#everyone sending me gossip is so so so so good at painting pictures its like im looking at her facebook posts myself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mhysa-leesi · 3 years ago

Text

му вℓσσ∂у ναℓєηтιηє

{Gif Source} {Gif Source 2}

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers 𝒳 (femme) Reader 🩸.

Summary: "Steve Rogers is madly in love with you and he'll do anything for you to see that--no matter who gets in his way."

Word Count: 4,765 (Sorry, this is a long one!)

TW‼: Non-Con, Smut, Stalking, Yandere Themes, Murder (Description of Side-Character Death), Blood, Description of Gore, and Strong Language. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI‼

AN: This story contains adult and dark themes, please do not proceed if you are under the age of 18 or if ANY of these warnings upset you! I am not responsible for your media consumption–you and only you are. Also, I used one of the prompts from (@the-modern-typewriter) to describe a character's death, ALL CREDIT GOES TO THEM. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

AN Cont.: If you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual violence, please reach out for help. I do not condone ANY of the actions described in this story, this is merely a work of FICTION.

The first love letter was delivered on a gloomy Friday afternoon. The clouds above the city were dark and full of frigid torrents of rainfall. Gold and scarlet autumn leaves whispered against the chilly winds as acorns scattered about; rolling and cracking underfoot as you made your everyday walk to work. You had chosen to stray from your usual route that day, deciding on a new corner coffee shop instead of your normal stop.

You remembered that day clearly, as if it had happened just yesterday. The new coffee shop was a small, hole in the wall with plastic vines of ivy and fairylights rimming the framework of the inside. You ordered rich and dark coffees, with creamy oat milk for you and your coworkers, and an apple pecan oatmeal cookie for yourself.

Your workday was seemingly the same as any other. Pam was gossiping with Susan, and Scott was hiding from Mark, your manager, in the breakroom. You remember you were seated at your cubicle when things turned, staring at the rain against the window, and tapping your pen against your notepad, when you were startled by the mail carrier. He handed you a single, pink envelope with a heart stamp on its flap and left with a mumbled “you’re welcome”. You frowned as there was no return address or other name besides yours. You had opened it anyway.

You remembered how your frown had deepened as your stomach dropped. The paper trembled in your hands as you stared at the small heart sketched at the bottom. You frantically looked around the office for any sign of a joke, hoping to see one of your coworkers giggling at your shocked reaction. But everyone had their noses deep into their screens, typing away at their work. You turned the letter over, looking for a name or a clue as to who had sent it. But it was blank.

And you remembered how you had crumpled up the letter and tossed it as you refocused and finished the rest of that workday.

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

Weeks passed before you got another mysterious love letter delivered to your desk, a small bouquet of roses and baby’s-breath with it. And again, you crumpled it up and threw it away; leaving the flowers in the breakroom. You had made a mental note that day to talk to the mailman about the delivery of these letters.

For a time they stopped and you thought you were out of the woods or thought your secret admirer had lost interest at the very least. But you were wrong. Your third envelope had been waiting for you in your mailbox when you had gotten home from work one Monday evening. You didn’t bother opening it as you sent it straight to the garbage.

You were growing paranoid and antsy as you constantly looked over your shoulder. You’d freeze every time you came across an envelope, even if it was just your monthly rent notice or bank statement. You had refused to live like this, in a constant state of anxiety and fear, so, that’s how you found yourself moving into a new apartment across town.

You were met with months of peace, you were finally readjusting to life before the letters. You had even moved in with someone you had been seeing from your new job, Chris. He was perfect, someone straight from a romance novel; tall, dark, and handsome, with a taste for adventure and romance. You were happy with him--you were in love and had long since decided that if Chris were to ask you to marry him, you’d say yes in a heartbeat.

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

Today was your anniversary with Chris, and the two of you had an entire evening planned. Dinner at your favorite restaurant, a surprise showing of your favorite movie at the corner cinema, and then home, where you’d give him his gift. A red lacy lingerie set with fuzzy handcuffs, and a silk blindfold to match.

Your heart skipped and your stomach alighted with butterflies as you touched up your makeup in the bathroom mirror. The evening had been absolutely perfect and it was about to get even better. You stepped out into the bedroom, dressed in nothing but red lace and a bathrobe. A spritz of perfume here and a mint there, and you were ready to go surprise your man.

You walked out into the living room and seductively leaned against the wall, watching as he poured two glasses of red wine. He turned and froze, swallowing hard as he abandoned the drinks on the kitchen counter. You smirked as he pulled you to him by your hips, instantly locking his lips to yours. He looked down at you through his eyelashes, his deep brown eyes darkened with lust, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to your lips once more.

Your eyes closed and moaned as he peppered kisses along the curve of your neck, tilting your head back to give him better access. His hands roamed your body hotly, squeezing and caressing your dips and curves. Chris entangled his hands in your hair as he moved you to the counter, lifting you up as if you weighed nothing. He pushed your robe down your shoulders to reveal the red lace hidden underneath, and with a groan, he bent to trace the rosette lacework that covered your breasts with his tongue. You hummed and wrapped your legs around his waist, your hands running down his back to toy with the bottom hem.

Chris gently pushed you down to an angle as he kissed down your body, stopping just below your navel to wink up at you. You bit back a laugh as you wiggled your hips impatiently as you leaned back on your hands. With your fingers splayed against the wooden countertop, your touch met something smooth and waxy--like the waxy seal of an envelope. You reached behind you and grabbed a pink envelope, with a wax stamp of a heart on its flap. Your heart seemed to stop as you stared at the envelope in your hands.

You vaguely felt Chris’s lips on your inner thighs, kissing and nipping at your skin. When he heard no reaction from you, he looked up, his brows furrowed and eyes full of questions.

“What’s that?” he asked, “You wrote me a love letter, too?” he winked as he reached for it.

You jerked it away from his grasp, your heart hammering in your chest as you ripped open the flap; ripping the waxy heart in half.

P.S. You should really lock your windows, doll. You jumped off the counter and ran to the windows, each one was locked--except for one. You locked it and double-checked its strength, fighting against the lock as you tried to open it.

“Babe? (Y/N),” Chris said sternly, snapping you out of your trance.

You looked at him now. You didn’t know what to say, you couldn’t think of how to form the words. You wanted to say everything was fine and okay, but it wasn’t--it was far from it. Whoever had been writing and sending you these knew where you lived now, and that scared you. After months of trying so hard to move on from this, you felt as if you were right back at square one again.

The rest of the night was unclear to you. You moved like a zombie, your brain on autopilot as you crawled into bed to hide under the covers until the morning sun rose. Chris asked questions, of course. But you had no answers for him. You had no idea who had been writing them and had absolutely no clue how they had found you again.

Chris had suggested going to the police, but what could they do? No one had physically harassed you, and although creepy, the letters weren’t threatening. And not to mention, you had thrown away most of your evidence. You were at a loss. Chris was supportive, always there to comfort you during the night when you were restless, but that never kept you from feeling alone.

Your paranoia increased tenfold by the end of that week. You changed your daily routine every few days, hoping that’d throw your stalker off your trail, but it never did. They always seemed ten steps ahead of you, whereas you struggled to even think to keep up with them. Your breaking point was reached on Sunday evening as you met with one of your old friends from high school for breakfast-dinner--an old tradition you two had decided to revive for the night.

Things were going good, and you even dared to forget about your own issues as you cut into your syrup-soaked pancakes. Madison was telling you about her newest fling and how good he was in the sack, and you genuinely found yourself happy to listen to the vulgar details. After painting you a vivid picture of her sex life, Madison excused herself to the restroom; leaving you alone with your pancakes and empty cup of iced coffee.

You saw a head of electric blue hair and you perked up. Your waitress came with a smile and handed you a paper cup of steaming coffee and a single napkin.

“Oh, I didn’t order this,” you said with a polite smile.

“A gentleman ordered this for you,” she winked before walking away.

You frowned as you looked at the writing on the napkin. Refusing to even acknowledge the cup of coffee in front of you.

Your mouth went dry as you stared at the familiar handwriting. Brown dress, he knew what you were wearing--he was here. You shot to your feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, as you looked around frantically, ignoring all of the judgemental looks and hushed whispers you were getting.

“You okay, (Y/N)?” asked Madison, her brows knitted in concern.

“Yeah,” you lied, “I just… I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’ll call you later, Mads.”

You dug through your wallet and gave a twenty to your waitress on your way out, only stopping to yell over your shoulder for her to keep the change. You practically ran home from the restaurant as your anxiety started to settle in your bones, making you heavy with unease. You called Chris, but were only met with his voicemail. The elevator ride up to your floor was tortuous as you watched the floor numbers slowly light up one by one until finally, they stopped at your floor. You panted as you slammed the door shut behind you, sliding the lock and chain in place as you dropped your head to rest against the wooden frame.

You sniffled as the words from his letter were seared into your eyelids. You just wanted him to leave you alone, you didn’t know what you did to catch his eye, and worst of all, you didn’t know how to make it stop. You choked on your hiccupped breaths as tears streaked down your cheeks. When you finally calmed down you switched on the lights and finally turned around…

You stared at Chris in horror. Blood drenched the entire living room, his corpse sat limp in a chair like a broken, bloody doll. His throat and wrists had been slashed. You tried to hold your hand over the open wounds as you screamed for help, but no matter the pressure you applied, the blood still gushed and seeped through your fingers, oozing down your arm, and dripping from your elbow. The gore of it all brought waves of nausea that went beyond physical retching, the sickness you felt was indescribable. But the smell, the smell was something much worse. Metallic, iron, copper… Your ears started to ring. You couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe. You could only stare at the bloodstain on your hands and scream.

You left that following weekend, abandoning the big city to move back in with your parents and younger sister. You spent most of your days locked in your room, hiding from the world under the comfort of your blanket and drawn curtains. Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. You’d look at yourself in the mirror and cry as you no longer recognized yourself as the woman you once were. You knew it was time to move on, but you couldn’t, not when you’d see Chris’s bloodied body every time you’d close your eyes.

You started small by taking baby steps toward your recovery. It started with family meals, then a cashier job at your local supermarket, shopping trips with your mother and sister. Then you eventually graduated to therapy, where you’d stare at a forest green ceiling as you reclined on the chaise longue. Therapy helped and it was admittedly one of the better moments of your monotonous days, you felt heard, seen, as you walked through your own thoughts and nightmares. Your appointments even inspired you to reach out to Chris’s parents for closure, to go with them to visit their son’s grave. It was bittersweet, leaving behind a bouquet of roses for the man you had loved so deeply instead of a kiss goodbye; but it was something you knew you’d have to come to terms with. It wasn’t your fault, that was the mantra you’d tell yourself when you’d catch glimpses of his blood on your hands.

Before you knew it a year had passed since the incident, and in that year, you had not received one letter. You had made a resolution for the first time that New Year’s Eve as you waited for the midnight ball to drop. You told yourself you’d forget, to start fresh, and become an even better version of yourself. You were a flower that was fighting against all odds to blossom.

You cut your hair, got bangs and highlights. Saved up for a brand new, off-the-lot car. And moved into a cozy apartment with your sister. Things were looking up for you and you truly believed that you had finally found your way out of the woods. But life had a habit of playing cruel tricks on those who were naive enough to believe such a thing.

It was mid-February, just a few days before Valentine’s Day, when things started to go to shit. You had just come back from the gym with your sister when you saw it. A pink envelope with no return address or any other name besides yours, with a wax seal in the shape of a heart on the back flap, sat on your pillow. It felt like it weighed a thousand pounds as you held it in your hands. You debated on throwing it away, on pretending you never received it. But you wanted to know what more this twisted bastard could have to say. You ripped it open and read.

You didn’t hesitate as you ripped the letter to shreds, throwing the pieces into the garbage with an angry grunt. Delusional piece of deranged shit, you thought. You raked through your brain for the millionth time since your first letter, trying to figure out who the fuck could possibly be the sender, but you came to the same conclusion you had been coming to for years--nothing. It was agonizing, not knowing who your torturer was. It was your shadow, how could you not know who was living in it? But, no matter how hard you thought, you kept drawing blank after blank.

Your sister comforted you with a glass of wine and dumplings from the takeout place up the street. She was going out tonight, but offered to stay home with you instead.

“No,” you shooed, “I’ll be fine, I’m a big girl.”

“You sure?” she frowned, “It’s no big deal, Girls Night is every Friday night, I can always go next week.”

“I’m fine. Go and have fun for the both of us,” you said as you waved her away.

She left a few minutes later, dressed in heels and a short skirt. You ate the rest of the dumplings and finished the bottle of wine before calling it a night. You undressed down to your underwear and threw on an oversized t-shirt and plopped down onto the bed with an unceremonious bounce. The wine coursing through your system made it easier than usual to fall asleep, and the next thing you knew, you were in a deep sleep, dreaming of a life with Chris--of a life without the letters. It was one of those good dreams you wished you’d never wake from.

Which was why you were so annoyed when a loud noise startled you awake. You looked at your phone and the time read “1:00 AM”, you frowned, it was too early for your sister to be back already. You padded along the hallway, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you called out for her, worried she might’ve passed out drunk on the floor or something. You stopped as you reached the front room--the very empty front room. Your heart started to pound as you stood frozen, staring at the empty room before you. A shuffling from behind caught your attention, then. And against your better instincts, you turned around slowly to see a shadowed silhouette of a man standing at the end of the hallway.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, just staring dumbstruck at the man. With every step he took toward you, you took one back. Inching closer and closer to the front door with every backward step.

“Doll, don’t,” he warned, his voice striking you with fear like a bolt of lightning.

Without a second thought, you ran toward the door, fumbling stupidly with the locks in your panicked state of mind. The man was on you in a flash, easily dragging you away from your pathetic attempt at escape. His arms slithered around you like snakes, their hold constricting as he locked an arm firmly around your neck, silencing your screams as you struggled to breathe. You slapped and clawed at his forearm as he pulled you back to your bedroom.

“Please be a good girl for me, (Y/N). I don’t want to hurt you, baby,” he said against your hair.

With his arm still wrapped around your neck, he threw you down onto the bed, quickly straddling you before you could scramble to your feet. He pinned your arms above your head with one hand and forced you to look at him with the other. His face was illuminated by the moonlight. The silver shine highlighting his familiar eyes through the holes of his helmet. You froze as he pulled off his blue cowl.

You were beyond confused, to say the least. You stared up at Captain America, your brain working overtime to try and put the puzzle pieces together. What was Captain America doing in your apartment? And why had he called you “baby”? What the fuck was going on? Were you lucid dreaming? You must’ve looked as confused as you felt because he smiled down at you, gently promising you answers to the questions that you hadn’t yet asked.

“You’re even more beautiful up-close, doll,” he said as he brushed away hairs that fell in your face from your struggle.

Your eyes widened. Doll. The nickname sent chills down your spine as the word flashed against the pink color of the envelopes, against the red of spilled blood.

“You…”

He ran a finger down your cheek and nodded, “Me.”

You paled under him, your bottom lip trembling as you shook your head in disbelief. He frowned and hushed you, caressing your cheek and wiping away the tears that fell.

“Shh… Don’t cry, baby,” he cooed, “I’ll take good care of you, you don’t need to cry.”

“W–Why?” you hiccupped through your sobs, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you, (Y/N),” your stomach dropped as he answered you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You shook your head, “No. No! You’re Captain America. You’re supposed to be a hero!”

You fought against his grip, flailing and kicking wildly as you tried in vain to get away from him. You trashed against him, kicking against his thighs with all of your strength, but it was nothing to him--nothing but an annoying inconvenience.

“Stop,” he said, his jaw ticking with simmering anger.

But you refused to stop. You whined and fought against him.

“Stop,” he repeated, his anger coming to a rolling boil.

You shot up and headbutted him. He reeled back and glowered down at you, his jaw clenched and nostrils flared.

“I said stop,” he shouted as he finally stilled you with a sharp slap.

The sound was as sharp as the feel of it. You sobbed as the pain stung your skin, the right side of your face becoming numb from the harsh impact of it.

“Why are you doing this, Steve?” you asked again.

“Because I love you,” he answered again, “I know you love me, too, (Y/N).”

“No,” you exclaimed, “I don’t love you! I don’t love you! I don’t love you!” you sobbed.

“You will,” Something seemed to change within his eyes. No longer were there hints of green in his blue eyes, but something much darker… Something more sinister. You swallowed as you shrunk under his intense glare.

You exclaimed as he forced his lips against yours. Squeezing your jaw until he could slip his tongue into your mouth. You pushed against him, beating on his shoulders as he shoved his tongue further down your throat. He pulled away, breathless and flushed, a ghost of a content smile on his face. You gasped and tried to wiggle away once more, rolling onto your stomach as you did so. A yelp escapes you as you feel him grab your hips, pulling you back under him.

Steve puts his weight on you, trapping you underneath him as he begins to undress you. You try to roll onto your back, but his knee keeps you in place. You fight to keep your shirt on, knowing you wore nothing but your panties underneath it. But you were fighting blind. You kicked up, the heels of your feet hitting the backs of Steve’s strong thighs. He manhandles you easily as he rolls you onto your back, finally ridding you of your cotton shield.

Your hands went to your chest before he could. He pried your arms away, baring your breasts to him with a jerked jiggle. He licked his lips as he cupped and squeezed your breast. You flinched as if his touch had burned you, and in some sense, it had. Your eyes widened in shame as Steve blew on your nipples, the skin hardening into pointed peaks. He brings his lips to them, circling them with his tongue. Sucking, licking, pinching. You press your lips together to keep you from whimpering, and you close your eyes in hopes you can will him away. But your feeble defense attempts don’t last long.

Your eyes snap open as you feel his lips leave your breasts to trail kisses down to your navel, stopping at the band of your underwear.

“Please…” you beg. You bite your lip to keep it from trembling as fresh tears begin to form at the corners of your eyes.

Steve smiles against your skin, “I’m going to make you mine, (Y/N). ‘M gonna make you feel so good, doll.”

You stifle a sob as you feel him slide your panties off past your ankles, his fingers scorching your skin as they explore back up between your thighs. Instinctively, you try to close your legs around his hands. But he doesn’t stop. Steve digs his fingers into the soft skin of your inner thighs as he forcefully spreads you wide. Your pussy on full display to him. You stiffen under his gaze, your face burning with shame as he stares in awe at your spread folds. He runs a finger from your clit to your entrance, dipping knuckle-deep into your channel. Your thighs flex as your body tenses at the intrusion. He adds another and languidly pumps them in and out, curling and scissoring them. You fight against the blossoming heat within your belly. Your shame grows as you hear the squelch of your wetness around his pumping fingers.

Steve presses a firm thumb to your clit and you cry out before you can stop yourself. He pumps his fingers into you harder, faster, as he pulls more moans and cries from your lips. You sob as you feel that coil deep within your belly begin to unravel with every stroke and pump. You fight against your own body as you keep yourself from teetering over the edge of pleasure, refusing to let yourself submit to him. But Steve had other plans for you. Suddenly, before you could register his movements, you felt his tongue against your most intimate area. You mewled and curled your toes as he fucked you with his tongue, his thumb never stopping their firm and fast circles against your clit. You sobbed as your body convulsed with white-hot pleasure, and before you could stop yourself, you came on his tongue with a loud, dragged out moan.

You sniffled as you cried, but whether it was from the intensity of your orgasm or your shame and fear, you didn’t know. The lines were starting to blur for you.

Steve gently kissed around your folds before crawling up over you. He held your face and forced your lips to his once more before he began to undress, leaving the taste of yourself on your tongue as he pulled away with a wet smack. He unclothed himself, then. Stripping himself of his spangled-stars and red and white stripes. He looked down at you with dark, lust-filled eyes, and a breathless quirk of his lips.

You were limp as he folded you to his needs. Bringing your bent and spread knees to your chest as he took himself in his hands. His length stood tall and proud, the tip swollen and leaking down this thick shaft with anticipation. Your legs flinched as they tried to close on their own. You choked on a sob as he wrenched them apart. Your heart hammered in your chest as you watched him tap your pussy with his cock, running the tip up and down your folds as he wet himself with your soaking arousal until finally, he pressed himself into your entrance. You let out a strained whine as he slammed into you.

Steve’s eyes were shut and mouth slightly agape as he hisses at your tightness. His hips thrust in excitement as you clench around him. You whimper again as he slides out, just to slam himself back in. Your body jolts with every lust-driven thrust. He slides his hands under you and brings them to hold onto your shoulders, bringing you down to meet his every forceful thrust. The sound of skin slapping and lewd moans fill your bedroom, your sweat sheen bodies glowing under the moonlight. Steve speeds up, mercilessly hammering that hidden sweet spot that makes you scream and clench around his cock. You spasm and shake as Steve forces another orgasm from you.

“Tell me you love me,” he pants.

You shake your head, pushing on his shoulders as the realization of your situation comes crashing back into you.

His hand wraps around your throat as he pounds into you harder than before, “Say it, (Y/N).”

You scratch at his hand as your vision begins to dot and blacken, “I–I love you…”

“Louder,” he demands, “‘I love you, Steve’, say it, doll, I wanna hear you say it.” he moans.

“I love you, Steve,” you choke out.

He releases his grip on you then, and you cough and gasp for air. His rhythm becomes erratic as his hips drive into you with renewed vigor, “Again.”

“I love you, Steve,” you moan.

His body jerks as his hips stutter to a stop. Steve comes with your name on his lips, and you whined as you felt his warmth flood inside of you. He panted above you, his hips languidly thrusting as his abdomen clenched with his drawn out release. He pulled out of you and collected the spunk that leaked from your weeping cunt on his fingers. He brought them to your lips and forced you to suck them clean.

“I love you, too, doll. Forever and ever,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*тαgℓιѕт*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧: @hoosier-daddi

325 notes · View notes

midnightunderground-hq · 2 years ago

Text

EXTRA EXTRA! Idiot Throws Extravagant Birthday Bash

By J. Jones

What’s the word, baby birds? You guys are gonna wanna sit down for this one, trust.

As you all must know, our resident bad bitch Orator went and kicked the bucket ( weird af, if you ask me ), so we’ve got a funeral on our hands. Shoutout to the Imp for hosting that one, I didn’t know the Cradle went and doubled as a funeral home but get the bag, demonic bestie. So we’ve got these flyers going around to whoever’s who, and lo and behold some dumbass goes through the really odd effort of handwriting a ton of little notes for some after party. Now, no one’s pointing fingers, but I am...allegedly— if you connect the dots and all that, it’s pretty obvious that the Talbot brat planned this bash. Ever the agent of chaos that one.

But the road to hell really is paved with good intentions, and he got his ass handed to him by the Wolf right outside the Fenrir. Ouch to the woes of sibling rivalry; I would’ve loved to be tagged in though. Anyways, it didn’t get all that far before the Veteran pulled the alpha off of the other. Boring! Not revolutionary! Whack!

Did ya’ll see the Fae following after the Talbot brat though? Wonder what that one was about.

Faeries are Kinda Stupid, Am I Right? ( I Know I Am )

by A.T. Jones

For as old and powerful as they are, these faeries don’t have a lot going on between the ears do they? Not you though, Hollis, you’re my muy problematic fave. The other ones though? The brain buffer is so bad that everyone in the near vicinity loses some of those brain cells as well.

So let me paint a picture: the Fae gets in her feelings ( can’t imagine why ), and next thing you know, she and the Wizard are running around Pixie Hollow like they own the place. But they don’t— and that’s as shocking as the Wolf’s poor taste.

There’s more though, and stay with me now, it gets even funnier. Turns out the Fae’s been on probation this whole time? And this is the person collecting our debts? Catch me sending a strongly worded letter to the Better Business Bureau, that woman is all about the reckless endangerment and breaking the rules. And she sure as hell broke them bad this time. The Wizard is so lucky Karlha went and vouched for her, that would’ve been the biggest of yikes otherwise.

Now, let’s get back to the losing of brain cells for everyone else in her sphere of influence; the Wolf really managed to get the Oracle, Veteran, Banshee and Siren to cross the veil for this girl? And they all came back? Sounds fake, but okay.

Our Mandatory Gossip Column

by J. Jones

Alright germs, I’m taking the torch from here! Do you guys hear wedding bells? You should be hearing wedding bells right about now because the Fae Queen is a weirdo. Sounds like the Wolf and the Fae are getting hitched due to royal decree, and like, yeah weddings are cute and all but the circumstances are whack as fuck.

The quickest of Google searches says that half of those bad boys end in divorce, but I’m thinking its not so easy for faeries and wolves. Yikes squared. And they’ve been seen hanging by the Chameleon Club more than usual? Yikes cubed, besties. I know the Fae’s gotta be giving Lee Holloway a run for her money, right now, with the whole personal secretary to the Fae Heir spiel, but what’s the hubby gotta do with it?

Oh and speaking of the hubby, I’m finding it a little weird that the Oracle is willing to cross the veil with him, only to hit the road right after. I wonder what happened there, anybody wanna ask him about the whereabouts of his friend?

Boring Politics is Boring

by A.T. Jones

Dude, I kinda covered the politics with my magnificent little op-ed up there? I gotta write more about this? We gotta switch some time, JJ.

Moira’s still dead, and now Pixie Hollow politics are bleeding into the Midnight Underground? This shit is weird. I’m thinking we should start writing in names on the Orator ballot— vote for your bestie, your worstie, your dog for all I care but gimme something to work with, because nothing much has changed in regards to the usual suspects.

Well, actually, Hollis has a new lapdog, Thaddeus has been doing the freak-out tango, Karlha’s got that far away look in her eyes, and I honestly haven’t seen Damian around in like forever. The man’s as mundane as they come, but he’s a hermit now too?

Can someone check in on the man. And can that someone not be me? Not in my job description. Wanna know what is though? Closing arguments...or statements, or whatever. So that’s all folks, we spilled all the tea, and I gotta go, I’m a busy faceless columnist.

See ya around! Me to you, not the other way around.

#mu:newsletter #mu:admin

3 notes · View notes

thgreatestblue · 4 years ago

Text

false god [part I]

➜ pairing: kokushibou x fem!reader ➜ warnings: mentions of torture, blood, prostitution. ➜ words: 4,7k ➜ a/n: hello everyone! I decided to split this fic in two parts or else it was going to be too much. I was so excited with this idea that I got carried away (as always). I even thought about only posting the ending, but i figured if i was really writing this concept, then I would commit to it! i hope you enjoy it! ➜ ao3

➜ false god [part II] summary: Turning a blind eye was easier when the money was enough to not send you to a brothel ever again, even if it meant looking away when blood was shed. Head above water and you will never drown. The mantra kept you safe for 3 years, but then six eyes pinned you down, and you found yourself swimming in an ocean you swore you weren’t ever diving in.

If it wasn't for the long and heavy curtains, the house would have been a really pretty and enjoyable place. However, you highly suspected that if it wasn't for the appearances, the house wouldn't even have windows to start with, so you weren't complaining. Although it was hard to see with only a small candle in your hands — the flame barely illuminating the few steps in front of you — you had grown used to the darkness by now. The last 3 years had taught you enough, and you knew the place like the palm of your hand.

But what you didn't know was where Muzan’s daughter had hidden this time. It was a fairly common game you two played when her father wasn't home, one that allowed the poor girl to run free through the corridors with no fear of running into her father — that in the last few weeks has been more violent and angry than you've ever seen. If it was scary for you, that knew what Muzan truly was; you couldn't imagine what the girl felt seeing her father losing the facade; teeths becoming sharper at each smile, eyes glowing redder at each glance.

You didn't know what had happened for the so composed and cold-hearted Muzan to start falling apart at the seams, as far as you knew, he never acted that way before; even the rest of the servants had started to gossip about his weird composure. Now, more often than not, you could hear screams filling the hallways like whispers from ghosts, haunting the poor souls that were still lucky to be alive in a place like this. It would give all your body goosebumps, a weird aftertaste that was bitter than any drink you could swallow down.

You turn another corner, still trying to find the little girl. She was a sweet and well mannered girl, so easy to look after that you didn't think it was normal. How her eyes were always looking around, her tongue never daring to say more than the necessary, so quiet that most of the time you forget she was still in the room; her mother was the same.

Two beautiful things that over time started to look more like paintings than real human beings, for society to appreciate, portraying a family that was as perfect as the colors Muzan chooses to show. And for their safety, you hoped they would stay just like that. Everybody at the house knew she wasn't really his daughter — you didn't want to think what happened to the real father, then.

For the sake of their sanity, they didn't know what Muzan really was. Many of the servants didn't know either. And for some time, you wondered if it would have been a blessing being ignorant like that, not knowing what really took place in a house like this. Behind closed doors things could get even more terrifying, that even you couldn't imagine — no that you wanted, anyway.

Turning a blind eye to the situation was something you had struggled with in the first year; the amount of blood and organs you had to clean was alarming, the unspoken fear that would be in the tip of everyone’s tongue but never daring to escape; it was heavy the air every time he walked in, but for most of the servants the fear was inexplicable. Not for you though, always going to sleep with the fear that your blood would be the next staining the floor of his office.

It wasn't as if you had had a choice, neither Daki nor Muzan gave you one. It was keeping a secret or dying with it — and you wanted to live enough to see yourself out of this place, far away from these atrocities. Although it wasn't the best opinion, definitely wasn't the worst. Anything other than going back to the brothels of Yoshiwara; to the hands of strangers; to the dark nights where all you could do was scrub your skin until it was burning red.

It was a time of your life you didn't like to revisit; it was locked away in the deepest of your mind, but somehow the key would always find its way back to your hand. It was inevitable to think about those years you spent on your knees, selling your body so you could eat the next day. Though, now that you worked for Muzan, those thoughts that haunted you as you laid your head on the pillow were replaced by blood, screams of agony and guts - you’re not sure which was worse.

The candle burns quickly in your hand, you were running out of time to find the small girl. Although you had come up with a few rules to turn this game a little bit easier — like not entering any room, not hiding inside any closet — the child still put up a challenge; and again, you didn't want to think why she was so good at hiding.

“Ah! There you are!” You could see, even with the thin light, a silhouette that you were very familiar with by now. The dark hair almost blends with the background; she is gripping the candle with both hands, not looking at you even when you call her name, “I think this time you outdone your…”

As soon as you reach the little girl, you can feel the atmosphere change. There’s a dense feeling settling in your chest that spreads throughout your body like fire, almost pulling you down to your knees. The hair on the back of your neck stands up almost instantly, and you don't need to see what it is causing to know exactly what it is. The fear on the girl's face is enough to tell you that she had seen a Demon.

“Stay behind me, honey.” You whisper as you put your body in front of her’s, eyes trying to focus on the figure by the end of the corridor. The little girl immediately grabs your leg, hiding behind it, you can feel her small body shaking against you.

Not so far away, you catch a glimpse of a big silhouette walking towards you, it’s so massive that you can’t help but take a step back. It wasn't everyday you saw another Demon walking in those hallways, if ever. Besides Muzan, you only knew Daki by name; she has been the one who brought you to this place, after all.

In the back of your mind you kept telling yourself if anything went wrong, it was still midday. You could open the curtains and stand in the sun; though you didn't know if you would be fast enough to avoid a tragedy.

As the Demon stepped closer, the fragile flame from your candle trembles, even the fire was nervous at the change of events. The silence is maddening, all your instincts are screaming run! run! but you can’t move a foot. It takes only a few more steps for the figure to finally be illuminated by the light, the anticipation making your heart beat furiously against your ribcage.

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn't the man in front of you. His face is the first thing that the light reaches — and if you could hear the sound of your heart beating just a second ago, now it goes completely silent.

His face is a shade so light that for a moment you thought it was transparent; so pale, but it looked soft to the touch. There’s a red mark that reminds you of flames covering half of the right side of his forehead, and another one on the left side of his cheeks, that goes down to his neck. However, what was more unsettling about him was his eyes. There are six of them, bright yellow irises surrounded in scarlet bloody sclera, staring directly at you.

With only the candle light to illuminate the hallway, the scenario you found yourself in should’ve been a nightmare, but there was something about the Demon in front of you that made it tolerable. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, a polished posture you don't really see very often. How he didn't look like he was about to rip you apart - or maybe that was worse, because you didn't know what to expect from him.

It made you wonder who he was when still human. His hair was a shade darker than the shadows, perfectly framing his face; the ponytail was tied up on the top of his head, the rest of it falling graciously on his back, long and smooth. He was a very beautiful and elegant man; but even with the whole picture, those eyes were still unsettling,

“I’m looking for Muzan-sama.” His voice is strong and heavy, cutting through the silence of the hallway like a thunder cuts through the night to announce the upcoming rain. The little girl yelps, gripping your thigh even harder.

You immediately bow, prefering to stare at his feet than to stay under his intense gaze, “I’m afraid he’s not at home right now...My lord.” You decide to refer to him in a polite way, and he seems pleased by it.

Not only was he a Demon, but he seemed important, more important than Daki for the looks of it. He wore a black and purple kimono; the material, even in the thin light, looked expensive. However, what made him hold such a powerful presence, was the katana attached to his waist. And if his six eyes weren't enough, there were more of them carving the handle of the sword.

“And who are you?” The Demon asks, voice low and firm, making you shiver slightly. His eyes are fixed on your face, making you feel even more uneasy under his stare. He takes a few steps closer, the overpowering aura paralysing you right in the spot for a second.

“I’m Y/N,” You answer, trying your best not to sound too scared. And quickly adds, not daring making him wait, “And this is Muzan-sama’s daughter.”

You put your hand at the top of the little girl’s head, her shakiness is palpable even from far away, and you can’t blame her. Despite living among Demons, you had wished she would grow up oblivious to what went down in this household. Apparently, an illusion can never last forever, only the truth remains untouched in eternity. You try your best to calm her down by running your fingers through her hair. Even though the wax of the candle burns your hand, you can stop gripping it, anything to help you stay calm.

