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chuckbass-love · 3 years

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57 and 71 with Ransom 🥵

A/N: Wow, you guys really love Ransom, huh? ME TOO!! I adore writing for Ransom because i see so many possibilities, so many aspects of his personality that can be explored outside of what we see in Knives Out. So yeah, i really hope you enjoy this and thank you so much for your patience.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad or Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Prompt #57: "I wonder what your boyfriend would do if he knew what you were doing right now”

Prompt #71: "I'm gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, i want you to see how pretty you look when you're spreading your legs for me"

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Summary: Although you’re currently spoken for, that doesn’t stop Ransom from trying his luck. What happens when you fail to resist?

Warning: Smut! Cheating, swearing, ass slapping, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, slight hair pulling, slight angst, cream pie, sir kink, neck biting and kissing and mirror sex. I think that’s about it. If i missed anything, please let me know. 18+ folks. Minors DNI

Word Count: 6,490

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @fairyevans go check them out❤️

Death By A Thousand Cuts

Never in a million years, never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you’d be lying in bed next to your boyfriend of eight years, crying, crying because of the hurt you’re about to put him through. The pain you’re about to subject him to.

But you have no choice. It’s been a week since you made the mistake of sleeping with another man, of sleeping with Ransom. And guilt has drowned your entire body out, leaving nothing but a broken woman in its wake.

You know it’s something you’ve been meaning to do for a while now, but anxiety cripples you, rendering you speechless as you watch Ryan sleep. He looks so peaceful, so handsome and content. Little does he know, that same peace and contentment will dissipate the moment he wakes up.

Your bags are packed away in the closet, the diamond necklace he gifted you for your anniversary neatly hidden away in the black velvet covered box on the bedside table. You’re ready to leave him, to give him a second chance at happiness.

And although your chest is tight and your heart is breaking into a million pieces, you know this is something you need to do.

To flirt with another man is one thing but to have feelings for said man and sleep with him, well that’s something else entirely.

As much as you try to fight it, the memories of that night flash through your mind like a slow motion movie. Every touch, kiss and lust infused decision remains imbedded into your brain, details you’ll never forget.

Here’s the story of the night you ended your relationship by sleeping with Boston’s own notorious playboy, Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

The winter air is so cold that even your calf length faux fur lined coat is struggling to keep you warm as you step out of your cab and onto the stone filled drive of the Thrombey estate.

Harlan Thrombey, a man of mystery and talent. His books are quite literally what got you to where you are now, an excited new author on the cusp of publishing your first novel.

You decided to really draw inspiration from Harlan and what made his mystery and thriller books so enticing and throw it all into a crazy combination of thriller, mystery and romance. At first, upon pitching your idea to your mentor and close friend Harlan, the famous author wasn’t sure it would work, but after reading a rough draft of the almost finished copy, he changed his mind.

His exact words ‘i think this is something that will grab the audience by the balls’ and so far, reviews from your team have been similar. One can only hope it sells enough once it hits the shelves.

But now comes the reason you’re at Harlans home tonight. Every year he holds a party for his family, friends and colleagues, whilst also inviting young and new voices in the writing world, you know to introduce people such as yourself into the scene.

However, also in attendance tonight is the one and only Ransom Drysdale. Your mentors spoilt grandson. Upon encountering Ransom for the very first time, you can recall specifically telling him to go ad fuck himself. He’s nothing but a trust fund prick whose cockiness makes your blood boil...literally.

Although you quite literally cannot stand him and everything he is, you can’t help but admire his looks, and how dreamy his eyes are, how they could lead you down a path of destruction. You’d find yourself risking it all for those blue orbs if they glanced your way at the right moment in time. But then he speaks, and your hate returns.

So it’s safe to say, you are definitely not looking forward to being in such close proximity to him tonight.

Your boyfriend Ryan couldn’t make it due to having work commitments of his own. He’s a lawyer and his boss Andy Barber is hardly the type to allow him to slack off, especially during a high profile murder case.

Late night arrivals home and going without quality time together is your life right now, and as much as it sucks, the two of you seem to make it work the best that you can. Ryan loves his job, it’s what drew you to him in the first place, watching him in a cafe across town with his colleagues, tucked away in a booth. You remember watching as he was detangling his theories for everyone, they all hung on his every word, as did you and you weren’t even supposed to be eavesdropping.

Eventually he noticed, his eyes meeting yours in the booth next to his, and they just gleamed, pulling you in all the more.

After that day, you were joined at the hip. Day in and day out was spent by his side, kissing him, touching him, fucking him, you were enamoured, obsessed.

As was he.

And this year you celebrated your eight year anniversary. The only things missing now are a dog and a ring of engagement.

But patience is a virtue. And you have a feeling he won’t make you wait much longer now.

The zoo floods your stomach as you entertain the thought of marrying Ryan, he’s the love of your life. Your soulmate. Someone you could never live without.

But suddenly you’re pulled from your happiness and thrusted into hell the second Ransom shoves his way past you, almost causing you to spill your drink down yourself. Jerk isn’t the right word to describe him. No. There’s only one word that suffices just nicely, it begins with C and ends in T.

“Watch it” you snap, moving further away from him whilst casting him your infamous resting bitch face, letting him know you aren’t about to put up with his shit. But as he turns to face you, you forget all thoughts of hate, the gleam in his dreamy blue eyes are the reason you fail to hate him for longer than a few measly seconds.

“Dam Y/N, you actually scrub up pretty nicely” he compliments, stepping closer to you to assess your outfit. You’re wearing a stunning navy blue dress, it’s got a sweetheart neckline and it comes to just above your knees. It’s cinched at the waist to show off your body in the best way possible. Not that you care for showing off, you usually shy away. But tonight was cause for celebration so you thought why not dress up?

