just as he brushed your entrance, leaning forward to bite another kiss into your mouth.

“Now it’s time for you to make good on your end of the bet,” he growled, a smirk growing over his features. “You’ll tell me I’m the best and I was right all along.”

You stilled underneath him, disbelieving. “Are you--are you fucking serious.”

Bakugou pressed forward, just enough for you to feel the pressure of him on your clit. You fought down a noise like a whimper. Damn him.

“I jumped two ranks,” he said. “You’ll tell me I’m the best if you want me, nerd.”

“I am not gonna beg for you like this,” you announced, though it sounded a little more like a question than you had wanted it to.

Bakugou brushed his thumb over your clit again and little sparks danced over the corner of your vision. “Mmm, you’re gonna scream.”

You felt something like a tension snap inside you. Fuck it. He was so annoying but holy shit if he wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever encountered. If he needed his ego stroked, well it wasn’t nearly as much as you needed your own stroking.

You grit your teeth. “Ugh, fine--just--you’re the best, and you were right all along. Now will you please--”

You didn’t even get to finish before he was sinking into you, narrow hips fitting flush with your thighs. You swore at the feeling of fullness, and then he was moving, picking up into a frantic pace. He leaned forward, sealing his mouth over yours to swallow all the little noises you were making. It was mere minutes before you were shivering underneath him again, moving your hips to meet his, desperate for more, Katsuki, more.

“Ah fuck--so fucking good for me,” he grunted against your mouth, giving a particularly hard thrust, and that was all it took to unravel you.

You stifled a scream in the thick fabric of his jacket, arching up into him. He cursed and followed after you with a few more short thrusts, crushing you against the counter when he let his weight go slack.

You panted underneath him, catching your breath while your fingers slowly unclenched themselves from the hem of his suit jacket. Bakugou rubbed his face in the hollow of your shoulder, radiating smug satisfaction.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it, nerd?” he rasped, biting down lightly where he’d left the hickey earlier.

You pulled back, looking into his face again. He looked far too pleased with himself, but he was so handsome like this, all messy hair and a kiss darkened mouth. Your irritation with him fizzled out a little.

He flashed you a predatory grin. “You said it yourself--I'm the fucking best.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop your hand from coming up and tangling in his hair. “Shut the fuck up.”

Bakugou, predictably, did not look as if he was going to shut the fuck up at all. So you took matters into your own hands, and leaned in and kissed him again.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia #bnha #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou

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phantomwarrior12 · 3 years ago

Text

Difficult Adjustments (Chapter 2)

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, PTSD (if I missed any warnings, let me know and they will be added)

Sweet Beginnings (Chapter 1)

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

"I want him."

Her words still echo through his mind as they make their way from Spider's lair. It's surreal - he's free.

Everything within surges with a sort of exhilarated thrill at the prospect of...anything really. But he must remain composed, if for no other reason than to ground himself in the sea of euphoria he's currently floating in.

He's free.

And she's beside him with every step. Their hands brush every so often with each stride - how he longs to take it.

Not yet. It isn't safe yet.

But as they emerge from the lair, Crow has a moment to take in the Tangled Shore. The soft breeze against his skin, that mangled sort of scent that reminded him that this was home.

"Now what?" Glint asks, hovering just over Crow's shoulder. Even his little light sounds uncertain and it brings him a modicum of comfort.

"I-I don't know. It doesn't feel real...Freedom." His own uncertainty slips into his voice as he pivots to look at her, "Why would you do this for us?"

She takes half a step closer, nodding solemnly as she speaks, "Because...you're a Guardian."

Crow watches her Ghost bob in agreement and he manages a smile. He suspects there's more to it than that but for now, it's answer enough. He casts one last glance over the Shore before nodding, "Then I suppose it's time to go."

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

"You're...sure this is alright?"

The Young Wolf bumps into him playfully as she moves past him toward the wall of the next building to continue her ascent through the Tower. She's grabbing onto poles and ledges and Crow is having some difficulty keeping up with her.

"It'll be fine! Besides, you've been in the HELM for awhile. You need to see the City some. We did promise to show you her sunset spot." Ghost supplies as Crow reaches for a ledge.

"But Osiris said not to leave the HELM." He protests feebly, making no move to act on his objections.

"We'll be back before he even notices." He assures him confidently before darting back to his Guardian.

"They must do this often...disobeying authority, I mean." Glint remarks, watching the Guardian before them.

"You might be right...but I suppose if anyone will get away with a stunt like this, it's her." Crow chuckles softly.

"And what about us?"

"What about us? This was her idea." He smirks, pausing to look at his companion.

"...hopefully Osiris sees it that way." Glint grumbles.

"We'll be fine, Glint. Don't worry so much. Osiris isn't like Spider...any punishment won't come at the cost of our lives." His voice softens. For a moment, the memories flare and his grip on the ledge falters. He snaps to just as he starts to fall backward.

"Crow!"

It's Glint who calls out but it's her hand that locks around his, tugging him back against the wall from above. Sunset darts upward, staring down the vibrant red visor before managing an appreciative nod.

She gives him another tug and he takes the signal to climb the last foot to the top of the building with her firmly holding his hand to keep him from falling. He clambors over the edge and heaves a sigh, "Thanks."

She elbows him lightly, the way she used to when they would spar. Before she helped him refine the speed of his attacks, he'd have the occasional...clumsy counter. It wouldn't look anything like a Hunter should be - lacking any prowess and swiftness. She's taking a jab at him with that elbow to remind him and he shoulders her back lightly.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh at the New Light."

She does just that, though he notices the subtle shake of her shoulders over the sound of her laugh. The wind is too loud, tossing their cloaks around them and the flags the billow along the otherside of the building.

He turns, his breath catching in his throat when he sees the landscape stretching out before them. Just beyond the Traveler, the sun has begun to set, painting the sky a myriad of crimson, gold and rose.

"...you weren't kidding about the view." He says softly as she steps up beside him.

Her fingers entwine with his and he barely has a moment to register her touch before she's pulling him over to the ledge. She wouldn't push him off - would she?

The thought is fleeting and vanishes as she takes a seat, giving his hand a light tug to encourage him to sit beside her. He does as she directs and his legs hang over the building ledge beside hers. Below them, the City draws their eyes out toward the wall and the valley just beyond.

"It's...beautiful," he whispers as the wind catches his hood and blows it back onto his shoulders. This is nice. This is...he could get used to this.

Perhaps it's a dangerous line of thought. Perhaps all of this will end very badly. But he will still have this moment at her side. Her hand entwined with his on her thigh and - her head is propped against his shoulder. Her hood is still up, her helmet still in place but she's leaning into him. He can't quite quell the smile that slips easily into place as he gazes down at her.

Some part of him wants to see her face, to gaze into her eyes beneath the Traveler and just get lost for a moment. The inclination to kiss her strikes him but he doesn't even know where to begin.

No. Things are fine as they are. He can hold her like this. He can enjoy her touch and her proximity - just for a little while.

"So...this is your favorite view in the City?"

She nods silently, beginning to absently trace the pad of her thumb over his knuckle.

When had she removed her gloves?

It's...a new sensation to him. To hold her hand, to feel the calloused skin of her palm against his. Her grip is firm yet gentle, warm and tangible and there. He never wants to let go. Perhaps that's why he squeezes, why he leans his head down against hers and just...smiles.

This is home now.

"Enjoying yourselves?"

"Uh oh," Glint mumbles.

The chiding voice behind them startles Crow. His head snaps upward, the smile all but vanishing. But the voice doesn't belong to Spider and the Young Wolf radiates more annoyance than anything else beside him. Crow shifts, looking over his shoulder at the source and cringes.

"Guardian, I trust you have a good reason for taking our new friend on an escapade?" Osiris folds his arms over his chest in mild annoyance.

The Young Wolf shrugs, laying down on her back and looks up at him. Crow is vaguely aware of the the fact that she hasn't released his hand, but what surprises him the most is how nonchalant she is when she gives Osiris a wave.

"Would you believe us if we told you it was for sparring practice?" Ghost offers weakly, though amusement dances on the edge of his voice.

"No. I don't believe I would."

"No one can see us up here," the Young Wolf says at last, "He's safe."

"That's not the point--"

"I can head back--" Crow interjects, already beginning to get to his feet. He doesn't want to be the cause of any trouble - trouble leads to consequences and--

She tugs him back down beside her, "I promised him a sunset. I'll bring him back in one piece, Osiris. Promise."

The elder Warlock looks at her skeptically, but her expression is veiled beyond her visor. Does she do that on purpose? Make herself unreadable so people can't argue? Can't see through whatever web she's weaving? Crow wonders how she's so calm all the time and it suddenly all makes sense.

Being the Vanguard's favorite Guardian, Shaxx's champion, Drifter's partner...it all gives her a certain degree of freedom - and she's capitalizing on it for his benefit.

Just as she played Spider.

He looks down at her for a long moment in awe before meeting Osiris's gaze, "Just until sunset?"

"...very well." Osiris relents with a heavy sigh, "Wear the mask if you go through the City."

"I will." Crow promises with a smile.

"On your way back to the HELM, go see Saint." The Young Wolf adds sternly, "He misses you."

Crow watches the Warlock pause, and he wonders if he detects a degree of hesitancy in his eyes before he leaves without a word.

"He and Saint are--?"

"Together," Ghost supplies, "Some say married, others say courting. Personally, our money is on married, I don't know anyone who would break time itself just to rescue a potential boyfriend. We've got a bet going with Drifter about who can find out the fastest what the truth is."

"Huh." Crow nods with a smile. "Didn't think Osiris had those kinds of emotions."

"He plays the stoic mentor, but he's got all sorts of emotions pent up in that head of his." Ghost returns with a bobbing nod.

"Right." He shifts his gaze back to her, but she seems oblivious. Her hold on his hand had loosened ever so slightly and she seems lost in thought. "Everything alright?" He asks tentatively.

Her head tilts toward him for a moment, as if she's looking right through him, as if he isn't even there.

"Guardian?" There's a sliver of concern easing in his voice. When she doesn't answer, he squeezes her hand and she jerks, snatching her hand back.

"Hey, it's alright," he holds his hands up and leans back. "Just me."

She stares at him for a long moment before her eyes drop. "Sorry," she murmurs.

"What happened?" He asks softly, lowering his hands.

"...just thinking," her head turns back toward the Traveler, "about how much has changed."

"Change is...good, right?"

"It is and it isn't," her thumb grazes the holster that houses her hand canon, the ace peeking out from beneath the strap over it.

His eyes drift from the weapon back to her visor. He can't say he's a fan of this line of thought, she sounds...full of regret, full of grief.

Crow slides a little closer, gently wrapping his arms around her and she goes rigid.

"In this case...it was good," he says softly.

He can feel the tension draining away as she returns his embrace, laying her head on his chest. "It is," she whispers.

Her embrace is tight and desperate, but he enjoys it all the same. It's her after all. His Hunter. His Old Light. He is at ease only at her side and he prays that never changes.

"So, how about that sunset?" Glint manages, drawing both Hunters' eyes to the Traveler and the sun descending in the sky.

Crow smiles, giving the Young Wolf a light squeeze, "Better than the Shore."

And she laughs.

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

"You were seen!"

"At that distance, in the dark? No.”

"Enough to put a name to a dead man’s face. The commander told Ikora. Thankfully, he passed you off as a hallucination.” Osiris rages and the Young Wolf looks visibly uncomfortable as a third party observer.

Crow narrows his eyes at Osiris, “An assassin was inside our walls. I had to do something.”

“This isn’t the first time an enemy has infiltrated the City, and it won’t be the last. Your concern is noted, but far from a crisis.”

“An attempted assassination isn’t a crisis?” Crow asks, staring at the elder Warlock incredulously.

“Zavala is quite capable of dispatching a lone Psion.” Osiris returns easily. He’s dismissive and Crow doesn’t appreciate being brushed aside so easily.

“He was distracted. Soon to be Lightless. If I wasn’t—“

“Unmasked?” Osiris interrupts, leaning forward, “Didn’t the Spider teach you that even small mistakes bring large consequences?”

His temper flares. Spider taught him a lot of things - mostly to be afraid. To bow his head and his knee and follow orders. To be submissive. To grovel and be wary. To be an animal and not a man.

But she changed that when she forced Spider to let him go. And he will never go back to the way that he was.

“I suppose you learned that chasing Xivu Arath,“ Crow bites back sharply.

He hadn’t - the glint in his mentor’s eyes when he shifts strikes him to his very core. When Osiris takes half a step forward, his fingers poised toward the Hunter in a point, “Choose your next words wisely.”

To his right, the Young Wolf looks between them. He can sense her uneasiness, the uncertainty all too evident in her stance. She doesn’t know who to side with, who to console and who to reprimand in that moment.

The tension triggers something in the back of Crow's mind. A nagging sense he'd gained from one too many conflicts with Spider. He knows when to relent. When to reign in his...insolence, as Spider often referred to it.

It's what he knows and it seems a suitable response in that moment.

He was out of line with that remark and he knows that. But the alarm in his mind screams for him to smooth things over - his life is on the line, isn't it? His place in the City?

He shifts, avoiding the Warlock’s gaze but even across the table, the anger is suffocating. There is a shadow of shame in his voice when he manages to find the words - at least when he begins. “I should have kept my mask on, but I don’t regret acting. I still think Zavala’s in danger.”

Osiris seems to relax, stepping back to where he had been when he speaks. “That is why I’m embedding you as his bodyguard.”

“Is that…wise?” Crow asks, his own uncertainty slipping into his voice.

When the Warlock continues, it's as if his intent is to erase any semblance of uncertainty. It is strong and firm and direct. “We need to draw in their assassins, and a full security outfit is too obvious. Keep your mask on. Always. Do not speak. Can I trust you to handle this with discretion?”