As if he was in a trance, he stops. Slowly catching your movements with his eyes, “Are you his wife?”

The question takes you by surprise, and you have to blink a few times, raising your eyebrows in the process. Thank Gods I'm not, it’s the first thing that crosses your mind. However, the hesitation in his voice is concerning; and you have a hard time trying to swallow down what that could possibly imply.

“No, I’m just a servant… My lord.” Telling him the truth was the only thing you could do right now.

If he decided to kill you because you weren't important, it was your fault for not trying to escape sooner. You had hoped this wasn't going to be the way you would end, but perhaps you had sold your fate on the day you saw Daki eating another girl.

The demon nods, and takes a few more steps closer. You involuntarily flinch, feeling his presence and intimidating aura hitting you like a train. Your breath gets caught on your throat as you watch his hand moving closer to your face. The nails of the little girl on your thing were definitely drawing blood right now.

But instead of ripping your head off, he touches your cheek.

You didn't notice you had closed your eyes, but they snap open at the gentle touch. Your eyes grow wide at each suffocating second his fingers hover over your skin. Goosebumps spread all over your body as his strong fingers wrap around your chin, forcing you to look at him, at his six eyes. They seem to be studying you, hovering around your eyes, your cheeks, your mouth.

It feels like you’re on display all over again. When men would come to the brothel and choose the girl they were going to use just by her looks; if she still had teeths, if they were still tight enough, if their good reputation was still intact. It made you want to choke each one of them, making them swallow down each word they had ever said until they were suffocating with their own nastiness. Right now, though, you just fell silent, letting him analyse your face as much as he wanted. You knew you would be dreaming with those yellow orbs from now on.

“Tell him I’ll be waiting in his office.” He says, slowly easing the grip, giving your face one last look before finally letting go of your chin, and you averts your eyes as soon as his touch isn't on you anymore.

The only movement your body manages to do is nod, all the rest goes numb with the tension that settles in your bones. Your breathing becomes shallow, body too paralized to function properly. There’s a growing pain on your jaw from clenching your teeth too hard. You and the little girl stay frozen in place as you watch him turning away, walking back from the direction he had come.

A cold sensation settles on the pitch of your stomach as you watch the Demon walk away. If you were to trust your guts, this definitely wasn't the last time you would be seeing him. And for better or for worse, your guts were never wrong.

II.

Walking through the hallways of Muzan’s house was different since the day you encountered that Demon. Each time turning a corner, you would hold your breath, take a double look at the shadows, looking for any sign of the man; as if he would appear from the dark and drag you to join him — no one was going to miss you anyway. Even after weeks, you could still feel his gaze hovering around your skin, the feeling of having so many eyes on you was maddening. But the worst was his touch, still managing to linger on your chin, ghostly haunting your days, and mostly your nights.

Muzan’s daughter seemed to have forgotten the encounter; she didn't say a single thing about it, even after you took her to the kitchen to give her some tea. She was shaking so much you were afraid she would pass out. However, when you asked her about, she just shook her head, saying she was afraid because the man was intimidating. You wondered if her mind had just erased the few important details or if she was pretending that nothing was wrong for her own sanity. Either way, your heart aches for the little girl, but there was nothing you could do.

Head above water and you will never drown. It has become your mantra since the first time you sold your body, since the first time you laid your eyes on a Demon - when you sold your soul to stay alive. It sure makes the food you eat taste bitter and the pillow on which you lay your head feels like a stone; but at least you are alive, right?

You could only hope that the Demon Slayers were going to put an end to this, sooner or later. If the rumors were true, then things finally started to move, and by Muzan’s temper getting worse by each day, they were making some progress.

You just had to control your emotions, and pray that Muzan wasn't going to lash any of his anger on you; living with him for a few years made you realize that even the best servants could suffer a tragic destiny, no one was safe here. No one was ever safe around a Demon, after all.

“Muzan-sama, do you need anything else?”

It was still morning outside; a very pretty day from the glimpse you caught as you passed a slightly open curtain. As much as you wanted to leave the house and enjoy the sun, mornings like those were the worst for Muzan; where the small amount of light would make him so angry that you had lost account of how many times you had to clean his office after some unfortunate soul left a tiny ray of light enter the room.

Muzan seemed to be in a good mood today; a rarity nowadays. He was wearing that same dangerous smile from the day he met you, plotting something in his mind and letting it show through his face; and if you were to guess, it wasn't a good sign. He had called for you, asked to pour him a drink — at this point you knew it was blood, just in some fancy bottle — and now was staring at you.

“I heard you meet Kokushibou, Y/N… What do you think about him?”

“Who?”

There’s a nagging feeling growing in the back of your mind as you watch Muzan dangerously smile at you. You had never heard that name before, but somehow your mind pictured the Demon from the other day straight away. If this conversation was about him, then you were definitely with a few problems.

“Tall, long hair, six eyes… Does it ring a bell?” Muzan’s tone is playful, swinging the glass in his hand.

“He seems...” You hesitate, remembering his six eyes fixed on your face, his strong hand gripping your chin, and the intense threatening aura exhaling from him. You swallow down, but your throat feels dry, “...Strong.”

“Always so observant,” He laughs, drinking a sip from the glass, “Of course he’s strong. He’s the upper moon one, stupid human.”

Wrong answer. Your mind screams, ready to push the alert button as soon as his features change in the slightest. The first time you encountered him you couldn't even speak, couldn't even breathe. The intensity of his threatening aura was so strong that you wanted to puke, scream, run away; but your feet never moved. It took you a long time to even manage to move a muscle when in his presence — all the time he acted amused, and you didn't expect less from a monster savouring the distress of a mere human.

You knew the Demon… Kokushibou was powerful just by his presence, but everything made sense now; the authoritarian semblance of dominance each of his movements seemed to carry, how different his aura was from Daki; even though she was powerful, she still acted like a self absorbed teenager.

“But I’m asking about your first impression,” If he was angry, you couldn't tell, the way Muzan quickly changed emotions was scary, but most of the time, dangerous, “What do you really think about him?”

“He seems to be respectful and polite…” It wasn't a complete lie; Kokushibou did look like he was someone important in his other life, his clothes were clean and tidy. And not trying to kill you that day was a bonus, “And definitely more civil than Daki.”

Muzan laughs again, showing off his teeth, but seeming content with your answer. He studies you while drinking another sip from the glass, and you try to do your best by staying still, but under his gaze no one could ever remain calm, or sane. Your heart beats fast in your chest as the minutes drag by. It’s agonizing, staying in the same room as him for longer than necessary.

“Well, I called you here to say that I don't need your services anymore.” He finally drops the bomb on your lap, and you can’t do much then stare at the explosion forming on your hands.

“Did I do something wrong, Muzan-sama?” You ask, but your voice is weak.

Panic starts to settle on your stomach, did you say something you shouldn't? Have you done something that he didn't like? Did he see through your facade and now was going to kill you? A torrent of thoughts starts to flood your mind as anxiety settles under your skin, making you sweat.

“No, actually you're more than perfect.” Muzan says, rather uninterested “But i don't care about that child anymore, so i don't see why keep pretending”

A cold shiver runs down your spine as he says those words as if he was getting rid of trash. Somehow, in the back of your mind, you knew this moment was going to happen. It was a matter of time until Muzan decided to drop the act and move on as if nothing happened.

He didn't care about anyone but himself. You could only hope he was merciful enough to kill them quickly, heart breaking with the thought of that little girl seeing him as the monster he truly was in her final moments before her death. What a nightmare, what twisted fucking world.

“You've been great. It's a shame you don't want to become a demon, could be one of the best and easily one of my favorites.”

“It is an honor to hear that, Muzan-sama.” You don’t sound like yourself; you can’t even process what he’s saying while you think about mother and daughter, years trying their best to please Muzan only to find death by his own hands. Tears threaten to fall from your eyes but you hold them as much as you can, it would only piss him off seeing you being emotive, caring about someone.

“Then why don't you want to turn into one?”

When you don't answer, he sighs loudly, closing the book he was reading. The sound takes you out of your thoughts, making you jump; heartbeat on your ears. He murmurs something under his breath, you’re so lucky you don’t have any idea, before getting up. With his back to you, he studies the painting on the wall of his office. It’s a strange combination of flowers and blood, but it strangely suits him.

“Since you've a good reputation, I’ve already guaranteed another job for you.” Muzan turns his head,

“Thank you so much…” You try to say between the cacophony of thoughts swinging around your head. It’s hard to keep the tears from falling down, it’s hard to think about anything else than the poor family being torn apart for his amusement.

“Pack your things, you're going to work for Kokushibou now.”

There’s a painful pause on your heart, and you could swear you were going to collapse right in the moment. Your mind goes blank, fear crossing your eyes as you remember his touch on your chin, the cold yet burning feeling of his stare on each part of your face.

“You just said you think he’s respectful, do you have a problem with him that you didn't tell me about it?” Muzan turns his head, red eyes glowing in the thin light of the room; it’s deadly.

“I don't, Muzan-sama. It’s going to be a honor.” You lie, because that’s the only thing you can do right now.

“Well then, you're dismissed.”

You don’t know how you made it to your room, how you packed your things and cleaned the room you called home for years, one last time. It felt like you were numb to everything, still not being able to process what was happening, where you were going, and who you were going to be working for. At some point your cheeks were thick with tears but you didn't feel sad for yourself, not entirely, it was how abrupt the world was. How abrupt things changed and you couldn't have a single say about it.

That’s why you never got attached to anyone, that’s why you never let your guard down. And even when you didn’t have any type of attachment, the world still manages to pull the rug beneath your feet. You don't even try to look for the little girl — not that you had the opportunity, either way.

As you stare at the view from the window of the train, you can at least relax for the first time in years. Not being surrounded by the overpowering aura that Muzan always carried with himself was so relieving that you could feel yourself taking a few deep breaths, smelling the air of the mountains. Trying to enjoy the ride as much as you could, you didn't want to think about what kind of place Kokushibou lived, or how your life would be once you step in.

It was night when you arrived at the designed station, it was far away from the city, and you were already missing the noise and the traffic, but maybe changing scenarios was something good - you had to keep telling yourself to be positive about this. It couldn't be worse than living with Muzan, right? Right.

You were welcomed by an old lady, she was waiting for you at the platform, waving at you as you got off the train. Since you didn't have many belongings, you only brought a small suitcase with you.

“You must be Y/N, nice to meet you.” She gently says, smiling at you.

“Yes, I am. Nice to meet you too.” You bow in respect. The old lady pats your head and you immediately feel safer. If the rest of the servants were like her, then maybe Kokushibou was indeed a respectful man.

The tension building up on your body slowly started to calm down as the servant explained what you would have to do. It was easy and simple, washing the bed sheets, cleaning the house, taking care of the garden. You never imagined yourself working under such a mundade setting like this; it was going to be interesting, to say the least.

However, the odd feeling that something was wrong still lingered — your gut still poking you with worries and alerts — and you couldn't just ignore it, but for now, you tucked it underneath your hopes, wishing it was enough to keep them at bay.

The wagon stopped in front of an elegant archway, and as you helped the old lady get down from it, you studied the beautiful front yard, with a colorful garden and a variety of trees. There was a pathway of cobblestones that led to the house; witch was big and very tradicional.

Walking in silence towards the house, your eyes flew around, trying to enjoy each glimpse of nature. It has been so long since you have seen so many different colors, vibrant even under the moonlight. You touch a few flowers, fingers brushing against the delicate petals; the smell of them cleans your mind, making a tiny smile tug on the corner of your lips.

However, as soon as your eyes drifted back to the house, the tiny smile died on your lips, sending you back to reality. Kokushibou was standing right in front of the porch, his hand was resting on his sword. You held your breath as you finally arrived at the house, bowing as soon as you were introduced.

Kokushibou studied you for a long moment before saying “Welcome, Y/N.”

#kokushibou #kokushibou x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #kny #sometimes i write

210 notes · View notes

joonkorre · 4 years ago

Text

(love) is a heartache

@drarrymicrofic prompt: hope is a heartache - léon

let it be known that harry goes through life purely on vibes. half of his reasons why for every decision at his big age are “idk imma just hope for the best”

ao3

People’s hearts twinge sometimes. For Draco, he can barely remember the last time he doesn’t have these twinges. It’s pretty normal at this point.

“No, it’s not,” Pansy says. She’s a Healer, so she’s probably right. But Draco prefers to ignore that.

“Leave it be,” Draco murmurs, lips against her scalp, “I’m fine. Say, are you free tomorrow?”

“Yeah. You want to go somewhere?”

“Mm. Sleep.”

They go out the next morning, Pansy in thick makeup and Draco practically drunk under nine layers of Charms. The air is a bit humid, which seems to get worse when the bustling street intensifies in volume into a roaring din. Pansy pulls him under an awning, yanking at his sleeve a bit to try out her disgusting sugary coffee. She always does this whenever she wants to take his attention away from something, which means he just has to look at exactly where she’s doesn’t want him to. As his lips wrap around her lipstick-stained straw, he glances up.

Across the street, a couple strolls through a gushing crowd. Fiery red hair, airy laughter, a pale arm wrapped around her fiancé’s waist. Curls of black, sleek spectacles, a protective palm on his fiancee’s shoulder. They make the perfect picture, a vibrant oil painting. Their existence is formed from bold strokes of sunlight and starburst kisses, with the focal point being a shock of phthalo green and cadmium lemon, two minute specks that make all the difference. As all good paintings do, they pin the viewer on the spot, as if the viewer himself is a thing to behold. Then they shift away.

The exhibit moves forward and out of sight. It’s closing time, the viewer has overstayed his welcome.

Something leaps in Draco’s chest and splatters on the floor of his stomach. Placing her hand over his heart, Pansy frowns at him. She doesn’t ask why Potter stared at someone who looked like a stranger to him. Only tells him to start finding answers.

Months later, on the most awaited day in recent Wizarding history, there’s a knock on Draco’s door.

He throws on a sweater, and a throw, too, for good measure. Ambling to the door, he checks the mail slot before peeking through the peephole. Nobody but a package is outside. Draco hums and unlocks his door, crouching down the moment it opens. What feels like soft satin brushes against his cheek, cool and smooth. With a flash, a pair of shiny dress shoes appear before him.

“Draco.”

Draco peers up as he rises, hands around the package. Potter has his maddening Invisibility Cloak slung over his arm, his roguish charm heightened by a perfectly fitted three-piece suit. A tiny posy is pinned on his left lapel, muted green hellebores with a few sprigs of privet berries. He’s dressed like a man in love.

Draco feels something he hasn’t felt in months at the sight. He’s trained himself to suppress it the moment it showed itself and has been relatively successful until now. The sting, without warning, bursts from within his chest, calling forth a slight wince. Potter’s brows furrow.

"How do you know where I live?"

“How long has this been going on?”

Draco frowns. “Pardon?”

“That,” Potter gestures at Draco’s chest. “The heartache.”

He rears back. What the hell is he supposed to say to that? At Potter’s unchanging expression, Draco shoves his hair out of his face with a quiet huff and puts a hand on the doorknob.

“It’s none of your business. Please leave.”

“It is, actually,” Potter stops the closing door with one arm.

“Excuse me? We haven't had a proper conversation in more than a decade and suddenly you want to act like we're friends? Leave, now.”

“Listen to me. How can it not be my business when I feel it, too?”

“Check with a Healer, then. If you can put past grudges aside, I can hand you Pansy Parkinson’s business card,” Draco grits through his teeth, pushing against the door with his entire body, his throw slipping to the ground.

“Draco, stop, I already know, stop.”

“Know what? No, I don't care. Leave at once, else I’d alert the Aurors.”

A rough slam sends Draco staggering back. Potter pants, hard lines on his face. His chest heaves under his crisp white shirt, its top two buttons unclasped, and he steps over the threshold, closing the door.

“You think they’d believe you?”

The pain shoots from his chest to the rest of his body, and for several seconds, his lungs wouldn’t work. He whips his head away from Potter, who groans and sags against the wall.

“I told you to leave.”

“I’m sorry, that was a shitty thing to say,” Potter says immediately, sweat dotting his temples.

After an uncomfortable pause, clearing his throat, he picks up the near-forgotten package from the carpet. His hand feels around the outline of the object within, rectangular and heavy. Glancing at Draco, he says hoarsely. “I know why you bought this book.”

“Know this, know that, you know nothing,” Draco lunges forward, only for Potter to twist out of the way and raise the package out of his reach.

“The Life-long Burden of Dark Curses: A Caution by Elise Arrowlane, limited edition,” he says, unbothered by Draco’s slackened jaw. “You ordered it from the new bookstore on Diagon months ago. You were small and old and grey, but I recognized you. I always could.”

“Okay,” Draco sneers, “so you’re a stalker. Old news. Anything else?”

“There’s no need to order one. I would’ve borrowed it from Hermione if you had only asked,” Potter says. “Instead, I got curious and read it for myself. That’s how I connected the dots about the heartache, how I realized we’ve both had it since that day years ago.”

“Oh, the day you slashed me into ribbons and almost cut through my heart?” Draco clenches his jaw.

Being able to shout this ugly kind of truth into the perpetrator’s face feels oddly liberating. That is, if liberation also comes with a specific kind of agony that makes Draco want to fall to his knees.

“Dark Magic leaves a mark on both the wizard and their victim, doesn’t it? No need for a book to tell us that,” Potter says, the harsh afternoon glow of him gentled by the soft lamplight in Draco’s hallway. “In certain cases, it even leaves a link. A connection.”

Draco bites the inside of his cheek and looks away. The only consequence from that horrid night was his fucked up heart and nothing else, nothing at all. Whatever Potter is insinuating, he hates it. He hates this. He hates him.

“How are you so sure there’s a connection.”

“I wasn’t,” Potter says. “The Healers said it’s a health thing I developed after the War and I just needed to avoid strenuous activity. I didn’t think much of it, but then I read the book and realized that it usually flared up whenever you watched me.”

Scoffing, Draco turns and stalks into the kitchen. Walking past the boiling kettle, he throws a cabinet door open and grabs a mug, his hand trembling.

“Interesting how my health suffers when I see the bastard who quite literally carved me open.”

“I was eating dinner when I thought I was going to die of a heart attack at 23,” Potter continues. Draco pulls the drawers out, unable to find a single bag of tea for several excruciating moments. “The next day, I was reading about your mother’s death on the Daily Prophet. That was the first sign.”

Grabbing a rag and wetting it, Draco wipes the countertop even as he’s just done so last night.

“When Ginny saw you on the street during our date and extended her hand toward you, you shook it. But your heart ached.

“I saw you looking at the picture of Ginny and I kissing on the front page of Witch Weekly. Your hair was brown and your back was curved, but I saw you. Your heart ached.

“When I announced my engagement to her on the Battle of Hogwarts’s 10th Anniversary, you were clapping along with everyone else. But your heart ached.”

Draco throws the rag on the counter. The kettle whistles, a piercing sound. “What’s your point? Are you here purely to flaunt your relationship and imply that I’m in love with Ginevra Weasley? If so, I got it. Thank you so very much, it’s been enlightening. Now get out.”

“The point is,” Potter says, lifting the kettle off the burner to pour it into Draco’s mug, placing his tea bag in, “unless the article about you being gay was wrong, Ginny isn’t the one you’re in love with.”

“What arti—” Draco stops. “That was years ago.”

His sexuality was leaked to some irrelevant gossip rag, not even making the front page. Nobody noticed, nothing changed, and it hasn’t entered his mind in what feels like forever until Potter reminds him.

“I remember.”

“You—” Draco frowns. His eyes strain on the cup of tea until they hurt. He squeezes them shut, sighing. “It doesn’t prove anything. Perhaps I’m jealous of my childhood nemesis having a better life than me, ever thought of that?”

“Yeah,” Potter says, “I’ve thought about this a lot. Which is why I’m here. To make sure.”

Draco takes it in, then, unable to help himself, curls his lips at Potter and his attire. At his artfully gelled hair, his hanging bow tie, the elegant boutonniere on the lapel of his dark blue suit. His empty ring finger.

“Couldn’t you have chosen a better date to make sure? Preferably before your wedding day?”

Potter steps closer. A respectable distance away, but closer.

“I could’ve, but I spent most of those days in denial. Then the dots connected and I couldn’t deny it anymore, so I decided to just go through with the wedding regardless, be with the woman I loved. Hoped that maybe the odd emotions I had would go away,” he shrugs, raising his eyes to meet Draco’s. “Saw Ginny at the end of the aisle and, well, I couldn’t stop thinking that it should’ve been someone else. All this time, I’ve thought that she didn’t feel… right in my arms, but I pushed it down. And there she was in that white dress.

“Seeing that today was the last straw. I had to leave.”

Draco’s breath catches in his throat. Swallowing it down, he grabs his mug, scooping out the tea bag just to have something to do. He takes a sip without blowing, ignoring its scalding heat.

“That was stupid.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Draco can feel a headache building. “That was a horrible decision. I never imagined you—you!—out of all people, could be this irresponsible. What the fuck.”

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am. Merlin, that poor fucking woman. If your purpose here is to make me feel bad for Ginevra and all 300 of her relatives for once in my life, you’ve succeeded, congratulations.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that to me, say that to—oh, you’d do what you want no matter what I say, wouldn’t you?”

“Depends on the situation.”

“‘Depends on the situation,’ he says,” Draco mocks, getting a carton of milk from the fridge to save his bitter, bitter tea. Potter doesn’t reply. Stirring the milk in, Draco lets out a heavy sigh.

“What do you want me to do about this?” He says. “I didn’t make you run out of your own wedding. If you expect me to take the blame for your inane decisions, the first person I Floo wouldn’t be the Aurors, but Ginevra Weasley herself.”

A small smile graces Potter’s lips. “I don’t expect anything from you but honesty.”

Draco squints.

“And how will you know if what I say is a lie? Will you reject my genuine answer if it’s not what you want to hear?”

“That won’t be a problem,” Potter says. “I trust your heart will speak the truth for us both.”

There’s a pang in Draco’s chest, and judging from the twitch of Potter’s brow, he can feel it too. Not another word is said, the two men merely facing each other from across a tiny kitchen, considering. Draco can feel the warmth of sunlight beaming through the little window and coating his nape as he leans against the sink, earl grey on his tongue. Lovely citric notes of bergamot drift up his nose. He closes his eyes. What to do, what to do.

Weightless oxfords clack against the yellowed tiles, clear and bright in Draco’s ears. Fabric rustles as Potter slips a hand into his pocket only to retrieve it a second later. Draco lets himself be cornered, barely glancing at the wool-clad arms caging either side of his waist. A clink catches his attention, however, and he tilts his head to the left.

Millimeters beside Draco’s hand on the counter, glinting in the sun, is a wedding band. Draco knows Potter and Ginevra’s in and out, has examined the picture on that day’s issue of the Daily Prophet more times than he should have. He knows the marquise droplets of Ginevra’s gems and the chevron curve of her ring, the blankness of Potter’s own band a dream and a question in his mind.

The band that’s resting on the counter is different. Rustic gold and a fissure in the middle, the fertile earth splitting open to reveal a stream of diamonds, a sparkling river. Draco sets his mug to the side and holds the ring up close, his finger smoothing over the grooves of its texture.

“Did you make a stop at a jewelry store before breaking into my home?” He asks.

“No,” Harry murmurs. Draco looks at him in surprise. “I’ve had this with me for months.”

A pause.

“I thought you said you were in denial.”

“I was, but I knew, somewhat, that I wanted someone else,” Harry’s head lowers, slow and careful, until his forehead rests against Draco’s shoulder. “I told myself that I just liked the way it looked, had to get it in case I didn’t want the other ring anymore. But I got it a size smaller. Been carrying it in my pocket ever since.”

Draco’s heart throbs and throbs. Large hands circle his waist, bunching up the back of his sweater and pressing him close, chest to chest. A blanket of pure heat envelops his body as he breathes in the timeless saffron and neroli of cologne, half-lidded eyes pinned on the band he’s given. Oh, dear, he thinks, and again when it settles at the base of his ring finger with ease, as if it belongs there and never left. Oh, dear.

#drarrymicrofic #drarry #drarry fanfiction #drarry fanfic #harry potter #draco malfoy #yeah erm harry isn't the brightest bean in the pod or whatever that saying goes #they'll work it out i promise #draco's idea of a first date would be dragging harry over to the weasleys and forcing him to give ginny a formal apology #like ok he doesn't care about her at all but having this woman's unhappiness on his conscience is unbearable #also i really like the idea of the sectumsempra fucking up draco's bodily functions #the scars are really cool but i especially like it when the consequences are idk more visceral and clearly lower draco's quality of life #im not gonna get into the whole connection thing bc idk either #just know that whenever draco feels something intensely #like grief fear jealousy and ooooh heartbreak #his heart throbs and harry also feels it #in this fic harry's secretly happy that despite the whole shitty heart thing there's an unbreakable connection between the two #he needs some work in this fic but he means well i assure yall #draco seeing harry canoodling w ginny and feeling his heart hurt: that was weird haha #joonkorre writes

57 notes · View notes

arch-venus25 · 4 years ago

Text

The Head and the Heart, Part 1

Hello everyone,

I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1....You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.

This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online-- or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly--I created the title art--LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go...

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 2770

Part One: Faced with Foolishness

“Well, you know Tessa, she’s being Tessa,” Antha murmured into her phone as she watched her twin sister cozy up to her flavor of the month; Tessa flipped her box braids off her shoulder, the beaded ends flirtatiously tinkling against every surface they met. As if watching a photo negative version of herself, Antha mourned her nonexistent reputation. Had she not spent years hiding in her books she may have been able to rival her uninhibited doppelganger in white hot-pants.

“Why do you let her do this to you? It never goes as planned, and next thing you know I’ll be cleaning you two up and feeding you McDonald’s at two thirty in the morning!” She didn’t need facetime to picture Doug wincing through the phone, pushing his Buddy Holly styled Ray-Bans up the bridge of his nose.

“So what you’re saying is how could I let Tessa do this to you?” She laughed, rolling her Havana twists through her fingers to fight off the June humidity. Talking to her best friend helped her forget just how long she had been holding it in line to the bathroom.

“Ant, look I don’t like that bar—you want me to come get you?”

“And leave her? I can’t do that—listen, if we don’t call you for a ride home by midnight just come get us. I’m exhausted and I don’t think she will party that long. Besides, you-know-who just showed up.” She watched as Franco the Flake appeared, wasting no time to linger over her sister—Tessa’s flavor of the month, forgotten within an instant. Antha’s eyes rolled like marbles as she turned away to better hear her friend on the phone; some fraternity boys nearby began fist-pumping into the air as the bartender served up a line of shots for them.

“Ugh, the Flake… well I can hear things are getting started on your end—I’ll keep my phone on me, just don’t drive. Leave her car and I’ll get you two—there’s maniacs out there especially on Friday night.” He warned.

“I owe you,” she groaned and hung up. Antha finally arrived in the ladies’ room, only two women away from her sweet release. She watched as the women cornered the mirror like crazed wanton things, bending and zhuzhing, adjusting their “girls” to their perkiest potential through scantily low apparel.

“Heeeyy…” She quietly greeted the woman that exited the nearest stall. The stranger gave her a haughty elevator eye from head to toe making her feel severely underdressed for a Friday night out. When she threw on a sun dress today, she never anticipated her sister would abduct her after class and have them gallivanting across town. Tessa’s exact words were “Godamnit Ant, tonight we’re gonna have fun if it kills us!” A Cheshire Cat grin spread across her face as she floored the accelerator of her Neon, then cranked up the bass as the radio station started their basement remixes. Fun if it kills us.

Antha stared at her white sandals, her nail polish was chipped and at least three weeks old. Then she looked to her messenger bag hanging on the back of the door. It was covered in Community College film badges and club stickers, per her friend’s preferences. Antha liked her graffitied messenger bag. Like a billboard, it made her appear she had a life outside of her graduate studies.

She should have been at home, text books spread on her lap, feet up. She could hear Doug’s old Buick coughing its way up Momma’s drive, then fumbling outside the door, trying to knock with a third of Popov, case of Dogfish Head, and pizza in his arms. Then he would throw everything on the coffee table and announce “I brought Casablanca!” to which she would say “Oh, more white people movies?” and unphased, he would reply “Good god woman, it’s not Birth of a Nation!” Antha smiled, thinking of their weekly ritual of pretending to do research while gossiping long into the night until Zoey and Tessa would drunkenly Uber home. The distinct shamble, like the walking dead, would scrape up the gravel drive signaling their arrival.

“Hey, you almost done in there?” An annoyed voice yelled over the door, cutting through her reminiscing. Antha could see the reds of the stranger’s eyes between the door crack.

Instead of lounging on the couch surrounded by good beer and even better friends, Antha found herself being hustled by some Fireball-turned-up twat—all under the guise of having fun. “Yeah, sorry about that.” She replied and flushed. She tightened the belt holding in the billowy fabric of her flowy, mid-thigh, sunflower-printed sundress. It was passed down from her grandmother to her mother and so on. Looking like she walked off the set of a 90’s music video, she admitted that at least she was cooler than the other girls sweating in their skin-tight jeans and heels.

Some pretty young thing burst through the door past the line and vomited into the trash bin next to Antha while she washed her hands. It was only nine o’clock. That was a bad omen. When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she realized she pouted just like Momma in those sorts of situations. She dampened a paper towel for the poor thing and could hear her mother’s words repeating in her head: “When you’re faced with foolishness—you take care of it.” Her mantra: Take care of it. Antha’s mantra: Do what Momma says. Tessa’s mantra: If it ain’t fun don’t do it.

Antha applied her vanilla lip gloss as she thought on her mother. She made a promise as Momma was lowered in the ground that they would graduate. It was her dying wish that the twins became modern women with college degrees and to have options; to escape the laboring of farming and perhaps even the rinse and repeat of corporate Delaware. That’s all there was in their state: Farming or banking.

She tucked her shoulder-length braids behind her ears; she truly missed her dreadlocks, but ever since the time Tessa’s boyfriend mistook her for his girlfriend, she cut them off. She was always the one to compromise. Not tonight she decided. Tonight was going to go her way. They would wrap up this foolishness by midnight.

Antha sighed and knew it was time to face the havoc of the bar when a chatty patron pawed at her sundress asking if it was “vintage”. She replied, “Well it’s old as hell if that’s what you mean,” and hurried out the ladies’ room into the sweltering cacophony of nightlife.

Fighting across sticky tile and sweaty rednecks she made a beeline for the bartender. “Mar, can I get two?” She bounced on her tip-toes to cut through the crowd huddled around the length of the tacky wooden bar. Maria motioned to the other side because she couldn’t reach through. Antha continued to fight her way through the herd. She could barely hear over the din of the 2016 campaign commercials and sportscasting when Maria slid two cocktails toward her. The southern comfort and coke cocktails reeked with vanilla syrup, Tessa’s favorite. Antha stared into the melting rail drinks and realized she didn’t know what to order herself because she was always the water-boy for her twin.

“Hey, did you see what’s-his-face is in town?” Maria interrupted her thoughts.

“Sure did.” She groused and tilted her head in the general direction of where she saw Tessa and Franco last. Through the bodies, for a moment, the crowd parted and the two stared.

Stepping back from her esteemed role as the older sister, by barely two minutes, Antha admitted to herself that Tessa always looked good. Her off-the-shoulder top exposed a flawless ebony collarbone, shoulder blades, and arms. As if she was the Queen of Sheba incarnate, her tiny wrists were decorated with gold bangles. Her earrings matched the beads in her hair, reflecting light in her hazel eyes. A waterfall of thick box braids fell down her back and over her shoulders, past the tops of her thighs. Her years of dance complimented the country-chic white cut-offs that revealed just a hint of under cheek when she bent across the billiard table.

“If I were a man, I’d pray for her to bite my head off quick and painless.” Maria laughed, her ponytail frizzing from the heat of her work; her hands rapidly dipping then shining high ball glasses.

“But that’s not her style.” Antha replied wryly.

“You’re both good girls. Now you keep her out of as much trouble as you can—I’ll send Kyle ‘round to your table with beers, just let me catch up here!”

Maria was right: they were good girls. All of Tessa’s shenanigans aside, she never forgot cake for a birthday and with everyone’s break-ups she always had a bottle of Jack stashed with a shoulder to cry on. Tessa was the one that painted Antha’s nails and always lent her the best outfits when the event called for it. On occasion she was even known to deliver soup when her sister ran a fever.

Tessa was the heart of the operation and Antha couldn’t begrudge her just because she was the head.

For better or worse, they were sisters.

Antha reluctantly clutched the chilled drinks and felt a pang of relief in the sweltering bar. She couldn’t see her sister at the billiard table with the onslaught of shuffling patrons, so she decided to move toward her booth. She narrowly missed being covered in appletini as the DJ scratched in one more summer top ten into his rotation. Before she could move forward a voice pinned her in place.

“Your sister’s the worst, you know that?” A nice-looking guy glared at her. His teeth gleamed pink in the red bar lights. Antha bet he had a handsome smile on account of those white teeth, but he was not smiling now. She squinted through the hazy dance floor and recognized him as the guy Tessa arrived with before Franco appeared.

“Hey John, don’t fret, Tessa’s just catching up with an old friend—he comes into town every so often, don’t get upset.” She yelled back at his face as kindly as she could manage over the blare of the oncoming band tuning their instruments. For some reason he didn’t seem to believe her and his chest instinctively puffed up.

“John? I’m José!” He replied. Antha felt embarrassed for both her sister and herself. She grimaced unintentionally, realizing she had said it all with very few words.

She tried to defend their position with a weak excuse. “José, I’m bad with names and faces—” but he stormed off before she could piecemeal a string of bullshit. There goes another Mr. Last Month.