“Tell me, sweetheart” his body now pressed up to yours, his chest to your side, his mouth so close to your neck and ear that you feel yourself struggling to keep the shivers of arousal at bay.

“Where is that boyfriend of yours tonight? You look way too good to be out alone” his tone is nothing short of mischievous, alerting you of his lustful intentions.

He glides his ridiculously large hand across yours and then up your forearm to your bicep before gently resting it on your upper back.

“Well?” he presses, his hand urging you to speak as it splays out across the middle of your back, edging closer to your tailbone.

“Well what?” you choke out, sipping your champagne a little to distract yourself, hopefully giving off the illusion that you’re far from flustered.

“Where is Ryan?” he asks, and you’re suddenly snapping out of your aroused state.

“He’s working, something you would know nothing about” you retort, shaking his hand off of you before strutting away in your 6 inch heels. And it can’t hurt to ensure your ass is fully in his eye line as you leave him wanting more.

Ransom has spent the last year alone loitering around you in hopes of cracking you so that you’d finally sleep with him. See, he doesn’t care much for titles, or women that aren’t available. To him, sex is sex. If he wants a woman, he’ll get her. He always does. Women are incapable of resisting his playboy charms.

However, you’ve been the exception, the only exception.

But tonight, he’ll change that. He’s determined.

That look in your eyes, one of mutual sexual attraction, it was so prominent that he’d never allow you to lie about it. He knows you want him, or at least you fantasise about having him. It’s just there’s one obstacle, your devotion to your workaholic boyfriend who never makes the time for you anymore. He can sense your starvation, he can smell it.

You’re in need of a good fucking, someone to draw orgasm after orgasm out of you until your body grows limp and you’re sated with a post orgasm buzz. Ransom can be that guy. You just need to let him be that guy. And no one will have to know, not even Ryan.

God even his name in Ransom’s thoughts makes him roll his eyes.

It’s like he can sense you’re settling, your lack of pleasure is clearly something that bothers you yet you don’t utter a single complaint. You just continue to work yourself to the bone too, in order to keep busy, just enough to cease all thoughts of sex.

It’s like a game of cat and mouse to Ransom, when he wants a woman. And right now, the game is well and truly on and he won’t stop until you’re breathless and satisfied.

He leans against the door frame between the grande foyer and Harlans study, assessing the room, searching even. Searching for you.

And soon enough he spots you, in the corner, surrounded by multiple older men. You look happy, laughing as you exchange tips regarding your writing. Marta, his grandfathers nurse brushes past you quickly and the two of you exchange pleasantries.

You’ve always admired Marta, her work ethic, her infectious smile and loveable personality. She reminds you a lot of your younger sister, hence why the two of you get along so well.

Ransoms tumbler glass rises to meet his succulent and kissable lips, the brown liquid filling it entering his mouth slowly as he takes a bigger sip than usual, his eyes glued to you.

On the off chance that you look his way, he raises his glass, winking before watching as you watch him drink. Your flustered state more than apparent to him, he’s no fool and this certainly isn’t his first rodeo. The tell tale signs of arousal are showing.

Unable to refrain from tracking every little movement your body makes, he finds himself blocking out everyone else. So when Harlan snaps his fingers in his face to catch his attention, he jolts. Only ever so slightly though.

“What are you up to?” Harlan enquires, narrowing his eyes at his grandson as he watches Ransom stare his guests down.

“Trouble as always” his eyes leaving you for no longer than a second as he turns to Harlan, sending a wink his way and alerting him that nothing has changed.

But as his eyes return, you’re not there.

He quickly scans the room again, only to find the back of you. Your ass catching his attention as you climb the stairs to the second floor. So rather than watching, or even gawking, he decides to follow you. No one on the second floor now but you and him. A dangerous duo.

Especially since he’d be right in his assumptions, the assumption that you want him just as much as he wants you.

You close the bathroom door behind you, locking it before sitting down to pee, your eyes glancing around the vintage decor, it’s a good job Harlan is at the age he is, changing the entire decor of the house would be a crying shame. It’s so stunning, you’re incapable of taking your eyes off of it. But when you hear a knock on the door, you jump a little.

“Occupied, i’ll only be a minute” you call out before finishing off and flushing the toilet.

As you wash your hands though, another knock sounds through the room, the knock is so heavy, is someone attempting to break the dam door down? Maybe so.

“I said, just a minute” you call back, drying your hands before unlocking the door.

But instead of squeezing past the impatient party goer, you are met with Ransom as he barges inside before closing and locking the door himself.

“Ransom, what the f-”

His plump pink and delicious lips are on yours before you can even finish your sentence, and what’s worse is that despite one measly attempt to push him off, you find yourself enjoying him, enjoying the way his mouth works yours so effortlessly.

Ryan. Ryan. Ryan

Your subconscious screams, willing you to listen. And it works, being as you push Ransom off as if he disgusts you, this time succeeding.

“Woah, thought i had you for a second there” he smirks, mocking you.

“You’ll never have me. I have a boyfriend” you state, as if that’s supposed to deter him, but if anything it spurs him on more. You wipe your mouth as you attempt to move around him to get to the door. How foolish of you. His broad and rather large frame blocks you before you can.

“Come on, sweetheart. You and i both know that you want me, so what’s the point in pretending. You know this feigned hating game is tiring” he chuckles, stepping closer to close the space you created only seconds ago.

And even if you desperately craved some kind of exit from him, you wouldn’t get one, everything is blocked. You’re backed up now, the bathroom counter hitting your back, ice cold as it makes contact with your skin.

The warmth of his whiskey scented breath spreads across your exposed skin, scattering treacherously, threatening to spin the two of you into a web of trouble.

“Don’t call me that” your voice lacks conviction, but you stand tall or at least attempt to. If you believe it, maybe it’ll show.