He leaves no room for argument but Crow is grateful for the chance to help nonetheless. But this time, this time he’s acting under orders and it is sanctioned. He can follow orders - it’s what he’s good at.

“The utmost.” He says at last, his eyes flickering over to the Guardian standing at the head of the table before turning and disappearing into the Light.

It’s only a matter of minutes before the Young Wolf descends the staircase. From her gait, he can tell she’s more at ease with all of this - no doubt having had a conversation with Osiris that put her mind at ease.

Perhaps he should apologize to the Warlock for what he said, but, maybe that should wait until all of this is well and truly over.

She stops in front of him, her arms settling in a cross over her chest and he gets the sense she’s about to scold him. He jumps in quickly, hoping to avoid yet another lecture.

“My mask was in my hand. Stupid, I know, but I felt…safe. I thought I could just relax for a minute. It was a mistake.” Her head tilts, her shoulders sagging as if pitying him.

He gestures with his hand, trying to ignore her sympathy, “Osiris tells me the commander always talks about making the hard choice. Reveal myself or let him die. Whatever I chose, someone would still say I was wrong.” He throws his hands up in frustration but his voice softens as he continues.

“I’m sure you’ve lost people. Wracked your mind for how it could have been different. Too far away to act, but close enough to wonder. If you could have stopped it, wouldn’t you? No matter the cost.”

She straightens. Her head turns ever so slightly and he frowns. There is something there. Something in the way she shifts her weight from one leg to the other. In the way she uncrosses her arms and her hand settles over the hilt of her handcanon. There's something distant and grieving and he almost regrets mentioning it. But then it’s gone, as if she shoved it from her mind as quickly as it came to the forefront of her thoughts.

He suspects, given her reaction, it has to do with that cloak she wears. The ace matches the gun on her hip she'd instinctively reached for and he lets himself wonder, if only for a moment before continuing.

“I’ve been at the mercy of something I couldn’t stop, without knowing why. Blind in a nightmare. I didn’t want to be a reason for more pain.” He admits softly, pain slipping into his voice and her hand settles on his shoulder. It’s her way of offering reassurance, her way of letting him know she is there and will back him no matter what.

He appreciates it more than she could ever know.

His hand settles over hers, eyes locking with her visor, “The next time they come for the commander, they’ll have to get through me. Mask or no mask.” A small smile slips into place along his lips beneath his mask, a shadow of amusement in his voice, “Just…don’t tell Osiris I said that.”

He hears a soft snort and she squeezes his shoulder gently.

“We won’t mention it,” her Ghost answers on her behalf and he nods.

“Thanks…you should probably get back out there.” Crow manages, suddenly very sheepish with how close she’s standing. The weight of her hand on his shoulder kicks his heart into a rapid thrum and he lowers his eyes.

But when she moves forward, he's not expecting it, he flinches back. The heel of his boot skids against metal and she retreats a step quickly, giving him space.

She was going to hug him. Nothing more.

Easy, Crow. He's still on edge from his argument with Osiris, still calming the alarms in the back of his mind. She's waiting, hands poised in surrender in front of her as if to try and look less like a threat.

She's never hurt him. Not even while sparring - at least not intentionally. A few bruises from hitting the ground but - she wasn't going to hurt him just now. She was offering comfort and he--

"I'm sorry," he manages after a moment, guilt flaring in his eyes as he catches his breath and tries to calm his racing heart.

"Don't apologize," she says softly, "I should have--"

He takes her hand and squeezes it firmly to silence her. Her shoulders sag in relief, her head tilts as she speaks.

"Are you alright?"

"I will be." He assures her. In truth, his hold on her is for his own benefit rather than hers. He doesn't associate her touch with pain or danger - it's safe. Their evening atop the Tower drowns the memories from the Shore and he can finally feel the tension in his chest begin to subside. "I'm okay."

She squeezes his hand in response, patiently waiting at his side as he collects himself. When he can bring himself to meet her gaze again, she takes a slow step closer. Her other hand lifts, poised in the uncertain beginnings of an embrace and she hesitates. His eyes drift from her arm to her helmet for a long moment before nodding.

Her arms carefully wind around him, he can feel her tension, how aware she is trying to be of every reaction. She's so gentle with him, always so mindful of what he's endured and how she can try to ease that pain. When she's close enough to hug him properly, Crow relaxes. He wraps his arms around her and tugs her a little closer for a tight hug.

This is better.

His chin settles on her shoulder, his eyes searching the wall behind her as if grappling with the reality he's in right now. She's never hugged him before. Leaned into him, yes. Held his hand, of course. But never fully embraced him. He wonders what's going through her mind but she offers no clues with how tightly she's holding him.

This isn't just her offering comfort. This is thank you...for saving Commander Zavala. The Young Wolf rarely speaks, most of her words come through her actions and he's...getting better at reading them.

He can't help but smile, can't help but give her a squeeze and lean his head against hers. He can feel her fingers wound tight around the fabric of his cloak, clinging to him wordlessly. He doesn't want to decipher anything else right now - not her vice grip, not the racing of his own heart. He just wants to hold her, stay in this moment a little while longer.

But her comms have other plans.

They both hear it and as she starts to pull away, Crow fights the urge to tug her back...it's a short-lived battle because she notices the tension and reluctance in his arms and looks at him.

He stares into that visor for what feels like an eternity before she leans in. She rests her forehead against his, a soft Ghost slips from her lips and the cool metal vanishes.

He is grateful he's wearing his mask because his lips part in a silent gasp. Sunset connects with sharp emerald eyes and his breath catches. He's never seen her face, never looked beyond the veil.

"Guardian," he murmurs, his hand lifting to touch her cheek but he stops. Inches from her skin, his fingers curl and he begins to recoil.

This time there is no visor, no veil concealing the concerned flicker of her eyes from his hand to his features. It feels...unbalanced. She is usually the one safe behind a mask, with the roles reversed--

Her comm goes off again and she tears her eyes away from him to look toward her Ghost.

"Zavala is asking for you." He supplies softly, as if reluctant to interrupt their moment.

She nods, casting a glance toward Crow and offering an apologetic smile. She gives a light wave and pivots to leave but he catches hold of her arm. Her eyes snap up to his mask quizzically just before he drags her into a tight hug.

"Be careful," he whispers.

It isn't a request. It's a plea. He needs her to be alright. He can't lose her.

Not now.

Not ever.

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

"So, Caital's champion, huh?" Crow props himself at the top of the landing ramp of her ship. His arms are crossed, his eyes flitting along the interior of the ship and she tosses him an amused smile.

In the last few weeks alone, she's removed her helmet more and more often when she's around him - when it's just the two of them. He enjoys it a bit too much, finally getting to see just how expressive her features are. It's no wonder her helmet stays on when making deals, she can't keep those eyes in check. If she's not rolling them, they're studying people so intently they squirm.

"You think you'll beat him with one super?" He continues to tease, trying to see how long it takes for her to laugh.

Instead, she throws a field blanket at him and he laughs. He picks it up, setting it back in its place and lingers not far from her. She's turned to shift some gear around and when she turns back, she nearly collides with his chest.

She narrows her eyes, glaring up at him with a mocking irritation.

"I'm sorry, am I in the way?"

"Yes, my Little Light, you are." She returns with a soft chuckle and his heart soars.

"Oh, then by all means, I'll get out of your way." He smirks, starting to turn to leave when she pulls him back, proceeding to elbow him lightly as she squeezes past the Hunter to pick up the mask he'd left lying near the opening of the hold. Crow chuckles and rubs at his ribs, sunset drifting along her frame and finally settling settling her playful expression.

"Not without this."

He steps up to her, fingers gripping the mask just above her own and gives a light tug at it. Predictably, she doesn't relinquish her hold and Crow leans in a little closer.

"Anything else, Old Light?"

He is...tempting her. Intentionally. His face is inches from her own and all he can think about is kissing her - just once - to wish her luck, of course.

For a moment, he wonders if she'll take the bait. But then there's a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips and her fingers curl around the front of his cloak, pulling him down just enough to press a kiss to his cheek as her other hand simultaneously releases the mask.

He's stunned. He watches her turn nonchalantly and descend the ship's ramp. His hand lifts, touching his cheek with a sort of dumbfounded excitement as he smiles.

Well played, Old Light.

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

She's propped against the wall beside his quarters when Crow finally returns to the HELM. Their secret is out. Zavala knows his face, they have an alliance with the Cabal and the Young Wolf - well, he watches her jolt to an upright position the instant she sees him, helmet vanishing as she approaches him.

He's tugged into a crushing embrace before he can utter a greeting and he smiles softly. He wraps his arms around her waist, "Hey, Guardian." He manages softly, his worry melting away in her embrace.

When she doesn't answer, he squeezes, "I'm okay." He tries to reassure her even as her fingers curl around his cloak and squeezes him back. Beneath his fingers, he can detect a small tremble, feel a subtle flare of solar energy against his fingertips. She'd been worried - it takes him a moment to process that. He's known she cares about him, known there was something there, but...this feels different.

Her hold is desperate, crushing. In the middle of the hallway, she is clinging to him as if he were life itself. He almost wishes she'd speak, voice whatever it is that has her so shaken but something tells him that won't happen.

"Do you want to come in?" He asks after a moment, rubbing her back soothingly.

"Can't," she manages quietly, "Have to check in with Zavala."

"Go check in," he whispers, pressing a kiss into her hair, "I'll be here when you get back."

She lifts her head, emerald drifting over his features and her hand cradles his cheek. Her eyes seem to beg for him to give his word, her thumb brushing along his cheekbone.

"I'll be here," he assures her, pressing a soft kiss to the palm of her hand, "Go on."

For a second, he thinks she's going to kiss him. The way she leans a little closer, but her eyes drop and she nods reluctantly. One last brush of her thumb and she pulls away, her helmet transmatting into place and she vanishes into the Light.

He has an inkling, a vague idea what it is that's rattled her. Perhaps it's the same reason Zavala was so shaken when he saw Crow's face. They all know what or who he used to be. That much was confirmed that night Crow prevented Zavala’s assassination.

What he doesn't understand is why they all seem...reluctant. Surely who he was couldn't have been that bad - but then again, maybe he was. For a moment, he wonders if the Young Wolf stays as close as she does to him to act as a spy. It's certainly something the Spider would have done...but this isn't the Shore. The Vanguard doesn't operate like that, do they?

No. No, she's genuine. She always has been. He has no reason to doubt her now. It'll be fine.

Crow shakes his head and steps inside his room, closing the door softly behind him and takes off his cloak. He drapes the fabric over the chair in the room and takes a deep breath.

Glint materializes beside him, hovering as the Hunter trudges over to his bed.

"You should rest." His Ghost advises softly, "We had quite the day."

"Yeah," Crow collapses onto the mattress, draping his arm over his eyes, "I'll go to sleep when she gets back..."

"I don't think I've ever seen her that worried before."

Crow heaves a heavy sigh. "Neither have I. There's more to this, Glint. I can feel it. She wasn't just worried about the assassination attempt."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because she knows I can handle myself. She had this...spooked look in her eyes, same one Commander Zavala had when he saw me without the mask. There's a reason Osiris reacted the way he did after that night..."

"Maybe it's best you don't know. The Guardian says you're not supposed to know who you were in your past life."

"Maybe," Crow says softly, allowing his arm to settle beside him as he gazes up at the ceiling.

For all their words, who he used to be seems to be a fairly relevant deal - he's been killed far too many different ways for it not to.

He makes a mental note to ask her about it as he drifts off.

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

"The House of Light is here on Earth?" Crow asks, watching the Guardian clean her handcanon at his desk.

"Yeah. Ikora set a whole section of the City aside for them," her Ghost supplies with an edge of excitement. "Mithrax has offered his help in exchange for a sanctuary for his people."

"Misraaks," Crow says softly, correcting the Ghost as he steps up behind the Young Wolf. His hands settle on her shoulders, sunset absently studying her fingers deftly reassembling the weapon.

How many times has she done it with this gun alone? It's like second nature now. It's almost mesmerizing how her fingers move the mechanisms. But when they still, Crow looks down.

She's gazing up at him, that curious glint in her eyes as she tries to decipher what he's after.

"What?" He asks innocently and she quirks an eyebrow. Her head leans back just enough to lean against his torso and he can't quite quell the chuckle that slips out.

"Comfortable, are you?"

She smirks triumphantly - it seems she was after a laugh. He gently combs her hair back away from her face with his fingers, "Finish putting your gun together."

Her eyes close beneath his touch as if in spite of him. His eyes trace over her features, admiring the soft smile that plays at the corner of her lips, the peaceful ease that settles over her features. His movements are slow, soothing and he enjoys being the one she can relax around. It's a side of the Young Wolf he knows very few get to see.

He adjusts ever so slightly, allowing him to bend down and press an affectionate kiss to her forehead. He lingers, her hand reaches for him and brushes along his cheek blindly. He laughs softly, drawing her eyes open at the sound and sunset locks with emerald.

He has missed being at her side, seeing her as often as he liked. But she heads into the Vex simulation nearly every day to put an end to the Night simulation. Tonight is the first time they've both been back in the HELM in weeks. Crow has been following up leads for Zavala with the Cabal. Now - now he gets her all to himself, if only for tonight.

"Finish building the gun," he says softly but sternly.

He starts to straighten up before her fingers hook around the back of his head and lightly tug him back down so they're face to face. An awkward position to be sure given that she's essentially upside down in her seated state.

Her eyes are all the challenge he needs. There's a cockiness, a smugness as they gaze up at him and he can't hide his smile.

Or what?

It's what she's saying without actually uttering a word but her fingers are toying with strands of his hair and it's damn distracting.

He could drag this out, make a smart-ass remark about his Old Light's self-imposed bedtime but he doesn't feel like playing that game tonight.

So, he touches her cheek softly as he presses a kiss to her palm before meeting her gaze, "Because it's nearing sunset and we need time to reach your vantage point," he watches the cockiness give way to genuine excitement.