This was having fun. Antha doing damage control on last month’s flame, while Tessa stoked a new one. All of the nice memories of her sister evaporated in the heat of the interaction. She grumbled to herself, as she had grown tired of babysitting, not just Tessa but the men-children she dated. When she finally confirmed her party’s booth, she parted the shadowy sea of basic bitches.

Tessa was giggling like a school girl when her sister dropped the sweaty glasses onto the ratty old table. Franco at her neck like a leech. I hate this guy, Antha thought to herself. He turned his hot gaze on her, “Hi Antha, didn’t see you there.” His drawl was thick like humidity. She thought about giving her drink to Tessa’s date, but now that she could see he was it, she plopped down and selfishly sipped one of the nasty cocktails without offering the second.

“Oh hey Brian,” she said playfully, “where’s your camera?”

“Ant, now you know this is Franco, stop playin’!” Tessa tore her eyes away from him for a split second, but after she threw her daggers she was back ogling him like a dog does a bone.

“Sorry, it’s hard to keep all these blue-eyed, blond, gentlemen straight.” Antha marginally resisted saying yokel under her breath.

Tessa had a type. Beyond all logic, light eyes were the buckle in her knee, the hitch in her breath; and Franco was at the top of her list. Antha assumed he was the Porsche in her garage amongst a long list of Ford’s, but she honestly didn’t know the whole story. All she knew was that Franco showed his face sparingly and only after dark. He would disappear for weeks at a time, which earned him the endearment The Flake.

Now, Antha hadn’t dated enough men in her young life to sort them by color and size, but Tessa had. To her credit, her tastes were diverse, she did her research and knew what she liked. No one blamed her either. With that hair and those legs, Tessa could have anyone she wanted. The great appeal of Franco didn’t add up to Antha though. She found him suspicious. She thought his truck was too loud, his jeans too torn, and his eyes much too heavy.

Franco made idle conversation, inquiring after the twins’ classes as if he cared. His blond, three-quarter parted hair was glossy under the dim lights. When he pulled his tooth pick from the back of his ear and chewed on it, it made him look like an old-fashioned mobster—well until that Delmar twang spilled out of his hillbilly mouth. There was an allure about him; all of his parts matched, but his smile unglued those pieces. A smile that never quite reached his eyes.

Antha found herself sizing him up, drinking the disgusting cocktail faster than she wanted. I bet he has plastic zip ties and rope in his truck bed, she thought. She didn’t truly know why the image popped into her mind, it was just a feeling she got when his eyes were on her; made her feel like a snack, as if he would eat her alive right where she sat. No more Unsolved Mysteries for me this week, she insisted to herself.

“Mmmm-hmmm.” Was the best response she could offer when he spoke to her directly. Tessa continued chatted about her business management courses as he deeply stared at her. Antha figured there was no real room for her in the conversation so she took out her world cultures text and flipped to her last page. She liked hanging out, however her final thesis was demanding all of her energy. The page fell open to vampires in the section of Egyptian mythology. She thought how ironic as her eyes shot up at the man sitting across from her.

“So, there’s this bonfire by Slaughter Bay, I thought you ladies could come with.” Franco suggested lazily like it was too exclusive to be excited about. “You can shotgun babe and we can put Antha and her friends in back.” He eyed the textbooks growing damp on the table. Antha finished the first SoCo and started the second just to cope with him. “You could call up the girls.”

“Zoey… Zoey... Zoey!” Tessa dramatically said into her drink and then laughed. Antha couldn’t help but smirk as Tessa explained to him her girlfriend was like Candyman and could be summoned via a pint of beer. The joke was partially lost on Franco.

Before Tessa could agree to go Antha piped up, a little less shy now that her liquid courage had kicked in. “Sounds awfully romantic, but we can’t.” Before she could continue she was interrupted.

“Hey girl haaayyyy!” Zoey appeared as if out of thin air and snatched one of the beers sent over by the bartender. “You goin’ nowhere without me—not after I Ubered across town!” Her two rando friends hollering and sloshing their drinks.

“How the hell do you do that?” Antha insisted, amazed that their friend appeared.

“Uhhhh, never you mind—we can make bonfire plans later—its ten o’clock, I’m here and Bieber is playing! GET UP!” Zoey declared, the glitter from her eyes dusting every surface.

“Keep an eye on my friends.” Antha told Franco as she abandoned her books to be dragged to the floor. This was the moment she decided she was getting them all out of there; she didn’t like the sound of a bonfire with him and she certainly wasn’t allowing Tessa to go on her own either. She sent a pre-written text message to Doug: “Get here.” Which was their code for its really going down, I need back up.

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you! I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @plastic-heart @myraiswack @wolfpawn

#landlord vampire fic frenzy #twinning vs vamps #arch-venus25 writes

27 notes · View notes

hetaliashitpostingftw · 4 years ago

Text

HETALIA OFFICE MASTERPOST

Lol you know The Office? Its good but what if it was like,,, H e t a l i a?

ALLIES

America: Baaaaasically Michael from The Office. He likes leading and cares about the team, but can be a little... out of hand... sometimes. Canada: He sits in the corner and no one knows he’s there, but he’s always pulling his weight in projects. China: Always calling for tech support. Always. It annoys the heck out of whomever’s sitting next to him. France: Is the one who “accidentally” sends an email around to the people at the office which has “inappropriate” content. England: Getting up in arms because either America’s being incompetent or he’s fed up with France’s nonsense. Russia: “It’d be a shame if something were to happen, da?” (he doesn’t work well with other people, too many HR complaints).

AXIS

Germany: He isn’t the boss but he is the annoying backseat driver who isn’t even second in command. Italy: “Lets go to a ✨𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒐𝒌𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒓✨ after all this guys and someone else can pay!!!11!!” Japan: Forgets about the work and is watching anime with his screens turned away from everyone else.

BALTICS

Estonia: Guess who’s 𝓣𝓮𝓬𝓱 𝓢𝓾𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓽 👁️ 👄 👁️ Lithuania: "Okay you want me to do that? I’ll do it just dont fire me pls dont” Latvia:"Hey boss what about the fact that you’re doing it wrong?”

EASTERN EUROPE

Romania: Actually does the work but doesn’t tell anyone when he’s done so he can sneak off and do whatever Bulgaria: Microsoft paint obsessed Ukraine: Cares for everyone like the epic mom friend she is Belarus: She doesn’t work there. She’s just there. And so far no one’s had balls enough to tell her to go.

MEDITERRANEAN EUROPE

Spain: "Hey guys I know you didn’t ask but ill make you all lunch! It’s going to be pasta! For the fifteenth day in a row!” Romano: RAGEWORKRAGEWORKRAGEWORKRAGEWORK- Greece: That one person with the “hang in there bby” poster as well as countless cat photos in frames. He also does his work but he’s real quiet about it. Turkey: Likes to hang out by the water cooler and gossip. Cyprus: Best friends with Greece but works surprisingly well with Bulgaria (or, he does, after an incident of him stealing his yogurt). Vatican City: Keeps a bible with him but follows most things he’s told to do. Monaco: She’s a seceratary but only because she’s able to get out of more work that way.

NORDIC EUROPE

Denmark: Keeps a little box of “creativity legos” on his desk which he plays with. He works in Human Resources and loves it. Sweden: Takes orders for the company’s product and is very organized. Keeps a little picture of his family on his desk which he’ll talk to anyone about. Finland: Has his headphones on all the time and sCrEams at anyone who dare interrupt his work. He also coordinates all of the holidays around the office, as well as parties. Norway: He has a thing for the cute guy in HR and keeps trying to meet him “causally” over by the water cooler. Has a plasma ball on his desk because it looks cool. Iceland: His brother got him an unpaid internship (which he hates) and so he spends a lot of time complaining and texting Norway angry gifs while he goes and hangs out with others his age in the breakroom.

LOW COUNTRIES

Belgium: Brings in cookies for everyone every Monday. Netherlands: Works with Sweden and the two of them have desks next to each other. He helps Sweden when he’s having a prank war with Denmark. Luxembourg: Some higher-up executive who comes down every once in a while to flaunt his awesome-ness and dole out orders.

CENTRAL EUROPE

Austria: Plays classical music off his computer but without earbuds b/c he doesn’t know how. He’s low-key annoying but doesn’t know it. Slovakia: Has the coolest mousepad ever. He also contributes a substantial amount to most meetings. Czechia: Set her space up to be the neatest in the office. She’s one of the more successful members. Hungary: Made a pinterest board of house ideas in her spare time which she makes Austria look at. She doesn’t really care about the work, she’s just there. Switzerland: Financials. He also calls home at 12pm every day to check in on his sister and make sure everything’s okay. Poland: Decorated the fuck out of his cubicle. Prussia: Has a whole collection of weird-ass ties which he switches. Some say he’s never worn the same one twice!

ASIA

Hong Kong: Also interning, but he doesn’t hate it and takes it instead as an opportunity to take photos of people and make them either cursed or into memes. Macau: Is the second-in-command in the office and basically controls everything since america isn’t great at it. South Korea: Water cooler? He likes to hang out with Turkey. Thailand: Keeps a cool and ornate whiteboard which he likes to take notes on. Vietnam: “What do you mean I have to work with someone else?!?!?!” Taiwan: She works under Denmark in human resources and often has to resolve conflicts. India: Sometimes invites Vietnam to play chess with him online on their monitors.

AFRICA

Egypt: Stole some of Denmark’s legos without his knowledge so he could build too. He’s pretty bored even though he does everything. Seychelles: Sits by the window and doesn’t get her work done since she’s distracted. Cameroon: Playing pranks on Australia when he gets bored, mostly after he’s finished his work.

OCEANIA + CARIBBEAN

Australia: “OY MATE SO YA WANT TO FOIGHT??!!” (he’s on for that prank war) New Zealand: Sits next to Cyprus and sometimes falls asleep, but Cyprus thinks he’s *kinda* cute and doesn’t wake him. Other than that, he’s really good at running meetings. Cuba: Brings fancy chocolates or other things which he takes out to share with special people on special occasions. He’s pretty nonchalant but comes off as intimidating for some.

56 notes · View notes

mostlycompetentwriter · 5 years ago

Text

Sunshine

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Han Jisung (Stray Kids)

Word Count: 12K

Genre: Married Life AU

Warnings: Smut and Language

Summary: Y/N has loved Jisung for her entire life and she would never dream of marrying anyone else. Of course, their life together isn’t always perfect, but they’ve always managed to overcome every obstacle standing in their way.

Note: Feeling soft for Jisung these days...

I was only 8-years-old when my parents divorced.

My mother, thinking herself circumspect, blamed it on my father’s long hours at work. But she wasn’t there the night I decided to wait for my father, watching him come home in the dead of night to quietly clean the lipstick painting the side of his cheek. I remember catching his eyes from the bottom of the staircase and the guilt in his eyes was impossible to dismiss.

Those kinds of unfortunate secrets are difficult to hide because they demand to be seen.

Thereafter, I can recall memories of sitting in different offices, listening to my parents bicker while their lawyers did their best to satisfy bitter clients, especially when it came to their daughter. I was a particularly harsh point of contention, but full childhood custody was granted to my mother who did everything in her power to push my father out of our lives, even packing up our belongings to move to the opposite side of the country. And New York City was just as intimidating as my childish imagination had perceived it to be. My first impression was unforgettable, a city that was large and confusing, constantly streaked with traffic and heavy with the low-set of smog in the mornings when the sun could barely filter through the landscape of skyscrapers.

My mother and I moved to the suburbs and started renting a modest home with the idyllic front yard and friendly neighbors who greeted us with dishes containing different foods upon our arrival. I had always been shy and introverted, choosing the comfort of my mother’s legs whenever a stranger would knock on our door, occasionally offering my mother a flirtatious smile. Like the older man who lived across the street who often made a habit of coming over to talk to my mother in the living room while I hid away upstairs, listening to the sound of their laughter.

Eventually, I could no longer pretend that something strange wasn’t happening, especially when my mother’s new friend brought over his two sons. They were both around my age, sporting thick accents that reminded me of the man on television who liked to wrestle with crocodiles. My mother’s friend introduced them as Chan and Felix, encouraging the three of us to get along because we would be spending a lot of time with each other. My childish innocence didn’t quite understand what that meant, but I wanted to do the very best for my mother.

Even so, I was still hesitant at first because Felix seemed to dislike the idea, ignoring me in exchange for his video games when I would come over to their house. Thankfully, Chan was more willing to comply, sharing his books with me since we both liked to read and the couch in his bedroom was extremely comfortable. He had a wide variety of mysteries and thrillers and my impressionable mind would latch onto those exotic stories and themes, picturing myself in the place of the heroine who somehow managed to always know exactly what to do in the most formidable of situations.

Eventually, Chan invited me to accompany him and Felix to the park to meet their other friends since I was having trouble making them on my own. Felix, of course, remained opposed, very nearly throwing a fit had it not been for his father who scolded his son for being so inconsiderate. Not that I was necessarily excited at the idea of meeting their friends since I would have preferred staying inside to read. Nevertheless, my mother was insistent that we get along, so I reluctantly followed Chan and Felix who were talking about some sort of new comic book that they were both reading. It was all very decidedly boyish things and I had no interest in superheroes who ran around in capes when the real heroes were the common female protagonists of my books.

“Everyone, meet Y/N,” Chan had introduced me, pushing me forward to greet the seven other boys who were all looking at me like I was some sort of extraterrestrial specimen.

One of their older friends, with a messy head of black hair, immediately crossed his arms. “No way, Chan,” he protested, glaring at me with intimidating dark eyes.

“Girls aren’t allowed,” another boy agreed, nodding his head with enough force to send his bangs flying into his eyes.

I retreated into myself with each subsequent insult and dismissal thrown my way. It was enough to ostracise even the most outgoing of individuals, but I was quite frustrated because I had tried to resist coming along from the moment Chan first proposed the idea. “I didn’t want to come anyway,” I snapped at the boys, surprising each and every one of them as I stormed away to plant myself down on one of the park benches.

I could hear Chan calling my name but I had decidedly had enough of those boys, including Chan despite the inherent kindness he had previously shown me. In fact, they could have fun without me doing whatever it is that nasty little boys liked to do in the park. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have enjoyed it anyway, even if they had opened their arms and begged me to play along. Of course, I was still deeply hurt that they had dismissed me so quickly, but I had always been a prideful child, which is why my first instinct was to lash out when I noticed a shadow had fallen over my wilted form. “You don’t have to be nice anymore, Chan,” I said, turning away from the approaching boy.

“I’m really sorry.”

I glanced up in surprise when I realized that the voice was much brighter than Chan’s gravelly tone. Instead, I met a pair of unfamiliar brown eyes from beneath a fringe of blonde-colored hair. The boy held out a flower, a wilted dandelion that had nearly lost its pappus, as if in a gesture of appeasement.

I accepted it from him hesitantly. “Thank you.”

“They shouldn’t be so mean,” the boy continued, waving at his friends who were busy arguing over a silly football. “You’re really tall so you might be able to catch Minho’s long passes.”

I paused at his comment. “Do you want me to play?”

“Of course,” the boy grinned, smiling as brilliantly as the sun bearing down on the two of us. “My name’s Jisung.”

I returned his smile. “It’s nice to meet you Jisung.” He offered me his hand which I gratefully accepted, holding on to him with an unrelenting grip because I had a feeling that I would never want to let go.

This might explain why, years later, I was still waking up next to him in bed with an expensive ring on my finger courtesy of dozens of saved paychecks back when Jisung worked overtime in college. On this morning, in particular, the sound of my alarm might have been enough to wake me up, but the unexpected presence of my husband’s hand groping my chest provided the necessary catalyst to blindly reach out for my cell phone. I silenced the unwelcome disturbance, allowing a low groan when I reached down for his hand because leave it to Han Jisung to feel me up even when we were both sleeping. “What are you doing?” Jisung asked when I tightened my fingers around his wrist, loudly protesting when he squeezed my breast in return.

“It’s too early for that,” I whined, especially when he started to rub his hard cock against my ass.

“Just let me put it inside for five minutes,” Jisung pleaded, his other hand roaming down to tug on my panties.

“What good will that do?” I asked him, slowly wriggling away from his arms despite the show of childish outrage from my immature husband who still sometimes forgot that he was an adult.

“You’re gonna make me show up to work like this?” Jisung pouted, expression painted with his betrayal as he watched me walk around our bedroom.

“Take a cold shower,” I said, tossing a towel in his direction.

“Y/N,” Jisung said. “Let’s think about the practicalities of the situation. We haven’t had sex in a week and my dick feels like it might fall off at any moment.”

“And if we look at this situation scientifically,” I added. “I doubt your dick will fall off because that’s assuredly impossible.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Jisung asked in an exaggerated fashion, burying his face into our nicest set of pillows.

“Because I’m meeting Seungmin and Jeongin for lunch and you have a field trip to chaperone. Plus, I don’t want to listen to Changbin complain to me on the phone tonight when you show up to work late again.”

“Seungmin and Jeongin are more important than me?”

“Lunch is more important than you,” I corrected him with a smirk, reaching for my bag. “Have a nice day at work, babe.”

“No kiss goodbye?” Jisung questioned even as the door to our bedroom shut soundly behind me.

Being amongst the youngest, me, Seungmin, and Jeongin frequently made a habit of eating lunch together on Saturday afternoons. It was a traditional affair, primarily allowing the three of us to gossip about the others without fear of reprimand. And ever since our Freshman year writing lecture, we’ve enjoyed greasy fast food while commenting on everything from Chan and Changbin’s sudden obsession with the gym to our theories that Minho was secretly married to a rich aristocrat who supplied him with the endless amount of money he spent on his cats.

“Hey!” Jeongin protested when I reached over to steal a piece of his steak.

“It looks better than mine,” I attempted to justify, speaking over a mouthful of food which my mother would normally offer criticism.

“Felix has been acting weird lately,” Seungmin randomly commented, a frown confusing his features as he scrolled through his phone.

I chewed the stolen beef before asking, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he only ever gets like this when she’s back in town.”

I let out a heavy exhale, understanding exactly why Seungmin was concerned. “How long?”

“A week or so,” Seungmin said. “He never comes out with us anymore.”

“Does Changbin know?” I asked, sliding my plate aside in exchange for this piece of juicy gossip.

Changbin’s sister, better known as the object of Felix’s most intimate desires, has managed to whole-heartedly capture Felix in some sort of deadly trance. My step-brother, notoriously known for being a playboy in college, became whipped around Changbin’s sister, following her around like a lost puppy begging for attention. “Of course he does,” Seungmin replied. “But he says that Kara hasn’t tried to contact Felix at all.”

“Obviously,” I snorted. “Changbin thinks Kara is the epitome of perfection. His little sister can’t possibly do wrong in his eyes.”

“I think Felix shares his opinion,” Jeongin commented, trying to sound perfectly serious while he sipped on his chocolate milk.

“We’re having a family dinner tomorrow night,” I said with a sigh. “It’s a good opportunity to interrogate my step-brother.”

“Please, Y/N,” Seungmin said, eyes round and soft. “Felix always tells you everything.”

“And you can immediately tell us in the group chat,” Jeongin chirped happily.

“Of course!” I agreed, reaching over to ruffle Jeongin’s hair until my phone abruptly started ringing. “Yes, Hyunjin?” I sighed into the other end.

“Y/N! We have an emergency!”

I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. “It can’t be that bad.”

“We don’t have straws! I repeat, the cafe has no straws and people are asking for straws, Y/N.”

“Jesus, Hyunjin,” I groaned. “Just go next door and buy some straws.”

“Y/N,” Hyujin huffed impatiently. “There is a bigger problem here and you don’t even realize! That kid you hired last week? I think he’s out to sabotage the cafe. I put him in charge of ordering supplies and guess what isn’t supplied?”

“The damn straws,” I muttered, suddenly having a million regrets for agreeing to open the cafe with Hyunjin in the first place.

“Now you finally understand.”

I carefully lowered the phone from my ear, cupping the receiver to look at Seungmin. “Do you mind coming with me to the cafe? I’m supposed to have the day off but Hyunjin’s losing his shit over straws.”

“Sounds like Hyunjin,” Seungmin smirked. “I don’t have anything better to do.”

“Hyujin,” I repeated into the phone. “Please don’t scream at that poor kid, I’ll be there in five minutes.”

The cafe was originally supposed to be an independent endeavor until Hwang Hyunjin found out about my plans and demanded some sort of involvement. Despite our friendship, I was still hesitant to consider Hyunjin as a business partner, especially considering his performances in the lectures we shared in college. Hyunjin was the type of student to arrive to class five minutes before the professor, desperation clinging to him persistently while he begged me to explain the homework assignment. Nevertheless, Hyunjin somehow graduated from the business school at the same time as I did, albeit without the honor’s recognition, proving himself despite the doubts of nearly everyone in our friend circle with the exception of Jisung who always managed to see the good in everyone.

Shortly after graduation, Hyunjin and I took out a small loan from the bank to open our cafe in a very strategic location close to a nearby university. From the beginning, I had primarily handled the more elaborate side of our business ranging from accounting and point of sales to ordering supplies and handling employees. Hyunjin, on the other hand, took care of the creative aspects including designing what he deemed an “elegant” menu while also trying out new recipes that our mostly college-aged clientele greatly enjoyed in the form of free samples.

“Y/N!” Hyujin gasped as soon as I walked in the door with Seungmin and Jeongin. “Well?”

I held up a grocery bag full of the straws I had just purchased. “It’s fine, Hyunjin.”

“It’s not fine,” Hyunjin protested, walking over to yank the bag free from my grasp. “I’ll have you know that one of our usual customers left us 4 instead of 5 stars for satisfaction.”

“What will we do?” I deadpanned. “Where’s the new kid? Did you scold him thoroughly?”

“Of course I did,” Hyunjin said, pointing to the kitchen. “I sent him to wash dishes.”

“He’s a cashier.”

“It’s punishment, Y/N,” Hyunjin said. “We can’t have him thinking he can get away with potentially damaging our public image.”

“These kids will still get their morning coffee,” I said. “They don’t care if we’re out of straws as long as they have somewhere to loiter around all day to finish their essays.”

“That’s another thing,” Hyunjin said. “I think we definitely need a bigger place and I know the owner next door said something about moving out.”

“Renovations are expensive,” I said. “And you don’t know if the landlord would be okay with us tearing out the wall to expand.”

“What if I found out?”

“Talk to Seungmin instead,” I suggested, tugging the younger boy forward. “I’ll see about this new guy you’ve decided to torture.”

“Punishment, Y/N!”

I rolled my eyes because I was still frustrated that I had to come into the cafe because of the worst excuse for an emergency in the history of mankind. But what else did I expect from Hyunjin? “Remember to breathe, Y/N,” I whispered to myself.

Back in the kitchen, our newest employee, donned in his decorative jacket courtesy of Hyunjin’s obsession with bright uniforms, was currently bent over the sink with thick gloves pulled up to his elbows. I felt bad for the guy because it was obvious that he wasn’t used to doing something like this. “Hey, kid,” I said, surprising the younger boy who immediately dropped one of the cups back into the sudsy water. “You don’t have to do that anymore.”

“I-I don’t mind,” he stuttered, eyes wide as he held tightly to a sponge.

“It’s not your job,” I insisted, carefully taking the sponge from him like he was a deer that might dart away at any sudden movement. “I’m sorry Hyunjin told you to come back here. To be honest, he was probably trying to avoid this work himself.”

“But I messed up the order,” he said, hanging his head. “It’s my fault.”

“Not it’s not and don’t let Hyunjin tell you otherwise,” I said. “Next time, call me if you’re having trouble with the order.”

I reached into my bag to pull out my business card, holding it out for his reluctant hand which was still slightly damp from his unexpected dish duty. “You’re not mad?” he asked reluctantly.

“No way,” I reassured him. “I used to work during college too, you know. I kinda get it, kid, so don’t worry about anything.”

His smile was sincere, looking at my card like it was the key to the world. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Get back on register,” I encouraged him. “That’s what I hired you for, and next time Hyunjin gives you any shit, you just let me know.”

He nodded enthusiastically, vacating the kitchen as if he was actually thrilled by the idea of returning to the register. I knew all was well when I could hear Hyunjin’s shrill voice from the other room: “Y/N!”

Jisung managed to beat me home and I walked inside to find my husband laid out on the couch with a glass of orange juice in one hand. “Headache,” Jisung pouted at me.

“Take some Advil,” I said with a smirk, ignoring the way his hands reached out for me in exchange for the possibility of a snack from the kitchen.

“Y/N!” I heard him groan my name.

“Sungie,” I returned his call. “I hope this isn’t some sort of elaborate set-up because we have dinner with my mother tomorrow night.”

Jisung was silent in the next room and I shook my head while dumping a sample of chips into one of our plastic bowls. I came back out into the living room to find Jisung rolled over onto his stomach, face buried into the cushions of our sectional. “Baby,” I cooed, trying to lure him out from his hiding place.

“I forgot about the dinner,” Jisung said, voice muffled against the furniture.

“I figured that,” I said, somewhat sympathetic to his plight. For as long as I could remember, Jisung had always feared our family dinners mainly because my mother had a personal vendetta against him. Ever since he first stepped foot on the porch wearing a rented suit for Junior year prom, my mother had deemed him unworthy of my time. Her feelings only worsened when she found out that Jisung was majoring in elementary education. “A teacher, Y/N! That boy isn’t going to be able to support the two of you!”

Subsequently, every visit to my mother’s house meant that Jisung had to listen to my mother read statistics on how poor and destitute teachers were in the city. Meanwhile, Felix also received the same treatment from his father who was absolutely horrified when he found out that his youngest son wanted to open a dance studio with Minho. It didn’t help that my step-father loathed Minho because he found him and Felix in the back of Minho’s corvette smoking enough weed to satisfy the entirety of our high school.

It was a complete contradiction because while Jisung and Felix were constantly reprimanded, Chan and I were bathed in compliments and adoration. “Channie,” my mother would smile. “How are your cases?” Chan was some kind of small claims lawyer in the upper Bronx which meant he made enough money to buy a Rolex for every day of the week while driving an expensive Tesla.

“And Y/N,” my mother would address me. “How’s the cafe?”

“We always do well around Finals season,” I told her.

“That’s wonderful darling!” she would always say while glaring in Jisung’s direction who would visibly falter under my mother’s judgemental stare. “How are your...kids, Jisung?”

“They’re great,” Jisung would laugh nervously. “I had to stop one of them from eating a bottle of glue the other day.”

I would laugh and affectionately run my fingers through Jisung’s hair while my mother remained statuesque-still. “How amusing.”

The pattern persisted to this day and I knew Jisung tolerated the dinners for my sake, but he always protested in different ways. For example, last month Jisung agreed to babysit our neighbor’s Pomeranian because he thought I might allow him to stay at home. And I almost let him get away with his impromptu plans when I remembered that Jisung would have to make dinner on his own and I was horrified by the idea of Han Jisung anywhere near my kitchen.

“Tell your mother I’m dying,” Jisung said, pulling me from my thoughts. “That should make her happy.”

“Han Jisung,” I scolded him, reaching down to gently massage his leg. “I’m not leaving you home alone. You’re prone to more kitchen fires than anyone else I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ll order takeout,” Jisung said, kicking his foot out against my thigh.

“If you’re gonna act like a child, then I’ll have to treat you like one,” I said, giving his ass a firm smack before rising from the sectional.

Jisung jolted at the unexpected contact, raising his head to briefly consider me. “What was that?”

“Do you not want to play?” I returned, grinning when Jisung immediately sat upright from his position on the sofa, leaning forward in expectation. “Does this mean what I think it does?”

“Perhaps if you decide to stop being so stubborn about the dinner,” I said, dropping to my knees in front of him.

Jisung’s eyes grew wide with lust, hands reaching out to pull my head closer to his crotch. “I’ll go to as many dinners as you want, babe.”

“That’s better,” I smirked, efficiently undoing his belt. “It’s only for a few hours.”

Jisung was ecstatic, pulling down his jeans and underwear. “I’ll just sit with Felix in the dining room alone.”

“Is that so?” I asked, curling my fingers around his hardening cock.

Jisung nodded, hair falling into his eyes as he watched me with rapt attention. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him recently.”

“What a good sport,” I teased, jerking his cock a few times because I liked the way Jisung’s eyelids would flutter with his pleasure. But he was being remarkably good, so I decided he had earned an end to his apparent sexual frustrations. I took in the tip of his cock, running my tongue along the slit dripping with milky white pre-cum.

“Please,” Jisung begged, grip unrelenting on my hair as he encouraged me to swallow more of his cock, slowly taking him in until I could feel him at the back of my throat. “Can I do it?” Jisung asked with desperate eyes and I nodded once, giving him the permission he desired to move my head up and down the length of his erection, warm and rigid against my tongue. I made sure to moan around him because I knew the resulting vibrations felt really good, enjoying the sounds of Jisung’s grunts as he fucked my mouth.

While Jisung did a majority of the work, I tried to amplify his pleasure when I could like running my tongue along the prominent vein on his cock or using my teeth to drag against the fleshy part of him. My fingernails dug into his thighs, leaving behind marks that would probably vanish after a warm shower. Tears were steadily streaking down my cheeks courtesy of an instinctual reaction to Jisung’s cock repeatedly sliding in and out, hollowing my cheeks to accommodate him. “It feels so good,” Jisung said, palms clammy as one hand came to fan against my cheek, wiping away the smeared streaks of my mascara.

Throughout our years together, I had learned a lot about Jisung including his apparent oral fixation when it came to sex. Jisung loved when I gave him a blowjob as I discovered for the very first time locked away in the Janitor’s closet, tasting Jisung on my tongue for a few seconds before he was cumming down my throat, apologizing incessantly for not being able to last longer. As if I really cared because I was quite proud of myself for breaking him down so quickly. But as much as Jisung liked to receive, he also loved to give and feeling his tongue on my pussy was a guilty pleasure, watching Jisung eat me out like he belonged between my thighs.

“Cumming,” Jisung warned me, grip tightening as his hips stuttered, pubic hair brushing against my nose while the bitter taste of his cum was swallowed down with effort because my throat was now incredibly sore.

Jisung fell back against the couch, fingers pushing my hair back from where it had fallen messily into my face. I shakily climbed into his lap, kissing him greedily because there was no better sight than Jisung completely spent after a good orgasm, especially when it was because of me. “Is that better, baby?” I asked, pecking him on the nose.

“I love you,” post-orgasm Jisung told me entreatingly, eyes swimming with tears as he proceeded to plant dozens of soft kisses against the exposed skin of my collarbones.

Jisung pulled into the driveway of my mother’s house with a morbid expression. “It’s not too late to cancel, right?”

I ignored his comment, opening the door to step out into the bitterly cold evening. “Babe, I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“No need to pretend,” Jisung grumbled, reluctantly following me to the porch where I hit the doorbell, smoothing down my skirt because my mother always liked it when we dressed up for these dinners.

But the last thing I expected to see on the other side of the door was Kara, especially a version of Kara dressed in an appropriately sized skirt. “Y/N!”

I’m sure my expression of shock matched the one present on my husband’s face as we both took in the sight of Changbin’s little sister. “Kara?” I questioned stupidly, holding tighter to Jisung’s sweater because I needed something to ground me in the reality of this unanticipated situation.

“You guys look great!” she declared. “Come inside!”

“Of course,” I said softly, pulling Jisung behind me as I stepped into the foyer, shrugging off my coat which Kara took from me to hang in the closet like she had been doing it for years.

“Y/N!” my mother squealed, interrupting the unanswered “why are you here?” hanging between the three of us.

“Mom,” I said, accepting her hug with a wince because my mother was never gentle in her affections.

“And Jisung,” my mother frowned, eyeing my husband up and down. “What the hell are you wearing.”

Jisung looked down at his corduroy pants which I had warned him repeatedly to destroy. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh nevermind with you,” my mother said dismissively, reaching out for Kara. “Look, Y/N, Felix brought home a very nice friend. Are the two of you acquainted?”

“She’s Changbin’s sister,” I told my mother. “Why would I not know her?”

“Oh don’t give me that attitude,” my mother said. “Kara was just telling me about the marketing firm she works for! Isn’t that impressive?”

“My brother’s jealous,” Kara said. “He’s stuck working with kids all day, isn’t that the worst?”

My mother giggled at Kara’s comment while I reached behind me to give Jisung’s hand a reassuring squeeze. I didn’t even need to see my husband’s face to know that he would be fuming over Kara’s words. “I think you can do Felix some good too,” my mother said, now leading Kara towards the kitchen. “That boy is an absolute mess sometimes.”

I found Chan in the living room, eating his way through most of my mother’s groceries. “Channie,” I said, hurrying Jisung along despite the way his feet drug against the carpet. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

Chan barely glanced up from his food. “What is it?”

“In private?”

Chan offered me a blank look to which I grabbed his hand, forcing him to the opposite side of the room and away from any potential eavesdroppers. “Why the hell is Kara here?”

“Beats me,” Chan shrugged. “Felix said they’re just friends.”

“Just friends my ass!” I hissed at him. “Chan, you know how stupid Felix gets around her! Since when has Felix brought any of his ‘friends’ to one of these dinners?”

“I don’t want to get involved, Y/N,” Chan said. “It’s really none of our business.”

“But does Changbin know she’s here?”

Chan shrugged helplessly. “How should I know? I don’t see Changbin much these days.”

“Ah, you’re useless,” I declared. “There’s a potentially catastrophic disaster unfolding right in front of your eyes and yet food is more concerning to you.”

“Of course it is,” Chan nodded solemnly. “Why do you think I sacrifice a Sunday night at home to drive an hour over here?”

“What a good son you are,” I said, pinching one of his cheeks. “I’m sure your father would be pleased to hear that.”

“Y/N, I seriously don’t know anything about Felix and Kara,” Chan said, smacking my hand away.