“Was that poor attempt made to convince me or yourself? Hm?” his index finger lingers under your chin lazily, barely even grazing your skin while you refrain from keening for more.

Although you’re almost certain that Ransom can see right through you, so what’s the point in keeping up this charade?

“Look at you” you look down at your body but before you can get a look, you’re being spun around, your own pathetic reflection staring right back at you in the bathroom mirror. No guilt in your eyes to suggest you’re about to turn him away as he creeps closer to your neck, his lips about to close on your skin whilst his teeth pierce you softly.

And the moment it occurs, your eyes roll to the back of your head as your hands grip at the counter with white knuckle force. Your head rolls to the side like a rag doll as he moves you to gain better access, his sinful and wondering hands wreaking havoc on you. The feelings he’s burdening your body with are feelings Ryan should be making you feel right now.

As your eyes meet his in the mirror and you are met with his signature playboy smirk, you feel yourself crumble all over again.

Why does he have to be so handsome, so dam irresistible?

His one hand steadies your body as the other grips the hem of your best dress, slowly lifting it, something that much to your dismay fills your traitorous body with excitement.

Ransoms breath catches as your pretty ass comes into his view, nothing but a tiny purple laced thong to cover your modesty, barely. A view he can’t help but groan at, guttural.

“Ryan is a very lucky man” the mention of your boyfriend brings you back to earth with a loud and very hard thud as you spin around on your heels, the champagne rushing to your head and causing you to stumble a little.

“Stop it” you snap, holding your hand out in protest to his advances, his very tempting advances.

“Don’t tell me your conscience just paid you a visit?” his sinister and mocking tone and facial expressions, the epitome of the devil on your shoulder. Luring you to him.

He’s right though, your conscience did pay you a visit, one that’s resulting in you contemplating leaving this party earlier than intended. Just to escape the brutal and overpowering sexual tension between the two of you that fizzes and crackles in the air like silent and invisible fireworks.

His hands reach out to grab a hold of your body once again, the needy nature inside of him refusing to let his chances with you slip through his thick digits that easily.

“Tell me, sweetheart. How long has it been since that boyfriend of yours touched you?” his steps are slow, menacing even until before you know it, he’s towering over you, intimidation at its finest.

Meanwhile his hand is dusting over the hem of your dress, lifting it up just as he did a mere few minutes earlier, exposing your panties again.

His voice is raspy, yet smooth as he backs you up to the bathroom counter, enticing you.

It’s getting impossibly hard to resist his womanising ways, the charms that led the many others that came before you to their inevitable fate. At Ransoms feet, his come dripping from their greedy pussy’s.

“Actually don’t answer that, it’s not an answer i don’t already know” his fingers are inching closer to the hem of your panties, teasing you at such a torturous pace that you’re afraid you’ll resort to begging. And since you’re trying to keep a firm hold on your loyalty to Ryan, begging isn’t an option, in fact no extra curricular activities involving Ransom are an option.

You are better than this. You have Ryan, you are happy with him.

You are.

As his fingers dip inside of your panties, you feel your integrity slipping away, your usual pulled together self watching on from a distance as your current intoxicated self allows his fingers to glide over your petals. Almost like astral projection.

A soft yet inviting groan escapes, rolling off of your tongue as you throw your head back in pleasure.

“There she is” his grin can be heard through his speech, a grin to show how smug he is with himself and his ability to lure in yet another woman.

What can he say, he has these skills when it comes to these things.

Your body arches, head remains thrown back as he inches closer to your entrance, index and middle fingers taking the time to figure you out before plunging in. Your hips start to move on their own accord as you silently give your consent for him to do whatever he wishes.

Ryan is now nothing but a distant memory, left to be remembered once the novelty of this moment wares off and you’re left alone with your thoughts.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” his body curls over yours, his other arm wrapping around your frame, a vice like grip on you as he gently pulls you up, your head now tilted back to look up at him. Your eyes meet, the intensity of his orbs holding you in place.

You’re incapable of looking elsewhere.

The words you never expected to utter out loud, in fact the words you never expected to utter to Ransom, they are about to escape your mouth. But the way he’s got you dripping with arousal, clenching around nothing as you anticipate the feel of his fingers inside of you, it’s got you throwing caution to the wind.

“I want you” your mouth hangs slack as your breathing grows heavier, his long eyelashes fluttering as his gaze flickers between your eyes to your tempting lips. And judging by the way his tongue pokes out to wet his lips, he’s debating whether or not to kiss or admire you.

You poke your chin out on purpose in hopes that he’ll give you what you want, what he’s caused you to crave.

“Oh really? What happened to pushing me away, huh?” his fingers still circling your tight hole incessantly.

Boy is he going to revel in your vulnerability, your profound hunger for feeling full, full of him. But for the sake of your guilty conscience you’ll continue to lie to yourself about how he could be any man at this point or even that you’re envisioning Ryan. But the second he grips your chin in his free hand aggressively, forcing your eyes to meet his in the mirror. You’re lie slips away.

Fuck.

You roll your hips again whilst your own tongue pokes out to wet your lips before your teeth sink into your bottom one. Maybe that will do the trick.

He rolls his eyes, pleasure filled impatience as he watches you tease him. His cock hardening all the more, if that’s even possible as it digs into your navel. You just know it’s bothering him, paining him even to keep it hidden away in the tight confines of his boxers and slacks.

It won’t be long now.

His narrowed eyes continue to dance across your face, his brows are furrowed and you’re losing your patience, waiting is not a strong point of yours whatsoever.

“Kiss me” you whisper, barely even audible.

“Needy lil thing, aren’t you?” yet again, mocking.

“Please”

Ryan who?