There's that child-like enthusiasm he's grown to adore.

She frowns slightly, almost like a pout when he releases her hand. It's short lived as she turns back to the gun and begins to put the weapon back together. Crow leans on the back of the chair, leaning his head against hers and just...watches.

It feels like the most natural thing in the world - being at her side.

He prays that never changes.

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

Bidding Farewell (Chapter 3)

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dianagj-art · 4 years ago

Text

MIPHA! MIPHA! MIPHA!

I tried to do more of the screenshot/cinematic kinds look but I gave up and just bullshited the backgrounds bc I didn't wanted to look so plain but I also didn't want to do a background

anyways Mipha is here! it's Mipha time!

(Friendly remainder that what's bellow is just copy paste from my draft and there's probably a lot of typos and gramar mistakes)

More of Yiga Link AU

A group of young Zoras finds Link's body sinking on the river, south of the Minish Woods. They take him out to land and check on him, he is barely alive and they quickly take him all the way to Zora's domain. They send the fastest of them first to inform the princess and she meets them halfway.

Link's wounds are bad, but she still can heal him, they take him to the domain to keep an eye on him, besides he is still uncouncious. They set him up on that little area for other species when they visit, and Mipha had other healers take a proper look at him.

The princess buys him clothes from a merchant since his are barely existent with so many cuts. The zora recognize those cuts, they know the boy was on a Yiga attack and unfortunately, they find his tattoo behind his neck.

They are not idiots and they fear the boy might be a spy and all was just a set up, the princess still wants to talk to him. Mipha was no fool and she wasn't as naive as most people outside the Domain may think, but she was curious, and there was a feeling in her chest that told her there was more to know about this boy.

Link wakes up in unknown clothes, he has no idea of where he is but soon finds out as he started to look around. He remembers what happened and a hand grips his chest. He knows he shouldn't be alive.

"That was terrible wound you had there," The voice startled him and he instantly stood up to go into combat mode. "Don't stand, you are not fully healed yet." he really didn't have another option, there wasn't a part of his body that did't hurt and the pain brough him down to the bed again.

He looked up to see 3 zoras, two tall ones dressed in armor flanquing a smaller one in shinny red scales and dressed in zora jewerly. The princess.

"Don't be sacred" she said and gestured to her guards to stay put as she walked to him, "I just came to look on your wounds"

Link frowned at that, the princess? Coming here to check on a stanger's wounds? Yeah sure. Link remembers his tattoo and quickly hides it with a simple illution spell that wouldn't take that much of his stenght.

"Dont you have healers for that?" he asked coldly.

The princess laughed lightly "Yes," she admitted and stood by his bed, her amrs behind her body, holding her spear "and they know more about hylian anathomy than I do, but they can't do what i can. Your wounds were bad enough to require my assistance."

Link frowned again, "what does that mean?"

Mipha smiled and gestured at the bed, "Can I?" Link recoiled his legs, leting her space to sit down, the princess did, leaving her spead resting on the bed besides her, she extended her hand to him, "give me your arm" she said softly.

Link hessitaded but he rested his arm on her hand. She carefully took off his bandages and let exposed a deep cut on his forearm, the boy winced at the sight.

The princess then put her other hand above the wound and closed her eyes. Her palm started to glow and link gasped loudly. His arm started to feel cold and a bit numb, but the pain was gone, and soon the same sensation washed over his body. It was nice.

Mipha was focused on the wound but she looked up for a moment to catch his expresion, she smiled lightly and looked down again.

The light coming from her palm dimmed until it was gone and his exposed wound wasn't there anymore. Slowly, the pain came back to the rest of his body. Mipha let go off his hand and he lifted his arm to his eye level, twisting it one way and another, trying to see the trick but no, the wound was really gone.

"You... You really have healing powers..." he had herd the rumors but no yiga had actually seen it, just heard things from other people.

Mipha hummed a laugh, catching link's atention, "Outsiders are always so surprissed to see it" she stood up, taking the spear again, "I have other things to attend, but i'll come back to heal the rest of your wounds latter."

She leaves with her guards, a few minutes latter another group of zoras show up. Two of them check on his wounds and tell him to rest while the other two just guarded the entrance. He had a bad feeling, whenever he peeked an eye to the other room he saw a guard. He didn't know if that was normal or if it was because of him.

He rests, too tired to try and transport, and fully knowing that in this state he wouldn't be able to fight. He starts trying to form a plan to get out of there. Taking a swim was not an option, anywhere near water he would be an at disadvantage. He had to make it to the montains that sorrounded Zora's Domain, he could take a run for it once he were back to his feet, he had no idea if zoras were fast runners but they had short legs, he was sure he could outrun them. Once close to the montains he could teletrasnport himself to a higher place and away from them.

Tho he didn't know where to go from there. It's not like he could go back to the Hideout.

Mipha comes back that evening and heals two more of his wounds before leaving. Link is starting to think that maybe her healing magic tires him as much as illutions and trasportation tires him. It takes a few days for him to be fully healed, all the time he is forced to stay on the rooms to "rest"

All the time he feels uncomfortable, he feels watched. It gets worse when he is fully healed and the princess wants to give him a little tour around the domain, everyone always stares at him, or maybe they are looking at their princess and he was just being paranoid.

He had never been to Zora's domain, to be honest, he hadn't seen that much of Hyrule, and he was intrigued to see and learn more.

As they start to walk around the Domain a little red-scaled Zora runs to her and hugs her leg "Sidon!"

"I'm sorry princess," another Zora runs to her, "he's been running away the whole day, he doesn't wan't to do the jump"

"If you don't jump how am I going to teach you to climb waterfalls?" Mipha asked him and he just hugged her tighter, hiding behind her from his instructor.

Link quickly put two and two together and figures out he must be the young Zora Prince, but he was most concerned with the idea forming on his mind. Would they follow him if he jumped? He eyed an opening on the level they were on, and without really thinking about the heigh he kneeled down

"If I jump would you jump?" he asked Siron, "I can't swim as well as a zora would, so if i can make that jump I guess a zora prince would have no trouble doing it, right?"

Siron thinks for a moment then nods. Link walks to the edge and looks down to the long drop. "Having second thoughts?" Sidon's instructor asked him. Link just frowns at him, and takes a few steps back, he took off his shirt and dropped it before sprinting and jumping.

He hits the water gracefully and as he sinks he prapares to transport, but sees a lot of Zoras around him. He sees that at the bottom of the lake there's a whole underwater town that probably outstretched fartest of what he could see. He goes out to the surface and finds it quite hard to not let the current take him away, even when he was under their castle as there were underwater walls shielding him from the strong current of the main water fall of the domain. A few zora heads pop out, looking at him curious. Some heads look younger, maybe teens? And look at him impressed and exited

"SIDON!" Link lifts his gaze and sees someone had jump and the tiny zora splashed in the water. He looks around but the zora prince doesnt come out.

"OW!" something bites his toes and a tiny shark head pops out, sidon smiles with sharp teeth and giggles until the current starts to drag him out. Link lets him, surely other people would help their prince. But they dont they just look, and as much as the tiny zora tried the current kept draging him.

Link reaches out a hand and takes him, wraping his scaly hands around his neck as he swims to the base of the castle structure. He leaves sidon on the rock and climbs up too.

Mipha's head pops out behind him, "you swim quite well for a hylian" Link jumps in surprise, when had she jump? he didnt even see or hear her splash, "You are bleeding," she said and he lifted his feet off the water to see quite a deep bite. "SIDON!" mipha screams distressed, "how many times do i have to tell you it's impropper to bite others!" she lifted herself to the place they were sitting and patted the space between link and her, he puts there his feet and she healed him. As always he stared at her hand facinated.

"I have to thank you, for not letting the curent carry Sidon" she said, "you shouldn't have to, he is 23, he should be strong enough to be able to withstand it." link looks at sidon as he jumps into the water again swiming closer to the rocks. 23? "but I would have done the same" "and thank you for jumping, her instructor had been trying to make him jump all week"

Link looks at his foot and thinks of all the other wounds he had, all the wounds the yiga had made. "I should thank you," he said, "I should be dead. You saved me."

"those wounds were no accident, were they?" she asked, "the yiga were sent to kill you" Link nods, "but why?" he sruggs.

"I have to leave," he said softly, "but i'll hate to leave without paying back what you have done for me,"

Mipha smiles, "I'm sure we'll think of somehting," she stands up, "I know a place you can stay meanwhile. Sidon! Lets go!" he swims to them, his little back fin braking the surface, he jumps towards Link, mouth open. Link backs up but Mipha catches him on the air and hums a laugh. "I'll meet you at the top," she said to link and pointed over his shoulder "you can use the leadder to climb up."

Mipha swims up the waterfall they just jumped from with sidon on her back. They meet at the top and Mipha leaves sidon with his instructor. He runs to link when he shows up and tries to bite his leg, "My prince, dont do that!" the instructor pulls him away before he can do damage and sidon smiles with his spiky teeth.

"I have to apologyze for his behavior," Mipha said tho she is trying not to laugh, "His new teeth just came out and he has a need to bite eveything."

They walk to a village at the top of the mountain overseeing zora's Domain. Mipha pays him a night to stay and tells him good bye. Link is bafled that she has so much trust in him, he plans on just leaving, but he has a chance. He now knew and gained the trust of two zora royals. He knew they were the only heirs of the zora domain and since the king didn't had a mate... He could make a move. And maybe, he could be allowed back with his people.

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tractorbeamofwoe · 2 years ago

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I posted 990 times in 2022

532 posts created (54%)

458 posts reblogged (46%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@rothsorange

@catb-fics

@doomed-syko

@pacifymebby

@hankmoonbeam

I tagged 169 of my posts in 2022

#car mccannt’s wip weekends - 3 posts

#omfg - 2 posts

#catfish and the bottlemen - 2 posts

#robert keating - 2 posts

#inhaler - 2 posts

#it was so good man - 1 post

#simply because of how much it’s been memed - 1 post

#we had this in our catfish gc - 1 post

#and idk i just feel very passionately about wonderwall of all songs - 1 post

#and if you think about it it’s actually oddly really romantic - 1 post

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#and sometimes if i’m going on a long journey or know i’m gonna be sat around for a long time doing nothing with no wifi i’ll use notes app

My Top Posts in 2022:

ATTENTION

it is my birthday :)

thank you for your attention <3

8 notes - Posted January 7, 2022

lastly maybe something based of sparks by coldplay for bobby?

A/N: here’s a little bit of I guess a hurt/comfort drabble but the hurt is not shown, just mentioned lmao ik it’s not really based on the song per se but it is worked into it so I hope you still like it 🥺

You hadn’t spoken for 3 days at this point, and the guilt and anxiety was gnawing away at your nerves. What if you’d truly scared him off for good this time? What if you’d really fucked up and upset him, past the point of being fixed by an apology. You couldn’t believe you’d fallen out over something so stupid but that’s what unrequited love does to you, you supposed. You were still coming to terms with your feelings for Rob and figuring out the best way to tell him, which unfortunately left you snapping at him when he asked if you were okay and he said some hurtful things in retaliation, which clearly he felt bad about afterwards.

A knock on the door startled you out of your thoughts and you almost sloshed your coffee all over your lap as you rushed to answer it. You took a moment to compose yourself, seeing the obscured figure through the frosted glass and trying to figure out who it could be at 7 in the morning. Tall, looked they were holding a guitar, shifting nervously from foot to foot- wait, a guitar?

You yanked open the door then, and sure enough there was Bobby breathing a sigh of relief and letting his smoke go. “Thank god,” he said, a hint of a smile on his face “for a second there I was scared you weren’t gonna answer.”

“Why? You know me, I’m ranked number one in the world for fastest door opener.” You joked, thinking back to a conversation you’d had where he called you that. But the joke fell flat and didn’t do much to ease either of your nerves.

“Well I kinda thought I was the last person you wanted to see today.”

“And I thought you hated my guts.”

And that seemed to hit a nerve. He frowned in confusion before taking another drag of his cigarette.

“What? I- no, no, I don’t, why would I- look can we just talk? Well actually I wanted to play you a song I learnt yesterday. If you’ll let me. Or you can slam the door in my face and tell me to go away forever, I’ll understand.” Rob was stumbling over his words, blue eyes constantly flicking between yours and the floor. You smiled then.

“Go on then, I’d love to hear it.”

He promptly discarded his cigarette then and sat himself on the front step of your porch, patting the concrete for you to join him as he began to strum the opening chords. You thought you could vaguely make out the song, something by Coldplay, but you couldn’t say which one.

“You can sing along you know.” He smirked, not looking up from where his fingers met the frets.

“I don’t know the words Bobby!” You giggled, giving him a little nudge with your elbow but not enough so it would muck up his playing. He just shook his head and took a deep breath.

“Did I drive you away? I know what you’ll say. You say oh, sing one we know.”

And it was then you realised that this was his apology. This was his love confession.

“But I promise you this, I’ll always look out for you. Yeah that’s what I’ll do.”

The lyrics matched you both so well that you imagined him tediously skipping through spotify the night before, trying to find the perfect song to make it up to you. Not to mention how he must’ve spent hours just learning it non stop and it was all for you. Because he cares about you. You turned bright red as you reflected on how stupid you were to think for so long that he couldn’t love you the way you wanted him to, but here was the man of your dreams on your doorstep serenading you. Well, if that’s not how you want to be loved then you have to be crazy.

“I said ohhhhhh, I cry ohhhhhh...

yeah I saw sparks”

8 notes - Posted July 17, 2022

I love the symphonic pictures EP so much too, it’s incredible how talented and creative they were even from that young age with all the layered instrumentation and everything…he’s amazing.