“Listen to me, Chan-”

I broke off when my mother suddenly entered the room with Kara on her heels, holding out a tray of cheese and crackers. “Appetizers!” my mother exclaimed, immediately chastising Jisung when he accidentally dropped one on my mother’s coffee table.

“Leave it alone,” Chan warned me, sparing me no further attention as he joined the others in the living room. I followed him to the couch where I planted myself between my step-brother and Jisung, eyeing Kara suspiciously as she sat herself directly on Felix’s lap, arms wrapped around his neck.

“I think your mother likes me the least tonight,” Jisung whispered anxiously into my ear.

“That’s because Felix has something shiny and new for her to mess with,” I said, patting his thigh soothingly.

“Everyone, help yourselves!” my mother announced, ushering my step-father into the room with a glass of wine in hand.

I handed Jisung a plate. “Do me a favor and keep the food where it belongs.”

Jisung pouted at me. “You act like I’m clumsy on purpose.”

“I don’t need to feed you, do I?” I asked him, ignoring the way he reached down to pinch my waist in warning.

The remainder of our dinner progressed slowly, more so than usual because my mother seemed to have hundreds of questions for Kara. In fact, as opposed to Jisung and Felix being the objects of my mother’s contempt, that title seemed to belong to everyone excluding Kara. Chan and I were rarely spoken to, and Jisung was only addressed when my mother complained that he was chewing too loudly. “Do you see my son-in-law?” she complained to Kara like they were old friends. “He’s never had good table manners.”

I held tightly to Jisung’s hand when I felt him tense next to me. “Jisung’s always been that way,” Kara replied with far too much affection for my liking.

Her comment forced me to recall the very first time I ever met Kara back during my third year of high school. She was a year younger than Jeongin, so she came into our high school as a shy Freshman with only Changbin as an ally. And Changbin loved to brag about how smart his sister was, claiming that she didn’t even need to study because she could memorize everything the teacher said in class. But Changbin hadn’t been exaggerating and I had been slightly jealous of Kara’s easygoing nature, seamlessly inserting herself into our lives as if she had always belonged there. The truth of the matter was that Kara had been attending a private school for most of her life because of her higher intelligence. The school was located hours away from where we lived so we never saw Kara except in brief passing when she came home on the weekends. However, Kara insisted that she wanted a normal high school life, so she enrolled at our local public institution with the goal of making new friends and getting a taste of what her brother always talked about in their long phone conversations.

At first, Kara stuck tightly to Changbin’s side, but it didn’t take long for her to open up to the rest of our group, including Felix whose crush started the moment Kara first walked through the doors. My poor step-brother was enamored, jealous when Kara would start dating some of the older Seniors. Of course, it didn’t help that Changbin remained adamant that Kara never dated any of his friends because they were, in his words, completely unworthy. So, with the exception of the unfortunate incident of Junior prom, Kara obeyed her brother and only showed the other guys affection in the form of a pat on the head or a gentle shove when they said something funny.

By the time I graduated with Hyunjin, Seungmin, Felix, and Jisung, Kara had become another pillar in our dynamic, even appealing to the older ones like Chan and Minho. Yet, when Jeongin finally entered university with the rest of us, something changed with Kara and she no longer hung out with us as much as she had before. Then, there was the matter of her attending college in an entirely different state, only coming to visit sporadically when Felix would bend over backward to make sure she attended one of his fraternity parties. By the time I graduated from college, Kara was more or less nothing but a distant memory, only coming into fruition on rare occasions. Thus, seeing her here today was definitely disorienting, especially since it was only because of Felix that she was here in the first place.

“Kara, you’re such a wonderful girl,” my mother said. “I can’t believe we haven’t met before.”

I rolled my eyes because my mother seemed to forget my Junior year of high school almost as much as I did. “You’ve been such a gracious host,” Kara said to my mother.

“It’s getting late,” my mother sighed, glancing at my step-father who was moments away from passing out on the couch. “We should get to bed, but the rest of you are more than welcome to stay and chat. I know I took up a lot of the conversation.”

“That’s an understatement,” Jisung muttered.

“Anyways, I’ll call you later on this week, Y/N,” my mother said, offering me a lazy wave before collecting Kara into one of the tightest embraces I had ever seen.

Once my mother and step-father had wandered up the steps, Kara came back into the room with mischievous eyes. “Let’s play a game,” Kara suggested, urging us all around the coffee table. I groaned when Jisung pulled me back into his arms, burying his face into the side of my neck like he was prone to do when he was the slightest bit tipsy.

“No more alcohol for you,” I said, swiping the bottle away from my husband who protested half-heartedly.

“What do you suggest?” Felix asked, looking at Kara with starstruck eyes.

“Maybe truth or dare?” Kara said, squealing like she had forgotten that everyone around the table now had a full-time job.

“Why not,” Felix said, reaching for his discarded bottle of Corona. “Would you like to go first?”

Kara giggled when Felix leaned in closer, lips teasing her exposed collarbones. “Keep it PG,” I requested, glaring at Felix.

“Okay,” Kara said, taking the bottle and placing it onto the table.

“If someone can dare me to get laid, that would be nice,” Jisung said and I reached around to elbow my husband in the side for his smart comment.

I watched as the bottle spun around in its defined circumference before landing on Chan who groaned loudly. “Truth or Dare, Chan!”

“Truth,” Chan said, picking up his bottle of beer. “Knowing you’d guys, I’d be forced to drink the rest of this on a dare and I have to be at the office at six.”

“Are you seeing anyone, Chan?” Kara asked, leaning in close like she was about to hear a juicy secret. Of course, I knew better than anyone because I was often the recipient of Chan’s late-night phone calls when my step-brother would complain to me about his sadly lacking love life.

“No,” Chan huffed, reaching out to give the bottle a powerful spin. “I’m always single.”

I reached across to pat him tenderly on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Channie, there’s a girl out there waiting for you!”

Felix let out a drunken squeak, turning to look at Kara with a smile. “Truth or dare, Felix?”

“Dare,” Felix said, bouncing up and down from his spot on the floor like a loose spring.

“I dare you to...

“...call Changbin,” I spoke over Kara, enjoying the identical looks of matching horror on their countenances.

“What?” Felix questioned, intoxicated brain undoubtedly having trouble keeping up with the flow of our conversation.

“Call. Changbin.” I repeated, much slower this time to leave no room for a potential misunderstanding. Unsurprisingly, Kara hesitantly shook her head at Felix as if asking him to ignore my request. “Those are the rules,” I informed her smugly, watching Felix as he took out his phone with a shaky hand. He dialed Changbin’s number and we all sat forward in profound expectation of what was about to happen.

That is until Changbin’s voicemail picked up.

Kara snatched Felix’s phone and quickly hung up the call. “He’s not answering, so let’s move on to something else.”

I frowned as I sat back against Jisung’s chest, frustrated because Changbin had probably chosen an early night’s sleep in exchange for answering a friend’s important phone call. “Truth or Dare, Y/N.”

“Truth,” I muttered, folding my arms across my chest even as Jisung started to rub gentle circles into my hips as if picking up on my irritation.

Kara’s eyes narrowed. “Were you jealous when I kissed Jisung at prom?”

The room was dead silent following her vengeful question. My cheeks flushed at the reminder, feeling Jisung squirm uncomfortably behind me. It was a horrible thing to ask me, especially considering the circumstances surrounding the unholy night that Minho had silently termed “the worst day of Y/N’s life.” But I suppose that Kara felt warranted to ask me considering the fact that I had just tried to expose her to Changbin. “Of course I was,” I snapped at her, twisting the bottle while maintaining a penetrative staring contest with Felix’s love interest.

My shoulders relaxed when the bottle landed on Kara, and I quickly intervened before Felix could give Kara an easy way out of what was rapidly becoming a terrible mistake. “Are you dating Felix again?” I asked, watching as her eyes narrowed from my choice of words.

“It’s truth or dare, Y/N.”

“Are you afraid to answer the question?” I asked her. “Or are you just using Felix like always?”

Another long silence enveloped our gathered group.

“I guess I don’t get a turn?” Jisung whispered into the tense silence of the room.

“Holy shit!” Hyunjin exhaled when I finally finished explaining everything that had happened at my mother’s house the previous evening.

“She’s a total bitch,” I said. “Everyone knows that we don’t talk about that night.”

Hyunjin nodded in agreement. “Do you remember the ugly suit I wore?”

I glared at my friend. “You’re not helping and we have customers.”

Hyunjin offered me a salute, returning to the register to accept another order while I aggressively wiped down our counters. One of our waitresses watched me with a gaping mouth until I turned to glare at her. She quickly picked up her tray to retreat back into the crowd of college students.

Now, let me start by saying that Junior year prom was never something I was looking forward to attending. The only reason I even went was because Han Jisung asked me to go and my attraction for him had skyrocketed by this time, to the point where I found myself staring at his ass whenever we had gym together and he decided to demonstrate the correct technique for a pull-up. Our friends deemed our relationship inevitable, the romanticized soulmates who met as kids and grew up together with agreeable personalities. Of course, it also helped when puberty hit and suddenly Han Jisung looked less like the little boy I played with on the playground and more like a man whose dick I really wanted to taste.

For a lot of my classmates, Prom meant an unsanctioned night away from the school where they could lose their inhibitions when someone inevitably spiked the punch bowl. There were no school officials present at the event, only volunteers, and since it didn’t take place on school grounds (but inside of a nearby YMCA) everyone could basically do whatever they wanted without consequence. Thus, the next day’s rumor mill was spinning with tales of romance and deceptions, break-ups and hook-ups, and even the occasional wild story of someone stealing from the radio store next door.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Jisung asked me nervously the moment we first walked inside.

“Sure,” I told him, affectionately adjusting the cute bowtie he had chosen for the occasion, cheeks rosy red as he hurried away.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin said, taking Jisung’s place in front of me. “You look great!”

“So do you,” I told him honestly, appraising his suit which likely cost a thousand dollars just to rent for this one occasion. “Where’s your girl?”

“Who knows, she was just meant to be arm candy,” Hyunjin said dismissively and I snorted at his explanation. “I only came here for the drama and the alcohol.”

“Anything interesting so far?” I asked, grinning when I saw Jisung accidentally knock the punch ladle into the floor.

“Changbin came with a Freshman,” Hyunjin said. “I talked to them earlier and he’s definitely only interested in her ass.”

“How crude,” I remarked. “What about the others?”

“I guess Seungmin and Jeongin came with each other,” Hyunjin snickered. “And I haven’t seen Felix yet.”

I paused. “Felix is coming?”

“It was a last-minute thing,” Hyunjin explained. “Apparently, Felix is bringing someone he really likes.”

“I didn’t know Felix was interested in anyone,” I said, with the exception of Changbin’s little sister, of course.

“It’s getting late,” Hyunjin remarked. “He might have been lying.”

“He wasn’t dressed when I left the house,” I said, remembering the sight of my step-brother teasing Jisung and I from behind our parents while they took an endless amount of pictures while relentlessly questioning Jisung about his appearance.

Speaking of which, I graciously accepted the punch Jisung offered me, taking a sip before wincing. “I think someone added way too much.”

Hyunjin reached for my drink, sniffing the rim before downing the rest. “Not too bad.”

Jisung watched him with wide eyes. “Isn’t that strong?”

“Not strong enough,” Hyunjin complained. “I’m going to find something better. Have fun you two, make sure you use a condom if you’re gonna fuck.”

I glared at Hyunjin’s back as he disappeared into the crowd.

Yes, Prom might not have been high on my list of priorities, but the way Jisung was currently kissing me definitely made it more appealing. After ingesting an appropriate amount of alcohol, a tipsy Jisung had latched himself to my side, whispering rather inappropriate things into my ear before I inevitably found a place where we could be alone, safely tucked away inside the locker room. I drug Jisung to a bench where I immediately straddled his thighs, kissing him with enough force to throw him off balance, hand splayed across my hip as he forced his tongue inside my mouth tasting strongly of alcohol. I struggled to pull in enough oxygen to counter the dizziness threatening to send me falling into the floor. Jisung certainly wasn’t helping matters, squeezing my breasts spilling over the neckline of my dress while pressing sloppy kisses to my throat, erection hard through his dress pants and I had never felt hornier in my entire life. And that includes the time Minho bought me a vibrator for my birthday as a joke but I still tried to use it and ended up masturbating to the thought of Jisung fucking me on my mattress.

“You feel so good,” Jisung whispered to me now, rolling his hips into mine as he sought additional friction. I held tightly to the lapels of his jacket because it felt really nice through the thin fabric of my dress when he would move just right, pressing against my clit with a wonderful pressure that nearly made me cum before he could even put it inside.

“Sungie,” I panted into his ear, tasting every inch of his beautiful honey-golden skin. “Please fuck me.”

“Can I?” Jisung asked, thrusts growing erratic as if affected by just the thought of his cock hot and heavy between my thighs. “Yes, of course, baby. I’ll do that for you.”

“Condom?” I managed, reconnecting our lips because I was quickly coming to the realization that Jisung was a wonderful kisser.

“Shit,” he cursed against my mouth. “I left them in the car.”

“I’ll get them,” I said, reaching deep into the pocket of his suit pants for the key, inadvertently brushing against his cock.

Jisung moaned loudly. “Hurry back, baby.”

“And this!” I said, standing up from his lap to reach into my cleavage to pull out a piece of fabric.

“That was in there the whole time?”

“Not important,” I said, shoving the fabric at him. “Put this on?”

“What is it?” Jisung asked, unraveling the cloth.

“A blindfold,” I said and he looked up at me with evident surprise.

“Why do you want me to wear a blindfold?”

“Just put it on, please,” I begged him.

“Why?” Jisung whined, a complete contradiction to the mess he looked with an erection still prominent in his pants.

“I don’t want you to see me,” I said, blushing at the thought of Han Jisung seeing me naked because I was certainly nothing like those busty girls in the porn magazines I found under his mattress.

“Okay,” Jisung grumbled, probably because he was just as aroused as I was even if that meant doing something that might seem utterly ridiculous to anybody else.

“Don’t take it off,” I warned him, glancing over my shoulder to see Jisung tying the blindfold in place.

Satisfied, I silently rushed back into the gym, making my way to the exit despite the obscene displays taking place all around me courtesy of several pairings of passionate couples. I did my best to ignore them, even though I was pretty sure I saw Hwang Hyunjin in the center of the dance floor, shirt unbuttoned and chest exposed for everyone to see. But Hyunjin loved to be at the center of attention, so I left him to entertain the majority of the women flanking to him like a magnet while I jerked open the door to Jisung’s Sudan, finding the condoms across the dirty backseat of his car.

I grew even more excited just by looking at them, hiding them carefully in my hand as I rushed through the parking lot in my haste to find Jisung again. At this point, the party was in full swing, music loud and pounding, testing the acoustics of the YMCA which probably never hosted anything else this insane and chaotic before. But I was on cloud nine, ready to finally have sex with someone I had been crushing on ever since Jisung had shown off his abs to a doubtful Changbin. However, when I re-opened the doors to the locker room, I stumbled in my heels as I was greeted with an unfortunate visual. An unforgettable image of Kara on top of Jisung, kissing him passionately while she practically forced him to grope her chest. “Y/N,” Jisung moaned, apparently completely unaware of who was actually grinding on his dick.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing,” I finally shrieked, completely horrified at the display that would forever engrain itself into my subconscious.

Jisung immediately pulled off his blindfold, eyes widening in shock when he unceremoniously dumped Kara into the floor who loudly protested. “Y/N?”

“Jisung,” I said, looking back between him and Kara with panicked eyes and a broken heart. I had never felt so betrayed before in my entire life, and there had been moments when I felt downright disgusted with my poor choice in men. But Jisung was more important to me than the casual flings from my past, which probably explains my sudden desire to escape the situation that was forcing messy tears through the mascara clumping my eyelashes together. I left Jisung behind in that nasty locker room before losing myself to the crowd of my classmates.

There was only one person I wanted to see, and I found Hyunjin now re-clothed, talking to some other girls when he first saw me approach. He greeted me cheerfully, only realizing my condition once he stopped to notice the tears falling freely from my tired eyes. “Y/N,” Hyunjin said, expression falling as he pulled me into his arms tightly. “Why are you crying?”

“I saw her with Jisung,” was all I managed to get out before Hyunjin’s eyes were practically blazing with fury.

“That little shit,” Hyunjin cursed, grabbing my hand and leading me through the partygoers who were too busy drunkenly grinding on one another to notice the two of us. “Changbin,” Hyunjin said, interrupting the older boy who was currently fingering the edges of a freshman girl’s panties, practically dry humping through their clothes.

“What is it?” Changbin snapped at Hyunjin, eyes narrowed until they landed on me. “Y/N,” Changbin said, tone much softer as he abruptly dismissed his date who whined about their loss of contact. “What happened?”

“Jisung needs his ass kicked,” Hyunjin said and Changbin needed no further encouragement.

“Where the hell is he?”

It was frigidly cold in the parking lot and there was way too much going on around me. I could barely handle the yelling between Changbin and Felix, my step-brother having found us outside with Jisung trailing behind him, but Hyunjin was arguing with Seungmin and Jeongin, refusing to let Jisung close to me. This night was rapidly becoming one of the worst of my entire life and that says a lot because I had once watched my own father walk out of the house without so much as a goodbye.

“Get out of the way, Felix,” Changbin suddenly growled, fists balled at his sides.

“It’s not his fault,” Felix tried to explain.

“Why is Y/N upset, then?” Changbin demanded, shouldering his way through Seungmin and Jeongin who were certainly no match for a physically stronger Changbin.

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” Felix said. “It’s Kara’s fault! She didn’t need to take things that far-”

“Kara!” Changbin interrupted, now even more furious than he was before. “Did you do something to my sister?”

“Not him,” Seungmin suddenly interfered. “Kara and Felix got into a fight and Kara snuck into the locker room to get back at him.”

Changbin took a step back, suspicion bright in his dark eyes. “What did you say?”

“I thought it was Y/N,” Jisung finally spoke up, eyes wet with tears. “She didn’t say anything to me. She just came over and I was waiting for Y/N!”

“What happened to my sister!” Changbin growled.

“She kissed me,” Jisung said, flinching a little when Changbin tried to charge at him, intercepted by Seungmin and Jeongin who held him back by his with as much force as they could manage together. Jisung turned to look at me, gaze entreating as he reached out a hand. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I thought it was you.”

I shook my head, refusing to even look at Han Jisung because my heart was hurting in my chest and the night just continued to grow more and more confusing. “I’ll take care of Y/N,” Hyunjin finally said, sending Jisung a nasty glare before guiding me further and further away from the source of my pain.

But don’t ever let anyone tell you that Seo Changbin didn’t have a soft spot for Han Jisung because, at the drop of a hat, the older boy would immediately be at my husband’s side. And I thoroughly took advantage of this when I asked Jisung to invite Changbin over to our house for dinner one night, the two of them arriving together with Changbin clutching tightly to his sleeping bag. “I guess you’re spending the night,” I remarked.

“Why wouldn’t I? We work at the same place,” came Changbin’s usual response, tossing his bag onto the couch while he followed Jisung into our bedroom, complaining about something to do with the air conditioning. “Your apartment is so much nicer than mine!”

I finished cooking in relative peace, making sure to keep Changbin’s wine glass constantly full because a tipsy Changbin was much easier to deal with than the serious version who would likely explode when he heard my story. “So nice of you Y/N,” Changbin said as he slurped his spaghetti. He and Jisung were always messy when it came to pasta so I tried to ignore their nasty habits.

“Changbin,” I said, studying the older carefully. “I heard Kara was visiting.”

Changbin shrugged, shoving more food into his impossibly small mouth. “She’s been staying at my place.”

“Really?” I asked. “Why haven’t we had a chance to meet her again.”

Changbin glanced up at me. “You don’t even like, Kara, so why would I bother?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “She’s your sister, of course, I would be interested.”

“She stays busy a lot,” Changbin said.

“With who?”

“With work,” Changbin said, taking another long drink of the expensive wine I bought just for this occasion.

“She could have come tonight,” I said carefully, but I had been apparently pushing too far because now Changbin was suspicious.

“What are you getting at, Y/N?”

I took a deep breath, sensing Jisung watching the two of us over a mouthful of noodles. “I saw Kara the other day at my mother’s dinner.”

Changbin paused, considering me with a scowl. “What?”

“She came to our dinner,” I repeated. “With Felix.”

And with the exception of Jisung’s chewing, the room had grown relatively silent. “Why am I just now hearing about this?”

Changbin turned an accusatory gaze at Jisung who just rapidly shook his head and drank more wine. “Probably because she didn’t want anyone to know,” I said. “I think your sister might be trying to start something with Felix again and we both know how badly that turned out last time.”

Changbin dropped his fork, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “So nice of everyone to keep me informed.”

I relaxed a little because Changbin wasn’t reacting as violently as I thought he might. “I wanted to be sure and I got the information I needed today.”

Changbin sighed. “What information?”

“Minho looked through Felix’s phone at their dance practice,” I said. “He saw some messages with Kara. Apparently, they’re going to dinner tomorrow night. Isn’t that nice?”

Changbin’s jaw clenched as he took in this news. “And I’m assuming you have something planned?”

“Maybe,” I said with an innocent shrug. “It could be that Minho, Hyunjin, and I happened to make a reservation at the same place.”

“You’re gonna spy on them?”

“Would you rather us not?”

Changbin scoffed, dark hair falling into his eyes. “Are you asking me to come?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Well of course I do,” Changbin grunted impatiently, reaching down for another forkful of spaghetti while I sat back in my chair with satisfaction.

“This is surprisingly classy of Felix,” Hyunjin remarked, rolling down the window of Minho’s SUV to perch a pair of binoculars on the end of his nose.

“Aren’t you taking this too far?” Minho asked his friend.

“These?” Hyunjin asked, adjusting the lenses. “How else am I supposed to see what’s going on?”

“This is my sister we’re talking about,” Changbin spoke up, tugging at the frayed sleeves of his borrowed jacket.

“And Y/N’s stepbrother,” Minho added.

“I don’t claim him by blood,” I said, reaching over to slap Changbin’s hands. “Stop messing with that, you’re gonna ruin it, and this is Jisung’s nicest coat!”

My husband in question had opted to stay at home since he was probably the smartest out of all of us when it came to potential confrontations. “You’re rich enough to buy him another,” Changbin grumbled.

“He doesn’t wear them,” I said. “I buy him all sorts of clothes, but they always sit in his closet.”

“Who’s he trying to impress at an Elementary school?” Hyunjin snorted.

“Can’t we just go inside already?” I asked, slowly massaging my throbbing temples.

“Yeah, but can you shimmy the lock on your door?” Minho requested. “I’m pretty sure it’s broken.”

I accommodated his request before the four of us walked into the restaurant with an air of nonchalance. Nothing but four friends since childhood deciding to eat out together for a gourmet meal. It reminded me of college when the four of us shared the same lecture, a one-time occurrence because Minho forgot a general education course, and we always ate together because it ended in the early evening.

Of course, there was always the matter of the other three using me to find the answers to our homework assignment because they didn’t feel like completing the calculations.

The hostess inside the restaurant greeted us, checking Hyunjin’s reservation before leading us to our table. “Do you see them?” Hyunjin asked, deciding not to be so discreet in the distracting way he moved his head around, surveying the restaurant landscape with a sharp eye.

“This is so stupid,” Changbin grimaced.

“Are you too cool to eat with us?” Minho joked, gasping when he noticed the free wine samples menu.

“I’ll look around,” I said. “Give me five minutes.”

“And then what?” Hyunjin asked even as I was already moving away, sticking to the outskirts of the finely decorated tables. According to Minho, Felix and Kara should have already been at the restaurant for half an hour, probably weighing the consequences of keeping their new affair a secret from the rest of us. But I had no intention of letting them sneak away with anything, determined to get to the bottom of whatever relationship Felix was attempting with Changbin’s little sister, the same person who had openly scorned and rejected Felix in the past. This really demonstrates just how powerful a crush can be when it involves someone as determined as Felix.

“Aha!” I murmured quietly, discovering the couple together near the private dining room at the back. Reaching for my cell phone, I sent Minho a quick text message, waiting for a moment or so before I could see the three boys carefully making their way to my hiding spot.

“Ridiculous,” Changbin muttered, but he let out a disappointed sigh when he saw his sister and Felix together. “I guess you were right.”

Changbin was squatting down in front of the display of plants, peeling back the branches to find a better view. “Damn, Changbin,” I said, reaching down to give his ass an appreciative slap. “Who are you trying to impress?”

“Keep your hands to yourself,” Changbin snapped at me. “It’s not my fault that Han’s flatter than his vocal pitch.”

“Burn,” Hyunjin remarked while I scoffed in response.

“Jisung is a great singer.”

“Yeah, the kids are so impressed,” Minho giggled, ignoring the glare I sent him over my shoulder.

“They can’t be dating,” Changbin said. “I would have known about this. Kara would have told me!”

“That definitely looks like a date to me,” Minho teased Changbin.

“Unless friends share five-star meals now,” Hyunjin commented, glancing at me. “Interested in eating out again tomorrow, Y/N?”

“Only if you pay,” I replied dryly, watching Felix and Kara with intent.

“I can’t stand this,” Changbin declared, attempting to blow our cover by rising to his full height.

I desperately tugged on his shirt. “They’ll see us!”

“I don’t care,” Changbin grunted, pulling away from me only to march down the staircase to where Felix and Kara were laughing together over a meal of what appeared to be filet mignon and cabernet.

“Should we watch or get involved?” I asked, grinning when Felix finally realized that Changbin had spotted them. The all-consuming look of existential dread passing across his features was well worth the price of admission, including an outrageous gratuity fee.

“Definitely watch,” Minho nodded, tossing an arm around my shoulders. “You did good, Y/N.”

“Unless Changbin causes a scene,” Hyunjin remarked.

“I hope he does because I can record it for Jisung later,” I said, letting out a satisfied grin when Changbin stopped at their table.

Minho was one step ahead of me, pressing the record button at the top of his phone. “Maybe we’ll become YouTube famous!”

“I can’t believe you told him,” Felix snapped at me later. The six of us were outside the restaurant, having decided to pull Changbin and Kara away from the reproachful eyes of the upper elite who wanted to dine in peace.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m looking out for you.”

“By outing me to Changbin?”

“Of course,” I nodded, watching as Kara received a stern lecture from her older brother. “You can’t honestly be considering a relationship with Kara?”

“Is there something wrong with that?” Felix asked.

“You must have a selective memory,” I said. “Or did you forget what happened in high school?”

“That was a long time ago!”

“She also used you during college. Don’t tell me you think she came around campus just for your company?”

Hyunjin, from somewhere to my right, let out a low whistle. Minho stood next to him, taking in the drama unfolding around him with eager eyes. “I don’t care about any of that!” Felix protested. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Felix,” I said, lowering my tone. “I just want you to be happy.”

“Well you’re doing a really bad job with that,” Felix snapped.

“It’s not because I don’t want things to work out,” I said. “I just know who she is and what she’s capable of.”

“Is that so?”

“You were too, Felix! Everything she ever did to you was always in an effort to hurt you. That’s why I have to interfere, to make sure that she doesn’t do anything like that!”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t care. You aren’t my real sister, so stop trying to act like it!”

His words were crushing and I suddenly felt equivalent to the world’s smallest person as I watched Felix walk away into the haze of city lights.

Jisung was sunshine and he once told me that he would do everything in his power to make me happy, even getting down on one knee to propose at our college graduation ceremony, nervous hands sliding a beautiful ring onto my finger. Jisung always knew when I was feeling sad or angry, dropping everything that he had been working on to make me feel better. Like in instances such as this, when my step-brother publicly disowns me, walking away without looking back once to assess the damage he had made of my fragile heart. “I deserved it,” I told Jisung, closing my eyes against his chest as I enjoyed the soothing water of the bath he prepared for me.

“No, you didn’t,” Jisung countered, wrapping his arms tightly around my middle. “You thought you were helping him.”

“I guess I have no right to interfere,” I said. “Even if I’m worried that Kara will only hurt him again.”

“And she might,” Jisung agreed. “But I think Felix can handle it. Sometimes, you forget that he’s all grown up.”

“I ruined our relationship,” I said. “Felix won’t ever talk to me again and Kara is probably mad at Changbin.”

“Felix can’t avoid you,” Jisung said. “You have the same friends.”

“Ha,” I snorted. “You don’t know Felix very well. If he sets his mind to something, then there’s nothing that can stop him.”

“Actually, I do know Felix, and that’s why I’m pretty sure he’ll call you any day now and ask to talk.”

I turned around in his arms, trying to see any hint of teasing in Jisung’s brown eyes. “Why do you think that?”

“Because Felix respects you, even if you make him mad,” Jisung said, surprising me with a gentle kiss. “He told me all the time when we were younger that he thinks you’re one of the coolest people he’s ever met.”

“Felix said that?”

“Yeah,” Jisung nodded. “And I completely agree.”

“You’re obligated to say that,” I said. “Marriage and shit.”

“But I’ve always meant it, Y/N,” Jisung insisted. “You have a really good heart and you always have our best intentions in mind, even if that means you feel the need to spy on your step-brother.”

“Now it sounds creepy,” I complained.

“I can’t imagine you dragging around Changbin, Minho, and Hyunjin, hiding behind tables in the middle of an expensive restaurant.”

“That’s funny because I can’t imagine you in an expensive restaurant at all.”

“Really?” Jisung grinned, digging his fingers into my sides. “Try saying that again.”

I squealed in his arms, pleading for mercy. “I thought you wanted to relax?”

“This was all for you,” Jisung said, pulling me onto his lap. “I think we should go to bed early.”

“I am tired,” I smirked.

His cock was hard against my lower back. “What if I let you ride my face?”

“Then you’ll be the best husband in the world.”

The following Saturday, Jisung’s prediction came true when Felix’s name flashed across my phone screen while I enjoyed lunch with Seungmin and Jeongin. “It’s Felix,” I hissed at them before taking the call. “Hello?”

“Y/N,” Felix’s deep voice greeted me on the other end. “I hope you’re not busy.”

“I’m just having lunch,” I said, waving my hand at Seungmin who was attempting to mouth imperceptible words at me from across the table.

“I want to apologize for the other night with Kara,” Felix said. “At dad’s house and at the restaurant.”

“I’m sorry too, Felix,” I said. “I shouldn’t have told Changbin about his sister.”

“No,” Felix sighed. “But Changbin deserves to know the truth. He called me the other day and told me that Kara had left the next morning. She didn’t even bother telling him where she was going.”

I felt my heartbreak for my step-brother. “I didn’t think she would do that.”

“You don’t have to be nice, Y/N,” Felix said. “Everything you said about Kara was true and I should’ve listened.”

“I never did any of that to teach you a lesson, Felix.”

“Yeah,” Felix murmured into the phone. “It doesn't matter anymore. Kara’s gone and I’ll have to move on.”

“But I still feel really bad,” I said. “Maybe we could all hang out tonight? Like we did before we had adult things to worry about.”

Felix chuckled. “I think that sounds nice.”

“Keep your hands away from the food,” I scolded Jisung, giving his ass a firm slap before directing him out of the kitchen. “This is for the party tonight!”

“But it smells good,” Jisung complained.

“You can have as much as you want later,” I said, frowning at Changbin from across the room. “Are you trying to break my mother’s vase?”

The older boy scowled at me. “I can’t reach, alright? You were the one who asked me to decorate.”

“Please help him,” I said, sending Jisung rushing to hang up the streamers before Changbin could possibly sabotage our apartment. The others were due to arrive at any moment and I was already unprepared, food still cooking and my husband and his friend proving to be completely inept at decorating. I wanted everything to be nice for Felix, but honestly? He shouldn’t expect much from this crew.

Graciously, the arrival of Hyunjin brought about an extra few inches of height, allowing the streamers to hang gracefully from the mantlepiece. “What would you do without me, Y/N?” he inquired innocently, handing me the cake he had brought from our cafe.

“I’d need to buy a step ladder,” I teased him, rushing back into the safety of the kitchen to avoid his retaliation. In the meantime, Jisung happily answered the door for our other guests, ushering them inside to crowd our living room. Sadly, our apartment was never meant to be large enough to accommodate this many guests, but it was strangely cozy with all of us together.

“It’s been a while,” Chan remarked to Changbin. “Why don’t we do this sort of thing anymore?”

“Beats me,” Changbin replied. “But Y/N has a nice selection of wine.”

“I’m glad that’s the reason you come around,” I remarked, bringing out the final tray of food to fill out the rest of the table. “Whenever Felix gets here we can eat.”

“He shouldn’t be so late,” Minho said, trying his best to sneak a cube of cheese from the corner.

“Patience my friend,” I said. “It will make everything taste so much better.”

“Not with your cooking,” Minho teased, protesting when I threw my oven mitt at him over the counter separating the kitchen from the dining room.

“You’ll never change,” I remarked.

“Why would you want me to?” Minho asked, ignoring my glare when he grabbed a handful of popcorn.

“Do you want to be suspended from my house?”

“Jisung would never allow it,” he said, whining at my husband. “Right, Sungie?”

Jisung looked back and forth between the two of us. “You two are sometimes worse than my kids at school.”

Before I could offer a compelling comeback, the ringing of our doorbell paused our conversation. The sound indicated Felix’s arrival and Seungmin was the first to greet him, holding him close as they entered the dining room. “Nice of you to join us,” I said, handing my step-brother a plate. “This is all for you.”

“I’m honored,” Felix said, accent thick as he abruptly pulled me into a vice-like grip that nearly knocked me off my feet.

“Too much,” I choked out.

“Don’t kill my wife,” Jisung joked, intervening before Felix could possibly squeeze any more oxygen from my lungs.

The remainder of the evening passed by with a nostalgic tone, the nine of us gathered together in the living room to watch anime on TV while Hyunjin complained about our newest hiree again. “Hey,” he said, snapping his fingers in my direction. “He already had two strikes. One more mess-up and he’s gone.”