And just like that his teeth are nipping at your bottom lip ferociously as he pulls you so close to him that you can’t see a single thing in the room but him, so close that you feel him all over you. All you can smell is the scent of scotch on his breath, mingling with the champagne on yours. A heady mix.

Once his teeth pull off, his lips replace them, soothing the marks over with his sinful tongue as it swipes over it gently, the calm before the passionate storm.

Before you know it, you’re battling his tongue for the role of dominant, a war you’ll never win, a war you were always destined to lose when it comes to going up against Ransom.

The two of you continue to go at it like lovestruck teenagers attempting to cram everything in before the return of strict parents. His hands roam your waist before suddenly breaking away, panting in time with you before he spins you around so that your eyes are now meeting his in the bathroom mirror again.

Menacing and harbouring god knows how many mental images of other women in his head, Ransom certainly isn’t short of experiences that would put your sexual past to shame. Something that intimidates you, yet you want the challenge of fighting to be the best of them all.

Despite being attached to another man.

His mouth hovers next to the weak spot on your neck, his eyes still looking into yours, the windows to your soul. His stare is unrelenting and flirtatious, one eyebrow raised as he leans closer, his lips wrapping around your earlobe causing goosebumps to cover you like a second skin entirely, scattered across your body.

He gives your earlobe a little attention before moving his focus to directly underneath it, your gasps allowing him to gather some insight into your weak spots. And as he continues to move lower and lower, the different sounds grow from gasps to whimpers and then eventually moans of high satisfaction.

And bingo, the spot just below your jaw gives him the best reaction, one that makes him want to keep going all night just to hear those pretty sounds of yours. The music he spurs you on to make gives his ego a little bit more than just a boost.

“Ransom” your eyes screw shut as your head lands backwards on his shoulder, his lips and tongue wreaking havoc on your body as his cock presses into your lower back teasingly. His fingers still circling your tight hole, making you wonder if he ever plans to explore your walls.

But just as you start to grind your ass into his crotch, your way of pushing the boat along, his fingers slip in, driving home a little too easily. Thanks to the arousal he drew from your body.

“Yes, sweetheart?” his tone is nothing short of seductive, his words portray a man on his knees willing to do whatever to please you and there’s something so hot about a man at a woman’s disposal.

“Fuck me” your panting should make it impossible for him to understand you, the way your hands are finding purchase on the counter as you grind on his palm every time it collides with your clit when his fingers are knuckle deep.

Desperation isn’t even a suitable enough word for how badly you crave the fucking you know he’s more than capable of giving you. You want this just as much as him, as bad as that seems.

“Beg for it, wanna hear how badly you want my cock”

Is he serious? Clearly so.

Surely your words should be enough. But then again, Ransom is obviously the type to crave ratification and assurance that you want him and you’re not just playing around.

Consent is everything to Ransom, despite his trust fund prick and playboy ways.

His reputation precedes him, everything you’ve heard up until now, all a mix of negative and positive-though the positive rumours don’t come around all too often-so it’s hard to decipher just how many of those are true.

But one thing you do know is that he’s not all bad, or at least not as bad as he’s made out to be.

You can probably be honest here and confess that it’s a huge plus point with Harlan. The way he allows Ransom his freedom and bad spending habits yet he still teaches him right from wrong when possible. And on the occasions where the family talk shit about the playboy, Harlan is always ready to defend him. The majority of the time that is. Harlan once told you that he sees a lot of his younger self in his grandson, unruly behaviour, womanising tendencies and whatnot, and then his defence of Ransom suddenly didn’t seem completely unwarranted.

It’s like he knows exactly how Ransom is feeling and what he’s going through at this stage in his life, so he tries to go a little easier on him whilst also continuing to be that pivotal figure in his life, the one that’s there to support rather than tear him down like his daughter does.

The less you touch on when it comes to Linda, the better.

The woman is nice enough, but she has no clue about parenting.

And that’s enough on her.

“Please fuck me” you murmur, eyes wavering from his until he holds your chin still, his fingers slowing down inside of you, he scissors them deep within, your pussy juices coating them deliciously.

Once your eyes return to his in the mirror, he covers your view by leaning his head around to kiss you, tongues collide, teeth clash, lips move in a rushed yet established rhythm.

“Look at me” his grip on your cheeks grows stronger, vice like, as his head returns to its previous position, his eyes back on yours in the mirror and now you’re gulping as you struggle to maintain eye contact. He intimidates you in the best kind of way.

"I'm gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, i want you to see how pretty you look when you're spreading your legs for me"

Your eager nature has you nodding your head over enthusiastically, just wishing the time away until his cock is buried balls deeps inside of you and you’re on the receiving end of a fucking you’ve well and truly earnt.

Another rumour about Ransom, one you have no doubts on whether or not it’s true and one you’ve heard way too many times to try and count now, is that sex is his specialty, pleasing a woman whilst also pleasing himself is his talent.

Some people can sing, some people can write, some people can bake, Ransom can fuck.

The thought of finally experiencing his skills causes your mouth to water, your body to shiver and your mind to wonder. It races with all of the things he could do to you right now, and you love that. All possibilities are on the cards, you are now at his disposal.

“Yes, i want it” you whimper, biting down on your bottom lip as you clamp down around his still fingers, and as he withdraws them, lifting them up into the air for you to feast your eyes on, you feel more arousal pool at your entrance.

“So pretty, baby. All your juices covering my fingers” he pokes his tongue out to lick some of it off, humming his appreciation for your taste before dangling them in front of your flustered self, like candy.

“You taste just as good as you look, actually no, you taste better”

That’s all you needed to take them into your own mouth, wanting a taste of yourself too, the jealousy of the satisfaction inflicted on him was too much.

“Mhmm” your hummed agreement as you suck everything from his fingers, no drop wasted.