Anyway, do you k ow if the lyrics are published somewhere? I love Johnny’s singing but he doesn’t enunciate very well, especially on Bootstrap Paradox 😆

I love how you can really hear their influences too. Like when they said they like Beck for example i was like ?? ok cause i didn’t really know anything about him but then i heard Loser by chance on the radio one day and it all sort of clicked. I was like ”holy shit yeah this does sound like something symphonic pictures would make”

I haven’t been able to find official lyrics posted anywhere no, but i can sort of decipher some of them?

But it’s actually Dale singing on Bootstrap Paradox haha Bondy only sings on Feathers and Backwoods and Dale also sings Smile it’s Real :)

9 notes - Posted June 22, 2022

What are your favourite things about Bondy?

UGH WHAT A QUESTION ANON WOW

okay okay SO MANY THINGS the fact he has so many hobbies other than music ?!?! He’s literally so talented it’s insane like if he were alive in the 1600s or whatever then historians would describe him as a very well educated man yk? Not to mention he’s just very knowledgeable on a range of subjects like not even just music but like other cultures and politics and all that kinda cool stuff. But also he balances being incredibly smart with being a man child and having the greatest comebacks and insults ever and just an insane sense of humour (and mega stoner™️)

I also love how he went to do music at uni but then decided it just straight up wasn’t for him and then (Not sure if he dropped out or finished the course anyway) went and started Symphonic Pictures to fill that void cause I’m at that point in life where everyone’s tryna shove Uni in your face and not really presenting you with other options but I always remember that the majority of my favourite musicians and people I look up to didn’t go to Uni and they’re doing fine so that’s quite a comfort and reassurance to me

ALSO LET’S NOT FORGET HOW MANY BANDS THIS MAN HAS BEEN IN CAUSE IT’S LIKE 7 OR SOMETHING INSANE

ALSO ALSO HE WAS PART OF ONE OF THE LAST BANDS TO LITERALLY SUPPORT OASIS BEFORE THEY SPLIT ?!,!!? THAT’S INSANE TO THINK ABT AND THE MAN WAS 19 A FEW DAYS AWAY FROM 20 AND HE ACHIEVED SO MUCH LIKE WOW

Sorry I get really rambly but generally if you ask me what my fave things about bondy are it’s always his character I instantly go to rather than “he‘s hot” 💀

12 notes - Posted March 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Do you think Van and Bondy ever had an actual physical knuckle-to-jaw fight?

Genuinely? I don’t think so, just hear me out 😭

I think they’re all immature to some degree, but definitely no way immature enough to start assaulting each other. I just cannot see Bondy getting annoyed to the point of actually punching one of his bandmates especially over something as small as whatever they’ve been arguing about. I can’t see Van striking out either tbh.

I will say though, in the worst worst case scenario, if they were to ever get physical with each i put my money on substances being involved because i just cannot imagine them in their sober state of minds to think fighting each other is the right thing to do. They had to be drunk or coked up or something.

13 notes - Posted May 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Yikessss yeah this blog is definitely dying 💀

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lemonjoonah · 4 years ago

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Blood Bounty - Part 3 (M) - Finale

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader, Taehyung x Reader, ft. Seokjin x Namjoon Word Count: 15.5K Rating: M Genre: Historical fantasy AU, Vampire AU, Thriller, Drama, Smut Warnings (CONTAINS SPOILERS): Dub-con (consent is freely given but the context is dubious), non-con vampire feeding, non-con kiss, unprotected sex, light bondage, oral sex (f. rec.), cum eating, pain during intercourse (don’t be like the OC here in the beginning and try to conceal it, you should tell your partner if something hurts), somewhat antiquated thoughts on virginity, virgin reader (it’s a flashback and there’s a small amount of blood...), death of major and minor characters, drugging (with vampire blood), murder, violence, blood, gore, sexism, blood slavery, kidnapping, captivity, forced marriage, manipulation, gaslighting, once again it’s some pretty dark shit, consider yourself warned.

| Series Masterlist |

Summary: He’s taken everything from you, your blood, your memories, your life, and after months spent as Taehyung’s own personal feast, you eagerly take your chance to flee. Unfortunately your escape doesn’t go as well as you had hoped, as you are soon caught by another blood thirsty beast. The vampire Yoongi claims to know you, and that he wishes to return you home. But when you can only remember the pain caused by his kind, you find it difficult to trust him, since he too could just be another monster waiting to feed.

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who stuck with me through this mini-series. I truly hope you enjoy the end of this tale (and the hints to another separate series in the works 😉).

...

Your new stead is surprisingly responsive to your commands, possibly desiring to get as far away from the predators as you. Taking you down the road to the kingdom at a startling pace, causing several branches to whip painfully in your direction. When a stinging blow inevitably lands on your brow, enough to draw a spot of blood, you pull back on the speed of your mount. You are not so far now that you worry about making it back before nightfall.

The route home becomes more populated the closer you get. For the first time in years you are among people like you again. Those who see you as just another person passing by, not a temping entree, nor a traveller to rob. Some even nod to you as they cross your path, you respond in kind, but keep your face hidden beneath the hood of your cloak.

Your first few paces inside the town comes as quite a shock. The notable gathering spots are even more vacant than they were during your nighttime strolls. With the stalls of the market bare, and so many businesses closed, the only well occupied space appears to be the mounted boards on the end of every other street. You stop at one littered with official orders for curfews, new regulations, and missing souls. The most notable of all to you is the obituary detailing your brothers passing.

You swallow back your grief, and proceed to examine the document claiming that he had died of a devastating injury and no more. It seems your parents will still not admit to any weakness that might carry in the family's blood. But with each stamped flyer, there’s been an addition made, one that was obviously not approved by the crown.

‘The crown prince is dead, and our princess lost. If we let them rule any longer we will be next!’

You are stunned by the note, fearing how bad the circumstances must have become in your absence. Backing away from the board you prod your stead onward and in the direction of the public stables. Hoping to find the mount it’s own new home, while you return to yours.

“Three pence for a night,” The master grunts, looking up from his work as you dismount near the entrance to the paddock.

“I have no coin, but-”

“No coin, no stall. Don’t waste my time and move along.” He interrupts before returning to shovelling the pungent manure.

You wrinkle your nose at the odour and persist in your efforts. “I was going to offer for you to take ownership of him instead. I have no use for him now.”

“Keep him? Tell me, how did you come to own this stead? Is it truly yours? ” He leers down, placing you beneath his scrutinous glare. “People don’t just give up a worthy horse. How can I know that there is not someone out there who will come looking for it and will blame me for their loss?”

“I can assure you the last owner will not come to retrieve him. Now do you want the horse or should I go find another who is willing to take my offer? Maybe that nice family there.” You point to a couple making their way into a nearby building.

Your bluff calls his, leading the man to grimace and huff, “Fine. I will take it, now be gone with you.”

With the horse now tended to, you start to walk away, passing the entrance to the tavern, the door the mentioned pair just walked into. It’s hard not to take note of its current occupancy, for it is packed with people, all shouting and trying to have their say. With the entryway cracked open an inch you are able to catch several snippets of the debate.

“We can’t wait any longer. They are changing the narrative as we speak! Now stating they hold out hope for the princess’s return.”

“And what if she does?” A familiar man stands in argument. “Would you have us send the kingdom into turmoil when hope still exists? I would not be as I stand before you today without the surgeon she sent to us. A blacksmith cannot work without a hand. My wife and I would have been out on the street before long.”

“Can you not see what they are doing for what it is?” The first speaks again to counter his point. “It’s a convenient ploy! With an heir lost, only the promise of another, with more favour than them will quell our anger. If she was still alive they would have found her by now.” He pauses to pat the smith on the shoulder. “I mourn her loss too my good friend, but we can’t wait for a small sliver of hope when we continue to live the way we do. Taxed within an inch of our livelihoods, while the list of missing continues to grow and those who are in charge hide behind their walls, keeping secrets that affect us all. If she returns we can offer her a good standing among us. But their rule must end.”

You edge closer and closer to the door trying to get a better view of the meeting in progress, when a throat clears and grunts, “Run along lad...” Nearly jumping from the fright you turn around to find the stable master having come up from behind. Bowing your head you comply, thankful that he had not realized the gravity of what you overheard.

What had truly happened in the time you were gone? This isn’t just contempt but a full blown revolution building. Your people think you dead, and understandably so, but if they see that you are alive and well, maybe a better path can be found than one that will surely end in blood.

When considering your options you know there will be no way in through the front gates, your parents have always kept them heavily guarded, and no one will believe you are the child of the king and queen dressed as you are now. Rather than stir up trouble, you proceed to your fastest route in, the trap door hidden on the perimeter.

In your absence it appears to have remained unused. The roots of the hedge have grown over, needing to be tugged out of place until the hinges and wood are freed from their grasp. You drop down into the passage, closing the hatch behind. With no light, nor lantern you are left to navigate the abandoned hall in the dark. The palm of your hand brushes against the damp stone wall, crossing cobwebs and critters on it’s trek to lead you to the portrait door. You try your best not to think of the time spent in this place, and the company you are now left without, but the sound of your steps resonates around you. Tricking your ear into thinking it a whisper of the past, as if his promises still remain locked away down here, echoing off the bedrock for you to claim.

You are grateful when you finally reach the castle's interior, although for the time of day even the palace appears deserted and cold, you slip about the halls feeling like a stranger in your own home. Hoping to return to your old bedroom before you find anyone else, so you can at least reclaim another part of what you once were. But when you find the door and step inside someone is already there, crying at the foot of your bed. It’s too late to back away for they look up, just as startled as you. It’s your former lady’s maid who steps back from shock at your appearance, followed by a baffled stare when she catches a glimpse of your face.

“My word...” She gasps as tears continue to roll down her cheeks, “I never thought I’d see you again. He brought you back, I can’t believe he brought you back.” She runs forward wrapping her arms around you, a blubbering speech follows. “I’m so sorry, your b-brother... he’s gone. After everything that happened, everything you did, he’s still gone. An-and the threats to the crown, ever since his death everyone has been in an uproar. I haven’t dared to leave the grounds out of fear that someone will know I work here.” “It’ll be okay. We will figure this out.” You attempt to calm the maid you can only remember fragments of. She must have thought you had run off with Yoongi that night, but now is not the time to correct her with actual horrors you endured.

“Having you back now will surely pull the king and queen from their stupor. They have been pleading and praying for your return.” She looks down at your clothes with apprehension. “Court is in session right now. They are locked away until a matter is settled, but we can ready you to meet with them once they are finished.” You nod prompting her to seek out your wardrobe. “I’ve been keeping them well looked after in case of your return.” She pulls out a dark dress, a sign of mourning for your brother. “I believe this will still fit. You don’t look to have changed much.”

As she laces you in you can feel the garment tug on your ribs and chest. Maybe a little too small, but it will have to do for the time being. Once finished she escorts you to the dining room, while you continue to marvel at the empty halls. “Where is everyone?”

“Much has changed... your parents' fears have grown in the time you’ve been gone. They feel they can trust far fewer than they have before, and so, many of the staff were let go. If anyone ever even asked about you they too were sent away.” She stops at the set of double doors and urges you inside. “If you remain here and I will go and have the King and Queen informed as soon as the proceedings let out.”

“Wait, don’t leave...” You were going to ask her more questions to address the gaps in your past, hoping you might stir more than a few moments you have of her and your life here, but she has already closed the door and departed.

You are left in the dining hall, waiting only with the excessive spread of your parents forthcoming dinner. The feel of the room compared to the passage below is unfamiliar, unlike the dark narrow tunnel this place is void of memory and the feelings that come with it. You pray that such a disconnect will not last long.

Mounted up on the back wall you find your family’s portrait. Staring at it at the faces and details, you remain so until slivers of the painting's creation surfaces in your mind. You hated that gown, for its rigid seams and heavy fabric took quite a toll as you stood there for hours behind your brother. He was seated due to his condition but you were told to stand and remain still, while the prince takes the forefront of the picture.

It had been made not long before you disappeared from the kingdom. You can recall dwelling on how little blood you had left, while the painter took your likeness. Your parents look so happy in the portrait, thinking their son to be healing and ready to take on the throne, while you spent the whole time daydreaming of Yoongi’s return.

Your anger spikes as you think of him now, it is beyond doubt that he has noticed your absence. You will have to warn your parents and their guard of his possible travel to the kingdom to claim you for his clan. The secret passage will have to be sealed, taking with it your hopes to ever leave again.

Grabbing one of the many decanters and with a shaking hand pour yourself a goblet of wine. Seeking to soothe your trepidation of meeting your parents, you sip on the bitter drink while picking at the food of the central spread.

The hours pass while you take your fill, until finally, when the sky has long been dark your mother hurries first. Looking exactly the same as she once did in your memories, frantic and worried. “Thank heavens you are back. You are safe, we are safe.” She looks down at you, her face unchanged with time, and the skin of the arms which clutch you... you stare at them for a moment, perfect and untouched, but you remember... you recall deep gashes and blood, so much blood pouring down your fingers. Disturbed by the thought you shake yourself from your horrific vision and smile back at her. Expecting her to launch into a flurry of questions but to your surprise, both her and your father pose no queries.

“We knew he would find you again,” your mother cries with happiness. “We knew he would bring you back. The people, they will be so thrilled to hear of your return. The threats, the violence it will all be over soon.”

“You knew him? You asked him to find me?” The facts of her statement confuse you greatly, had they been privy to information your maid had not? For if she thought you were with him... what did your parents believe?

“My dear, are you well? Of course we did.” Your gaze once again focuses on the flesh of her forearms, as if entranced to the spot, while she brushes at your unkempt hair. Upon following your sight she pulls at the shawl of her dress in an awkward fashion, covering the length of her exposed skin. “Think not of what happened at our parting. All is well.” A painted grin plasters your mother's face. “We made all the changes necessary, you my darling, are to be next in line, not your children, but you. Your father had to work so hard to gain the approval of his lords, they thought it pointless to change the law in your absence, but here you are! Once your consort holds up the rest of his bargain your father will sign and you will be heir to the throne.”