“He’s just a kid, Hyunjin,” I said. “Remember when you used to work at Starbucks? I’m surprised you even managed to stay on for an entire year!”

Hyunjin protested loudly over the laughter of 8 other people who clearly remembered sitting in Starbucks on Campus just to watch Hyunjin mess-up orders while whining at the customers to slow down when he was in charge of the register. “He gave me a macchiato when I asked for an Americano,” Minho said.

“One time, Hyunjin closed the store an hour early because he forgot about our project,” Seungmin interjected much to Hyunjin’s chagrin who was now very much embarrassed.

Jisung pulled me closer to him on the chair next to the fireplace, watching our friends talk with obvious affection. “I think Felix is happy.”

I nodded my agreement, observing him from afar. “We did a good job.”

“You did a good job,” Jisung corrected, leaning in closer to whisper directly into my ear. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Love you more,” I said, gripping tightly to Jisung’s hand with no intention of ever letting go because our hold on another had never lessened from the very first day we met as kids, unaware that we would be sharing the rest of our forever together.

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #han jisung #han jisung fanfic #han jisung smut #stray kids han #han fanfic #han smut

770 notes · View notes

myforeverforlife · 4 years ago

Text

my endless blue.

For @jenmyeons Junmyeon and 117. "Can I do your hair?" + 149. "I just need ten minutes, please." (Thank you for sending this in! I hope you like it! ❤️)

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

Word Count: 3,775

Masterlist

You didn't know much about the second prince.

Everyone in the country knew of the first prince, generous, reticent, humble Crown Prince Minseok. The third and fourth princes were also well-known, both of them praised for their artistic talents in music and dance, respectively. But Prince Junmyeon always seemed to be leaving to far-off lands, never staying at the castle for more than a week or two. He was said to have an agreeable temper, polite to all that he met and yet, he never stayed long enough for anyone outside the castle to truly get to know him. There were a multitude of rumors surrounding him: that the prince was the odd one out scorned by his family, that he was afflicted with a severe rash, that he was jealous of his older brother.

You knew better than to believe in the gossip. Your art took up most of your attention anyways, many an hour spent in your airy studio with only canvases and a rainbow of paints. Although you weren't born into a high-ranking family, you had garnered fame and renown through your vivid, emotion-filled pieces.

However, it still came as a shock when you were summoned before the king and queen.

Donned in your best clothing, each crease and fold carefully ironed out, you made your way to the castle. You were hyperaware of your surroundings, soaking in each new sight and sound as your journey brought you closer to the castle. It was an out-of-body experience, being led inside and walking down the hallways, floors intricately lain with decorative tiles in the royal colors. Even as your presence was announced, you could hardly believe that you were about to lay eyes on the king and queen — in person!

The doors swung open, your feet automatically taking steps forward. There, at the other end of the throne room sat the king and queen. Your steps faltered for a second when you realized that there was another person beside them, a face you had never seen before.

You dipped into a low bow once you reached them, gloved hands resting over your stomach. "Your Majesties," you greeted them. "I'm honored to be in your presence."

"We're thankful that you came all this way," the queen replied graciously. She gestured to the man standing beside her. "The king and I have a favor to ask of you regarding our son."

Son? Your eyes widened at the sudden realization — this must Prince Junmyeon.

The man in question was strikingly handsome, hands clasped behind his back as he stood with ramrod-straight posture. Not a single lock of his raven-black hair was out of place, and while his jawline was sharp and sculpted, his round cheeks gave his face an overall boyish appearance. But the prince didn't spare you a glance, gaze fixed on a single point on the floor.

The king cleared his throat, Prince Junmyeon blinking as if coming out of a stupor. He looked up, eyes meeting yours before dipping his head slightly.

"Prince Junmyeon, pleasure to make your acquaintance." But despite his words, his voice seemed empty, devoid of any warmth.

"Junmyeon is set to be wed by the end of the year," the king spoke up. "As per royal tradition, Junmyeon will gift his betrothed with a self-portrait as an engagement present. It is an opportunity for him to showcase his talents, as well as to display the most appealing image of himself. However, painting is something that my son has, ahem, never been particularly skilled in." The king shot his son an apologetic look. "And as we had heard of your wonderful artistry..." his voice grew faint.

"You would like me to paint his portrait?"

"Ah, no," the king said quickly. "That would not be in accordance with the tradition. We would like you to give Prince Junmyeon lessons to help him acquire the skills that he needs."

"You would be paid handsomely, of course," the queen added.

The prince was in need of art lessons? You snuck another peek at him, taking in the way his dark brows had a slight furrow in between them, the way his lips were pressed into a thin line. "I've never taught before, I wouldn't want to be a burden to you, Your Highness." Your last words were directed to the prince, waiting to see what his response would be.

Prince Junmyeon flinched as if he had been stung, clearing his throat roughly. "It would be no burden at all," he said stiffly.

The king clapped his hands together, beaming widely. "Then it's settled! We are greatly indebted to you."

"It is no trouble to me," you replied with another tiny bow. Even when you looked back up, the prince's face was just as impassive as before. You couldn't decipher any emotion on his face besides boredom and what seemed like suppressed annoyance. The prince was a mystery, hiding his true self under the mask that he wore.

And yet for some reason, you couldn't help but want to find out what lay underneath.

The second prince sat hunched over, one arm resting on his leg as he brushed globs of paint across his canvas. It was an posture unaccustomed to painting, but you held your tongue.

Before you could even begin lessons, you needed a clear picture of your pupil's current abilities. It was hard not to jump in when he first started painting his nose, much to your discomfort. Personally, you would have done a rough sketch first, starting with the edges of your face and working inwards. The prince shocked you even further when he moved on to paint his ears, facial features appearing on the canvas in an strange sequence. To add onto that, everything was out of proportion, creating a sort of optical illusion for the viewer.

You were itching to speak up, to fix the oddities that you had noticed in the past fifteen minutes. "Your Highness, I think this is fine. We can move on to other things, you've already got your entire face done."

"Oh, I just need ten minutes, please." Prince Junmyeon looked at you over his shoulder, blinking innocently.

Suppressing an impatient sigh, you forced a smile onto your face. "Ten minutes, then."

And so, you waited another agonizing ten minutes until the prince finally set down his paintbrush. "Well? What do you think?" he asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

"It's... very unique," you managed to say. "You've used a lot of color in your self-portrait, Your Highness."

It was true: Prince Junmyeon had used almost every available color provided. Dark green shadows framed the edges of his face, orange highlights running down his nose and lips painted a vivid red. How he managed to even paint blue onto his cheeks, you had no idea.

Prince Junmyeon let out a snort, taking you by surprise. "You don't need to compliment me to make me feel better. It's horrendous, I know."

"Well... do you like it?"

"What?" The prince frowned at your question.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. While I may not have done a self-portrait in this way, it doesn't matter what I think, as long as your art speaks to you. Do you believe that this represents you the way that you would like to be seen?"

Prince Junmyeon turned back to his portrait, unable to help the small chuckle that escaped from his lips. "I would hope that no one saw this and thought it was me."

"Which part are you dissatisfied with?"

"Honestly, all of it." The prince ran a hand through his hair, forgetting about the paint on his fingers. "I didn't even want to do this ridiculous self-portrait in the first place, much less get married." His last words came out in a whisper.

You hadn't thought much of the prince's marriage, taking it as an accepted and natural way of life for him. Not once had you thought that he might have any objection to it, though looking back on it all, Prince Junmyeon hadn't shown an inkling of interest in his marriage.

"I'm sorry to hear that," you said truthfully. "I can't imagine what it must be like to be in your position."

The prince opened his mouth as if to speak before closing it and looking away. "Thank you," he replied after a few seconds of silence. "But it can't be helped. This is what I was born into, and so I must deal with it as it comes." He straightened up in his seat, hands resting on his knees. "Well? Where do we start from here?"

You gave the painting another once-over, eyes zeroing in on something. Reaching out for his paintbrush and palette, you took a step closer to the easel. "Can I do your hair? You have good, defined strokes here, but they're lacking variation in color."

Junmyeon watched as you mixed a few colors on your palette, creating one that was a few shades lighter than the one he used to paint his hair. He watched in awe as you added the new color to the painting, effortlessly adding more dimension.

"Wow," he breathed out. "It looks better already."

A proud smile came to your face. "It's nothing much. If you would like to do a more realistic portrait, it's important to include light and shadows as well. But there's also nothing wrong with taking a more abstract approach."

"Oh no," the prince replied quickly. "I think I'm done dealing with the abstract for a while." A grimace found its way onto his face as he stared at his artwork. "I have a lot of work ahead of me, don't I?"

"If it helps, you only have to do one painting."

Junmyeon burst into laughter, leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed. "It's an unusual way to cheer someone up, but you've succeeded. You're an interesting one, Teacher Y/N."

You scrunched your nose up upon hearing the title he had attached to your name. "Just Y/N, please. It's so strange to hear my name like that."

"Then I ask that you do the same for me as well."

"Your Highness, I couldn't — "

Junmyeon lifted a finger, your words instantly coming to a halt. "Try it. No formal titles, just my name — like between friends."

The idea was ridiculous to you. Friends, with the prince? But you thought of how lonely he seemed, always leaving for trips far away from the castle, alienated by rumors and burdened with a marriage that he didn't ask for. Maybe what the prince needed most wasn't lessons, but a friend.

"Alright then," you began hesitantly. "Junmyeon."

The prince's face lit up, chasing away the gloom that had been hanging over him all day. "That's more like it.”

Junmyeon always complained whenever you looked over his shoulder, claiming that he felt even more nervous when he could feel your eyes on him. You always spent the first half of your lessons introducing new techniques and tips, and then gave him the rest of the time to put them into practice. Only at the end of the lesson would the prince show you his work for the day.

You sat in a chair across from the prince and his easel, an easel and canvas of your own set up.

"What are you painting?" Junmyeon asked, peeking out from behind his easel.

"It's a secret," you replied with a smirk.

"Ah, don't be like that. You know what I'm painting."

"That's because you only have one task at hand, Your Highness."

"Hey." Your head shot up at the unexpected sternness in your pupil's voice. "You're doing it again."

You let out a weary sigh. "My apologies, Junmyeon."

Junmyeon set his paintbrush down, the handle clattering against the small table by his side. "Are you really that uncomfortable with calling me by my name?" he asked softly.

You paused in the midst of a brush stroke. "You're a prince, Junmyeon. It's hard to break the habit when I know who you are."

A somber look came into Junmyeon's eye. "I understand what you mean. I suppose it's one of the reasons why I enjoy traveling all the time." He seemed to forget that you were there, caught up in his own thoughts as he spoke. "Outside the kingdom, even outside this castle, very few people know what I look like. It makes it easy for me to blend in with everyone else, to pretend that I'm another ordinary person."

Junmyeon was far from ordinary, prince or not, but you kept this to yourself. He would only tease you about it, giggling at your embarassment.

"It sounds very freeing," you said instead.

"Free," Junmyeon repeated. "It is, truly. But my parents argue that I have too much freedom." He smiled bitterly to himself. "They've been wanting me to settle down for years, to stay at home where I belong. I know that they're only concerned for my safety, but still... I love my country, but I love the adventure of traveling to new lands more. At the end of it all, I get to bring what I've learned to the people that I love back home." Junmyeon turned to you with a curious glint in his eye. "Have you ever gone traveling?"

"I've never even left the kingdom," you admitted as Junmyeon's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Never?"

You shook your head. "I haven't had the opportunity to, although I'd love to see art from all over the world."

Junmyeon was silent for a moment before speaking up. "If you could go anywhere, where would you want to go?"

"Any place where there's an ocean. I've only gone once as a child, but I have fond memories of that day. Sea landscapes are some of my favorite to paint as well."

The prince paused, nodding to himself before picking up his paintbrush and palette once more, immersing himself in his work.

You weren't sure what brought on this sudden change, but you were grateful for it. Your mind had already begun straying towards visions of voyaging across oceans, walking along pebble-covered beaches, the prince even making an appearance in one fantasy of you dipping your toes into the glimmering ocean water.

Shaking your head, you followed Junmyeon's actions and resumed painting. It was silly to even think of seeking out new places with him by your side.

Junmyeon might have been your friend, but he was still a prince.

However, even calling him a friend in this past week had awakened a new, fluttery feeling in your chest. You were afraid of thinking too deeply into it, of feeling things that could never be reciprocated.

After all, he was getting married. He was your student, a friend, and nothing more.

Or so you tried to convince yourself.

Weeks passed, every other day spent at the castle with Junmyeon and your paints.

You tried to distance yourself from the prince, but found yourself falling for him more and more with each passing day. He didn't make it any easier, what with his charming smiles and increasingly playful attitude. You swore that the past few sessions had consisted less of actual painting, and more of playing around and talking about his travels.

Time was slipping through your hands, and you knew that these lessons would come to an end all too soon.

Junmyeon didn't object when you came in one day, determined to actually get some painting done. This time, you read a book to keep yourself busy instead of working along with him. The only thing you felt like painting was the second prince, but you would die of embarrassment if he saw you painting him.

The room was oddly silent, different from the weeks of laughter that had filled this room. You could feel Junmyeon's eyes on you every so often, knowing that he must be at a loss for your sudden shift in behavior.

Even at the end of the lesson, as you studied his finished self-portrait, a heaviness lingered in the air. It was stifling, almost suffocating Junmyeon as he waited for you to say something.

"You've improved so much since we first met," you finally said. "Soon enough, you won't need my help at all."

"Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?" Junmyeon shot back, getting up from his seat.

You stepped back, hand raised to your chest as you tried to calm the racing of your heartbeat. "What do you mean?" you replied lamely. "Why do I get the feeling that you're trying to say goodbye?"

"We would have to eventually. You're getting married, Junmyeon."

Junmyeon's face hardened, the sharp edges of his face emphasized as he clenched his jaw. "I can't."

"What do you mean, you — "

"I can't marry a person that I don't love. I've tried in order to make my parents happy, but the more I think about it, the more frustrated I get." Junmyeon's gaze was desperate as he stared at you. "Y/N, I can't marry someone when I'm in love with someone else."

You couldn't help the gasp that escaped from your lips as you realized what he meant. "Junmyeon, we can't." You backed up as he took a step closer, a pang of guilt striking you Junmyeon's face fell. "The king and queen, they'll be furious when they find out."

"Give me a chance to convince them," he pleaded. "Meet me here tomorrow, please. I will find a way to make this right, I promise."

There was no doubting the fierce sincerity in Junmyeon's voice, his earnestness to make things right. As terrified as you were, you still had complete faith in him.

"Okay," you agreed as Junmyeon sighed in relief.

He circled his arms around you, holding you close to him. Junmyeon was sure that you could hear the loud pounding of his heartbeat, but he didn't care. Never in his life had he cared for someone so deeply, had wanted to be with someone so ardently. No matter what happened, he was determined not to let anything get in the way of the future that he wanted.

He would run away with you, if that's what it took.

You were a mess of nerves, although on the outside, you appeared as cool as a cucumber. Upon your arrival, you had been led to the throne room — the same place where you had met Junmyeon for the first time.

Like deja vu, the king and queen were seated at the far end of the room while Junmyeon stood close by. This time, a covered easel was beside him.

The king spoke up as soon as you came to a stop in front of them, his dark eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What is the meaning of all this, Junmyeon?"

"I've finished my portrait, Father — the one for my betrothed."

You looked over at Junmyeon, puzzled by his words. Dark shadows rested under his eyes, as if he had stayed up through the night.

Without a moment of hesitation, Junmyeon lifted the fabric off of the easel, revealing the painting underneath.

Instead of seeing Junmyeon, your own face stared back at you, painted in different shades of blue paint. The colors reminded you of the vibrant open ocean you once saw as a child. Tears pricked your eyes as you realized that this painting wasn't just a declaration of Junmyeon's true affections — it was a vow to take you to the places you had once dreamed of visiting, to go on these journeys together.

"Junmyeon," the queen said. "What do you mean by this?"

"I cannot go through with the marriage that you and Father set up for me." Junmyeon came to your side, his strong, firm hand slipping into yours. "I love Y/N, and I don't wish to be with anyone else. I beg of you, please call off the engagement."

The king and queen exchanged a stunned look, both of them speechless at this turn of events. "Is this true?" the king asked you. "You care for my son?"

You nodded with certainty, unable to stop the smile on your face. "Yes, Your Majesty. More than anyone else in the world."

"Mother, Father," Junmyeon ventured carefully. "I know that you have only been doing what you believed was best for me, but I don't want a marriage to keep me confined, to keep me from what I love. I want to travel the world with Y/N, to learn about all there is to see and experience. I'll always come back home, no matter what."

The queen brought her hand to her mouth, eyes almost as glossy as yours. "But what if you were to get hurt?"

Junmyeon turned to you, squeezing your hand gently. "Y/N and I will keep each other out of trouble. Any difficulties that come our way, we'll face them together."

A defeated sigh caught both of your attention, the king shaking his head with a weary smile. "You're too much like I was, at that age. We should have known better than to try and stop you in the first place. Alright, I shall call the engagement off."

"But you must come home at least once a month," the queen added quickly. "No more gallivanting and disappearing for months at a time."

Junmyeon laughed, the sound as soothing as a fresh breeze on a summer day. "Yes, Mother." He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it. "How are you feeling?" he asked, voice hushed to give you two some semblance of privacy.

"I can't believe it," you murmured back. Your eyes were drawn back to Junmyeon's painting, tracing over each brushstroke, each pop of color on the canvas. "When did you have time to make this?"

"I stayed up all night working on it. I don't mean for it to be an engagement gift to you — not yet. But I wanted to show you how much you mean to me, how much you've changed my life already."

You reached up with your other hand, running your thumb over the smooth skin of his cheek. "No one's ever done anything like this for me before. Thank you, Junmyeon."

"Of course." Junmyeon leaned down, forehead resting against yours. He giggled to himself as your noses bumped into each other in the process. "Where to now, my love? We have the entire world to see."

You closed your eyes, soaking in every detail of this unforgettable moment.

"Anywhere is fine, as long as I'm with you."

A/N: 3.8k words oh my gosh, someone stop me 😂 the requests just end up being longer and longer than the one before, this is so funny to me omg. but each time I tried to make it shorter, it just didn’t make sense to cut any of the parts out. I was inspired by myeon’s “self-portrait” album, specifically the album cover!

#exo #suho #junmyeon #suho scenario #junmyeon scenario #suho fanfic #junmyeon fanfic #exo scenario #exo fanfic #writings

54 notes · View notes

welcomethefears · 4 years ago

Text

Days Away - Bucky Barnes x Reader Soulmate AU - Chapter 8

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 (This is it)

The afternoon was sunny, with beams of light streaming in through the open windows in the shop. Each flower colored the room, sending pastels and dark colors spiraling throughout the primarily creamy walls. At the front desk of this shop stood a (Tall/Short) girl, resting both elbows on the marble, her head in her hands, and a distant look adorning her (s/c) face. It was a dim afternoon, and today her flower shop wasn’t as busy as it usually was. She let out a soft sigh, feeling the sunlight hit and warm her face. She closed her eyes for a split second, taking in all the warmth that the afternoon offered to her.

“(Y/N), you alright?” A voice asked, snapping the girl out of her daze. Said girl open her (e/c) eyes, her gaze falling on the brunette carrying a pot of pale pink roses. Vanessa had a hand on her hip, her green apron blending in with her dark clothing. Her brown eyes sparkled in the afternoon light, watching carefully over her seemingly younger boss. (Y/N) let a soft smile paint itself across her plump lips, letting a soft hum vibrate through her throat.

“I’m fine, just… thinking,” She stated, her melodic voice floating around the store. Vanessa made her way over to the counter, placing the pot down and grabbing (Y/N)’s right arm. The girl struggled a little as her grey knit shawl was pushed down her arm, revealing her glowing numbers that were ticking now, second by second. It was only 3 days until she met them, her soulmate. She sighed dreamily as she thought about the concept, her other half after all this time. She had waited what felt like centuries, watching as all her friends including Vanessa met their soulmates and became just, astonishingly happy. She never thought it was possible, to suddenly become a humanoid ray of sunshine just by meeting someone, but it was clear to her that soulmates defied this logic she had.

“I knew it! Only 3 days? (Y/N) why didn’t you tell me?” Vanessa reprimanded. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, smile somehow getting warmer at the words. She loved Vanessa, she was one of her closest friends, and one of her best employees. Then again, she only hired the best at her store, with Vanessa being assistant manager and two very reliable teenage girls running the desk after school and on weekends. It was little her own little flower family, and she made sure each person knew how much they were valued. It was small things, like gifting them their favourite flowers on their birthdays or buying them all cookies at Christmas. She ran a tight ship at work, so she needed people to know how much she cared. She shook her head, getting caught in her own thoughts again. She loved those in her life already, how was a soulmate going to affect her?

“Yeah, just 3 more, crazy right? Who knew I would get a soulmate!” She exclaimed in reply, a grin spreading across her face. She was always good at hiding her inner turmoil, covering it with an overexcited exterior. Her personality seemed to match that of a twenty-something-year-old, but in reality, she was around 54 years old, a gift she seemed to inherit from her father. Everyone she knew closely knew this, but she had no clue how this would affect her soulmate, she was old enough to experience turmoil yet not old enough to experience a world war. Would her soulmate be younger than her? An old person? She had no clue, but in a way that excited her, the mystery of it all, so she showed this side of her emotions instead of anything else. Her eyes sparkled as she thought this, Vanessa quickly picking up on it, giggling softly at her friend’s innocence.

“You still manage to act like a child, even though you’re much older than I am,” Vanessa shrugged, smiling at (Y/N) as she moved to her work station, collecting and arranging flowers.

“I can’t help it sorry, being youthful is just… exciting I guess,” (Y/N) trailed off, caught in her own thoughts again as the afternoon sun drifted in. She’d be going home soon, tutoring the kids in the afternoon, and helping to cook dinner for them all. Being around children, especially school-aged mutants was exciting for her, watching them develop their skills and powers, as well as their social skills was a highlight of each day. Thinking about it more, she loved the mansion, with all the staff being like a family when she was away from her father or flower shop. The support she experienced as a child and even now as a fully-fledged adult was something she valued tremendously. Although, with a soulmate coming into the picture did that mean she would have to rely on them? Would they even be reliable? Everything was quickly spiraling, becoming something out of hand, lost in them she was snapped back to reality when Vanessa spoke once again.

“Oh, Wade was asking when he’s allowed to come back to the mansion? Says he wants to have a family dinner with everyone,” Vanessa informed, causing a snort to come from (Y/N).

“Never,” She chortled, memory flashing to the last time Deadpool had invaded an x-men dinner. Many of the younger students invited to join the staff dinner were quickly pushed out of the room, and Charles had not been happy about the language and vulgarity some of them had heard. Although ironically both Ellie (Better known as Negasonic teenage warhead) and Yukio had stayed, Yukio being quite the source of gossip for Wade to tap into.

“Come on, could it really hurt that much? I could come with him if that would help,” Vanessa offered, her own thoughts drifting to her fiancé who was even more childish than the woman in front of her.

“Maybe, as long as you don’t get jealous if he starts flirting with Colossus,” (Y/N) giggled, pressing her thumb across the pale pink petal belonging to the tulip she was holding. Banter like this was nice, a great distraction from the possible mess that was thought to arrive in 3 days.

~*~

“Welcome home!” Kitty yelled, jumping on (Y/N) as soon as she had closed the door behind her. While Kitty was one of the youngest teachers (Having only finished schooling a couple of years prior) she was still treated the same way she was when she was a child, since all the older staff had a soft spot for her. And seemingly, Kitty had a soft spot for (Y/N). Hugging back with just as much intensity, (Y/N) rested her head on Kitty’s shoulder, their brown and (H/C) hair pooling together. Pulling apart and leaving the warmth of each other’s touch, the two shared a smile before Kitty took (Y/N)’s hand, dragging her towards the library in the mansion.

“Some of the students are waiting for us, looks like maths and biology. You’ll be able to handle that, right?” Kitty asked, an innocence emanating in through her words. (Y/N) rolled her eyes at this, playfully shoving Kitty softly.

“Hello, anyone in there? Did you forget my powers again space cadet?” (Y/N) teased, linking her arm with Kitty’s in an affectionate manner. Kitty huffed playfully in response, gripping (Y/N)’s arm back in response.

“Of course, I know, it’s just they’re doing cell theory, not botany!” She exclaimed in reply, shaking her head slightly and causing her brown hair to jump with the movement. The two finally came to the library, finding many students chatting loudly to each other with books hardly touched. (Y/N) raised her eyebrow at this, noting how the students hadn’t noticed either of the two adults. Without a word, (Y/N) raised her hand towards the center of the large table, and slowly out of the wood, a large cactus grew, its sharp needles stretching into every corner she allowed it to reach. The students took note of this quickly, turning their attention to the (tall/short) figure which had caused it to occur. (Y/N) smiled lightly, watching over the silent children finally paying attention.

“So, what are we helping with today?” (Y/N) asked, a sweet grin on her face as she looked over all the students before her.

~*~

“Did you really have to grow a cactus on the tables, you could have just called out to them?” Kitty asked, walking down one of the long halls in the mansion with (Y/N). The two had just finished tutoring all the students, a successful session in (Y/N)’s eyes, but so was anytime a student’s face lit up with understanding. Being with others, especially children was always a fun experience for (Y/N), because as much as she looked young if it weren’t for her childish personality it was likely she’d be like her father, a grumpy old man. The students provided an insight into the younger generations, a connection she doubted she would have outside the girls in her flower shop. It wasn’t just that though, it was the fact that the mansion acted as a surrogate family for all these children, a place where they were safe and free to be themselves, and in a way that allowed (Y/N) to do the same. Shrugging her shoulders, she was already back in the moment, her air-headed tendencies pushed aside.

“I felt like it, plus no one really has a mutation like mine, so it’s always nice to show off what I’ve got,” She replied lightly, finally reaching the dining room with Kitty. It was pretty empty seeing as all the kids had eaten already, as well as the teachers who were monitoring them. Not only that, but tonight wasn’t an official dinner, the sort where all the x-men spent the evening together. However, a familiar figure sat at the x-men table alone, her white hair tumbling down her back and contrasting with her rich dark skin. (Y/N)’s face lit up as she saw her best friend, rushing forward to the dining table.

“Ororo! It’s good to see you!” She laughed, engulfing her friend in a hug. Ororo hugged back just as strong, the two laughing quietly to each other. Pulling away they shared a smile, and (Y/N) noticed the age on her face. Sometimes it was hard to acknowledge the fact, but not aging certainly put a damper on some of her relationships. The nature of her powers meant that her healing could only be used on her family and soulmate, so every once in a while, she’d be reminded of this, simply by looking at her aging best friend. It was hard, watching those she was connected to lose their spark and die, but so was the life of a mutant with healing powers. At least she’d always have Deadpool to talk to, knowing she was one of the few who enjoyed his company.

“You saw me last night, what’s the big deal?” Ororo asked, raising an eyebrow at her youthful friend. (Y/N) seemed to fidget at this, not wanting to admit either her thoughts or her dilemma. Ororo didn’t even flinch, a knowing look in her eyes.

“Not long to go I’m guessing?” Ororo asked, pulling up her own sleeve to show off her numbers, slowly ticking down each second. She was close too, but not as close as (Y/N). Automatically (Y/N) copied her friends’ action, pulling her own sleeve up to reveal her mark, glowing brightly on her (s/c) skin.

“Only 3 days, you lucky girl,” Ororo chuckled, rolling her sleeve down as (Y/N) did the same.

“Oh. My. God! Only 3 days, why didn’t you tell me (Y/N)?! Have you told anyone!?” Kitty asked, jumping up and down in excitement behind the two. (Y/N) rubbed the back of her head in embarrassment, letting out a strained laugh.

“I’ve only told Vanessa at the flower shop and now you guys, more than anything I didn’t want to tell my dad, you know how he can be like when it comes to me,” She huffed out softly in reply, dropping her hand and letting it run through her (H/C) hair.

“What am I like?” Came the voice, interrupting the girl talk in the dining room. (Y/N) turned towards the voice, Wolverine walking casually into the room as if nothing was the matter at all. He came over to (Y/N) first, ruffling her hair affectionately.

“How’s my little Howlett going?” Logan asked, standing beside the group of girls.

“Fine, Dad, how was the camp?” (Y/N) asked in reply, sweating under her collar at his sudden appearance.

“Yeah it was fine, some of the little runts had trouble setting up tents, but other than that they were pretty capable.” He informed. (Y/N) looked between the two girls, an obvious difference in their reactions. Kitty watched on fearfully as well, looking as if to keep the secret. Ororo however, looked on encouragingly, waiting for (Y/N) to take the mature option. Swallowing her fears, (Y/N) finally spoke up.

“Dad, I’m meeting my soulmate in 3 days,” She informed, watching as her father’s face morphed into one of surprise.

“Oh,” His reply was simple, and the room was frozen in anticipation. All the girls were quiet, and with the air becoming thicker (Y/N) noticed Kitty slowly sink through the floor, escaping the awkward situation. ‘Damn her,’ (Y/N) thought to herself. Storm seemingly held eye contact with both parties on and off, struggling to decide who needed her attention most.

“Well, dad?” (Y/N) tentatively asked, hoping to pull some answer from him.

“Well… I’m happy for you little Howlett. Hard to believe you’re growing up,” Logan huffed out half-heartedly, making eye-contact with his daughter, a soft smile overtaking his lips no matter how hard he tried to keep up his gruff exterior. (Y/N) let out a sigh of relief, happy enough to at least get that titbit of approval, but knowing her father this wouldn’t be the last she heard of the matter.

“I’m 54 years old now dad, you don’t have to baby me anymore,” (Y/N) giggled with a roll of her eye, squealing as her father suddenly grabbed her in his arms, feeling her (h/c) hair being ruffled around once again. While a small gesture, the short contact she had with her father like this meant everything. He hadn’t meant to, she always thought, hadn’t meant to leave her in the care of the X-men for her childhood, but that was just how it was. So moments like this, when he was actually in her life, and his contact kept her in reality, meant practically the universe.

“Yeah, but ya act like one, might as well treat ya like one,” Logan grinned, letting his daughter go from his arms. (Y/N) found herself unsure of how she felt about this, in one way she felt like she needed the contact, something to lean on, yet leaving her father’s arms was her future still to come. Logan muttered a quick goodnight, snapping (Y/N) from her trance as she whispered the same back. She watched as he left, yet she felt no weight off her shoulders. He knew now, that was great, but something still wasn’t right.

“Earth to (Y/N), you going to stand here all night or head to bed, it’s already 10 pm and you have work tomorrow, right?” Ororo asked, placing a shoulder delicately on her shoulder. The warmth presented was inviting, and (Y/N) realized that it was something she always craved, but seemingly more so lately. This soulmate business was certainly getting to her.

“Hmm? Oh yes, I do, I’ll follow you towards the rooms,” (Y/N) answered simply, trying to hide her disappointment when Ororo’s hand left her shoulder.

“Hey, to celebrate your soulmate do you want to get some coffee tomorrow. That little place a couple of blocks from your work? It’s the only time I’m free with everything going on, and I’m sure Vanessa can handle the shop for a while,” Ororo suggested, making (Y/N)’s (e/c) eyes light up with joy. She nodded vigorously, excitement overtaking her in a child-like manner.

“That sounds wonderful! I can’t wait to see you, then I can finally sit down and have a good talk with you,” (Y/N) suggested. Spending time with Storm as a normal civilian was almost a dream come true oddly enough.

The two finally parted ways at (Y/N)’s room, and after saying goodnight for the final time, she softly closed her door. Her room had become her own at the mansion after a couple of decades of living in it. A permanent resident she seemed to be, and not that she minded but it wasn’t truly hers. It was Charles’ home, it was the children’s home. But not hers. With these thoughts clouding her mind as she pulled her quilt over herself, she couldn’t help but let the storm in her mind to wander towards her soulmate. (Y/N) had hardly had a boyfriend let alone felt love truly for anyone but her friends. Yet, she was optimistic. Surely a soulmate was like the legends, another half to herself, a completion to her as a person. With hope she thought about them, wondering what they were like, who they could be if they liked mutants. Thoughts about her fated swam around, clouding all judgment she had as she was lulled into slumber. Before she finally drifted off, she made a quiet promise.

To do anything for her soulmate, even move the heavens if she had to.

Taglist: (I lost it I’m so sorry, please message me if you wanna be tagged)

62 notes · View notes

thesculptedflower · 5 years ago

Text

Adorable effort

Note: I noticed while I was writing this, that I have absolutely no idea how to write for a specific body type. And I’m so so so sorry if this wasn’t what was asked in the request. I think that I don’t really explain how the reader looks in my fics because I want everyone to be able to read them, no matter their size.

So, I really tried my best, and I hope this is at least decent, and I promise to get better and go read some fics to get some examples!

Also, I’m sorry this took kinda long, I’m renovating our balcony and it’s taking a whole lot of time.

Request: Hi! Would you ever consider writing a Edward Nygma x plus size reader oneshot, if you’re okay with it??? Maybe the reader is a maid at Wayne manor and she’s like an older sister to Bruce. On the multiple occasions when Bruce goes to the GCPD she is with him and meets Ed, they get on. Reader answers his riddles despite getting them wrong. Thanks! @morganofthecoves1

Adorable effort

Your life didn’t have the best kind of start. Moving from one foster family to another, being thrown in the system at such a young age had an effect on you. The constant moving made it really hard to form long lasting friendships, so you spent most of your time alone. Trouble seemed to find its way to you wherever you went, but you remained hopeful, that one day everything would turn upside down. And so it did.