He rips his fingers free before wrapping his hand around your neck snugly, his mouth now on yours in a heated kiss. The two of you sharing your taste.

Tongues exploring again, your hand roaming behind you and cupping his size, getting more than just a handful.

“Mhmm, i wonder what your boyfriend would do if he knew what you were doing right now” his smug voice fails to alert you of your current commitment to Ryan, or better yet, it fails to make you feel an ounce of guilt. You’re saving the self hatred for later, that’s your just deserts.

The clink of his belt as he uses one hand to undo it slipping his slacks down along with his boxers, it echoes in the room, the silence allowing your nerves and excitement to reach new heights and the moment you reach your hand back to wrap around him, your eyes grow wide.

He’s bigger than you expected, but then again, you have no clue what you expected really.

His large hands tug on your panties, slipping them to the side before his bulbous head rests patiently at the entrance. He smacks it on your exposed hole twice, knocking before entering.

You eagerly push back against him, not wanting to wait another second without him inside you.

“Someone’s needy” he chuckles, mocking you, yet the way his hands splay across your ass, spreading it apart as your arousal assists him, pulling him inside, says he’s far from mocking.

The breath he sucks in as your entrance catches around him, the view so pretty to him that he cannot take his eyes away. He nudges you forward, causing your elbows to rest on the counter as he eases himself inside.

Your heart racing as you feel the delicious stretch, your pussy accommodating to fit him inside just about.

“Oh god” your guttural moans escape before Ransom reaches around to cover your mouth, as unashamed as he is about the type of person he is, the last thing he wants for you is for his grandfather to find out. Especially since Harlan has met Ryan.

You’d also hate for him to think any less of you and question your morals.

Although they are questionable. Very much so.

The moment he’s seated to the hilt inside of you, you press your hand to your navel, swearing that you can feel him there. So full, so content, so right that it should be wrong.

This will surely haunt you until you confess to Ryan, laying your sins out for him.

“God can’t save you now, sweetheart” his smirk catches your attention in the mirror as he bends you over a little more, your face inches from the mirror. His hand scooping up a handful of your hair and pulling lightly, the burn on your scalp mixing with the pleasure of his cock as he pulls out slowly before slamming back in, it makes you forget the pain he’s inflicting on your head.

Moan after moan, panting, skin slapping against skin, all of it echoes in the room, bouncing off the vintage walls.

The pace is relentless, animalistic, he barely waited a minute before he started to destroy your pussy, rearranging your guts to please himself.

Your eyes watch as he grips at your ass, keeping those cheeks spread as his jaw hangs slack, occasionally biting his bottom lip and rolling his eyes back in pleasure.

Now that you’re left to mute yourself, you have no clue how you’re going to keep shtum.

This feels too good, so sinful yet beautiful.

“S’tight, feels so fucking good” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you.

As much as Ransom is dying to be buried inside of you for as long as humanly possible, he knows it’s in his best interest to make this as quick as possible now, seeing as the foreplay took longer than he intended. He just couldn’t help but take his time, teasing you and making you beg for it was one hundred percent worth it.

“Can feel you squeezing my cock, sweetheart, gonna come huh?”

His eyes look over to meet yours, mascara barely holding onto your lashes without running as you refrain from crying tears of pleasure, proof of the pure ecstasy he’s dousing your body in.

“Yes” you just about manage, struggling to keep your legs from giving way as they shake at your impending orgasm, your heels wobbling on the floor pathetically.

“Beg to come” he growls, curling his own body over yours as he lands two hard smacks onto your ass cheeks, his eyes not leaving yours. Your body is shivering.

The rumours are most definitely true. No doubt about that.

“Please let me come, Ra-”

“Uh-uh. What’s my name, baby?”

His eyes hold the answer.

“Please let me come, sir”

The content smile on his face alerts you of his approval as he smacks your ass again whilst pounding into you over and over.

He snakes his arm around your delicate frame, lifting you up, despite your obvious struggle to remain standing.

Once your upright a little, his mouth appears next to your ear, his whispers of “come for me, now” spur you on. Your spiritual body falling off of that cliff edge whilst dragging him down with you as his cock twitches deep inside of you.

The reminder of his lack of protection comes as his hot spurts of ejaculate fill you up, something that you should have been on top of but at the same time, you’re sated state could care less. Besides, you’re on the pill, what’s a little bit of Drysdale come going to do?

He shudders as he slows his pace down, his face contorting as he keeps his loud groans and growls in for your own sake. His gentlemanly side showing.

As he pulls out, you stand there gobsmacked at the nature of what you just did, the activity you just partook in with a man you usually hate. Well, you hate his actions and personality, his looks you admire.

He starts to re dress, leaving you with his come dripping down your legs, a sight that could easily have him ready to go again.

“Everything okay?” he asks, attempting to care, but then again, maybe he does. Just maybe.

“I just cheated on Ryan” the enormity of it hitting your body full force, a force that knocks the wind from your lungs, leaving you panting and struggling to breathe.

He catches your sad expression in the mirror, the internal battle he’s having with himself on whether or not he should comfort you or leave, it’s a hard one. He can’t decide. But before he does, you pull your panties up and turn to face him.

“You don’t have to stay. I chose to do this, and i will deal with the consequences of my actions” your tone neutral, giving him no insight into what you’re going to do next. Your words suggest confessing but given your commitment to Ryan, Ransom can’t ever imagine you destroying it.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, i’m just going to clean up here and then i think it’s best if i go home”

His nod of agreement as his face goes blank, unreadable.

“For what it’s worth, i enjoyed myself. And i know you have a boyfriend but i’d like to think you did too” his tone remaining neutral too, less of the cockiness he’s so well known for.