This is all too much, you trying to keep hold of all the information while more is poured on to you. Unable to focus on anything other than their knowledge of Yoongi. Did they really meet him and make the request of him to bring you home? But to what bargain are they referring? “He did but I fear his clan has plans to remove me once again. We have to guard the old passage too, it’s already been nightfall for some time and I fear he won’t be far behind.”

“My poor girl... are you sure you are not ill?” Your mother’s head tilts in confusion. “He is already here, he has been for some time... you fled from his estate when he was just about to send for your return.”

You step away from your parents as fear tightens and grips your chest. “No, you can not mean. Not him, please not him-”

But your greatest nightmare returns to join you, with Taehyung waltzing through the double doors as if your parents castle is his own. “Princess, so good of you to join us. You shouldn’t have run off like that, you had your parents worried.” He approaches, inciting you to back into a wall in an attempt to keep your distance. Your parents don’t react with shock or fear at his sudden advancement on you, surely it is just a dream or vision then? One you are bound to wake up from soon. “But I knew you couldn’t run from me... only towards. Isn’t that right my sweet princess?” Though when his breath comes to find your ear you know him to be real. “I would have gone to find you myself, and take you back sooner, but your parents have been a rather large thorn in my side. Refusing to let me go until I-”

“And what of the other part of our bargain?” Your father calls from behind Taehyung, who grimaces and rolls his eyes at the interruption.

“They will be here shortly. My kin are acting on my behalf tonight, for I could wait no longer when I heard news of her arrival.”

“You have short changed us before,” the king admonishes. “I will not sign until I am certain the problem is dealt with.”

Taehyung turns from you entirely, the accusation leading him to snap back in anger. “That was your own doing, not mine, human. I gave you what you asked and you chose to squander it.”

With Taehyung now focused on your father, you are ready to run, to seek anything you might use against him, but your mother catches you before you can take two steps.

Shouting and jeering can be heard from just outside of the room, along with the heavy footfalls of several men, far too loud for what should be expected of the staff and guard. The procession outside bursts into the dinning hall. Your father’s lip curls ever so slightly as several men are pushed to their knees in front of him, muzzled and chained by the vampiric clan that restrains them.

Taehyung introduces them with a proud and theatrical air, as he takes a seat at the head of the table. “As you requested my liege, the leaders of the now failed rebellion.”

You recognize many of them from the tavern earlier, even the blacksmith whose hand Yoongi saved long ago. Your father after taking stock, waves them away, ordering them to be held out of his sight, until a public execution can be arranged.

You open your mouth to argue and condemn such brutal tactics when you are pushed down in the chair beside the monstrous vampire by your own mother. “You will sit still, be quiet, and do your duty for the family.” Despite her insistence your nails claw at her hold trying to free yourself from his side. As blood breaches her skin, so too does the memory of your first meeting with the vampire lord.

...

-Five years ago-

You look through the streets for hours hoping to catch even a glimpse or a whisper of Yoongi. Asking several people who pass you by, but no one knows of his whereabouts, nor has seen the distinguished surgeon in months.

With the sun ready to rise, you retire from town for the night. Stripping from the simple dress, you toss it to the side and return to bed for the hour you have left to sleep. When forced awake by duty, your day ultimately passes with you a hollow shell. Barely able to keep your eyes open from lack of rest, with a gnawing disappointment taking root in your stomach, distracting you from much else. You tell your maid of your plans to venture out again to find him, but she looks concerned by the prospect.

“You can hardly stand! What if, as a result of your current state, you cannot find him tonight? Your brother needs this and if you should fail... maybe we should tell the king and queen and let them put out a search for him?”

“No, I must do this on my own. He would not want them to be aware of his kind.” You go to take the plain gown but your maid grabs it first.

“I understand that you feel you must go. But please take an hour or two to sleep before you journey out. You look dead on your feet.” She does not relent, prodding and scolding until you are between the covers of your bed. “I will wake you once the castle is quiet enough for you to leave without being spotted.”

Nodding in agreement you submit to the coma of slumber rather quickly while she sits in the seat across from your bed. You wake hours later not by the hand of your staff, but from the hammering of rain pelting at your window.

You rise and call out, confused as to why she did not wake you earlier, but no answer responds. Lighting the candle on your bedside you find the chair empty of both her and the dress. You jump from your bed, in only your dressing gown and slippers reach for the door. When she bursts through it first, wearing the dress you intended to wear on the street.

“Where were you? Why didn’t you-”

“Princess, I found him!” Your lady’s maid exclaims happily, despite being absolutely drenched from the weather outside. “I went in your place so you could have more time to rest, and I found your friend, or I should say he found me.”

“You found him?” You breathe a sigh of relief, your brother is now safe and your plans with Yoongi can come to fruition. “Where is he now?”

“He’s with the king and queen.”

“My parents?”

“He wished to see them, mentioned something about desiring their permission. He’s already healed your brother, your mother and father couldn’t believe it.” She grabs hold of your hand and pulls you from the room, not caring that you don only your bed attire. “Come! They are waiting for you.”

Still half asleep and only semi-coherent you allow yourself to be ushered along to your father’s den. There he sits behind a desk quill pen in hand, your mother hanging over his shoulder, and settled across from them both is... someone who is not your vampire, someone who is not Yoongi.

The stranger smiles, showing off his sharp teeth as he gets up from his seat to deliver a sweeping bow. “Lord Kim Taehyung, at your service princess.”

You take a step back upon hearing the name that Yoongi warned you of so many times. “W-why are you here?” With concern immediately drifting to your lost vampire, for if his enemy has found you what could have befallen him.

Your mother scolds your response, “This man has offered his assistance, to aid in your brother's care, you will show him your respect.”

“It’s no matter,” Taehyung shakes his head at your mother. “Though I must ask, why do you look so scared princess? Your maid was looking for one of my kind, were you not seeking my help?”

“Is this true?” Your mother interjects, glaring at you. “You knew of people like him, those who could help your brother and you told us nothing?”

“I was looking for another,” you attempt to explain. “One who had been helping us in the past without your knowledge, he forbade me from revealing his kind to you.”

“What did this other tell you of me?” The lord smiles. “I should like to set my story straight, because you, princess, looked ready to flee the moment you heard my name.”

“What is it that you want?” You ask again. If he refuses to answer your question why should you obey his own. “I thought your kind did not wish to reveal their existence to humans.”

“When the situation is as important as this, exceptions can be made.” The vampire justifies, a crooked grin refusing to leave his mouth. “I am only here to offer my services to your family.”

“We already have the services of another. He was doing so for years before you came here, he will help my brother should he need it in the future.”

“Then where is he now?” Taehyung asks the dreaded question which stabs at your heart.

“He will be back...” You retort, hoping it to be the honest truth. “We do not require your help.”

Your father silences you with the stern call of your name and the hammer of his fist on his desk, before he too jumps into the argument. “I will overlook the concealment of your past acquaintances, along with the fact that you gave your brother treatment without our knowledge and consent. But I will not have you demean this man who just saved his life.”

“He is not a man!” You shout back at your king and father. “He is a monster. I have been told of his misdeeds, of his ethics. We can not trust him-”

“We have no choice! Without an heir the whole kingdom will become a place of ruin, an unclear line of descent will lead to chaos.”

“Then we wait. We wait for the one I can trust. He will be back soon, I know it.” Certain at least in this instance you know better than your parents, you plead for them both to listen.

“This is not a discussion.” Your father clarifies while the vampire takes out a bag, pulling from it two large corked bottles filled with a fluid far thicker than wine. “We called you here merely to inform you that we have accepted his services.”

“This should be enough to keep him healthy for a long span of human life. It will heal most ailments, and injuries, and when enough is consumed will even slow the course of ageing.” You watch as the vampire's attention falls on your mother during his explanation, his lip curls even further when her eyes brighten in interest over the properties of the cure.

You go to her, grabbing her arms so that she will focus on you alone, trying to convince her of the vampire's true nature. “This is a trick it must be. You can’t accept this, he will bring only ruin.”

“All that remains is the payment.” The Lord Taehyung adds, ignoring your plight.

Your gaze snaps back to him, when you hear of his charge. “What payment? What did you ask of them?”

“The cost for such a bounty of blood requires an equal sacrifice on your family's part.” The vampire beams with delight. “The blood needed for his life, in exchange for the blood of yours.”

Your stomach drops when you see your father dip his head in confirmation. They already knew the cost and still they bartered you off without much thought. Your hands continue to grip your mother’s arm. “Please... please listen to me. It doesn’t have to be like this. There’s another way, there has to be.”

“There is no other way.” She responds, her tone cold enough to match her words. “It is time you stop living in your dreams dear girl, those books you cling to, those maps you draw, they will bring us nothing in the end. You have scorned numerous suitors in the past few months alone, leaving your father and I at wits’ end trying to secure a noble future for you. If you will not have that duty, you will take this. Better to have your hands stained with blood than ink if it will at least save our prince.”

As she starts to push you towards your new fate, your fingers dig into the soft flesh of her arm, desperate to try and keep hold of your past life. Taehyung takes you by the waist and pulls you towards him leaving long lacerations down your mother’s skin as you continue to sob and beg for her to stop this. The thumb of your captor crosses your lips, bringing with it a metallic taste to your tongue. There’s a hushed order whispered in your ear to be quiet and complacent, and you do just that. Relaxing into Taehyung's arms while he carries you out and into a waiting carriage in the dark and drenched courtyard.

Once out from the castle walls his slick smile falls. He may have taken your ability to speak, but not your tears will to flow. Pulling out a kerchief, he cleans your hands of your mother's blood. After removing every spot he lifts the fabric to his nose, and winces at the smell. “It is still amazing to me that one like yourself could be born of such soiled stock.” He then tosses the cloth out the window of the carriage. “That’s better.” His hand lifts up to the stream that continues down your cheeks. “Do not weep my princess. They may not see the same value in you that I do, but I promise we will prove it to them soon.”

Angered by his declaration, you look away to the door, not wanting to give Yoongi’s adversary the satisfaction of your gaze. You knew you always weighed less in your parents mind. For you were second in their hearts even before your brother was conceived, second to the mere hope of a son. Swaying their love even a fraction in your favour was and is an impossible feat, a battle you could never win.

“I know you wished to leave them, my kin intercepted a letter addressed to a royal who was willing to abscond with a vampire.” You look back at him with eager eyes. A letter? Yoongi must have sent word and this lord stopped it from reaching you. “I see that I have your attention now do I?” Taehyung scoffs and sits back in the carriage clearly enjoying your regard. “I knew of a woman much like you before I became what I am. I once travelled the land with a troupe. Entertaining both the nobles and the masses, while dressed in simple white garments, with only a tapestry as a backdrop, and the floor as our stage. It was invigorating, the life that came from holding the eye of the courts, and one lady... one princess in particular.”

Taehyung pauses to look back at your castle before continuing his tale. You can do nothing but sit there and listen, his blood and previous demands continuing to hold you in his custody.

“She too was not content with the possible suitors before her, they could not offer her the multitude of lives she wished to live, but through narratives and plays I fulfilled that need. We could become whatever she or I wished ourselves to be. I was sure to see her as often as I could, but when her parents learned of our tryst, my group was banished, and she, to the bed of a neighbouring prince.” The vampire sighs as the story takes a darker turn. “I promised I would return to her when I could offer her a better home, but my cast and I, we ran afoul of a beast one night. When another caught the scent of our tragedy and found only me hanging by a thread, he took pity and made me one of them. I was so fearful to return to her at first, it took me several years to work up the courage and restraint before I could send her a letter begging to call on her again.”

Now engrossed in the tale and the comparison of his story to yours. You stop an attempt to fight his will, too curious of the outcome.

“She agreed to meet, stealing away from the castle at night to find me at a nearby inn. It was my intent to flee with her that evening, to give her not only all the lives she had desired, but an endless supply of existence. What I did not expect was for her to deny my proposal. In the time I had gone she bore the prince a child, and no longer desired to part with her new role. I was not willing to accept her answer... lost in the heat of my anger and hunger for her, I took the princess with me. Draining her of life, I added her blood to mine.”

You stiffen in your seat wondering if this too will be your end, recalling a cautionary tale your mother used to tell you. The story of a noble lady, who was bled dry by the parasitic and sinful world outside. You thought back then it was her way to scare you into not leaving the protection of the castle walls, never did you consider it to be real, nor that she would be the one to give you to the monster of the fable.

“The smell and taste, I have not had anything quite like her since... until this night, when I caught wind of your own scent upon your maid's dress. I was already on my way to see you, but she made it so much easier, for she spoke on my behalf to gain my entrance. Such a sweet girl, and so very much in love with your brother isn’t she? A shame that she will likely feel the same pain as I once did, a love that crosses classes only to end in death.”

Seething with rage at his confession, you wish to fight back and escape from his carriage but your own body will still not comply. You knew it, you knew he never intended to save your brother, he only wanted a bargain that would play in his favour. There is still a catch that remains unseen by you and your family, one that will result in the prince’s demise.

“They’ve hitched their kingdom to a dying horse, keeping it alive by selling off their only hope.” His finger follows the path of a tear down your jaw and falling to your collar. “I can promise you I will have far more roles and lives for you to play, more than you ever would have had with them. And you, you who have so much to give in return.” He opens his mouth, his breathing heavy as he leans towards your throat. “It's been so long since I’ve had someone of your calibre... I plan to savour you for far longer than the last.” Pushing you down, until you lie on the seat of the carriage, his teeth latch on, piercing the skin of your neck.

...

You drop your mother’s arms, leaning back upon remembering the part she had to play in giving you away. “You forced me into his custody? You are the reason I was made to endure his torture.”

“We had no choice. Your brother, he was dying.”

“And where is he now?” You shout back at them, all decorum vanished from the room. “You were given the cure, so why is my brother still dead?”