Thomas Wayne spotted you in a roadside diner, waitering customers and collecting empty dishes. He saw how you were harassed and the pain on your face made him feel for you. He wanted to save you from that place, and so he did. He offered you a job in his house, which you gladly took. Working for the Wayne’s was a dream come true. Thomas and Martha were absolutely wonderful to you, always treating you with respect. It felt good to be there and you really felt like you belonged to that manor. The workload wasn’t bad at all, for Alfred did most of the ’’manly’’ work. You enjoyed your moments with Martha, growing really close to her. The two of you would fix up the garden together, gossiping about the neighbors and you loved to help her get ready for all the galas they attended. So when Alfred came home that one night, only Bruce with him, you felt like the bad luck from your past had caught up to you. Thomas and Martha had taken you in with their hearts open, offering you guidance and a warm home, and a sibling-like relationship with Bruce. You and him had a special bond that only got stronger after his parents were murdered. He found a safe place with you, feeling like he could share his sorrows, knowing you would listen and understand. As you both grew up, he would take you with him wherever he went. And one gloomy day took you to Gotham City Police Department, and closer to a one certain forensics scientist.

Bruce had asked you to drive him to the GCPD, because he wanted to inform Detective Gordon on something he had discovered on his father’s papers. He was so desperate to find out who had killed his parents, it pained your heart. You trusted the police, but anyone who lived in Gotham knew, that sometimes things just stay a mystery. But the new Detective seemed to take his job seriously, for now. There weren’t many officers who didn’t have some kinds of ties to the criminal underworld.

’’I’ll go talk with Detective Gordon, and I’m not going to leave until I get him to listen to me.’’ Bruce said looking up at you. He had fire in his eyes, the same fire Thomas had. You smiled softly, placing your hand on his shoulder for reassurance. ’’With the facts you have gathered, he doesn’t have another choice but to listen.’’

Bruce smiled weakly, the pain from that night still awfully present in his mind. You watched him run up the stairs to the second level on the precinct and noticed that Gordon was already waiting for him. You decided to take a stroll around, taking another look at all the paintings and pictures of former officers and honorary captains.

You’d been at the precinct so many times, you had almost memorized all the pictures on the walls. Most of the officers knew you and were nice towards you, greeting you whenever you walked past them. Every single time you had been there with Bruce, one man in particular had caught your eye. He was tall, dark haired and handsome. He would come and talk to you, but you could see that he was struggling. So you tried to make it easier for him, always being considerate towards him, and even answering all of his riddles - even if you knew you were wrong - whilst other officers just laughed or rolled their eyes at him. You felt awful about how they treated him. He was an outstanding forensic scientist and had helped in numerous cases, yet they still treated him like he wasn’t one of them.

You were so in your thoughts, you didn’t notice someone approaching you with quite a high speed. You were just about to turn around when you bumped into the stranger. His hands were full of papers and his attention was definitely elsewhere than in watching where he was going. All the papers were now falling to the ground, and probably half of the precincts eyes were on you. You felt a little ashamed, a maid should be the one to help in cleaning, not causing the mess. Both of you dropped to the ground immediately, trying to collect the papers as fast as you could.

’’I’m so, so sorry sir, I wasn’t looking where I was going.’’ You said apologetically, trying to avert his eyes. ’’It’s quite alright miss, I wasn’t looking either.’’ He answered gathering his papers. You could hear that he was a little nervous. Suddenly you felt his hand accidentally land on yours, and you both froze. Only then did you look up and meet his beautiful brown eyes, framed by strong eyeglasses. He looked equally as surprised as you when you finally recognized each other.

’’Get a room you two!’’ Someone shouted, sending a deep blush to your cheeks. And to your surprise, to his as well. You both looked away from each other.

’’I- I’m sorry again, Mr. Nygma.’’ You said sheepishly, handing him the notes you had picked up.

’’Please, call me Ed. And it’s quite all right, there’s no one I’d rather bump into.’’ He flirted carefully, considering you had met him on multiple occasions and the chemistry was definitely there. His hand softly brushed yours as he took the papers, sending another blush to your face. Your hands rested against each other for a while, and the smile he gave you made you weak.

His smile was the most beautiful smile you had ever seen. You returned the smile, wondering if you should continue the conversation. You definitely wanted to get to know him even more, and it was clear that he was as interested in you too. The embarrassment of the previous situation still lingered in the air, but Ed had the means to fix that.

’’What two accidents happen every 24 hours?’’ He riddled.

You looked at him, trying to come up with the correct answer. You didn’t have much experience with riddles, other than those that Ed asked you, but you still liked the way he added them to your conversations. And he didn’t seem to be bothered if and when your answers were wrong. You thought he enjoyed winning, and at the same time teaching them to you.

’’Um, falling in love?’’ You answered quietly, feeling a little shy from the content of your answer. You didn’t think Ed would ask you about something that would have an answer about love, but you liked the idea that he was that kind of man, whom would fall in love very fast and very very hard.

Ed laughed softly, not a hint of malice or mockery in his voice. For a moment you felt hopeful that your answer was actually right, but then he shook his head.

’’Adorable effort, once again, but unfortunately incorrect.’’

You sighed extravagantly, making it seem you were more upset about it that you actually were. It caused Ed to laugh even more, and you felt so mesmerized.

’’Well, will you tell me the answer?’’ You asked after a short while.

’’At dinner, tonight at 8. I’ll pick you up.’’

You felt so happy, that this incredible, marvelous man had seen you in the crowd, among all the officers, and that he had made his way up to you and asked you a riddle, that started all this. You rose to your tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss on Ed’s cheek, making him blush once more. You couldn’t wait for the evening, nor all the other dates you’d have in the future.

#edward nygma #edward nygma x reader #edward nygma x you #edward nygma x y/n #the riddler #the riddler x reader #the riddler x you #the riddler x y/n #Gotham #gotham series #gotham imagine #cory michael smith #fanfiction

100 notes · View notes

sanghyukstattoos · 4 years ago

Note

I'm sure of that. Dawon stans, show up here! 🙋🏻‍♀️ About your requests open, this is the best news ever 😍 So, let me think... What about something cute, I don't know well, maybe a cuddle night with a sweet make out session? Or a late night date watching the stars... Something like that. I'm lacking with my ideias these days, so feel free to improve it. And thank you ^.^ 💟 - 🦋

Date night

Pairing: Lee Sanghyuk I Dawon x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Words: 2699

Summary: Today, the heart- warming memories of how you two started dating came back to you and while work may not have been the best, it sure felt like the right day for a date with your loving boyfriend, Sanghyuk.

A/N: Heyyy 🦋, I’m sorry for making you wait once again but here it is! *Presents proudly* I loved your idea and had such an amazing time writing it. Also, I’ve been receiving support on my other fic ‘Warmth’ and I’m really thankful for that so here is another fic that I hope you can enjoy!

Dates weren’t uncommon between the two of you but suddenly reminded of how much you love him, there had to be a date for a date somewhere in the near future. Since you started dating during the summer of last year, tooth- rotting fluff between the two of you made you shy. The kind of shy where you would smile widely but look away and try to force it off your face. You were embarrassed at how he made you feel so you tried to hide it and send subtle signs hoping he would get the hints.

Unfortunately he didn’t because anytime you would flirt, he would do the same under the guise of friendship. Ripples of frustration made its course through you and one day, all your pent up feelings splashed like a bucket of paint hurled across canvas. You didn’t go for the obvious options of screaming, shouting or crying but just kissing him. Pouring all your feelings into one kiss, relief flooded through you and the desire to hug him overcame you but holding back you hoped that at least this time he would be able to return your feelings. That is exactly what he did and ever since then, the both of you have been going strong.

In the past couple of weeks there had been changes in your work. A change of leadership and office politics not only made the atmosphere tense but working with your team was hard. Back straight and unbiased smiles towards everyone, you made sure to do an excellent job of not getting involved in any drama. The outcome would be greater than getting involved however, it was eating away at you and you could see that the same was happening with your co-workers. The less the issue was treated, the more difficult it became to solve it.

Break time came and you were about to leave when a buzz caught your attention. It may have been a passing moment’s worth of information travelling through your visual field but you knew it was him.

Picking it up, you read, ‘’Hey, how is work? Are your co-workers still having that fight 😂😢’’ causing a smile to light up your face.

Laughing, you texted back, ‘’Hey, work is still the same. Oh yes, they definitely are and this is making everyone antisocial 🤧 Feels great to be here, you know💀 How is your work?’’.

Collecting your coat and making a headway for the elevator, you exited the building and walked towards the café opposite- not an unusual place to meet up with colleagues from different departments.

Opening the door, you were greeted with the distinct smell of cinnamon and pecan nuts. Your eyes caught your friends sitting at different tables. They look like a bunch of students gossiping but the difference is that it’s over coffee. You smiled at the thought. They instantly recognised you and waves were exchanged. Making your way to the table and taking a free seat, a senior spoke,

‘’I heard that there are some plans underway to build a building at the back’’ to which someone else replied, ‘’Is that where all the resources are going? We need more hole punchers though, because someone seems to be stealing all of them.’’ eliciting laughs from those at the table.

Your phone buzzed back and opening the message, you read, ‘’Oh nooo, is my baby having a hard time? Don’t worry, some things take time so cheer up and hope for the best~~. Also, I’ve been thinking, since you need a break, why don’t we go on a date?’’.

Your heart skipped a little at the mention of a date and you texted back, ‘’Ah yes, your baby is having a hard time T_T. Is there a small chance if any, for me to scream on the rooftop tonight? Thank you, I’ll be here waiting 🙋‍♀️ A date sounds super refreshing right now and I wouldn’t mind the idea ~^~’’.

Online now he texted, ‘’Hehe, you’ll get plenty of hugs when you get home. Very funny or did you forget that we don’t have a roof? Obviously you didn’t so do you think our neighbours will call the police, they think we’re are crazy people already..’’

Resisting the urge to laugh, you replied, ‘’I don’t even know who our neighbours are, should I just call it a half day and head home? Time and place for our date?’’.

‘’That’s cute ;) I’ll pick you up but at what time do you finish today? Also, I don’t remember our neighbours being scary or anything like that 😶. This one’s a bit random but one day, just one day, lets sleep in. The place is a surprise and no, it doesn’t matter how many times you budge me, I won’t tell you 😘 ‘’ came his reply.

Looking back up from the screen and sipping your coffee, you decided that you had a decent amount of time remaining.

You texted him back with, ‘’I finish at 5:30 today, what about you? I could meet you at home if there is a lot of waiting time. It’s a bit random ahaha, I wouldn’t mind sleeping in and plus we could do it on a Friday so we have a three-day weekend. Because you won’t tell me, I’m super excited now. You may get into trouble if I call you right now but just wait, when we meet I’m going to shake it out of you😊’’.

You could picture him laughing a little on the other side as he replied, ‘’I finish at 4:15 today so I’ll pick you up and don’t worry, it’s only a little bit of a wait. I love how we are scheduling a perfect time for us to be lazy and you know what? That sounds absolutely amazing to me right now so tell when you want to do that. Also, my lips are sealed 🤐 🤗 ’’.

Excited for the date, a small smile reached your face as you texted back, ‘’I’d love that too so tomorrow let’s schedule it together. Alright, I guess I can wait for up to 6 hours 😑 I can’t wait to meet you though, see you soon.’’.

‘’Whoever said 6 hours is long? I can already see you frowning at the mention of that 😂 😂 . Anyways, see you soon babe’’ you read and pocketed your phone with the thought of a date lingering at the back of your mind.

Break ended within the span of a couple of minutes and exiting the café, you made your way back to work. A small sigh escaped your lips thinking about the workload but you straightened your back and walked confidently pursuing the idea of dedicating these hours to doing what you loved the most. Even if it meant dealing with the tension, in hindsight, the office would most likely joke about it after it ended so until that time came, you just had to wait.

Sitting at your desk, you took in a deep breath preparing yourself for whatever was to come. Powering through the work felt satisfying, if not, at ease because not only did you get most of your work done, it was almost the end of the day and you could finally see your boyfriend- the moment you had been waiting for.

It had always been like this as the day was fun but the most exciting part was leaving knowing that you had done what you came for. In the elevator, your senior from another department walked in. Recognition flashed across your faces and you greeted one another but subtly, you felt nervous.

Your co-workers absolutely, and you meant absolutely spent all day dreaming about how fit this man was. You couldn’t have disagreed more, nudging Sanghyuk forward as more fit even though he wouldn’t admit it even if his life depended on it. ‘’You okay?’’ he asked and you looked up, wondering what was happening. Small talk?. Nodding, you asked, ‘’You okay?’’ sealing the awkwardness in one question. After this you highly doubted any more words would be exchanged.

Nodding, the rest of the ride was in silence and after exiting, the both of you parted ways like a middle parting hairstyle. Reaching for the doors, you kept a lookout for Sanghyuk’s car spotting it almost instantly. Inside, you could see him on his phone so you knocked hoping to scare him just a little bit and scared he was. Laughing as you opened the door, he placed a soft kiss on your lips, whispering a small, ‘’hey’’. Mouthing ‘’hey’’ back, he asked, ‘’Are you ready?’’. In excitement you replied, ‘’I’ve been waiting for this moment all day, so let’s go!’’. He laughed at your enthusiasm and you joined in, feeling content.

‘‘By the way, you never told me where we’re going!’‘ you spoke suddenly, startling Sanghyuk. Ahahaha, he thinks I’ve forgotten, but forgotten I have not. ‘’Why do I feel like this is the start of you badgering me for information?’‘ he said as he laughed, rubbing his forehead. Nodding, you smiled replying, ‘‘Do we even know each other?’‘ drawing a laugh from him.

‘‘Thank goodness the place isn’t that far away then’‘ to which you asked, ‘‘How far is it?’‘ knowing that wherever this place is, it was going to be at least half an hour away and that was enough time to break the surprise. ‘‘Forty five minutes’‘ he replied with a pink tint to his cheeks making you squeeze in delight. ‘‘Please tell me you can wait for that long’‘ he stated, making me look out the window and laugh. His eyes widened as you grabbed his hand in yours and you could tell from the look on his face that he was suspicious.

‘‘You’re always doing something like that you know, like poking me or what not so honestly, I’m scared right now’‘ he said with a rush and almost immediately followed with, ‘‘Babe, I’m driving’‘. Suppressing the urge to tickle him, you wiggled your finger threateningly in the air as if to intimidate.

Unimpressed and with the flattest look in his eyes, he stated, ‘’Bring it on. I’m just thinking right now, what’s the worst that could happen?’’ but you knew that his weakness was being ticklish, something you would love to voice loudly on speakers. Giggling, you raised it and dashed it as close to his suit jacket as possible, retreating when he smiled at your antics. Using a childish voice he said, ‘‘Cute’‘ dragging the end as far as the wide ocean and this time, it was your turn to be unimpressed.

‘‘Wow, that’s mature’‘ which led him to give you an offended look. Bringing a hand to your mouth, you laughed to which he replied, ‘‘Coming from you?’‘. ‘‘Excuse me!’‘ you spluttered and the both of you sat there laughing. He shifted the position of your hands onto your lap and on the open road, the trees and the house passed by in a blur. If you looked back, the speed slowed down and everything was much clearer and resting your head on the headrest, you took in the fresh sandalwood scent of the car’s interior while the warm rays of sun ran across the dashboard as the ending of the trail led to his hand on the wheel. The backdrop a blur, your eyes traced the lining of his nose bridge all the way to his jawline, admiring his relaxed face.

It wasn’t exactly a wonder but in the span of less than forty-five minutes, the sky had begun to darken. A pink and purplish hue descended mixing in with the darkness of the blue night sky. Among the low moon, the stars that littered the sky caught your eyes and this was the first time you had paid attention to the beauty of the sunset speaking gently, ‘’The sky is so pretty today’’.

Looking up, he sucked in a sharp breath as he took in the stunning sight. ‘’It is’’ he said in agreement. Breaking the comfortable silence that enveloped the two of you, he stated with joy in his voice, ‘’We almost reached by the way’’ peaking your focus on your surroundings.

‘‘Not a lot of people come here so we should have the place to ourselves’‘ he said, turning left and finding a parking spot. Stepping out, the wind blew calmly like the sea breeze at the beach- welcoming and pleasantly. Coming around the side, he hugged your hand in his own and tenderly tugged you along.

‘’Where are we?’‘ you asked looking up at him with wide, honest eyes. ‘‘Somewhere where you can relax. A colleague recommended this place so I’m just as new to this place as you are.’‘ he ended with a twinkling laugh. Adorned with tiny, green plants, the pathway wasn’t lit but there was just enough moonlight for the both of you to walk up. From the distance, you realised how much wider the place actually was.

Sculpted, a dark green hedge was accompanied by dome- shaped, glossy bright orange flowers that could be seen even as night approached. It acted as an entrance and replaced all the signs welcoming confused visitors. Leading you towards a bench, the two of you took a seat side-by-side. He left your hand and instead wrapped an arm around your shoulder pulling you to rest your head on his chest.

‘’Are you cold?’’ he asked and you shook your head disagreeing. ‘’You were right, this place is really relaxing. Thank you for thinking of me and bringing me here’’ you said in appreciation. Moving his right arm to the side of your head, he turned your head so that you were face to face with him. Eyes, a warm shade of dark brown, he connected his lips with yours.

Sweet passion fruit and milk chocolate, the sky blue hydrangeas bloomed; in the distant ambience of the place, a bird took its first flight, soaring. Carefully and softly, your lips moved with the flow of his lips which feel velvety and delicate. Leaning away, the both of you took a breath as he said, ‘’You know those people who you just click with? As in, you become their best friends and they become special to you. So always- I will always think of you.’’.

Your hands moved up to his face and capturing his cheeks, your lips met his. Connecting for the second time, he felt just as sweet as the first, like every kiss you had shared. Endearingly, he managed to daze you each time reminding you of the shiny and sugary glaze on doughnuts, simple and classic.

Smiling, your hands moved to smooth his hair which really didn’t need any smoothing but you felt the need to press his face in between your hands. Slyly you said, ‘’I think I like you, like a lot’’ to which he chuckled and said, ‘’I like you a lot too so stay with me’’. ‘’I’m not going anywhere, I’m just here to bother you’’ you replied with a giggle and facing you he incredulously asked, ‘’Did you just ruin-?’’.

Laughing while shaking his head, he pressed a kiss to the side of your forehead making your cheeks turn pink. When you returned the kiss, he questioned, ‘’What was that for?’’ and looking at his flushed cheeks, you smiled at the accomplishment. ‘’Just so, for once, you can feel how you make me feel’’ you replied with a bright smile.

Hand to his chest he acted like his chest was hurting and breathing hoarsely said, ‘’Slow down’’ making you laugh a little. Settling down, your head went back to lean on his chest. Fingers gently pushed your hair out of your face; you moved your arms to envelope his torso, feeling the toned lines. Lying in his embrace, the two of you sat and watched the stars.

Therapeutic, your relationship was something that you looked forward to everyday because apart from seeing one another, new adventures and exciting thrills came your way. Ultra realistic stills of your time with him were printed and couldn’t be easily forgotten so together, you took baby steps, one day at a time.

#sf9 #sensational feeling 9 #sf9 imagines #sf9 fluff #sf9 scenarios #sf9 dawon #sf9 sanghyuk #lee sanghyuk #lee dawon #cutie patootie #sf9 au #Dawon x reader #sf9 x reader #sf9 writings #sf9 dawon fluff #sf9 fanfic #sf9 fantasy

19 notes · View notes

devnicolee · 5 years ago

Text

The Chosen Ones (2)

A/N: I hate how long it has taken me to write anything new! But I am really excited about this series (hope y’all still are) so I am going to keep writing it. This definitely classifies as a slow burn FYI. But the timeline for the story is short. Hope you enjoy it!

Word Count: 10,603

The soft clicks of Asha’s sandals filled the silent halls of the palace as she walked toward her brother's office. Her early morning summons left a sour taste in her mouth and a disgruntled look on her face at having to get up even earlier than she needed to for their meeting with Lord M’Baku; but she begrudgingly obliged her brother’s request. Dark clouds stole the natural light that would have usually provided the corridors with a warm glow causing the journey to fill more ominous than usual. She didn't understand what it was, her inability to shake this anxiety she felt since Killmonger. She knew it was just her. The rest of the country and palace seemed to return to business as usual since T'Challa reclaimed his throne. She, however, felt like everything around her was changing. And that was perhaps because, thanks to her siblings, it was.

Though her life amounted to little more than an imprisonment, Asha had grown used to her simple, peaceful and quiet life cooped up in her room, the palace gardens or the library. A life as peaceful, quiet and mundane as the constraints of royalty would allow it to be, of course. She had little desire to change that and potentially destroy her family in the process. But now it seemed as though everyone else had other plans for her future, plans to make it the opposite of mundane, quiet, and ordinary.

Has the power of King gone to his head?

She wondered as she navigated the nonstop demands he lobbed at her as of late. It seemed as if, in addition to the powers of the Black Panther, T'Challa had another superpower: the ability to know when Asha had more than five minutes of alone time. She could not retreat to her bedroom for long before he was calling her to review treaties and paperwork, go over official requests from the Council or citizens as part of her new role as "political adviser to the King." She didn't understand why he was going to such lengths for a fake position, something that she knew only existed to make her feel valued and included.

Her smile brightened when she turned the corner to see Okoye outside of T'Challa's office.

"Good morning, General."

"My princess," Okoye nodded and saluted her before her body relaxed out of its usual rigid stance and a small but clear smile fell on her features. "He is expecting you."

"Thank you," Asha smiled. "Oh wait, I need to check with Nakia but you are still free for girl’s night after the state dinner, yes?"

Asha laughed lightly at Okoye’s look of disgust at the phrase "girl’s night." But it had become their tradition over the years, the group would get together after official events and parties to update Asha on the night's events, any new gossip and drama. She knew Okoye found the name and custom somewhat childish but she was a constant at the gatherings nonetheless.

"Of course, I'll be there."

"Perfect, have a good day, Okoye," she said before opening her brother’s office door.

Asha truly valued the relaxed and loving relationship she shared with Okoye. She was cold to almost everyone except the Royal Trio but she always seemed to have an especially soft spot for Asha. Asha was blessed to have big sisters in her and Nakia, people outside of the Golden Tribe to turn to when the solitude transformed from sanctuary to prison.

Her brother’s back was turned to her as she approached his desk.

"If your idea of being king is just dragging me out of bed then perhaps we should have left Killmonger in charge?"

He turned to offer her an eye roll and a playful glare.

"Too soon sister... too soon. My wounds have barely healed."

She lifted her hand in surrender before starting to sit down in the chair across from him.

"No, don't sit! We are not staying, I have something to show you."

He ushered her back out of the door and into the hallway.

The journey was quick, literally two doors down the hall to an office near his.

"The reason for this early morning meeting is to show you this," he said as he opened the door to a spare office.

Asha smiled at the childlike enthusiasm and excitement in his eyes. And so, she tried her best to hide her confusion when she looked around at the decorated office. It was beautiful, clearly he put a lot of effort into its decoration: the red and gold decor and gold-trimmed office furniture. But still, Asha did not understand why she needed to be there for this.

"This is nice! Will this be Nakia’s office?" She asked as she looked around the room, highlighting the only logical purpose for using the space. "Shouldn’t you have decorated it green though? For the River Tribe? Though it is the thought that counts I suppose. But next time, ask for my advice earlier."

The office was beautiful, yes, but certainly not Nakia’s style.

T’Challa let out an exasperated laugh, "You are one of the smartest people in this family and are still the most clueless. This is not Nakia’s office, it is yours. Your favorite color, paintings of your favorite place in Wakanda and by your favorite artist, pictures of us and Shuri, views of the gardens, your favorite flowers on the table?" he listed, finally drawing her attention to all the things that would make this office for her and not her brother’s girlfriend.

"Wait what? I mean it is thoughtful and beautiful but why do I need an office?" she asked bewildered as she examined the space more closely, finding even more personal touches.

There was a fireplace, which was not actually needed anywhere else in the palace. Little golden panther and rhinos found their home on the fireplace’s mantle. She even spied a picture of T’Challa and W’Kabi next to a few of the border rhinos, her favorite animal since a young age, on a side table.

"Yes, you have a real job now. You are cementing your place in the tribe. And as liaison with the Jabari and political adviser to the King, you need a real space to work. It requires an office. Shuri and I worked on it for the last few days, everything is reinforced with vibranium to make them fire-resistant by the way."

She snorted, "'Political adviser to the king?' The title and position you made up to make me feel included and important?"

"Every ruler has advisers, Asha. It is a new position, yes. But one with very real work to utilize your genius. You spent half your life cooped up in the library reading books. You know so much more than Shuri or I about our history, our allies and our enemies. You have a far better mind for politics than I… or baba, I imagine. A good king utilizes the people who know the things he does not. And so, as an adviser, I expect to see you in this office every day, understand?"

Asha rolled her eyes. First her father forced her into isolation and now her siblings were forcing her out of it.

Why is no one content with simply leaving me alone?

"Yes, my king," she answered.

"Perfect. This is a good thing, Asha, I promise. Besides, I also want you to help me figure out how to undo the damage father has done, help me with a project... change public opinions ab-"

He was unable to finish when Alexis poked her head in.

"Apologies my king and princess but Hasani is here to see you. He has been looking for you."

Asha's heart immediately sank, she lacked the will and energy to deal with her intended. However, she knew him well enough to know that it would invite further troubles to turn him away.

"Yes, please send him in. Thank you."

She went to the small mirror and quickly checked over herself and her outfit, refusing to give him any reason to criticize something about her today.

"Be nice, T'Challa," she whispered as she fixed the high pony her braids were in. She chuckled lightly at the look of pure disgust coloring her usually mild-tempered brother's face. "I will settle for a lack of open hostility then," she muttered after acknowledging his inaudible no.

Hasani wasted little time before barging into her office. He was aesthetically gorgeous, the epitome of the American adage: tall, dark and handsome. His face was pulled into a permanent scowl but he knew how to turn on the charm and pull out his award-winning smile when required. Aside from T'Challa, he was considered one of the most eligible bachelors in Wakanda. Women in the Merchant Tribe were in an Olympic-style race to gain his affections, to be the last one standing. His courtship with the Princess? A mere hurdle to jump over for many. Their relationship did little to curtail the women vying for his affection, nor had it stopped Hasani from accepting their advances.

"T'Challa," he greeted, not bothering to address his king by his proper title or salute.

If looks could kill, the young man's soul would have been halfway to meet Bast in person. However, her brother quickly recovered and maintained his cool, understanding that Hasani wanted a rise out of him.

Hasani knew the two siblings in the Golden Trio despised him. But it was clear to all parties involved that he did not care.

"Asha," he greeted her shortly. "I would like to speak alone."

"Uh, yes... of course. Brother, could we get a few moments alone?"

T'Challa nodded, "Yes, we have a meeting in 10 minutes in preparation for your trip and meetings with Lord M'Baku. Shuri has sent everything you need to get started to your tablet and beads."

The hug he bestowed was quick and the head nod in Hasani's direction barely noticeable as he made his exit. Asha was thankful to him and Bast for the out her brother just gave her. She only had to suffer for 10 minutes before she had an excuse to get him out of her office.

"Lord M'Baku?" Hasani asked disgusted. "Why on Earth would you have a meeting with him?"

Asha sat down on the edge of her desk, "I am surprised your mother did not mention it. He is a member of the Council now and he and the King tasked me with serving as a liaison to the Jabari as they integrate into Wakanda."

"I don’t know why those savages would want to join nor why T’Challa would let them."

Asha’s face pulled up in frustration at his bias toward the Jabari. "They are not savages. Living differently and valuing different things does not mean they are less Wakandan. And that is the point of these meetings, to lea-."

"Very well. Just ensure it does not interfere with our engagement announcement. My mother has spent a great deal of time coming up with a plan," he interrupted her, seemingly bored by and uninterested in her new project and job.

Asha went back and forth mentally on whether it was worth it to inquire about this plan. She knew she needed to know the details, despite not being consulted on it in the first place. But she did not want to prolong this or spend anymore time with Hasani than she needed to prior to their marriage. She always thought that arranged marriages were primitive. For a country as advanced as Wakanda, she could not fathom why her father would essentially give her away when she was too young to choose or consent herself. And now she would never get an answer. Though she supposed she would be ungrateful to complain, she would not find someone to marry and love on her own, not in these circumstances. But she knew she was not signing up for eventual love and potential happiness. These were things a marriage to Hasani could never bring her.

To her father's credit, he pushed off their official courtship as long as he could, citing her "illnesses" and poor health. She knew it had far more to do with maintaining his lies than her happiness. But she wasn't complain. However, months earlier, Elder Shani demanded he stop pushing and her freedom ceased.

The early days of their courtship were complicated, proof that the web of lies her father had weaved was not sustainable. Everyone else knew it, that the web would unravel eventually... everyone except him. Elder Shani was never shy in spreading her doubt that nothing was physically wrong with the young princess, that her isolation or the delay of their marriage was due to something entirely different. She certainly wasn’t the only person across the country who conjured conspiracy theories as to what was actually wrong with her, being a mutant was at the top of the list. She was surprised that the charade lasted as long as it did. But she guessed the palace staff who knew the truth also knew that her father was not a ruler to be trifled with. Underneath his kind disposition, there was certainly a figurative fire and ruthlessness that most people knew to avoid.

Their initial dates and visits were brief and supervised but still pleasant. She enjoyed his company, was taken by his thoughtfulness and empathy. He seemed perfect initially.

However, after a small argument about her not wanting to go on a date outside the palace walls, Hasani confirmed his mother’s suspicions that his future wife was not sick at all. She was a mutant.

Asha hoped his mother would call off the engagement, she hated mutants after all. But instead, she realized that, for some, greed and power were far more motivating than hate. Shani promised to maintain her secret in exchange for more influence and power on the Council and the position of Commander of the Wakandan military forces for her son.

It took little time for Asha to realize that any hope that the pair could be happy together was gone, that he inherited his mother's bias toward people like her. Now, of course, she saw the red flags as if they were waving in a sea of white... no longer obscured or hidden. His controlling nature, his abuse, his philandering ways.

He made it abundantly clear that he would never love her, protect her, or affirm her as a husband should. That was devastating to her at first but like she had done countless times before, she quickly accepted her fate. No amount of prayers or tears would get her out of this one. The chains of her obligations were tight and heavy, restricting her in a dark cell with no hope of escape. She wanted to hate him, cast him as the villain in all this. And in some ways, he was. But he was just as burdened by chains as she was, both pawns in their parents’ quests to gain or maintain their grips on power. Every time she saw him, that was all she saw: them chained too far apart to be any comfort to the other in that dark room for the rest of their lives.

"Was anyone going to inform me of this plan?

"I am informing you now," he answered coolly. "First, I will be your date to the Caanan state dinner this weekend. You will attend my mother's birthday party the week after the announcement, you will accompany on tours of the Merchant Tribe's provinces so the people can meet you."

"I-I was not planning on attending the dinner on Satur-"

"I was not asking," he snapped. "We are going. I need to begin meeting with heads of state. I trust you have something decent to wear? I can't have you looking like this on my arm. You should work out with the Dora before the festival, lose a few pounds."

And there it is.

Asha knew it was coming, the harsh criticisms and snipes. Every conversation was filled with them. It never mattered what it was: her powers, her appearance, her intellect. Every conversation was a battle and since she was unable to use her only weapon, she always walked away with the wounds and bruises.

"I did not realize I needed to lose weight," she mumbled, looking down at her body. She tried not to let his words bother her, after all this was pretty commonplace at this point in their relationship. She could feel the panther beating against her cage, baring her teeth, body filled with the desire to attack the person hurting her owner. But she thanked Bast that the bars around the monster were thick. Killing her intended would not help her case much.

"Well, you do. And I assume you will wear those to ensure there are no issues at any of these events? Do not embarrass me."

Her eyes flickered away from his as the threatening tone of her last statement settled in her mind. Physically, there was nothing he could do to hurt her and he knew it. But emotionally, there was all sorts of damage he could cause and he knew that too.

Asha nodded, eyes trained on the ground. "Yes, I will wear them. As I always do."

"Good, I cannot have you revealing your illness to the entire tribe and dragging my name into the gutter with you."

"Yes, I understand. Is that all, Hasani?" she asked quietly, desperate to get him out of her office, to be alone.

"Yes. I will see you on Saturday. Do not be late."

He got up without saying goodbye and stalked out of her office. Tears stung the back of her eyes as his words oscillated through her head. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, refusing to let any fall for him.

Useless… an embarrassment.

She shook her head, not wanting to contemplate all the times she heard those words before or fall down the rabbit hole of painful memories. She took a few deep breaths, trying to bring her emotions back to neutral. She didn't want T'Challa to see her like this, give him any more reasons to hate Hasani.

Once she felt more in control of the beast within, she gathered her tablet and walked across the hall to her brother's office. She had a trip to prepare for and time wouldn’t wait for her to get it together.

***

Tuesday arrived faster than Asha anticipated and now instead of being cooped up in her library, she was zooming through the mountains toward Jabariland. This is a far more enjoyable way to travel here, she thought to herself, thinking back on her first journey there on foot. She enjoyed the views as Ayo flew them toward the Great Lodge. Immediately, Asha thought to the times Baba was out of the country and T'Challa and Shuri would take her out in the Royal Talon. They would fly around and just marvel at the beautiful landscapes of Wakanda: the rainforest, the rushing waterfalls, the vast sun-kissed fields, the snow-capped mountains. Every trip, they found a new hidden gem, a spot secluded enough for Asha to see but for no one to see her, the rare opportunity to experience the country she called home.

The mountains were the one spot they couldn't venture too far into so now was her chance. She did wish Shuri and T'Challa were there with her. There first trip here was rushed and emotional, there was little time to soak in the sights. But selfishly, she liked that there would finally be a place in Wakanda she could truly experience first. She looked out the Talon windows at the forests to see a fresh blanket of undisturbed snow covering every tree.