“I did, that’s the worst part. Anyways, you don’t have to listen to my self pity, you best get back before Harlan comes searching for you” your suggestion is successful as he leaves the room once his slacks are zipped and buttoned up and his belt is tight around his waist.

No more words uttered.

The memories finish flashing through your mind as you lay in bed next to Ryan, you don’t plan on sleeping tonight. It’s 2:00am and you’re being kept awake by the replay of last week, it haunts you nightly, your brains way of forcing you to tell him the truth. Something that he deserves, so who would you be to keep it from him?

All you can do is brace yourself for the storm once the morning light shines into the room you share with him.

God can’t save you now.

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

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ikaroux · 3 years

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Xiao: Who are you ? (part 1) (v.EN)

f!reader

I want a sweet Xiao <3 and then when you have Matsuoka Yoshitsugu as a seiyuu, how can you not love him?! (even if it will surely be complicated for him to understand the emotions that go through him!).

Zhongli being written.

Masterlist

Part 2

Who are you?

The last Yaksha guardian was collapsed on the ground, wounded, exhausted. His last battle with the darkness had lasted most of the night, further weighing down the karma of the young man with dark hair dotted with emerald strands. The voices of those he had killed fogged his mind, causing excruciating pain to his soul and body. Lying on his stomach unable to open his eyes, his hand struggled to find his winged jade spear that had fallen to the ground with him. A groan of pain scraped his throat at the movement.

The young man flinched briefly as he heard footsteps approaching him quickly, feeling hands grasp his shoulders to carefully turn him around.

He tried again to open his eyes, his vision was blurred and foggy. He could not distinguish the features of the human who had seized him, feeling only his hand gently caressing his hair in an attempt to soothe him. The voice he heard calling him with concern sounded like a woman's, soft and warm.

A soothing light enveloped the young woman, the boy did not understand what was happening because in the second that followed, his body lightened, his pain evaporated, was he dreaming?

Although his vision was still blurred, he nevertheless managed to distinguish a little better the contours of the young woman with long hair (color).

"Who are you? "

His voice was marked by fatigue. He managed to distinguish a thin smile on the face of his rescuer. He repeated more weakly:

"Who are you...? "

His eyes sank, the ethereal form of the young woman reminding him of distant memories, a sudden warmth burst in his heart. Tears beaded in the corners of his eyes.

"Gui...zhong? "

The landscape around him darkened, leading him straight into a soft torpor.

Xiao woke up with a start. Where was he? The Wangshu Inn? Yes, he recognized his quarters, but how did he get there? He still remembered his fight against the horde of monsters he had defeated. He raised his right hand to his face, examining it more closely.

He had no more wounds, no more pain, which brought him back to the young woman he thought he had seen. Had he hallucinated? Had she really healed him? Everything seemed to be a blur. He got up from the bed without difficulty, heading directly to the balcony which was on the top floor of the inn. He looked around, hoping to find the woman who had helped him. The sun was beginning to set, so he had spent the day resting here. It was unusual for him, not being human he didn't have the same needs as them, sleeping, eating, living with others, all that seemed ridiculous. He was almost angry at himself for staying unconscious for so long, hitting one of the wooden columns on the balcony.

Xiao turned around, heading towards the stairs, quickly walking down the steps to Wangshu's innkeeper, Verr Goldet.

"Verr. "

The young woman turned her attention to Xiao.

"Good evening lord Xiao, have you recovered from your last fight? "

"Did you see who brought me here?"

Verr didn't take offense to his curt tone, simply shaking her head to indicate that she hadn't.

Xiao clicked his tongue, annoyed. He needed to know who this mysterious woman was who had taken care of him. The memory of the warmth that emanated from her gripped his heart again, drawing his steps back towards the exit of the inn.

He suddenly bumped into a young man with blond hair, accompanied by his annoying little creature.

"Xiao?"

Aether looked at Xiao with big round eyes, he was not used to seeing him with such an expression. He was confused, frustrated and angry, these were all emotions that were running through the yaksha since he woke up.

"Xiao is not in a good mood"- Paimon twirled around him- "You should come eat something with us, nothing beats a good meal for..."

"I don't need that! "

Paimon gasped, hiding behind Aether. Xiao tried to calm himself by inhaling a deep breath of air, passing by the traveler without saying a word.

"Wait Xiao! Where are you going? "

Aether stopped him, grabbing his arm loosely so as not to rush him further. Xiao immediately gave a sharp blow on his arm to disengage himself, he regretted his abrupt words, he hated it. Before he met Aether, he never had to worry about others or how to behave with them, he was alone and he was fine with that. It was all too... human for him. Slowly he turned his gaze to the traveler.

"Aether I... am sorry. "

"Xia...! "

Without saying another word, Xiao disappeared in a draft.

When you landed in Liyue from your native land, Sumeru, a few months ago, a terrifying battle took place at the city's port. An ancient God who had once been sealed by the rock lord had broken free from his prison, attempting to destroy the port of Liyue in the process, but fortunately he was quickly stopped.

Since these events, you had started to travel in the lands of the geo archon, studying the local fauna and flora. Flowers had always fascinated you, their shapes, their smells, their meanings or their benefits, you studied absolutely everything, noting and drawing in a notebook everything you saw.

In Sumeru, you joined the prestigious magic academy to perfect your Guizhong, that was the last thing he said to you. Who was he? It seemed to you that you had already read this name in one of the books you had borrowed from the academy. You couldn't ask him, tiredness taking him away from you. You knew that not far away there was an inn, it was going to be difficult but you had to take him there so that he could rest. When you picked him up, wrapping your arm around his shoulders for support, his spear on the ground disappeared by itself. You had adjusted your grip before you began your walk.