With that Taehyung smiles bringing light to the answer. “It would seem the temptation was too great for their own vanity. Even your lovely parting gift to her, erased by my remedy.”

The marks that should be on your mother's arms from your own assault, the ageing that should have become apparent since your last moment with them, none of it is there. All wiped away by the blood that would have given your brother a longer span of life. “You-you used it didn’t you... I should have known. It’s always been about appearances with you. Playing the strong hand to keep both me and your people in line. And when you ran out... you asked for more didn’t you?”

“He said he would keep our prince alive!” Your mother replies shaking from the accusation, but not denying it.

“I told you that what I gave you would be enough. It is not my fault that you chose to waste it.” Taehyung counters with a wicked grin, pleased by their faults and presumptions. “They let your brother die, not I.”

“Then why return now? Why come if you already received what you wanted out of the deal?” You question fearing his answer, for what more could he want.

“I promised I would one day make them see the value in you.” Taehyung explains. “And there is always another bargain to be made.”

“With your brother dead and you gone we needed an heir.” Your father sets out his quill and ink on the table along with a rolled document he’s been clinging to. “It is as we feared what might happen. Our rivals at court have been stoking the fires of our people, without any official descendant they grow discontent and worried about the security of the country's future, we need you back.”

“Though you still belong to me as per the first agreement,” Taehyung interjects. “So you will return, the law will be changed, and you will become the next in line instead of any child you might have produced. With me by your side, living as husband and wife, the future rulers of this kingdom.

“I won’t allow this.” You shake your head aghast by the thought of such a deal. “First you give him me, and now your people?”

“Those people are currently rallied against us, they would see the end of us if they could. You witnessed the proof.” The king gestures to the floor where the captured were held just a moment ago. “We need assistance in controlling them.”

“Because you’ve given them nothing to stand behind! Instead your first instinct is to feed them to a beast. Why do you still trust this monster? He will double cross you, my brother, your son is already dead, don’t let him take any more!”

There’s a knock on the door with the return of Taehyung’s vampire kin having stowed away the prisoners. He bids them to enter, while your father looks on somewhat ruffled by the impermanence of the lord’s comfort in his own home. “My part of the deal has already been given, they cannot back out now. Unless they would like those rebels to return to their people?”

The king shakes his head. Dipping the feathered pen he signs the parchment, and hands it off to the vampire lord.

“Thank you for your cooperation my liege...” Taehyung bows his head as he takes the paper, passing it off to one of his clan, before returning his unwanted attention to you again. “Your parents will live out the remainder of their lives as king and queen. As long as I can assure that their people will not revolt while they live. The throne will pass to us, and your people to mine.” He tilts up your chin, his thumb crossing over the small scratch on your forehead from your travels. Dipping his finger in your goblet of wine he touches the cut again. The familiar itch of healing skin crosses the surface of your brow. Your stomach turns with the knowledge of what you unintentionally consumed. “It’s a shame for them though...They won’t live long enough to see the benefits of my work here.” With the brush of his hand he gives the order to his clan, “Kill them.”

Your parents both stand in alarm, attempting to reason with the monster before you. “No, you swore-”

“That I would keep you safe from your people, not that you are protected from myself or my kind.” He addresses his fellow vampires once again, “If you insist on feeding on them do not do it here. I find their smell distasteful and I would rather not lose my appetite.”

His progenies take hold of your parents, dragging them away. They scream for their guards, but when no one comes to their rescue they call for you next. Pleading with you so that you might speak up on their behalf, with all dignity lost while they come to face their own mortality. You remain silent, any words frozen inside out of fear and hate. Your last duty to them would be what they always asked of you, to be quiet and still, until their screaming comes to an abrupt halt as they meet their end.

Now alone Taehyung rises from his chair and lifts you up onto the dining table, locking you in with his arms on either side. “I told you I could give you so much more than them, didn’t I promise you that? Do you remember?”

“I never said I wanted it from you.” Your furry has reached a new level, overwhelmed with contempt towards Taehyung, your parents, and yourself for not remembering sooner. “You believe their deaths will give you the kingdom? You forget that you had them sign it off to me. I will never consent to marrying you, and we both know your blood will not force me into such a binding contract. It's why you had to make deals with my parents is it not? Compulsion will not work when it comes to such bonds in ink, and you have nothing left to play in order to sway me.”

“Such a smart girl,” Taehyung coos, while brushing the side of your face. “However, it is not I who has forgotten but you, for I have already won that battle too. Here...” He takes a swig of the wine, and firmly grasps the back of your neck. Pushing more of the drink between your lips with his, Taehyung forces you to choke it back and drown in your own past. “Let me help you remember, my princess... my bride...”

...

- 4 years ago -

You open your eyes, to be greeted by unfamiliar surroundings. A soft bed beneath you, lying between warmed sheets with a handsome yet concerned looking man sitting at your side.

“Thank heavens you’re awake. You took quite a fall.”

You lift a hand to your head trying to dull a sharp ache in your temple. The man leans in closer without hesitation, an action which surely indicates a close tie with you, but you have no memory of him. His hands are cool yet you welcome them on the side of your face, for they diminish the pain. “I don’t remember-”

“It’s okay my princess. I'm glad you are saved from the trauma of reliving that event.” He comforts you with a boxy smile, that doesn’t quite reach the sadness of his eyes.

“No, not just that, I mean I don’t remember... I don’t remember you, where I am, nor why I am here.” You strain to recall your most recent past, everything seems so long ago. There are glimpses and fragments of moments and people which you manage to pull forth, your parents and their rule, your brother and his suffering, your castle and it’s cold walls that once surrounded you. The loneliness of your past brings a tear to your eye for it is all you can recall. Everything about this man before you seems to have vanished from your mind.

“No, no, no, don’t cry.” His expression falls, as his hand shifts to wipe beneath your eyes, he swallows his shaking breath in clear distress over your loss. “I promised that I would look after you, that I would treat you well. Your parents, what will I tell them? They will rightfully blame me for letting you get hurt like this.”

The fear and sadness strewn across his handsome face is more than you can bear. You reach out a hand to his to comfort him back. “Could you remind me of your name sir?”

“Taehyung, and please don’t be so formal. There’s no need with me.”

“Then our relationship to each other...”

He takes your hand, tracing your fingers with his, before planting a kiss on your fourth digit. “We have been promised to one another. Your parents agreed to let you leave your own kingdom to be with me.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry... I don’t remember, I don’t remember anything. I can’t-”

“It’s okay my princess. It’s not your fault, but mine. You were hurt under my care. I’ll help you to rebuild what we have. We’ll start from the beginning, if we have to. I just can’t endure the thought of losing you entirely. Please just tell me what you need, whatever I can do, it will be done. I will help you to fall for me over and over, if it means I can continue to be with you.”

...

Taehyung spends the nights alongside you tending to your every desire, reciting poetry and plays to keep you entertained while you remain on bed rest for your injury. You feel bound by his kindness, and so guilty for not being able to recall your own past together.

During the day he is forced away from your side. He has a demanding role filled with travel and responsibilities, your only hope is that when he deems you well enough, you will spend that time together too. That you will be able fulfill this building desire within, to go out and journey for his role together.

But the weeks pass with no change in your situation.

Until one night when it all becomes too much to conceal. When left by his caretakers to bathe, you dissolve into sorrow over the fact that your loss of memory is holding you back. Your wedding to him was to be days from now, but he has called it off until you can recover what you lost. Your wracking sobs echo through the empty room as you commiserate alone. Questioning what you could possibly do to dispel this suffering.

You did not expect the sound to summon Taehyung, who comes bursting in without thought to your current state of dress. “Princess I-I...” He stops in his tracks and turns on his heel, shielding his eyes from your nude form. “Forgive me, I was not made aware that you were bathing.”

You press yourself to the side of the tub. Shy at first but when you find him more so, you beckon him over, just as he is about to reach for the door. “No wait, don’t leave. If you go I fear I will only feel more guilt over our situation.”

“Guilt? To what shame are you referring? Have I not made you comfortable here? Do you not have everything you need?” Taehyung abides by your call, joining you beside the tub, and swallowing as he glimpses you in the water.

“I do, and that is the issue. I remember nothing other than your care and kindness. You have given me everything you can, and I have nothing to grant you in return.”

“That’s not true-”

You press a damp finger to his lips, urging him to let you finish. “Despite not having a memory of our past, there is this need inside me... it’s difficult to express, but it calls out for someone like you. I do not wish to continue this cautionary stance, waiting and hoping for something that might not return. I do not want to hold us back. I think we should still marry, for I cannot see my life in any other way.”

Taehyung gives you a small smile along with a kiss to your hand which still lingers near his mouth. While his own reaches into the tub, his fingers twirling in the water just above your leg. “There is still much you don’t know about me.”

“Then I will learn it as it comes. Please, I long to move past this. I cannot and will not remain in this present, with you restraining yourself because of me. I truly believe that moving forward with the original plan is the best course of action.”

“If that is what you desire,” He the tips of his fingers submerge further until they draw against your thigh. “I will resume the plans between you and I.”

...

The ceremony is modest, with only you and Taehyung reciting your vows under the night sky. After signing a document to confirm your ties, he whisks you off to the bedroom to consummate the new promise between you.

The strength of the man before you comes as quite a shock as he rips the laces of your gown in his eager hunt to find the flesh beneath, until your best dress soon lays in tatters on the floor. His hunger for you appears to reach a new level, with his mouth nipping and devouring every inch he has exposed. Your situation has held you both back for so long, but at least now you will both get to revel in the path forward together.

Once bare he flips you on to your stomach and disrobes himself. His taut legs come to straddle your hips, while his hands run up your back and down your arms. Taking your wrists he pins them over top of your head. “Just a precaution my princess,” He chuckles your ear as his leather belt wraps around. Tightening them together before the strap loops the headboard and is once again threaded through the buckle, wittingly securing you to the bed. “For if I am worried over the possibility of you fleeing, I might lose myself, and consume too much of you.”

“I have no plans to run.” You muse, giggling at his passion.“But I will concede to your bondage if it satisfies you.”

“I was hoping you would agree.” He teases his index along your slit, drenching your sensitive skin, and preparing you for his swollen cock. You raise your hips eagerly towards him and he takes the hint. Laying down over top of you he guides himself in with one hand while the other loops your waist.

You gasp from the stretch before gritting your teeth trying to hide the brief moment of pain. Taehyung swears as his forehead comes to rest on your shoulder, his breath shaking as much as yours while he inhales deeply. A growl echoes in his throat which he promptly clears. “Princess, am I... am I your first?” There’s a hint of surprise in his voice, but you can not understand why that would be so.

“If I was promised to you... I can not see why I would have laid with another.” You answer somewhat hurt by the notion that he thinks you would have been unfaithful in the past. Your memories might be limited, but you can not believe that would be the kind of person you are, to be unfaithful to one so kind would make you a monster.

“Yes, of course.” He sighs, “I just, I had not...” He empties his throat again. Hugging you tightly as he pushes his cock in further. “My dear princess, so good to trust me with such a gift.”

You exhale with a confirmation. “I am all yours.”

With Taehyung resting deep inside he pauses for another moment. His fingers trapped between you and the bed shift down to your mound where they press and cause you to buck back onto him. “Forget the pain for now...” He whispers in your ear while the deep circles he rubs shift you from discomfort to pleasure. Your twitching responses beguile him as you clench down on his shaft. The growl in his voice returns and grows deeper, he thrusts along with you. A need inside your start to build, your breathing stutters while he continues on. “...And come for me.” Your nerves reach their peak at his words, holding you in place until the tension inside you finally releases and the warm waves run from head to toe.

As you ride out your climax Taehyung pushes forward with his own. His cock continues to swell, demanding more of you, until he comes to his end and collapses twitching with content. With a groan he wraps his arms around you and nuzzles your back, while you remain trapped beneath him.

You tug on his belt wanting to touch him and hold him as he does to you. But even once he has come himself, he does not appear to be fully parted from his lustful needs. He shifts down so that his face can be found between your thighs. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as you inquire for him. “Taehyung, please-”

“Don’t fret my princess, I just- I just want to- there was some blood drawn in my haste to have you, I would like to kiss it better.” He chuckles before his tongue comes to find your folds. The beastly sounds from him become far greater than before as he laps at the spot. Your hesitation is cast aside as you soon delve into pleasure once again.

His fingers clamp down on your legs as he feeds from your cunt with an even stronger resolve. “I must- I must have more.” He begs of you.

“I am yours to take.” You respond, eager to indulge more from his affectionate appetite.

But as soon as your permission is granted an unimaginable pain pierces the skin and muscle of your thigh. His mouth latches onto the source of such misery, and draws on the wound taking deep drafts. “Taehyung?” You cry out in confusion, pulling the bonds he left you in.

Your lord and husband suspends the act. Rising up to release you from the headboard, he takes your restraints in his hand. Flipping you back over and pinning you back down beneath him. You find your groom smiling while his mouth drips with blood. He chuckles lightly at your horror, taking in your fear. “Did you have a change of heart my princess? I’m sorry to have brought such a swift end to our happy scene, but tomorrow we may start over... once I’ve had my fill.”

...

After the first Taehyung proceeds to push upon you several moments wrought in passion and pain. The concealment of his identity to become your love, and of course the times when he chose purely to torture you as your captor.

You come to understand that your past with Taehyung is a series of tales, with him portraying the villain, or the hero. Going from captor, to suitor, to husband, only to break you by becoming your captor once again. He’s crippled you countless times, in so many different ways, choosing whichever act suits him in the moment, gorging himself off your emotional defeat the same way he feeds your blood, in the most painful way possible.

“A small sample of our time together, but you see princess, you are already bound to me in matrimony. I have what I need for my clan. My followers will have access to any house, any dwelling on our kingdom’s land once I give them my consent to enter.”

“Y-you have no right to do that!” You stutter, trying to push down the past to focus on the present.