"We are here, your highness," Ayo called from her position in the cockpit.

Asha tore her eyes from the forest to her left as the plane settled on a small cliff. She nodded, a wave of nausea washed over her. Her anxiety settled in her stomach like a small ball as the end of their journey arrived. She was surprised at how quickly the ride transitioned from peaceful to nerve wrecking due to one simple sentence. Now instead of venturing farther into this winter paradise, she just wanted to turn around and scurry back to the comfort of her palace. The stakes were unbearably high for her... her first official task representing the Golden Tribe. She couldn't mess it up.

"Thank you, Ayo. See you in a few days."

She motioned for Alexis to follow her down the ramp into the snow-covered cliff. The familiar smell of ash immediately invaded her senses and the cold air hit her hard initially as she stepped off the ramp. Her body quickly jump started its own heating system, her flames brewing beneath the surface causing the frigid cold to become pleasant within seconds. She felt bad disrupting the soft snow, hearing the soft crunch beneath her feet as they approached a small group of Jabari waiting for them. She regarded the young man at the head of the pack with great interest, controlling her facial expression to hide her disappointment that a certain someone was not a part of her welcoming party. She shouldn’t be surprised though given the coldness she experienced from him in their meeting earlier that week.

"Good afternoon your highness. Welcome to Jabariland. My name is N'Danna, I am Lord M'Baku's personal adviser. He regrets that he was unable to retrieve you himself, he is tied up in meetings this evening. However, he will see you in the morning for breakfast. One of our guards, Kide," he motioned behind him as a stone-faced young man stepped forward, "will be escorting you during your stay. Anything you need at all, please let him know. This way, your highness."

Asha nodded, "Thank you!"

She offered him a soft smile before following behind him. Daylight was starting to fade, giving way to the soft yellows and oranges of sunset before the darkness of nightfall. She glanced off to her right and off the cliff her ship landed on. She could see the edge of the village below them and the wooden profile of a larger-than-life statue of Hanuman that held the Great Lodge up on the side of the mountain. She stood for a few minutes, just admiring the sunset over the mountains. Sunsets in Wakanda were unlike anything in the world, she knew they would be equally as breathtaking here.

"This way, your highness," he called again as he walked toward the glass door on the side of the Lodge. Despite her longing, she quickly fell into a step behind him. "Don’t worry, Princess Asha. We have sunsets everyday here, I will make sure we carve out time to see it. They are truly breathtaking."

Asha blushed slightly, her adoration for the view must have been evident to everyone.

"Thank you, I would appreciate that. We are just very excited to be here," she called after him.

"We are excited to have you. And we will have extra blankets brought to Alexis's room. The cold does take some adjusting."

She glanced at Alexis to see that the woman was indeed shivering, despite being wrapped tightly in a border tribe blanket. Asha nodded and thanked him before silence fell over the group again.

N’Danna briskly walked them to their rooms in the palace, only stopping once when Asha slowed down to see the gardens in the center of the Lodge. She made a mental note to find a spare moment to visit the gardens.

"You should meet the royal gardener as well. I believe you would like him," N’Danna called over his shoulder as he resumed his trek toward the residential wing of the Lodge.

"Here we are. You can go to the dining room for dinner if you choose. However, we are sure you both are tired so we completely understand if you would like it delivered to your room instead. Just let Kide know what you wish to order. Again, anything you should need, do not hesitate to ask."

"Thank you N'Danna."

They shared salutes before Alexis and Asha retreated to their respective rooms.

Her room was slightly larger than her accommodations the first time around. The bed was certainly inviting, covered with soft black fur blankets. The fire was always lit across the room, not that she needed it. There were gorilla statues across the room and a small one of a panther, which she guessed was added to make them feel at home.

Asha stared at the bed longingly. All she wanted to do was wrap herself in those soft furs, but she remembered the mountain of readings she still needed to complete to be fully prepared for tomorrow. She, instead, settled on the small couch in front of the fire and set to work, refusing to embarrass her brother or herself.

Her stomach growled slightly, making her consider going down to dinner. She wanted to have it delivered to her room but she knew she wouldn't get to see him if she stayed cooped up in her room all night. She couldn't deny the tinge of disappointment that he did not greet her when she arrived. She was sure he had better things to do but she wanted to see him. She hoped he was warmer today than he was the last time they spoke.

Wishful thinking, she thought to herself before redirecting her energy to the work in front of her, shaking her head slightly. She needed to push out all the distractions, immerse herself in her job, that was the only way she would be able to ignore these feelings... the only way to ignore him.

***

"It was rather rude of you not to welcome our guest earlier," N'Danna remarked as he glanced up from the pile of paperwork in front of him.

"I was busy, a day full of meetings," M'Baku responded casually, not taking his eyes off the paper in front of him.

"As yes, your riveting meeting with my father so you could listen to his many complaints about your leadership style... a meeting you had been putting off for a week but mysteriously added to your schedule just this morning. I know you just could not postpone that any further. That, coupled with your coldness on the phone calls with her over the last two weeks... you should be nicer to her, M'Baku. She was quite disappointed that you were not there."

M'Baku rolled his eyes, frustrated by his best friend and adviser’s need to stick his nose and mind every place it did not belong. But his ears did pick up on his last statement.

She wouldn't have been disappointed if she didn't have feelings for me... right?

"I was perfectly pleasant to her, despite being a low lander.

"Yes, you were perfectly cold and just shy of being rude to her. But you are right, disappointment does imply feelings and yes, she is quite beautiful," he added slyly at the end.

"I never told you she was beautiful! Stop doing that, my mind is not yours to pick at," he snapped. The corner of N'Danna's lips curled into a slight smile, knowing that his chief's bark held no bite.

"Really? I find that hard to believe given the fact that your mind is just an express train of thoughts about Princess Asha. Everything else is merely a rest stop along the way before you jump back in the conductor's seat. But I understand. Pushing her away to try and stop thinking of her makes sense. It is frustrating."

"You know your psycho-analyzing is not worth much when you are stealing all the information directly from someone’s mind right? I wish you would consider some personal form of policing yourself and those powers of yours. Besides, it doesn't matter what my mind says... she is taken, engaged."

"I cannot turn it off anymore than I can turn off breathing. But I am sorry, I know you don’t like it. Why are you so upset about her engagement if you are not interested in her?"

M’Baku cut his eyes, opting for anger instead of a real conversation with his friend.

"I can finish the rest of these myself. That is all for this evening N’Danna. Thank you."

N’Danna sighed, "You do not want to talk about it, I understand. But I am the one person you cannot hide from M’Baku, at least not forever. So it would not kill you to actively share every once in a while. Good night."

He nodded as his friend turned and left his office. M’Baku was as annoyed as ever. Two weeks since the Council Meeting, two weeks since he had last laid eyes on her and the tug he had for her had yet to diminish, despite his extensive efforts. He only spoke with her over the phone to avoid looking at her, he was cold toward her during those conversations, he invited a different Jabari woman to his bed almost every night, he refused to welcome her when she landed. So much hard work and thought into the simple act of dampening his feelings toward her. And yet, it was as if the moment her soul entered his home, all his hard work flew out the window as fast as the Talon left Jabariland. He didn't need to physically see her or be in the same room to know she was present and desire nothing else but to be around her. No amount of dispassionate sex, coldness or time seemed to change that.

You can't have her... and even if she was not engaged. You don't deserve her. Why would she want to be with someone ordinary? His subconscious whispered to him.

He sighed deeply. Why would she want to be with someone like him? There was nothing special about him... nothing extraordinary. He was perfectly average... a part of the group that was not chosen.

She deserved someone just as extraordinary as she was. Someone who understood her gift. And that was not him. He had learned a long time ago how to live with things he cannot change, and accept disappointments. He could do it now too. He did not have a choice.

He shook his head before burying it back in his work. This was the only thing that would help him move on and forget about her.

****

Early evening transitioned into night as Asha worked, checking, double-checking and triple checking the working treaty and paperwork T'Challa sent with her to iron out. She wanted to be able to answer any question he could throw at her, defend any clause or identify a solid solution. She knew that level of attention and detail would show the Jabari that the Golden Tribe cared, that they could offer ideas and then adjust to their way of life. By the time midnight fell, Asha finally felt prepared enough to rest.

Asha knew she could just absorb the fire in the hearth in front of her and have enough energy to not sleep for days but she didn't want to be up staring out the window all night. She watched the snow fall for a bit before deciding that she was too anxious to rest anyways. She paced, contemplated solutions before she realized that staying in this room would not cure her anxiety but a late-night visit to the library could. She pulled on her shoes and a light sweater and crept out of her room.

After wandering around for a bit, she realized she had no idea where she was heading. She was hoping to easily find her way back to the library but she seemed to be just walking aimlessly. She was so in her head that she did not hear footsteps approaching until they were directly behind her.

"Your highness?"

"Oh my Bast!" she yelped, turning around quickly to find N’Danna standing behind her.

She clutched her chest as she tried to right herself, slightly embarrassed for being so easily shaken in front of a high ranking member of the tribe and a few soldiers.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I was just heading home for the evening and thought I heard someone." he offered.

She was slightly surprised at the warm reception she was getting, the lack of confusion over her ambling around their palace at night. He didn’t seem confused or annoyed by it. Instead, he just eyed her with gentleness and curiosity.

"No, no. Please do not apologize. I should be apologizing, wandering around at night. It was rude of me. I was just hoping to find th-"

"The library?" he finished for her.

She blinked a few times at him, confused as to how he would know that.

"I am happy to show you before I leave. I was just finishing up some work with Lord M’Baku in his office." He motioned for her to follow him down the hall.

"He always works this late?" she asked curiously, wondering why he was not asleep at an hour like this.

Well he was not asleep the first night you met him either. A night owl, she thought to herself.

"Yes, our chief has always been a bit of a night owl. But there is so much behind the scenes work to rejoining Wakanda as you will see during this trip, treaties and such to draft, negotiate, etc. More than just attending a council meeting every month. So, he has been quite busy since the initial meeting. Likely why he asked for your help, we certainly need it."

It doesn’t seem like it, she thought to herself.

N’Danna laughed, seemingly at nothing. "I know, I know. It does not seem like it given his attitude. But you must excuse him. He can be rough and cold around the edges to outsiders, er… well Jabari outsiders. He is just protective of the tribe."

"Understandable. Well, I am happy to be here… excited to be here, truly. I do not want anyone to think I am coming here to change the Jabari. I am just here to serve in whatever capacity he and T’Challa need," she offered politely, choosing to ignore how the man managed to seemingly read her thoughts again.

N’Danna smiled, "We appreciate such willing-"

A door to their left swung open as Lord M’Baku stuck his head out of a door.

"N’Danna? Did you forget some-" his words faltered and he fell silent as his gaze shifted to Asha.

There was a pregnant pause as the trio simply stared at each other. Or rather, Asha and M’Baku stared at each other while N’Danna’s eyes bounced playfully between the pair like he was intently watching a riveting tennis match. A small knowing smile graced his face and he swayed slightly on his heels with anticipation, waiting for one of them to say something and seemingly enjoying their growing distress.

"No, I ran into the Princess as she was trying to find the library, I was just taking her that way," he answered, ending their misery.

M’Baku’s eyes narrowed, words returning to his voice and a knowing expression filling them.

"But the library is in the opposite direction? Did you forget where it was?"

N’Danna was not slick, M’Baku knew exactly what he was doing and he was not amused.

"Yes, I thought she would enjoy the scenic route," he answered casually, unbothered by the death glare he was receiving from his best friend and chief.

"The scenic route?" M'Baku repeated.

That leads her right by my office? He added in his head, knowing his best friend would hear it.

"The scenic route," N'Danna affirmed quietly, choosing to ignore the mental earful he was getting from his chief. "But it seems she is now in far more capable hands than I. Lord M’baku was just considering having a nightcap before retiring for the evening. Perhaps you can join him so he doesn't have to drink alone? You wanted to try Jabari rum yes? M’Baku has the best in his office."

Asha stared between the ground and M’Baku, torn between wanting to say yes and spend time with him and wanting to escape back to her room.

"Uhhh yes… if you are free. But if not, I will just find my way back to my room."

"No!" he almost shouted at her, his annoyance at N’Danna dissipating at the thought of spending time alone with her.

He knew it was pointless, what was the point in spending time with a woman pledge to marry someone else? He was dedicated to his mission to be as cold as he could but it was clear that was doomed from the start. His yearning for her only seemed to magnify, not shrink. He had not thought of anyone else but her all evening. He just wanted to be around her, learn about her, and soak up everything there was to know about her. It was selfish, he knew that. But he didn’t particularly care.

"I would love some company and he is right, I do have the best rum in the mountains."

"That is an offer I cannot refuse. Thank you N’Danna," Asha said, smiling at him.

He nodded with a smile, saluting M’Baku before briskly walking back in the direction he came. Asha stared at his back for a few minutes, trying to figure out what struck her about him… something odd. Not dangerous, just odd… it was as if he knew everything.

She walked into M’Baku’s office and immediately took in the smell. It smelled like him, which made a sigh of contentment almost escape her lips.

"Have a seat, please," he offered, motioning to the chair on the other side of his desk. "Apologies for my adviser. He has a knack for sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong."

He turned away from her, pouring her a glass and handing it to her.

"No need to apologize. He is very sweet... and helpful. He seems to know what I need before I even ask it," she laughed lightly.

"Yes, he... um... he has a certain knack for that I suppose. Well, let us raise a glass to new partnerships and new beginnings," he offered as he prompted her to raise her glass.

"To new partnerships and beginnings," she repeated before their glasses clinked and she took a sip.

"Many new beginnings for you. Are you excited for your engagement?" he asked. Asha paused before answering, detecting the thinly veiled bitterness in his tone.

"Uhh… yes, I suppose. Hasani is a good man, and will be leader of the Merchant Tribe. It is a good match."

"'You suppose...' 'It is a good match,'" M'baku repeated back to her. "Not necessarily what one would want to hear before getting engaged. What about love?"

"It is an arranged marriage… we do not love each other," she scoffed quickly.

Her eyes clamped shut immediately as she realized what she said. It was highly inappropriate to disparage her intended to another member of the Council. But there was some small part of her, a part she did not particularly understand, that needed him to know that this was not her choice, that she was a prisoner in all this.

"I-I am sorry, I should not speak like that to you as a member of the Council. Hasani is a great person. I pray Bast blesses us with a happy and prosperous life together."

Asha looked him in his eyes as she spoke and that made it so much harder. There was something in them that begged her to be vulnerable, to be honest, that pleaded with her to fall into the sea of him. And she wanted to... Bast she wanted to. But that was the issue with falling, the high of it was beautiful, thrilling. It fills you with inexplicable euphoria. But you never know what awaits you at the bottom: a calm oasis that envelops you in safety and warmth or the rough waves and jagged edges of rocks that end the thrill with deafening pain. Asha had no idea what awaited her at the bottom, in the sea that was Lord M'Baku, and the risks were too high to find out.

M'Baku let out a deep sigh but nodded, respecting her wishes not to be honest. But he saw it: the crack in her ironclad demeanor. He could tell he struck a nerve... the bright smile in her eyes that immediately fell at the mention of her engagement, the quickness of which she corrected him about the reasons behind it, the clearly forced words when she caught herself being too honest. But this girl's walls were high, and he was slowly putting the puzzle pieces of why together. It would take more than a few stolen moments in the dark in a library to break them down.

"No need to apologize, your highness. An arranged marriage though? How primitive. I would think the Golden Tribe would be more progressive. Are T’Challa and Nakia?"

"You would think wouldn’t you? And yes originally but they fell in love on their own, T'Challa encouraged her to become a War Dog... they drifted apart but love eventually helps things drift back together in the end. But things with T'Challa and Nakia were not as complicated."

"Because she is not gifted?"

Asha sighed, putting the glass down before responding, "Yes... it just complicates everything, every interaction and relationship. A nuisance I would not wish on my worst enemy," she muttered, more to herself than him, as she picked up her glass to take another sip. "This is very delicious by the way. Thank you."

He raised his glass in response. "So is that nuisance why you wear those rings?" He gestured down at her hands.

She sighed, "Yes. Without them... without them, I wouldn't be able to control it. I could hurt people, it- I am dangerous."

"You believe you are dangerous?"

She held his gaze for a moment, before it became too overwhelming and she looked back down at the cup of rum in her hand. She tilted the glass back and forth, watching the brown liquid moving around her wooden cup as she stared.

"You don’t?" She asked softly. "I could injure or kill someone without a second thought. You don’t think that makes me dangerous?"

"I think Hanuman doesn’t create weapons… I don’t worship Bast so I cannot speak for her but I would like to think she would not either. The Chosen are here to help elevate, advance or protect the Jabari and Wakanda. Yes, all of their gifts can be used as weapons when needed but that is their choice. Powers only become dangerous when we fail to foster the beauty in it. It seems no one has taken the time to foster the beauty of your gift. Perhaps that is why you feel that way?"

He doesn’t know what he is talking about. He has never seen what you can do. How you can hurt people.

"Perhaps. But very few people are willing to risk their lives for that, especially for us with powers capable of hurting others. Wakanda will never accept mutants, never consider them as anything other than a danger. Tolerate? Avoid open hostility? Maybe… But what you’re talking about? Respect, admiration... That will not happen in my lifetime. I can't even fathom what that would be like."

"Is that why you haven't read that book yet?"

Asha's eyes snapped up to look at her host, surprise coloring her face.

“How did you know?”

She didn't get it, how he knew her...saw her so clearly and vividly. She didn't want to admit he was right... that book that she had opened several times, read a few pages about the reverence the Jabari held for mutants only to close it angrily. The longing for a different life, a different custom too painful to bear.

He chuckled, “It was not that big of a leap to be honest. I figured if you read it, you have questions, want to know more about them. Since you haven’t asked about the Chosen yet, I took a stab in the dark.”

"I-I wanted to read it... I just haven't had the opportunity. I can give it back, I have had it too long, I suppose."

She avoided his eyes, opting to stare at a portrait of a couple across from her seat. She assumed they were his parents, both shared a striking resemblance to the man before her.

"No... I gave it to you. Keep it, until the opportunity arises." She nodded, refusing to catch his eye.

They sat in silence for a few moments, M'Baku staring a hole into her side of her face as she actively avoided his gaze.

"Well, thank you for the drink Lord M'Baku but I think I should retire for the evening. It is getting late."

"O-of course. Amari will show you back to your room." He quickly stood up and ushered her toward the door. They saluted each other before she turned to walk down the hall behind his personal guard.

"Princess Asha!"

She heard her name behind her causing her to turn around. She was secretly thankful, unready to say goodbye to him just yet. She turned around quickly, facing him again.

"I go on a morning walk every day. W-w-would you like to join me?" he stammered slightly, his nerves getting the best of him.

She smiled softly, having to bite down the immediate yes that almost fell from her lips. She knew it likely was not a good idea, spending more time with him would not help her. But simultaneously, she desired to be around someone who thought so highly of her.

"Y-yes, Lord M’Baku. I would like that very much."

He nodded before sliding back into the door frame of his office. "Good. Goodnight, your highness."

They saluted each other before she turned back down the hall with his guard leading the way, a bright small on her face as she went.

****

Asha tossed and turned throughout the night. She didn’t mind the lack of sleep except that the nights dragged on without it. She instead spent most of the night replaying her conversation with M’Baku in her head. She wished she could go back and relive it over and over again. She checked her beads every ten minutes it seemed to see if they were any closer to their morning date.

It’s not a date! She screamed at herself. Engaged princesses can’t go on dates.

Fine, not a date. A friendly walk between acquaintances? Friends. She settled on quickly. That is what they were… friends. It sounded far less appealing than how she truly wanted him. But that was all she could get. He didn’t feel that way about her, and even if he did, she had a fiancee in the way.

She huffed and flopped over in bed, annoyed with the voice of logic in her brain. She stared intently at the ceiling.

The guard told her that Lord M’Baku typically took his walk at sunrise. She waited and waited and waited until the alarm on her kimoyo beads, set to alert her 30 minutes prior to sunrise went off. She felt absurd, the way she nearly catapulted out of bed the moment her alarm rang in the still air once. But thankfully, there was no one around but Bast to witness it.

She threw on her outfit for the walk, a sweater, leggings and snow boots. It was casual but she paired it with some light makeup, like Shuri taught her. She still wanted to look her best.

She pulled half of her braids into a half up, half down style. She pulled her rings back on before examining herself in the mirror.

Asha never considered herself to be beautiful. She wasn’t ugly by far but beautiful? That was Nakia and Okoye… women that men sought after. But today, even she had to admit that she looked good. She adjusted herself in the mirror for one last moment before opening her door to find Kide.

He said nothing, responding to her "good morning" with a polite head nod before heading down the hall. She quickly followed after him, trying to keep up with his brisk pace. Soon, they were at the front of the Lodge. Two guards framed the entrance of the Lodge as Kide led her down the staircase to meet Lord M’Baku.

"Good morning Princess," he said as she approached.

She replied with the same as she took in his fidgeting hands, the way he moved his weight from one side to the other as he stood, the lack of certainty in his eyes. She wanted to ease his anxiety somehow but how could she when she felt it too? She just was better at hiding it.

They set off down a path to the left of the Lodge. A comfortable silence fell over them as they listened to the rustling in the trees, the early morning calls of birds. They stole glances at each other every few minutes but otherwise, Asha simply enjoyed the walk.

They walked until they reached a small hill overlooking a creek in the forest. It appeared to be a hidden oasis, a picturesque scene plucked straight from a movie.

"This is beautiful," she marveled as they approached the rocks that led to a cliff over the creek.

"I know."

He motioned toward a few large rocks they could sit on at the top of the hill. He dusted the snow off before she sat down.

“Do you come here often?” She asked as she looked off the hill onto the creek.

She imagined it looked gorgeous in the summer with lush green grass, full trees and a babbling creek.

“Yes, N’Danna and I found it some time ago. It has been a secret haven for us ever since. He comes more than me though, for the solitude. For when he doesn’t want to hear anymore.”

Asha perked up, eyeing his profile, wondering how much she could probe.

“Doesn’t want to hear anymore? What does that mean?”

M’Baku smiled slightly, “I am shocked you hadn’t picked up on it by now, as a Chosen yourself. He can read minds… his ‘knack for anticipating your needs.’”

“Ohhhhh.”

Realization washed over her. She felt stupid really, now every interaction with him made even more sense. She stopped the wave of embarrassment from washing over her as well, refusing to think about what other thoughts he picked up swirling around her head about his chief.

“He wouldn’t bring up anything he heard to you or anyone else, just so you know. But sometimes, constantly hearing is too much for him so this spot helps. For me, it is just peaceful. I know it should be the temple but this is where I come to pray… be one with Hanuman.”

Asha nodded, “When I was young, there was a statue of Bast laying in the Royal Gardens. I used to sit next to her and read or pray and it was the only place in my small world that I thought Bast heard me, actually listened to me.”

M’Baku sensed the sadness in her voice, the tinge of pain in her eyes as she spoke of the past. “‘Used to?’”

“I don’t really pray anymore,” she whispered, pressing her hand into a new patch of snow next to her. M’Baku watched as the snow around her hand immediately melted into a puddle of water, the heat flush under her skin too much to allow it to stay in its solid form.

“What kind of God curses children as Bast did me? My father used to call it an abomination. It is hard to believe… it is hard to trust in a God who does things like that.”

“What did your father have against mutants?”

Asha looked off to the side, her eyes trained on the tree branches weighed heavily with snow.

“He believed that Bast only ordained one enhanced being in Wakanda… the Black Panther. You are not born with it. By winning the tribal combat, by surviving the visit to the Ancestral Plane… Bast chooses you. Her power, her gift chooses you. You earn it. He took offense to anyone being born with powers he had to earn. It is the opposite of your custom. We were not chosen and so, in his mind, our existence is against her will.”

“If only you had been born here instead of with the lowlanders. Things would have been different.”

“Yes, I suppose they would have. But then I wouldn’t have T’Challa and Shuri… Nakia, Okoye and Ayo… Alexis,” she listed.

M’Baku smiled to himself as he saw her face light up at the list of people she had in her life. It was probably the first genuine smile he had seen on her face when she was talking about home.

Silence fell over the two as they sat, they watched the sun finish rising high in the sky before M’Baku stood and helped her up.

“My home life isn’t all tragic and sad, you know?” she said randomly as they found their way back to the trail that would lead them back to the Lodge. “I feel like it may seem that way, given our conversations but there is good there too. My life isn’t overflowing with amazing people, I haven’t really had the opportunity to meet many people honestly. But the people that are there… the love that is there… It is bright, it sustains me through everything. I wish some things were different, it is true. But all of them make my life worth living.”

“I don’t doubt it. I saw your grief, your relief when you saw T’Challa. I imagine there are few siblings with a bond as deep as yours. I don’t mean to judge your life or the lowlanders. I just believe you and people like you deserve more. Which is why I would like to ask you to do something for me as my guest here.”

“Yes?”

“I would like you to not wear those rings for the rest of this trip.”

Her eyes bugged out of her head as his request cycled into her ears and registered in her brain.

“What? No. No. I am sorry Lord M’Baku but I do not think that is wise. I could lose control… burn your house down, hurt someone. It is too great a risk when I am supposed to be here winning the affections of your people.”

He laughed, “You think you are so out of sync with your powers that taking those off for a few days would lead to a forest fire? You did not seem to have this many reservations in the library that night? Or was a room full of paper books not as important? You are afraid to truly let your powers show and I understand given the way you were raised. But you are only here for three days… You wish things were different yes? Here they can be. Why spend the next three days hiding when you have to go back to that when you leave? This is the one place in Wakanda that you do not have to hide. Enjoy it.”

His proposition did sound alluring… freedom for more than just a few moments. She was still hesitant though. She hadn’t been without her rings for more than a day or two since she was a teenager. And had she become so accustomed to pretending to be someone else that she forgot how to be herself? She never learned how to effectively use her powers, she didn’t even know the extent of them. Hell, she had no idea she could float, possibly fly, until her breakdown after T’Challa’s death. How many more abilities did she have that she didn’t even know about. Was now, as a guest in someone else’s home the best time to find out?

What other time or opportunity would you have? You certainly can’t do so at home. He is right, now is the rare moment to be free.

Her slender fingers fiddled with the delicate rings on the opposite hand as she looked up at him with eyes filled with skepticism. There it was again… that indescribable thing about him that made her want to fall. She could feel it too, every moment she was with him, he pulled her closer and closer to the cliff’s edge. She would pull back and he would be right there tugging her forward again.

He smiled at her, his eyes filled with mischief and delight as her fingers started pulling one ring off after another. Before she knew it, she could feel the tension in her body release, feel the panther slowly ease out of her cage. She took a step back from him as sparks and smoke emanated from her hands. She took a few deep breaths, regulating her body’s response until they stopped. He gave her an encouraging nod as he took a step toward her. It was not tentative or hesitant like people have done in the past. It was deliberate and confident, as if he was determined to let her know that he was not afraid of her.

“Deal,” she said softly.

They stared at each other for a few moments before they both noticed soft embers rising between them. She had only seen those once before, with him in the library, and now she wondered if that was her body’s natural response to the affection she felt toward him.

“U-um, we should head back yes? I don’t want your guard to think I kidnapped their chief,” she chuckled awkwardly.

He nodded and they set back on their way, their bodies closer together, hands brushing against each other every few steps. Asha anticipated it, longed for that brief physical contact each time. It provided warmth and comfort her body hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Before she knew it, they were back in the Lodge and standing outside her door.

“Well this is where I leave you. I will see you in,” he quickly checked his watch for the time,” two hours for our first meeting, your highness?”

“I will be there,” she answered as she pushed against the heavy wooden door that lead to her room. “Oh Lord M’Baku? I now have a request for you. It is just Asha. No your highness or Princess. Just Asha.”

A big grin spread across his face as he took in her request. “Ok then, ‘just Asha.” Only if you call me M’Baku.” He held his hand out for her to shake on their new deal. She started to raise her hand before remembering their previous deal and quickly clutched it to her chest.

“We will work up to that, yes?” He retracted his hand and let it fall back to his side.

“Yes, please.”

He nodded, giving her one last longing look before heading down the hallway.

“M’Baku!” She called after him, unable to let their last private moment for the day pass without saying one final thing. “Thank you,” she said as he turned around to look at her again.

He offered her another smile and a head nod before turning back around. The thank you required no explanation, he knew what it meant and knew it was unnecessary. He didn’t deserve a thank you for recognizing her humanity. He was just excited to realize that those high walls were coming down brick by brick. He wasn’t sure if he was prepared for what lays behind them but he knew it would be glorious.

@destinio1 @muse-of-mbaku @missmohnique @jellybean531 @afrolatinpami @archivistofwakanda @leahnicole1219

#Black Writers #black panther fanfiction #black panther imagines #black panther fics #m'baku x reader #m'baku imagine #m'baku x oc

63 notes · View notes

demonsdarling · 4 years ago

Text

folklore first listen thoughts

the 1: CATCHY from the start. HIT THE GROUND RUNNING sweeter than fiction rights. very sweet heartbreak song. “in my defense i have none” NEVER LEAVING WELL ENOUGH ALONE. i like it a lot, so much metaphor and imagery. i definitely wanna feel this

cardigan: catchy, very much the type of song that would sound good loud in the car at night. “a friend to all is a friend to none, chase two girls lose the one”. i really can’t wait to figure out what this one means. so far this feels very heartbreak heavy, even though i’m only two songs in. “tried to change the ending, peter losing wendy”. obviously young love WHY DO I WANNA FEEL THESE SO BAD. someone better take one for the team and break my heart while i’m still a teenager. someone to make me feel better about myself and then to look back on losing that. wow

the last great american dynasty: rebecca as a character being introduced, i really like the idea here. like gossiping at a wedding like that. “maddest woman this town has ever seen”. i feel like rebecca is a character taylor relates to and put herself into her. TAYLOR BOUGHT THE HOUSE WOW. so it’s about the woman who lived there before her i love that. if i hadn’t lived in my house for my whole life, i’d totally romanticize the people who lived here before.

exile: off the bat reminds me of the last time. i like the film/story/ending theme that continues throughout the album. it really connects it all and i feel very immersed into it. lyrically this song is very beautiful and it just sounds so very good. sounds very red & speak now which i obviously LOVE. also i love that it’s so long. “you’re not my homeland anymore” WOW WOW. so beautiful ily this song

my tears ricochet: sounds very haunting right off the bat. weeping in a sunlit room hurts me so much i just know this will be the best crying song. loveD till my dying day?? is this from the perspective of a dead person STOP that’s heartbreaking. i have chills what the fuck. it’s so BEAUTIFUL “you wear the same jewels i have you to bury me” i said wow out loud like. i have nothing else to say but wow. stolen lullaby <3

mirrorball: sounds very young and sweet. reminds me of starlight for some reason, which i love so much. it sounds like a really sweet first love and learning about the other person and yourself and falling into that and learning from the experience. i might be obsessed with the idea of first love lately, so that’s perfect for me. this is a favorite i love it so much.

SEVEN!: so i claimed this song earlier because i say seven as a response to everything and thought it was funny. but this is a missing childhood anthem, which is so fearless. childhood best friends, this is everything to me. i was worried i wouldn’t love it this much. “just like a folk song, our love will be passed on” PLEASE PICTURE ME IN THE WEEDS BEFORE I LEARN CIVILITY. i’m literally crying. growing up was always my biggest fear, i always want to go back to being little and this wraps it up so well. “passed on like folk songs, our love lasts so long”

august: back to a love song! young love! OH ITS SO SWEET AND HAPPY SOUNDING. kind of an imaginary love, taylor at my age, and i’m inserting myself here because it feels so right. i had a trio of songs on fearless at age 7 and these three songs feels like that again. yeah i’m gonna need a summer romance like i’ve been dreaming of since i was 15. this sounds like every daydream i have about the people i have crushes on and i love that so much. i love relating to taylor so much.

this is me trying: this is so beautiful wow. it has the energy of a sweet and soft version of hygtg but this time taylor is chasing? i think this is one those songs everyone can adapt to their story. “so i got wasted like all my potential”. this one feels so real to me. i really am relating to this one and i might fall apart to this song. second cry of the album.

illicit affairs: I THOUGHT THIS WAS GONNA UPBEAT AND LOVER-ESQUE but it’s a beautiful sweet secret love story. this love here seems crushing and painful. it reminds me a little of 1989 in the vocals i think? which is so cool. i really love the bridge on this one. this love story is so obviously so unique and all-consuming and yet it’s secret at the same time. i fucking love it.

invisible string: of course she says 16 again!!!!! why does she romanticize 16 so much? for me it’s 17. but i’m 19 now. i would dance barefoot in the grass to this one. something pulling two people together like an invisible string no matter how far apart they get. SOULMATE SONG!!!! wow!!! all along we were destined. IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY. the dive bar! something pulled her to him! i love that so much.

mad woman: SHE REALLY DID SAY FUCK YOU FOREVER WHAAT. i went OOH! but this is very ~the man~ and reputation vibes but SOFT and so it feels very taylor, lyrically and emotionally, like this feels like a side of her we’ve seen before but painted in a different light. “women like hunting witches too” “every time you call me crazy i get more crazy” WHY ARE PEOPLE MEAN TO HER I WILL BEAT UP EVERYONE WHO IS MEAN TO HER. there’s no need to tear people down to get to the top.

epiphany: another super long song!! i’m being told betty is incredible and i’m itching to listen to it but this sounds so beautiful. take a shot whenever i say beautiful or wow! this feels like another soulmate song but i hate to be wrong so if i am wrong, don’t mention it. this sounds so very classical and fresh for taylor but also it has such a taste of taylor. something new she’s doing here but her flavor is always there and i love that. only 20 minutes to sleep but you dream of some epiphany 💜💜💜💜

betty: i have high expectations. oh harmonica very folksy sounds very like the beginning. hehe she said fuck again THE SUMMER THING hi august! i suppose this is from the perspective of the other person? i like this very much, i love the idea of young stupid love and first loves. james. james and betty i love them very much. this is like when i make a playlist and say someone should send me these songs. “i’m only 17 i don’t know anything” i just wanna be seventeen again BITCH. SHE SAID CARDIGAN CAR AGAIN i love thattt.

peace: “our coming of age is coming and going” OKAY HIT ME I GUESS? this one is making me feel things. if i could sing, i’d never stop singing this. her fears within her relationship and the chaos her life brings to his. it’s very showing of her love and worries within what seems like a solid relationship.

hoax: what i want to do right now is drive to a literal cliff / scenic overlook and sit in the car and cry to this song. “i am ash to your fire” did she not say that in another song? i don’t remember which. but i hear the struggles she went through in herself and how hard it was to get through, not just on her own but with someone else. i hope taylor is happy and safe in her relationship. in any relationship she enters into, its all i want.

this album was beautiful and lovely and everything i needed and wanted i only cried three? four? times. it’s so stunning and beautiful and i’ve said beautiful way too many times but there’s no other words. it’s incredible. i haven’t felt this much in so long. and if i’m wrong about anything here, never mention it again <3.

i love you, taylor.