After several minutes of recalling these events, you noticed that you had finally arrived at the high cliffs of Huaguang. Taking your courage in both hands, you prepared yourself mentally to climb the cliff. Up there was a flower that you wanted to study, the Qingxin flower. They grew exclusively on the highest stone peaks, avoiding heat and humidity, a lonely and hard to reach flower.

"It's okay! "

You rolled up your sleeves, putting your feet and hands where they could grip, slowly you began your ascent.

Night had fallen on the Liyue plains, and it was at the top of Qingyun Peak that the Yaksha had taken refuge, watching the stars brighter than ever. Sitting on the edge of the cliff, the memory of the young woman haunted him. The pain in his chest made him clench his fists, he had never felt like this, he didn't even know what name to put on these feelings.

Xiao was a thousand year old follower, human feelings didn't concern him, so why? Why such pain at the mere thought of a... stranger? But was she really a stranger? This woman had reminded him of an old friend, Guizhong, who died during the Archon war. Could she have come back in an ethereal form? Or maybe it was a new trick the demons had found to torture him a little more.

In the distance, Xiao saw a faint jade-colored light coming from the Huaguang stone forest. He widened his eyes, remembering that glow that had saved his life. His heart began to beat furiously in his chest.

"This is... impossible... I found you. "

His voice trembled at the sight of the sweet emanation. It warmed him, soothed him, the voices that constantly hammered him fell silent and his usually aching body was now light. At last he understood his obsession with you, when you had treated him earlier this morning, a bond had been established between you, a bond as strong as the one that bound him to Morax for whom he had the greatest respect and devotion.

Xiao stood up, looking in the direction you were facing. He disappeared into the wind.art and deepen your knowledge. More than once your teachers told you that your manipulation of your dendro vision was exceptional, some city-states were already looking to recruit you as a researcher or healer, but you always refused, preferring to remain free of your movements. Once you had finished your studies, you quickly decided to leave your homeland, wanting to learn more from your neighbors. Your steps finally led you to Liyue.

You had left early that morning, heading towards the Huaguang stone forest from the Dihua swamp. On the way, you passed a badly wounded young man with emerald tattoos on him. His face, despite the wounds, was beautiful and when he opened his eyes, the amber color immediately fascinated you.

You couldn't leave him like that, wounded and bruised, using your Dendro vision to heal him. When you used it, it projected a jade aura on you and a flowery area grew around you, releasing energy that allowed you to heal even the deepest wounds.

He had tried several times to ask you to identify yourself, which you did, but his apparent fatigue had closed off his senses.

Guizhong, that was the last thing he said to you. Who was he? It seemed to you that you had already read this name in one of the books you had borrowed from the academy. You couldn't ask him, tiredness taking him away from you. You knew that not far away there was an inn, it was going to be difficult but you had to take him there so that he could rest. When you picked him up, wrapping your arm around his shoulders for support, his spear on the ground disappeared by itself. You had adjusted your grip before you began your walk.

"It's okay! "

You rolled up your sleeves, putting your feet and hands where they could grip, slowly you began your ascent.

"This is... impossible... I found you. "

Xiao stood up, looking in the direction you were facing. He disappeared into the wind.

You had finally reached the top of the cliff, immediately spotting two-three Qingxin flowers. You immediately knelt down beside one of them, taking out your notebook and pencil. You began to draw this beautiful flower from every angle, noting here and there the characteristics you could observe. Satisfied with everything you could see, you finally turned to the landscape plunged in the darkness of the night. Liyue's sky was dotted with stars that shone brightly. Sitting cross-legged in the center of the cliff top, your gaze turned back to the flowers of Qingxin, suddenly reminding you of the young man you had rescued. When you looked into his eyes, his eyes seemed so sad, so lonely. The pain that seemed to be emanating from him had struck you at the highest point.

You turned your attention back to the stars. Your mind was obsessed with this boy and it was with him in mind that you began to sing an ancient poem by Sumeru. The words, although sung in your native language, were undoubtedly sad and melancholic. Your hands were placed in front of you, palms up, eyes closed, activating your dendro vision. A jade-green circle encircled the entire surface of the cliff, particles of light streaming from the ground. Gradually, luminescent blue flowers began to grow around you, following the rhythm of your song.

It was a violent draught that cut you off, opening your eyes in surprise. You gasped as you saw the young man with the amber eyes standing before you.

He was out of breath, stiff as a board, his eyes never leaving yours. Something in him seemed different from this morning, in his eyes you could see... peace?

He cautiously approached you, kneeling down in front of you to get to your level. He took one of your hands in his, squeezing it gently. The particles you had created swirled around you, lighting up the scene. Your heart was pounding now that he was in front of you, you found him even more attractive under the moonlight. His eyes shone with an incredible brilliance, his tattoos also glowed with a soft emerald glow.

Your voice, your appearance, everything seemed sweet to him, no wonder he confused you with Guizhong, you looked like him in some ways.

His lips trembled slightly as he continued to examine your face, a question seemed to cross his lips.

His free hand went up to your face, tucking one of your locks behind your ear.

"Who are you? "His tone was more brutal than he had intended it to be.

Your eyes widened at the question. Of course you couldn't introduce yourself or learn who he was, his name, what he did. You wanted to know everything about this man who had marked your heart.

Seeing that you didn't answer, he asked again in a soft whisper, making you blush.

"Who are you? "

"(y/n)..."

And for the first time since you met, a smile stretched his lips, a silence accompanying your answer. His smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, his hand dropped yours.

"Xiao. "

You looked at him intensely, your face completely red as he straightened his legs.

"As long as you're in Liyue, I'll protect you. Call me and I'll be there in a second."

You slowly nodded, fascinated by this man who was decidedly not human. He watched you for a few more seconds, his eyes entranced by your presence before disappearing as he had appeared...

"Xiao..."