“Oh but I do as your husband, as the new king I now have partial claim. My men will be able to feed within the safety of your peoples homes. Hunting them in their beds will be far easier than being restricted to the streets.”

“They are not cattle for you to feed upon!”

“How is that any different than your family's rule?” Taehyung scoffs, looking to the ornate room around you both. “Your parents in their vanity and greed bleed them dry, to the point where they were begging for a change, even if it was the rule of a young man who had barely stepped into adulthood. They will be grateful for the passing of the king and queen, and for the new rule. Remembering the vampires who will now stalk them while they sleep only as a passing nightmare.”

“That does not make what you are doing any better.” You argue, though you know it to be pointless.

“Not in your eyes, but my people will at least benefit from the sacrifice of your own. They trust me to do right by them. Can yours say the same about you? Will you bear the pain of your suffering and theirs? All that’s left is for us to choose which story we should play next. Would you like to forget it all again? To have me return to the role of doting lover and husband? Or would you prefer to recall that which has brought you pain? Your parents, your brother, and myself, knowing that soon my people will feast on yours.”

To remember would be the only chance you have in finding a weakness to him, any attempt to remove him from his position will require your knowledge of what happened in the past and what is happening in the present. Who knows what story he would otherwise weave next, but he will no doubt pull the wool over your eyes if you let him.

“I will give you until the end of this night to choose, if you don’t I will do so for you. But I am so very ready to return to our routine. These past few weeks have been a torment without you to entertain and fulfil me.” His finger traces an x on your neck, marking the spot he intends to bite. “I will never again allow us to be parted for so long.” The point of his teeth make contact with your skin, when the door opens and one of his keepers calls for him. “What?!” Taehyung shouts back in frustration. “What could possibly be so important that you must interrupt my dinner?”

“There is a hunter demanding entrance at the gate.” The vampire informs, looking rather shaken for having displeased his lord. “Says he won’t leave until he sees proof that you received your princess. It seems that he was trying to deliver her when she ran off in the daylight earlier today.”

“So someone did find you... that would explain...” His hands soften on your neck running his fingers over the previously tortured flesh. He then turns to the vampire waiting for his answer. “What is the hunter’s name?”

“Agust, my lord.”

Your head snaps up with your eyes wide. Yoongi is here, and he knew to call himself Agust? That can only mean, the secrets kept from him by his clan, the truth that would break you, it was the knowledge of Taehyung’s presence here.

“Is this the case my princess? Did this Agust find you and intend to bring you here?” You bite your tongue but he pushes his power over you again. “Tell me the truth of this matter.”

“He did.” You can’t be sure of what Yoongi intends to do once inside, but at least your forced honesty did not betray his cover.

“He has my permission to enter. Bring him to me now, I owe him my gratitude for taking such good care of my princess.” The vampire guard leaves to grant the other access.

Taehyung traces his teeth with his tongue. Appearing unusually happy despite the fact that his meal was disturbed. “You will remain seated and quiet, while I reward this hunter for his deeds, is that understood princess?” You reluctantly nod, submitting to his compulsion.

Yoongi, accompanied by four of Taehyung's kin, enters the dinning hall and promptly bows. “My lord.”

“Agust... I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of speaking before have we?”

“No my lord, I’ve dealt only with your keepers. But it was my honour to retrieve your princess as requested.” You meet his eye when they flicker in your direction trying to decipher his plan, but are unable to see a way out that could have possessed him to take such a risk.

“Yes, I must thank you for bringing her most of the way. I am surprised that you knew to find me here though, I thought that was kept confidential from the hunters.”

“It was my lord but I learned of your occupation here only recently, such a large group of vampires in a human city does not go unnoticed for long.”

“Then I commend you, for doing what many of my other hunters could not.” Taehyung smirks at his own kin’s expense. “Tell me who was your maker, from which line do you descend?

“Your caretaker Egan, my lord.” Yoongi offers, his tone flat and even. “Though I don’t know if he would recall me, I am one of many.”

“Egan you say?” Taehyung pauses, with a raised brow and pout, which soon fades into a smile after a moment's hesitation. “He has created a fair few hasn’t he?” He chuckles. “Now you were not able to finish my task to completion, but I will still grant you the reward of becoming a keeper if you can complete just one other challenge.”

“Of course my lord.” Yoongi promises, watching adamantly with his hand twitching at his side.

“There is someone I need you to find, one who has been haunting me for quite some time. Before my princess met me she fell in love with another of our kind. A vampire who works for Lord Hoseok, and goes by the name Min Yoongi. It took me a year to find the full extent of the boundaries in her memory that relate to him, I needed to empty her of love for that fool, and take it for myself. I was successful in the end of course.” He tips your chin with his finger delighting in the pained expression you bear at the thought. “But I would like to see the end of him, and purge anything that might hope to take her from me.”

“I understand...” Yoongi responds through a clenched jaw. Peeking a concerned glance at you when Taehyung's back turns to him.

“I think she might be able to help you start your quest. You know where to find this Yoongi, do you not my princess?”

You dip your head, as a tear slips from your cheek and falls to your lap. You bite your tongue in an attempt to hold back your answer but Taehyung presses again with the compulsion of his blood. “You will answer me, out loud.”

“Yes,” you confirm, your eyes meeting with Yoongi’s again, pleading for him to go now, and escape before you reveal anything else.

“Do you think it will be an easy task for this vampire Agust to find him?”

“I do.” You utter with a reply stolen from your lips.

Taehyung mutters in your ear for his final question. “Is he the one who stands before us now my princess?” Panic instantly seizes you, with every function of your body coming to a halt, wondering how he could have found out. The moment your mouth starts to open, Yoongi launches himself at Taehyung, but his attack is quickly brought to a halt by the vampire lord who draws his own stake. Shoving Yoongi across the room and into the arms of his guard.

“You thought you could fool me after so many of your brethren tried and failed?” The cruel lord chides with a low chuckle. “There have been too many errors on your part, the greatest of which was the name of your false creator.” He approaches his new prisoner dragging the point of the stake along Yoongi’s chest while he is held in place. “A misstep of Egan’s allowed for her to escape, and so I sent the order for him to be disposed of. I knew the deed was done mere hours ago when I watched a progeny of his wither away before my eyes. If you were of his blood you too would have perished.” Taehyung explains before he paces away twirling the stake between his fingers. “What a wicked curse we must endure is it not? Though it does have its advantages... I wonder how many will I wipe out with your death?” Your heart beats wildly in your chest longing to run forward and prevent such an event. “It will come soon, of that there is no question, but not before I take every ounce of information you hold about Hoseok’s current plans.”

“You will get nothing from me unless you let her go,” Yoongi growls.

“Let go of my own bride?” The restrained vampire flinches at the comment as Taehyung grins and prods further. “I suppose you didn’t know. You must forgive her for not informing you, she couldn’t recall it herself until a few minutes ago. Regardless, I have no plans to free her, for I believe the closer I am to your beloved the more I will get from you.” Taehyung joins you at your side again. “What do you think princess? Would you like an admirer for our performance? I’m sure even the steadfast Min Yoongi would bend to my will if he witnesses you in my favourite roles.”

Taehyung’s attention is drawn away from the pair of you when more of his keepers enter the room greeting him with a nod. “Alas the show will have to wait. I have permissions to grant, and a story to feed your staff,” The vampire lord sighs and acquiesces to their needs, grabbing the decanter from which you took a glass. “The rest of your people will come after.”

Taehyung gestures to one of his men. “He will take you to your room, and you will remain there until I return. I look forward to having a more fulfilling reunion between you and I come dawn.” His fingers brush against your cheek one last time before addressing the vampires holding Yoongi. “Keep him locked up along with the revolutionaries for now. I will call upon him later.”

Yoongi continues to lash out as you are both dragged in opposite directions. Barring his fangs at those who hold him, but he is soon subdued with the addition of another clan member and carried out of sight.

Your own escort doesn’t say a word as he takes you through the empty halls, and staircases with one hand grappling your upper arm. Any attempt to pull it from him is met with a snarl and tighter hold. As you pass the rooms of the hall you wonder where Taehyung has the remaining staff kept and despite the lies forced down their throat you hope they will remain untouched.

The guard opens a door and pushes you in, sending you to the ground before locking it behind. The dimly lit room is unfortunately not your own, consisting only of a bed, washstand, and shuttered windows. Rising from the timber floor you find a stain on your hands and dress originating from the spot on which you landed, a spill, red enough to be the remnants of a vampire's meal. You start heaving at the thought, running to the filled basin desperate to remove the sticky scarlet substance. With hands shaking as they are submerged in water, your entirety follows suit, quaking in fear of what has just transpired and what is left to come.

Your parents are lost, they dug their own grave, but your fellow citizens, and Yoongi... you have to find him, before he too is lost and your people are reduced to a mere spattering on the floor.

You pull on the shutters of the window, releasing them to peer out and see if there is any hope to scale out of this one too. The height from the ground might be manageable, but a pair of glowing eyes looking up to you from the garden stops your attempt. The gaze from below continues to watch until you retract and close the space between you again. Taehyung's caretakers and keepers are as eager to keep and feed on you as he is. Visions of past attacks start to flood your mind, making you regret your venture to look out. You tried to escape so many times in your past captivity. Each one with the exception of the last was foiled by his keepers or caretakers, some brought you straight back to your room, while others... others were swiftly intercepted by the lord of the fortress, but only after they landed their first bite.

Retreating to the corner of the room, you set yourself down at the furthest point from the door and window. Left alone to stare at the crimson puddle, as you wait for Taehyung’s return. There is no question that you have to bear the weight of your memories as painful as they are, you can not afford to forget the past. Not now, not with Yoongi nor your people in jeopardy. You wonder if Taehyung will strike such a deal with you. If you promise to abide by his command without his blood, will that be enough to buy at the very least Yoongi’s safety?

The minutes pass while you consider your options, distracted only when there comes a thump from the shutters. You rise from your spot and move closer to the door. The boards made to conceal the daylight shatter inward with another hit, knocking over the solitary candle and casting you into darkness. The shadowy intruder leaps in, their gleaming eyes holding you in their sights.

Figuring it to be one of the Taehyung’s progeny’s come for a taste, you draw breath to scream. Until the vampire collides with you, holding you down, and covering your mouth.

“I told you to stay in the room.” The hushed tones of Yoongi greet you to your immense relief. “Why didn’t you listen to me? Why did you run?” He waits there for a moment, removing his hand only when you finally relax beneath him.

“Yoongi...” You gasp in relief. “I overheard you and Seokjin. When I saw you give into the demands... I-I didn’t know, I didn’t realize-”

There’s a knock interrupting your explanation, the vampiric guard no doubt alarmed by the commotion. You both fall silent, but that does not seem to satisfy the sentry, who proceeds to unlock the door. Yoongi jumps up ready to meet him with a stake. As the barrier opens, the vampire tries to step inside, making it only far enough in for the wooden weapon to reach his heart. Yoongi grabs the enemies throat in the last moments, committing him to silence until death before tossing the corpse to the side. Treating the newly dead as nothing more than a bothersome distraction.

Yoongi turns back to you but keeps his distance, a growl rattling in his throat as he takes deep breaths. “I told you before, I would never take you there. I had no wish to abide by the request from my lord. I could not tell Seokjin of my plans to disobey while we remained in his house. I was going to take you as far away as I could after learning the whole truth behind your capture, but your stunt put everything in jeopardy, including yourself.”

You start to sob upon hearing his deception, you should have guessed that with such a reveal from his own clan he would try to deceive them too, like the others he dealt with on your behalf. He closes the gap between you, pulling you in close, allowing your tears to fall on his chest. “How-how did you escape just now? I thought for certain he had us both in his grasp.”

“I kept hold of the tainted blood, and those holding me were in desperate need of a drink. One sip and they were at my mercy instead.” He lips grace the top of your head with a kiss as you cling to him. “We’re going to get you out of here okay? We’ll go down to the passage. I have already released those he captured, if he has a mob on his hands, we might slip out undetected.”

“I can’t leave, not yet-”

“Why, because he compelled you to stay?” Yoongi questions, attempting to dismiss your concern. “I will carry you out if your own volition fails to do so.”

“It is not that alone... he was not lying when he told you I was his-his-” You stall on the word unable to say it yourself. “In those five years, he played with my mind, he made me forget you and desire him instead, a-and I fell for it. It is because of me he now has a claim to every home in the town. This is my error to fix. I will not leave those who dwell here to feed his own.”

“You are not to blame for his actions.” He counters, his own voice cracking in desperation. “Your remaining here will not change that.”

“I only wish to remain so I can bring an end to him, to kill him.” You promise. “Either way, whether successful or not I will not exist here long.

“No, I am not letting you near him again. If we must do this then let him be mine to kill.”

“He thinks me in here unarmed and broken to his will,” You open Yoongi’s jacket to find another stake that he must have stolen from Taehyung’s followers. “I will have a better chance. It would be better for you to ensure that his clan has not brought harm to anyone else.”

“And leave you here to face him? If he falls so do his own progenies, which includes most if not all of his keepers. There will be no point in my leaving to dispose of them, if your main goal is to defeat him.”

“If he sees you he will be instantly aware. When he is as strong as you say then even you won’t be able to defeat him without catching him off guard.”

“I am not leaving you alone with him even if you are armed, and that is final.” Yoongi takes his firm stance, while grabbing at the stake in your hand. “I will not lose you again...”

You look down at the deceased on your floor, fearing the same fate for Yoongi should he remain here with you. Taehyung has proven time and time again that none can fool him for long, not Yoongi, not his clan members, even those who disobeyed him attempting to draw blood from you were cast aside... with Taehyung throwing himself between you and them. “If you will not leave then... I need you to bite me.”

Yoongi follows your gaze in confusion, “What is it you are plotting your highness?”

“He will no doubt come running if he smells my spilt blood. He has before. If he thinks I am in danger from his own, I will be able to get close with his guard down.” You take the stake back from him while he considers your plan, gripping it in your fist behind your back. “All you have to do is play the threat.”