12 notes · View notes

bts-bringthescenarios · 5 years ago

Text

Genre: fluff, hints of angst, hints of crack. Pairing: [romantic] female reader + bts!maknae line Contents & Warnings: multiple career!reader, physical contact, swear words, mention of mental health issues.

*** Park Jimin

It had all started with BTS’ increasing concern over Jimin. He seemed to be getting more and more anxious with time. He was such a perfectionist he couldn’t do anything without feeling an intense sense of responsibility: he practiced all the time, he was constantly dieting, he recorded everything countless times until he felt it was close to perfect. If he didn’t achieve the results he strived for, he would become stressed and testy.

One night, Jimin stayed at the BigHit dance practice rooms until very late, going over the same choreography until he felt he had mastered it completely. The trouble was the whole band had spent the entire day practicing, and they were worried Jimin might injure himself if he kept pushing himself so far. So this time they decided to ambush him.

“Okay, music out. This has to stop,” Jin barged in.

“What are you doing? I’m still not confident with the final step sequence!” Jimin protested weakly. Still, he sat down on the ground. He was drenched in sweat and his hands were shaking slightly.

“Then you’ll have to live with the uncertainty,” Hoseok said as he kneeled over Jimin, handing him a bottle of sport beverage.

“You need to rest. Right now,” Taehyung commanded as he sat next to Jimin, eyeing him full of concern.

Jimin downed the bottle, realizing he hadn’t had supper yet, and his lunch had consisted of an apple. He tried to persuade himself that it was best for him to keep practicing, but maybe his brothers were right. He needed to stop.

The next morning they all gathered together with their manager to talk to Jimin about not overexerting himself, and they unanimously decided that he needed to find a new occupation beside the idol life, some way to blow off steam and distract him. They wanted to make sure that his new hobby was laid back, messy and improvisational, so that Jimin could not redirect his perfectionism toward a new activity and he could focus on simply doing whatever he felt like.

That was how BigHit enrolled Jimin in a Clay Sculpting workshop. Horrified, he tried to persuade them to transfer him to any other kind of class: cooking, bartending, painting, expressionist dancing, anything, but BTS and BigHit knew him well, and they knew that anything that meant creating a product or involved dancing would only make things worse. So he began attending the classes, twice a week for two hours. He was not allowed to bring any unfinished projects home, and he had to submit his work every week. This forced him to just turn in whatever he had, regardless of his expectations.

That was how he had met you.

“Okay, (Y/N). Could you please tell us about your piece?” the teacher asked kindly, holding up a bulbous shape so that the rest of the class could see it.

“Well, it was supposed to be a carriage, but looking at it now I’m tempted to just think of it as ‘abstract art’” you scoffed. “I guess I’ll have to name it something pretentious or whatever.”

Everyone laughed, and Jimin felt much more at ease at the fact that the frog that he had been working on looked like a deformed hut with eyes.

At the end of the class, Jimin stepped out of the men’s room, ready to leave, when he overheard a conversation happening in the next room.

“Ugh, I wish they’d let us bring our phones in! No one’s going to believe me,” someone complained.

“No phones allowed, that’s true, but there are no rules over bringing a picture and asking him to sign it. I bet I could sell it for big bucks,” another voice added.

Jimin exhaled silently, deciding to remain hidden until everyone else was gone. He hoped they’d leave soon, Jungkook was picking him up and he was probably waiting in the parking lot already.

“Oh! Let’s ask him next week, (Y/N)!”

“No.” Your voice, firm and clear, resonated in the quiet room, pulling Jimin out of his thoughts. He pressed his ear to the door. “Look, you can do whatever you want, but I’m not going to be a part of this.”

“A part of what?” a man inquired.

“Can you imagine what it must be like?” you countered calmly. “Can you imagine being unable to join a friggin’ clay sculpture class without people harassing you all the time?”

“It’s just an autograph, (Y/N). Jeez,” the same man jeered.

“Yeah, I bet everyone thinks that. And then everyone demands one. All day. Every day.”

A low murmur broke after your words, and Jimin couldn’t hear anything else. Just in case he walked back into the men’s room and remained there until he was positive the classroom was empty.

During the weekend, Jimin found himself thinking about you frequently. He appreciated you standing up for him with that group of people, since he knew it couldn’t have been easy to just go ahead and confront the majority. Besides, there was something very genuine about you, like the way you had mocked your own sculpture. Even the way you spoke felt honest and upfront. He wondered if there’d be a way to talk to you during class.

As it turned out, one of your friends was on vacation and there was a free spot on your table when Jimin walked in. That wasn’t the only good news. It seemed that your words had an impact on the rest of the group, because no one walked to him requesting an autograph or a picture.

Jimin sat next to you slowly, attempting to play it cool, like he’d chosen that seat because whatever. The way his eyes looked away from you bashfully contradicted that notion.

“Hi,” you greeted him smilingly as you put on your apron.

“Hi,” he replied softly. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by being overbearing, so you began preparing the materials in silence. Jimin watched you awkwardly for a second, then he began preparing his things too. He tried to make conversation. “Um… any idea what you’re going to do today?”

“Well, I’ll try to do a lotus flower, ‘try’ being the operative word.”

“I think your carriage last week was pretty good,” Jimin chortled.

“Oh, it’s not a carriage anymore. I’m calling it ‘The Burden of Constantly Failing Clay Class’. It’s an abstract piece,” you joked, and Jimin burst into quiet laughter.

Jimin had a lot of fun with you during the entire class, and he soon discovered that when he didn’t take himself so seriously he actually enjoyed himself immensely. He played with the clay, experiencing the feeling of its texture under his fingers, and shaped up a bird with its wings wide open. Your lotus flower was looking pretty good too, and Jimin suggested you combine the two sculptures after painting them next class.

You walked into the classroom overly excited the next class, and so did Jimin. He had been looking forward to this all week. You worked together again, goofing around with the brushes and joking constantly. When you turned in your final project, the colors were bright and tacky, and it looked quite kitsch. It wasn’t even close to being perfect, but that somehow made you both feel better.

“Why are you taking this class, (Y/N)?” Jimin inquired as you both waited for the rest of your classmates to finish their work.

“Well… I was struggling with negative thoughts, and I needed something to force me to focus on actually doing something regardless of the outcome,” you explained. You didn’t mean to overshare with him, but he looked genuinely interested in knowing and it just slipped out. Besides, you thought, being an idol meant everyone knew so much about him already, it was only fair to give him some personal information about yourself.

“Really? So did I!” he exclaimed impulsively, then looked away, abashed. You smiled at him encouragingly, and he continued. “I was actually working myself too hard, and my brothers decided it was time for me to find a hobby.”

Both of you kept talking until the class was over, and then continued your conversation while Jimin waited for Jungkook to pick him up in the car.

The conversations and joint projects quickly became a routine. This caused a lot of gossip at first, but it died out as time passed and your relationship didn’t change. In truth, you both liked each other quite a lot, but were reticent of asking each other out for different reasons. You didn’t know whether Jimin could date or not, and you were scared you’d make him uncomfortable by asking him out.

Jimin, on the other hand, was simply too shy to do it. Of course, he thought about it quite a lot, and he had formed plans to do it a hundred times, at least. He’d fantasized and daydreamed about it countless hours, perfecting it, but when the time came to act upon it, he systematically chickened out: he walked into the workshop determined to ask for your phone number, but as soon as the class was over he walked away empty handed.

His brothers began to lose patience.

“For fuck’s sake, Jimin, just go and ask her for her phone number after class. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Tell her you want to send her memes or something,” Yoongi complained.

“If you don’t do it yourself I’ll do it for you,” Jeongguk teased.

“Okay, okay! I’ll do it tomorrow,” Jimin whined, trying to end the conversation.

“You make sure he does that, Jeongguk,” Yoongi added maliciously.

Jimin eyed them suspiciously. Maybe Jeongguk really meant what he said. He would have to act on this soon if he wanted to avoid a catastrophe.

Needless to say, Jimin was fidgety during the entire class, paying little attention to his clay project. It was supposed to be a mug, but he didn’t even shape it properly and it looked like some sort of tower. As the end of the class grew impendingly close, his palms began to sweat.

“I can’t believe I even got the handle right,” you boasted, showing your mug to Jimin as you put your projects away to dry so that they could be painted next class. “I mean, if I keep this up you’ll be keeping my best work yet.”

Jimin looked up in alarm, and realization dawned on him. You had promised to give each other the finished mugs last class, but he’d been so caught up with asking you for your number he completely forgot. He looked down at his mug, beginning to despair. He wasn’t sure the thing could even hold any liquid inside it.

As your classmates slowly filed out of the class, Jimin said goodbye quickly, excusing himself by going to the toilet. You felt uneasy. He’d acted weird today. He’d barely talked, his mug looked like a pepper mill and he stumbled over words the whole time. Was something wrong? Should you stay and ask him? You decided it was best to leave, perhaps he needed time alone.

Feeling a little down, you walked out of the building and a chilly breeze tousled your hair, making you shiver. You remembered you left your scarf in the classroom, so you went back to get it. When you opened the door you found Jimin alone, placing his clay mug inside a cardboard box. His eyes darted up and he froze, turning crimson.

“Hey,” you said quietly. “Er… what are you doing?”

Jimin straightened up, eyeing the box guiltily.

“Nothing. I mean, I was just packing the mug.”

“Why are you packing it?” you questioned dubiously. Then you noticed his backpack was open, and he’d made enough space to stuff the cardboard box inside it. “Wait. Were you going to take the mug home?”

“It just needs a few touch ups!” Jimin admitted, biting his lip as you stared at him.

“Jimin, you’re supposed to let it go if it’s not perfect, remember?” you protested, your voice soft and understanding. “Are you having anxious thoughts again?”

“No, not at all. That’s not it.”

“Then why are you so worried about it?”

“Because I forgot we were going to swap mugs!” he confessed. “My mind was elsewhere and I completely forgot, like an idiot. I want you to have something nice. I don’t want you keeping this— this—” he trailed off, glaring at the box.

You were so touched by his words it took you a few seconds to react.

You walked around the table to stand next to him and placed your hands over his shoulders, softly holding him in place as you fixed your eyes on his.

“Jimin, I want you to understand something. I don’t care if the mug’s pretty or artsy or whatever. You know what I care about? The fact that you took the time and trouble to make it for me. That’s it. I’ve been watching you work on that mug, and I already love it. So put it back to dry, or so help me.”

You had meant for the playful threat to make him laugh, but instead Jimin remained still, his eyes burning with emotion. Of course you would have the perfect answer. Of course you would made him feel exactly right. As he pondered this, he discovered this was his chance to take the leap, and he was sure that he wanted to take it.

Carefully evaluating your reaction, Jimin hesitantly lifted his hands to your back and pulled you just a fraction closer. The movement was enough for you to understand what he was trying to do. Your heart thumped loudly in your ears. You slid your hands up his neck gently, grazing your fingertips over his hair.

As he held you in his arms, Jimin’s shyness faded away. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled your bodies closer together, so close you could taste his breath on your tongue. It lured you in, and for the briefest moment you touched his lips with yours.

The sound of the elevator doors opening, followed by a series of footsteps in the hallway, had you pulling away from each other hastily. You had just enough time to collect yourselves before Jeongguk strolled in through the door.

“Hey, what’s taking you so long? Class was over like fifteen minutes ago—” he stopped, his eyes darting from you to Jimin’s unmoving figures.

“Oh,” he whispered as he understood what was going on. “You must be (Y/N).”

Knowing that Jimin had talked to Jeongguk about you made your heart flutter. It had the opposite effect on Jimin, though.

“We were just talking right now. Could you please wait for me in the car?” he snapped, indignation winning over the embarrassment.

“Okay,” Jeongguk replied and made to leave. Then he stopped in his tracks and turned around, a bit flustered. “I’m sorry, but I promised Yoongi-hyung I would check...”

Jimin’s stomach dropped. Oh, no he wouldn’t. His eyes narrowed dangerously at his brother, unspoken threats festering behind them. Jeongguk seemed to reconsider for a second, but then he squared his shoulders and stared at you.

“(Y/N), Jimin’s supposed to ask you for your phone number. You know, to send you memes and stuff.”

Jimin learned there and then that it was not possible to die of shame, because if it were he would have dropped dead at that precise moment. He turned to look at your expression to measure the damage Jeongguk had done. For what felt like an eternity you appeared to be confused, your face scrunched up in concentration. Then, to his immense relief, the corners of your mouth quirked up into a wide grin.

“He was just getting to that before you walked in,” you affirmed happily, having realized that he had been so nervous during class because he’d been meaning to ask you out.

“Oh. Okay. I’ll leave you to it, then,” Jeongguk mumbled, then turned around and walked out.

None of you spoke until the elevator shut its doors with Jeongguk inside it.

“So, would you like to take down my number?” you asked innocently, trying to break the ice.

“I am… so sorry. I don’t even know how to begin to make up for what just happened. Memes...” he whispered to himself as he looked away, overcome with indignation.

You beamed at him, trying not to laugh at his expression. When he gazed at you again, it knocked the air out of him. You were glowing: your eyes, your skin, your lips, everything seemed to have become even more beautiful.

Jimin understood then that his chagrin was silly, because your feelings mirrored his own. He grinned at you and held your hands in his.

“I could begin to make amends tomorrow night. Can I buy you dinner?” he asked, turning a light shade of pink.

“Please,” you answered, and leaned in to kiss his cheek.

***

Kim Taehyung

The other members didn’t mind it as much when someone from the BigHit team took their pets to the vet because it was unavoidable, but not Taehyung. Sometimes it couldn’t be helped, but he did the best he could to always be there for Yeontan when he needed his routine vaccinations or when he was ill. He would fuss and get stressed about it all the time, distrusting the vets, until another idol shared with him the number of her favorite vet in the city, who happened to have a home health service.

That was how he had met you. Taehyung was immediately smitten with you since the first time you stepped on the dorm and all the members’ pets greeted you affectionately as if they’d known you forever. Even Yeontan was happily rubbing itself against your shins in demand of your attention before you had removed your coat. Oh yes, Taehyung had crushed on you instantly, and it wasn’t only because he found you very attractive, but also that you were humble, kind and easygoing. You greeted the boys warmly and set to work immediately, listening to all of their questions and lovingly stroking their pets as you checked them up. And what was even better, you treated them as normal people.

When it was Yeontan’s turn to have his medical examination Taehyung lingered protectively around him, but he soon realized it was unnecessary: his pup was so comfortable with you he needn’t be worried. So instead he decided to watch you work, paying close attention to the way you frowned when you were listening to Tan’s heart through the stethoscope, or the graceful movements of your fingers as you checked inside his ears. You were so concentrated on Yeontan’s examination that you didn’t notice Taehyung gawking at you admiringly, nor how his mouth was hanging open during the entire check up.

After suggesting to swap the food brand to make Yeontan gain a bit of weight and arranging to come in a few weeks for his routine vaccination, you asked Taehyung if he had any questions, still holding his pet in your arms as he licked your hand affectionately.

“Is there a place where I can come see you?” he inquired dreamily, and taking into account your bewildered expression, he added, “you know, if I have any questions or if there’s an emergency.”

“Sure, you can come over to the clinic or just call me at any time,” you beamed at him as you handed him a business card with your address.

Immediately after you left, Taehyung secured your card carefully in his wallet and made sure to write down your address in his phone as well. During the next week he tried to restrain himself from getting in touch with you, but he couldn’t help daydreaming about asking you out. He tried to content himself by looking forward to your next visit, but the more time passed, the harder it became for him to ignore the little card tucked in his wallet.

Unable to resist any longer, Taehyung texted you pretending to have forgotten the brand of dog food you’d recommended. You wound up chatting for a while, where he sent you pictures of Yeontan and, of course, a really cute selfie with a wide, boxy smile and his pup in his arms. Then the following day he dropped by your veterinary clinic to purchase the dog food, and he later sent you a video of Yeontan eating his meal happily. Five days later he swung by again, explaining that someone had mysteriously thrown away Yeontan’s food so he needed to buy some more.

During this whole time you had tried very hard to maintain a professional relationship. Honestly, you really tried. But how was it possible to keep a polite distance when he was so sweet and attentive? You tried to be strong and remain emotionally detached since the idea of getting romantically involved with a worldwide famous idol was scary to say the least, and besides, he surely met a lot of interesting women all the time in his industry. You thought he might get bored of talking to you, or he would eventually be too busy to keep it up.

Well, that didn’t happen, not even when he left on a tour for two weeks. He texted you regularly, and despite beginning your daily conversations with a pretext, like Yeontan shivering while he slept or not being hungry, every single time he found a way to keep talking to you about something else, bombarding you with questions about your personal life and telling you funny stories of his daily routine being an idol. Eventually, Taehyung gathered up enough courage to ask you if you were dating someone. When you read that text, your hands were shaking with so much excitement that you nearly dropped your phone. That was the moment you finally accepted that you had utterly and completely messed up your plan to remain emotionally detached.

Needless to say that when the time came for you to go back to the dorms and vaccinate Yeontan, both of you were giddy and excited. Taehyung was head over heels for you, and he promised himself he would ask you out today. He woke up extra early to shower, fix his hair and carefully select his outfit. He spent an entire thirty minutes deciding what perfume to wear, trying them all on the other members, and the last hour before your arrival he brushed his teeth three times.

“So at what time is the hot vet coming?” Jeongguk inquired, a bit concerned after watching Taehyung rinse his mouth yet again.

“Please don’t call her that. It only makes me more nervous to remember how beautiful she is,” Taehyung muttered, anxiously checking his phone again.

“Take it easy, Taehyungie,” Jimin said as he patted his back soothingly. “You’ve been texting all the time for weeks now. I’m sure she’ll accept to go on a date with you.”

When you finally rang the bell, Taehyung stood in front of the door for a second and took a deep breath to collect himself, energetically flattening his shirt with his hands to remove any wrinkles. And when he opened the door, you looked so pretty you knocked the air out of him and he forgot all the things he planned to say to play it cool.

“(Y/N)! You look— I mean, I’m happy to see you again. Hi,” he said, picking up Yeontan from the ground and bringing him close to you so you could pet him.

You were breathless, too. You noticed how handsome Taehyung looked, and for a second it seemed surreal to you that this man had been flirting with you this whole time. Were you absolutely sure he liked you? Maybe you had read too much into your relationship. You had refrained from asking your friends’ advice in the matter because you didn’t want to expose him, but now that you were insecure about his feelings you felt like you should have asked your best friend about her opinion, even if you didn’t tell her who it was you were texting with.

As he closed the door, Taehyung debated with himself whether he should help you remove your coat or not, but before he knew it you were already placing it on the hanger. He scolded himself for being inattentive and decided to compensate by offering you something to drink, only to realize he had forgotten to boil water for tea.

Luckily, Jimin walked in at that very moment and greeted you warmly, after which he said he had prepared some infusions and invited you to the living room. As you walked through the door with your back to both of them, Jimin gave Taehyung two thumbs up, silently mouthing ‘I got you covered’.

The three of you sat down for a few minutes drinking tea and making small talk while Yeontan perched himself comfortably on your lap, after which Jimin excused himself and left Taehyung and you alone. For a second you were afraid you’d be too nervous to talk, but then you noticed Taehyung smiling affectionately at Tan, who had fallen asleep on top of you. Just by looking at him you felt a fuzzy warmth radiating inside you and spreading all over your body.

“I’m glad he likes you so much,” he whispered, his eyes now on yours.

“It definitely makes things easier for my job,” you replied, grinning as you softly rubbed behind Tan’s ears.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Taehyung interrupted, after which he got up and sat beside you, careful not to wake Yeontan. He thought for a moment, wondering why it was so relaxing for him to know Yeontan approved of you so completely. Perhaps it was because Tan was family, and Taehyung wanted him to like you because he liked you. He stretched his hand to stroke the sleeping pup, wondering how to correctly translate these feelings into words, when his fingers accidentally brushed against you.

Taehyung’s hand froze in midair, hovering over your skin as he waited for you to react. Without a word, you lifted your arm slightly, and a small smile spread across Taehyung’s face as you pressed your arm to his palm. Encouraged by your advance, he wrapped his hand gently around your arm and let it slide softly up and down, simply enjoying the feeling until he entwined his fingers with yours. Then his other hand delicately lifted your chin as his thumb caressed your cheek. When you looked up, his face was so close to yours his breath ghosted across your lips.

Taehyung fixed his eyes on yours, wordlessly asking for your permission. You closed your eyes and leaned in.

Yeontan abruptly jumped out of your lap and ran to meet Min Holly at the door. Right behind them Yoongi was silently but frantically gesturing for his own dog to follow him, having realized he was interrupting you in a rather... intimate moment. Yet when he noticed Yeontan had joined Holly, he looked up apologetically and awkwardly waved his hand at you.

“Hi, doc,” he said, bending down to pick up Holly and Yeontan in his arms. “Sorry for the interruption. Let me just—”

Taehyung shut his eyes tightly, grinding his teeth together. You leaned away from him, fixing a stray lock of hair behind your ear to compose yourself. It was hopeless, though, since you were blushing furiously.

“Hi, Min Yoongi. Is everything okay? I can examine Min Holly later,” you said, attempting to dissipate the awkwardness.

“Maybe some other time,” he replied, giving Taehyung a meaningful look, and he shut the door behind him.

You gazed back at Taehyung, who looked absolutely demoralized. However, you took it as a good sign that your fingers were still interlinked, and decided to place your free hand over his.

“Are you alright, Taehyung?” you asked soothingly.

Even though he was brutally disappointed by how your first kiss had turned out, the way his name sounded in your voice made him feel immediately better. He realized you must have been dissatisfied by this whole ordeal too. Taehyung decided to make the best out of the situation and actually continue with the plan he had originally outlined, where he asked you out first and kissed you second.

Taking a deep breath, Taehyung fixed you with a serious, intense expression. When he saw your encouraging smile and felt the warmth of your hands wrapping his, the words effortlessly slipped out of his mouth.

“(Y/N), I really like you. Would you go out on a date with me?”

You beamed at him and nodded, nudging his hand.

“Great,” he grinned. He stood up and pulled you up with him, biting his lips as he drank in your excited smile, then he raised an eyebrow. “Are you free right now?”

Yeontan’s vaccination could wait another week.

***

Jeon Jeongguk

“(Y/N)! I’ll cover you!” Jeongguk yelled, his headset lopsided, as he hammered his fingers against the joysticks. Despite your efforts, you were losing miserably in this game of Overwatch. When you were finally brought down by your enemies, Jeongguk exhaled loudly and slumped against the back of the couch, dropping the Switch beside him. He could hear your sigh echoing from the headset.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I didn’t see Hanzo on time, I was distracted,” he apologized angrily.

“Don’t be silly, if I had better aim we wouldn’t have lost,” you answered back in your own house as you opened a bag of chips and began munching them down in frustration.

“What are you eating?”

“Barbeque chips,” you said in a muffled voice.

“I wish you were here,” he groaned unhappily.

“You’re only saying that because you didn’t think of getting your own chips,” you countered.

“No, I mean it,” he laughed, his good mood disappearing once he noticed it was getting late. “I have to go. I’ll be back home on Saturday. Will you drop by the dorms for supper?”

“Of course,” you chimed, thrilled to know you’d see Jeongguk soon. “I get out of work at seven, I’ll go after that.”

“I’ll get you something tasty.”

The tour had lasted forever, and even though you’d joined Jeongguk in Europe for two weeks during your vacation, it still felt like the longest time ever. As best friends since childhood you had always been supportive of each other: you knew exactly how to make Jeongguk laugh, and he knew exactly how to make you feel better. Jeongguk was convinced that he wouldn’t be the man he was if it weren’t for you, which was why he was so intent on protecting your friendship at all costs from anything that might jeopardize it, even his own feelings.

This task, however, was becoming increasingly difficult to accomplish. During your visit to Europe he’d been this close to ruining everything by kissing you several times. He found it particularly hard to control himself when he saw you waiting for him backstage with your arms open after a show, or when you confided in him with tears in your eyes how much you were struggling with your exams. He wanted to be with you so much it almost overwhelmed the terror he felt about losing you.

You, on the other hand, were not doing much better. You tried seeing other people, but it never lasted longer than a date or two. At first you thought you weren’t in the mood for a relationship, but you eventually discovered that you were constantly comparing your dates to the time you spent with Jeongguk: ‘I’d rather be playing something with Jeongguk’, or ‘Jeongguk would love this place’, or ‘I can’t wait to tell this joke to Jeongguk’. Your friends, tired of hearing you talk about him all the time, already knew what was going on before you reluctantly accepted that you were in love with him. After all, it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

You had travelled to Europe with the purpose of confessing your feelings to him, but when the time came you chickened out. Besides, Jeongguk was always so tired and busy you didn’t have the heart to bring it up.

On Saturday afternoon, Namjoon walked into Jeongguk’s room and sat on the bed as the maknae unpacked his bags hastily.

“We only just got home. Why don’t you unpack tomorrow?” Namjoon inquired, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.

“(Y/N) is coming over and I want everything to look normal.”

“Oh right, I forget (Y/N) freaks out when confronted with packed luggage,” Namjoon replied sarcastically.

“I’m not doing it because it would upset her,” Jeongguk answered testily, “I just want her to see that my room is tidy and I have my life together.”

“I’m sorry, Jeongguk, but I’m not following,” Namjoon insisted innocently. In reality, he knew full well about Jeongguk’s feelings for you. He had tried to broach the topic several times, but Jeongguk had shut himself in like a clam everytime. Namjoon knew Jeongguk was being stupidly stubborn about this, so he hadn’t given up on the subject.

Jeongguk didn’t answer at first. He just kept putting the dirty laundry in the hamper and folding his clean clothes back in the closet. When he was done, he suddenly felt helpless. He sat on the bed next to his hyung and hung his head in his hands.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he mumbled.

“I know what you’re doing,” Namjoon explained, patting his brother’s back softly, “you’re evading yourself.”

“Hyung, she is the most important person in the world to me,” Jeongguk mumbled, twisting his fingers in his hair. “What if I fuck it up?”

“That’s a possibility,” Namjoon conceded, “But what if you don’t?”

Jeongguk pondered for a while, allowing the fantasies he’d been constantly repressing to overwhelm him. He saw you smiling as you walked holding hands. He saw you kissing him, your arms wrapped around him. He saw himself pulling your top off, his lips tracing the curve of your neck…

“Listen, you don’t have to figure it out tonight,” Namjoon hinted, interrupting Jeongguk’s reverie, “but I think you should give yourself a chance. She won’t toss you away if she doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, and if she does feel the same way…”

“Thanks, hyung,” he cut him short, and smiled apologetically at Namjoon. He was grateful for his advice, but he wanted some time on his own to reflect. Namjoon knew when Jeongguk had enough, so he let it rest.

“I need to think about this. I’ll go have a shower,” Jeongguk stated as he got up purposefully.

In preparation for the night, Jeongguk had placed an order for Chinese takeout and shuffled around the house, tidying up and all in all getting into the other member’s nerves. He was trying really hard not to anticipate the possibility of confessing his feelings, so he kept himself busy until the bell rang.

The moment Jeongguk opened the door, you pounced at him and hugged him so tightly you were afraid his ribs would crack. Jeongguk lifted you from the ground and spun you around, laughing loudly and forgetting all about his anxieties. You walked together to his room, chatting excitedly and bumping into each other like drunks, just for the pleasure of being close enough to actually touch each other. No more depending on texting and video calls, at least for a while.

“I’m warning you: I have a lot to tell you about college drama, so you better be ready to stay up all night,” you exclaimed as you sat on top of his bed with your legs crossed. He shut the door and sat opposite to you, grinning widely.

“Are you kidding me? You better be ready for all the stuff I have to tell you about the tour. If I catch you dozing off I won’t be forgiving.”

For a long time you both chatted excitedly, and as the exhilaration gradually wore off the conversation became deeper, more emotional. You talked about family issues, about feelings of inadequacy in social situations and about stress from working and studying, until the conversation eventually drifted to a more sensitive topic for your relationship.

“So…” Jeongguk began, unable to resist the morbid curiosity he felt. “Have you been dating anyone?”

Your cheeks flared up and you looked down, suddenly very focused on pulling a loose thread from the bed cover. Jeongguk held his breath.

“No,” you admitted. Jeongguk exhaled in relief. “And you?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?” you demanded, looking up again. “I bet you meet a lot of interesting people all the time.”

“I do meet a lot of interesting people. I just don’t want to date them,” he answered defensively.

Why did he have to make things more difficult for you? Maybe if he was dating someone you’d be able to move on. Then again, maybe not.

“I don’t get you, Jeongguk,” you protested, your cooped up fears and frustration bubbling to the surface. “You have the chance to go on dates with so many cool people, but you decide not to?”

“And what about you?” he fired back. “What about your classmates in college?”

“What about them?” you challenged.

“I bet they’re so smart, you could have intellectual debates or whatever—” he began, too aggravated to restrain himself.

“What on Earth are you talking about?” you hissed, feeling increasingly incensed.

“I know some of them have asked you out!”

“So?”

“Well, don’t they count as interesting people to date?”

“I don’t want to date them!”

“Why the hell not?!”

“Because I’m in love with you, you idiot!” you snapped, out of control.

Jeongguk’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. You panted for a few seconds, your anger sizzling until a feeling of ice cold mortification took over you.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. What had you done?

“You’re in love with me?” Jeongguk whispered.

“I— I just...” you babbled, panicking. You weren’t ready for this discussion. You weren’t planning on this. “I’m sorry, Jeongguk, I can’t right now, I— I think I need to leave.”

You jumped up and pulled the door open, but Jeongguk caught your hand and turned you around before you could walk out.

“Don’t go,” he begged. You tried to look away, but he cupped your face in his hands. He held you so softly, so caringly that you looked back into his eyes despite your chagrin. And when you read the expression on his face, you stopped resisting.

Jeongguk’s eyes bore into yours, his lips parted, and it felt like you were looking at each other for the first time in your lives. His thumb grazed against your cheekbone, and you both remained still and quiet for what felt like an eternity. You raised your hand and caressed his temple, sinking your fingers in his hair. Jeongguk closed his eyes for a second, enjoying the feeling of your touch. Then he huddled closer to you and lifted your chin, lowering his head slowly to yours so that your lips were level.

You didn’t hear the footsteps on the carpet. Jimin turned around the corner of the corridor, carrying a bag of Chinese takeout in his arms. Jeongguk and you were wound tightly in an embrace, your faces so close to each other that Jimin knew this was no friendly hug.

As soon as he realized what was going on Jimin tried to walk away quietly before you noticed him. However, as he attempted to tiptoe backward the paper bag crackled in his arms. The sound of of it broke the spell, and Jeongguk and you jumped away from each other. You stared at Jimin dumbfoundedly, too confused and surprised to feel embarrassed yet.

“Hi (Y/N),” Jimin’s voice was strained. “Um, Jeongguk... I brought you the takeout you ordered.”

The three of you looked at the bag, then back at each other, like idiots. Jimin clumsily stepped forward and handed Jeongguk the takeout.

“Thanks,” Jeongguk mumbled.

Jimin stepped back awkwardly, biting his lip. Then he squared his shoulders and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Look, I’m sorry I interrupted, and I know I shouldn’t say this right now but I’m really glad you both got over yourselves and this is finally happening,” he blurted out, articulating every word so fast it almost made you dizzy. "Okay, bye!"

Jimin turned around and strode away at an inhuman speed.

For a few seconds, neither of you said a word. Then Jeongguk gestured you to go into his room. Once you were both inside, he locked the door, placed the bag away and turned to face you, a determined expression on his face. Now that it was out in the open, he needed to say the words, and he needed you to hear him say them.

“(Y/N), I love you. I always have. I don’t want to date anyone else, only you.”

Jeongguk’s voice was clear and steady, and his eyes burned with intensity as he spoke. It made you feel like laughing and crying at the same time.

“Jimin’s right, we’ve been so stupid,” you giggled bashfully, and took a step closer to him. Jeongguk pulled you to his chest and began planting soft kisses on the fringe of your hair, on your eyebrows, on the bridge of your nose. You pulled away just an inch to look him in the eyes. “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, it’s just—”

“I know,” Jeongguk said, and he kissed you in a very non-platonic way.

#bts #bts scenarios #bts reactions #maknae line #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #park jimin #jimin #kim taehyung #v

135 notes · View notes