“Will you not wait for another alternative? My clan could be here in a day to deal with them.”

“He is hungry, and all too confident of victory.” You plead with your vampire. “If we wait-”

“If we wait he will be more likely to catch on...” Yoongi growls confirming your thoughts, as he begrudgingly bends down to take the cloak of the defeated guard. Tying it around he pulls the hood over his head. “This is unbelievably reckless you know. I should just take you from here this instant.”

“But you won’t.” You reply with a sad smile reaching up to touch his cheek with your hand, and press a kiss to his lips. “You long for an end to this as much as I.”

With his back to the door he takes you into his arms. When hunched over you Taehyung should not know who he is until it is too late. Yoongi places his mouth ready to sink into your neck. “Are you sure you want to be the one to-”

“I have to.” You cut him off before he can even try to change your mind again.

With a deep sigh his teeth pierce your skin, the blood starts to flood from the wound and Yoongi lets out a low pained groan as he resists the urge to feed. For the more blood that escapes and is left to the air, the sooner that Taehyung will come running to investigate your situation. After a minute passes, you start to feel light headed and grip your weapon tighter.

“If he doesn't come soon I will have to put a stop to this.”

“He will come,” you gasp. “Just wait.”

Right on cue there comes a shout from down the hall along with the thunder of footsteps. Your door crashes open to reveal the ferocious monster.

Yoongi is thrown to the wall, and promptly disregarded in the moment by Taehyung, whose immediate attention is more occupied with you spilling out before him. “She is mine,” he seethes looking ravenous after not feeding on you for weeks. His hunger distracting him from the arm you have tucked behind your back. While pulling you closer to take a taste himself, you draw your own weapon, stabbing him through his heart with the stake.

He looks down to injury with a sobering disbelief, his words heavy on his lips with a low chuckle as he forces out his final thoughts before his demise. “Well played princess... you had me thinking I was to be your hero again.”

“You were never my hero, only my assailant.” You shove the stake deeper into his chest. “And now my fatality.”

Taehyung gasps and delivers one last cruel smile. “A fitting end, though I can think of one better. Why part here, when you can join me in death.” He launches at your throat ready to strike and bleed you further, when his actions are cut short by another.

With the stake pulled from the other vampire, Yoongi pierces him through the back, and takes hold from behind preventing Taehyung’s last threat. The vampire lord's eyes go wide showing a brief moment of fear before he finally succumbs to death. Pulling yourself from his clutches you take a deep breath and rejoice in the freedom, though the feeling doesn’t last long.

Already dizzy from the loss of blood you are in no way prepared for the surge of memories that flood back. With Taehyung dead his physical hold on you diminished, but the pain of his manipulation, the trauma and loss he has inflicted on you hits as a wave, and pulls you under.

Yoongi is there to heal the wound on your neck, he calls to you repeatedly though his voice along with your vision of him are clouded amongst your thoughts. Your heart pounds and head races as it continues to try and register the influx of everything you lost.

There’s a soft touch to your temple, as a whisper from him finally makes it through. “Be strong my love, you can conquer this too.”

You can feel yourself being lifted as the room moves around you. Clinging to his coat you utter your wish to leave, unwilling to spend another moment in this castle. Fully slipping as he draws you in closer.

...

When the haze lifts you come to find yourself in another bed. Not one of the castle’s no, it seems Yoongi had observed that request, but the location is still worrisome for it is the same room you had shared with him in Seokjin’s house. You immediately sit up, panicking over your last memory of this place, and fearful of Yoongi’s clan’s intent.

Your vampire sleeps on a chair beside you, though his head and chest are slumped over on the mattress and his hand encasing yours. Stirring the second your grip leaves his and you attempt to get from the bed. He grabs at your shoulder pushing you back down with ease, “What do you think you are doing? You are in no state to be running off.”

“Yoongi... why are we here? If Seokjin-”

“This was the only safe place I could think to bring you. You have nothing to fear here now. Seokjin will not do anything, he knows he was in the wrong to suggest such compulsion, and Namjoon has promised retribution on your behalf if he continues such behaviour.” Yoongi briefly smirks at the thought of the pair, though his expression soon darkens as his hand brushes your hair from your face as you relax back into the bed. “I thought- I was worried I lost you back there.”

“I-I couldn’t control it, there was so much that I had lost and most of it difficult to bear again...” You grimace at the pain of it, prompting Yoongi to lean in to kiss your blow and pull a small smile from you again. “I should never have returned. I should have trusted you more, I’m so sorry for putting you in danger like that.”

“It was not your fault. You had every reason to doubt me given your past and what you knew. I can’t imagine what it was like, but...” He looks down avoiding your eyes as he rubs your hands, the words that follow are just as tentative and soft. “If you should- I don’t know if- if you need me to help you discard any memories I will do so. Doesn’t have to be now or ever, but if you ever need me to... don’t feel like you have to carry the weight of it alone.”

You nod your eyes tearing up with gratitude for his offer. “Thank you, there will be some moments that I- that I will be glad to be rid of.” Yoongi’s warm smile comes with his arms to wrap around you in a tight hug. You wince as your muscles stain to return the affection, feeling as though they have seized from lack of use. “How long have I been under?”

“The longest two nights of my existence.”

“Two nights?” You exclaim pulling out of the embrace in shock. “What has happened since? Was anyone else hurt before I-I-”

“No one else, but the castle,” Yoongi sighs looking hesitant to tell you the rest. “The castle was set aflame in an act of defiance. It was sentenced to burn once the staff and resistance had cleared it of everything of value.”

“Good,” you whisper.

“There is more... Seokjin has been keeping a close eye on the situation.” Yoongi discloses. “But, when word spread that you returned only to vanish again, many believed your appearance to be that of an imposter rather than their former princess. They thought you a tool of the mysterious lord attempting to gain power.”

“And their plans to create a new form of rule?” You ask, the focus of your question leading Yoongi to tilt his head in confusion.

“Going forward without much backlash, but-”

“Then they have every right to think so. I am very different from their lost princess.” You smile to Yoongi’s surprise. “I am a threat to them now, a threat to the future governance they plan to install. Any version of me might sow the seeds of discord in progress if I was to return. If this story of me being a deceiver will help them to rebuild, then let them think it. I will make no plans to return.”

Yoongi nods in understanding, though his expression still holds regret. “I am sorry I was not able to deliver you home as promised.”

“That place was not my home for so long, not since you-”

A loud knock comes from the front door of the small home, reaching you all the way in your upstairs room. Yoongi stiffens in the seat next to you as muffled voices are soon heard too. Your vampire stands going to the door where Seokjin appears a moment later with news. “It’s Lord Hoseok. He’s here, and he wants to see you.”

“Don’t you dare let him in.” Yoongi pushes back. “Not with her here, not now.”

“I can’t exactly deny him entrance,” Seokjin scoffs. “This is his house-”

“Fine, then I will.”

Seokjin puts a hand on Yoongi’s chest and prevents him from storming off into a confrontation. “You know you can’t stop him. If he wishes to see her he will, but right now I think his main concern is you. Do not anger him if there is no reason to. See what he wants then come to a judgement.”

The same loud knock you heard below then arrives at your bedroom door, breaking off the disagreement between the two vampires.The guest you know not to require permission, but it seems that he would rather enter on your terms rather than his own.

“Yoongi?” You call to him, witnessing the dread in his face when he turns to look at you. “I should like to speak to him too.”

Yoongi’s reluctant hand turns the lever, letting his lord inside. Your own vampire stands between the two of you preventing you from getting a good look as the first words are exchanged.

“My Lord.”

“Tell me it is so, that it is true. Is Taehyung- ” The vampire lord immediately launches into the heart of the matter. The weight of his tone sends shivers to even you.

“Dead, my lord.”

“Thank you Yoongi, I am in your debt.” The tension in his voice quickly falls away.

“It was not I alone who defeated him sir. The credit also goes to the woman who you thought you would contain to your fortress.” Yoongi mutters with malice.

“I app-” His lord steps further in, allowing him to finally catch a glimpse of you. He pauses for a moment as he takes you in, his mouth hangs open and a single word falls in greeting, “Mansin?”

Though the word is foreign to you Yoongi reacts in an instant, returning to your side, he growls and his superior in defiance while positioned in your defence. “She is not-”

Lord Hoseok seems to catch himself and apologises. “A mistake Yoongi, an honest mistake, I see that she is bound to you. You must forgive me,” He whispers while giving a sad smile in penance. “Something in your expression reminded me of someone I once knew.” He politely touches upon his error, but leaves you with no reason for Yoongi’s reception. “I must give my thanks to you as well then, for you saved me the pain of having to kill my own creation.”

Alarmed by the confession you try to stand but Yoongi’s hand once again comes down to your shoulder. “Then Taehyung was yours? You created that monster?!”

“It was not my intention to have him turn out in such a way.” The vampire lord growls at the censure, causing Yoongi to grow ridged next to you. “I found him as an innocent young man dying, whispering the name of the one he loved, the one he was bound to. I took pity on him, would you not have done the same?” Hoseok raises an eyebrow as he throws his choice back at you.

You swallow and nod in response. “I suppose I would have.” The swift changes in mood of the vampire lord keep you on guard, intimidating in one moment and considerate in the next. It’s easy to see why Yoongi might be wary of him around you.

“I chose to banish him from the clan when he killed his former mate, your ancestor, for I could no longer trust him. He sought revenge on both your family and mine, and it is my fault alone. I knew that Yoongi would prefer to keep you as far away as possible, but Taehyung would likely have tracked you down sooner or later. I wanted to make up for that by offering you a safe place at my fortress but I can see that it was misconstrued.”

“Thankfully your assistance with my residence is no longer required.” You convey, hoping that he has abandoned the notion, since the threat is no longer stalking you.

“Yes... thankfully.” Lord Hoseok reiterates with a weak grin.

“If you are in our debt as you say then I would like to make a request of you.” You ask much to Yoongi’s surprise, resulting in his head snapping in your direction.

“A request?” Hoseok blinks, a grin twitching in his lips. He grabs the chair from the desk, turning it to face you before taking his seat. “What have you to ask of me?”

“My old kingdom, I want to ensure the health of the people. I ask that if your clan goes there to feed they use the tactics that Yoongi has been operating under.” Yoongi finally exhales and relaxes, as you explain your wish, a small smile crosses his lips with what looks to be pride.

“I understand your position, and would agree immediately if there were to be no recourse, but to put such limitations on my clan without any amendments or accommodations to offer in return... many would turn rogue.” Hoseok shakes his head. “No, if I ordered that, we might find ourselves in another situation like before.”

You consider what you have left to give with nothing left from your family to offer, you have only what you may have acquired through matrimonial bonds. “Tell me when a vampire dies, what happens to the ownership of their residences.”

“It will go to whomever they deemed a second who was not created by their own lineage. Yoongi was once my own. I don’t know if Taehyung- ”

“But if they had taken a wife who survived them?” You ask.

“They would be yours...” Yoongi mutters beside you in understanding.

You nod grimacing at the prospect of owning his land. “I want no part of them. But if they will help you to convince your clan to adjust their feedings and continue to help those of my former kingdom they are yours.” You offer to Hoseok. “Every fortress, waypoint and house that belonged to him will all be transferred to your own clan. ”

“Then I accept your terms,” Hoseok nods in agreement. “But where will you go?”

You look to Yoongi to give the answer. Caught off guard he pauses before responding with the simple direction of, “East, we plan to head east.”

...

...Two months later...

Yoongi stops the horse and dismounts beside an overgrown field, looking at the land with a deep contented sigh. “This is it.” He lights a lantern for you before treading into the long grass, in search of the foundation of his old home.

He was right, there is little left, but regardless of that fact you help him by clearing the roughage from any remains you can find. Pausing only when he does, while uncovering what seems to be a rotting wooden board laying on the ground. Upon further inspection you find it to shield a substantial cavern below with steps leading into the darkness.

“If that’s the cellar... Then that must mean.” Yoongi mutters, before taking a few steps away, counting his paces as he goes. Hunching down over a higher patch of ground, he tears away the long weeds, until a stone hearth reveals itself. He takes the rotting wooden board, and breaks it apart into several pieces. Building them up before he sets them alight with the fire of the lantern.

He lowers himself to sit in front of the burning wood and beckons for your hand, kissing you knuckles, raw from the cold wind of your journey as you take a seat next to him. Despite the lack of walls and roof, you are overwhelmed by Yoongi’s peace as he looks into the fire, feeling that same comfort and warmth within yourself. “I never thought I’d see this place again, but now, it feels right to return. Perhaps-” He meets your eye before expressing the rest of his tentative question. “Perhaps we could stay here for a while?”

“I would like that.” You answer with a nod, prompting him to beam back at you.

While Yoongi moves to lay on the grass relaxing in the light of the flame you pull out the new map you’ve been working on since the start of your journey east. The other still remains, not entirely forgotten, but of little use in this region. The fresh start on parchment comes as a much needed reprieve, the chance to begin again.

“You are marking this place down for me?” Yoongi asks as you draw with your quill pen.

“For us,” you correct him.

Looking down at the new point on the map now labelled with your description, he smiles at the sight of the single word you had written. “Have I fulfilled my duty to you then? Should we part ways here?” He jests pushing to rise up until you tug him back down by his long coat.

“You have,” Shaking your head at his joke, you explain your true feelings behind the word. “But if you leave, this place ceases to be so. It only exists as such when I am with you.”

“Then I must stay by your side, or risk breaking another promise?” He continues to tease you, with a twitch to the corner of his lip.

You can’t help but laugh at his attempt to conceal his eagerness. “So it would seem. How long do you think you can keep your vow?”

“For eternity.” Yoongi whispers, leaning in to kiss you over the setting ink of, ‘Home.’

...

-The End-

...

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