#genshin impact x reader #xiao genshin impact #genshin icons #genshin impact xiao #genshin xiao #genshin impact #genshin spoilers #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin xiao x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x y/n #xiao x reader #xiao imagines #xiao

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cloudteawrites · 4 years

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chapter: five ( 4.7k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

The grocery store was a mess of color and light. You swore you’d never seen so much food in one place.

Back when your mom had been alive, you’d never really gone to traditional grocery stores. You’d always just visited markets where your mom knew the vendors and could talk down their prices on ugly produce and day old bread. After she’d died, you’d eaten whatever the staff in the group home had provided, then whatever you could scrounge up from convenience stores. Most of the time since you’d aged out of social services, you survived off the free rice and kimchi available in your goshiwon.

Occasionally, you’d eat at work with your free staff meal, but you tried to avoid it. You knew the sight of you wolfing down ramyeon and cold kimbap as fast as you could made Jiah worry. If she ever saw you looking too haggard, she’d try to slip some home made meals to the front desk of your goshiwon when you weren’t looking and that was as embarrassing as it was helpful.

For as long as you could remember, the question of where your next meal was coming from had hung over your head like a dark cloud. It didn’t seem like that was going to be a problem any longer.

Aisle after aisle stretched out before you, blindingly bright. It looked like an amusement park. You were finding it hard to stop staring. You reached out in a haze and picked up the juiciest apple you’d ever seen. Sure, you sold them all the time at Quickstop, but they’d always been dull and just the slightest bit bruised. This one was perfect: fire engine red and still wet from the mister. It was cold and heavy in your hands. You almost felt like crying.

“You good?” Yoongi is beside you, leaning over on the shopping cart, his chin in his hand. He looks dreadfully bored.

“Yeah,” you tell him, setting the apple gently back in its place. “Yeah; just got distracted for a second.” You give a single tug on the front of the basket to move him along, and he follows, shuffling against the bright white linoleum.

“Why aren’t you getting that?” He calls, just before you can round the corner into the dry goods aisle. You turn and look at him over your shoulder, confusion slightly furrowing your brow. “Don’t you want it?”

Your eyes flick from his face back to the glittering heap of fruit. You gnaw at your lip. “...They’re 6,000 won a kilo.”

Yoongi purses his lips. “That’s not what I asked you.”

“I don’t need them,” you huff, trying to stave off the beginnings of another argument. “There’s more important things...like you three and getting you clothes and better furniture and-” Before you get the chance to finish, the gray haired man has ducked back around the corner. He returns with two three kilo bags of apples and dumps them unceremoniously into the cart.

He looks up at you, brows raised and his eyes daring you to say something. All you do is sigh. “Yoongi-”

“Jimin likes apples.” He says, before you can get a word in edgewise. “They’re for him.” You can’t argue with that. He pushes the basket forward and you two drift down the next aisle.

There’s a question resting on the tip of your tongue and as you compare brands of rice, you spit it out. “So...what do you guys eat? I read an article that said to mainly feed cat hybrids fish, but...”

“But we’re not house cats.” He finishes, flipping over a box of cereal to read the back. His nose wrinkles at something he finds and he slides it back onto the shelf. It’s cute, you think- or would be if you couldn’t see the tips of his razor sharp incisors poking out when his lip curled up. Yoongi senses your gaze and looks over at you. You look away quickly and make yourself busy reading a label. “We can eat pretty much anything you’d eat. Not too much processed shit or we’ll get sick. Whole foods are better.”

You nod, making a mental note to forego sodas and chips. “And when you’re shifted?”

He shakes his head. “We don’t really eat when we’re shifted down unless we plan on staying there for a long time.”

You choose a 10 kilo bag of rice, tug it out from the shelf with a little grunt and plop it onto the basket’s bottom shelf. That was good, you supposed. You were worried you were gonna have to watch three big cats rip into raw meat whenever it caught their fancy. “Why don’t I push the basket and you can pick out things Taehyung and Jimin would want?”

He nods and shifts to the other side of the aisle. “What’s my limit?”

You pause for a moment, then stand and fix him with a strange look. “What do you mean?” He isn’t looking at you. He’s comparing two brands of cereal, scanning the nutritional facts on the back.

“How much am I allowed to spend on food?” he questions, simply. “-and what foods are we allowed to eat?”

You balked at him. “.. .you want me to control your diet?”

“I don’t want you to, but most owners prefer a certain look.” He turns his flat, yellow-grey eyes on you. “So what is it? No carbs? no sugars? Low fat? No fat? Dairy-free-”

“Oh my God, no!” You yelp before he can list any more diets. You’d said it a little louder than you’d intended and a well-dressed mom at the other end of the aisle fixes you two with an odd look before hustling her twins into another part of the store. You wince, but continue in a quieter but no less urgent voice. “I mean, I’m not gonna tell you what you can and can’t eat that’s…”

“It’s not unusual,” Yoongi cuts in before you can give voice to your thoughts. He sets one of the cereal boxes, decorated with bright colors and little cartoon animals, back on the shelf and tosses the other -something in a dull green and white box with a little piece of wheat on the front- into the cart. “You didn’t feed us last night.”

A pang of guilt shoots through you. You curl your fingers around the bar of the cart, stare at your knuckles. “I’m sorry,” you tell him, with all the sincerity in the world. “I was tired -and I know that’s not an excuse- but I fell asleep without thinking of you guys. It won’t happen again.”

“Relax,” Yoongi drawls.”It’s not the first time we’ve gone hungry; I’m sure it won’t be the last.” He starts drifting toward the end of the aisle, but before he can go, you catch him by the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

There’s barely an inch of fabric between your thumb and forefinger, but the look Yoongi gives you makes it look like you’d yanked him back by the collar. He whirls on you, eyes narrowed and lips twisted into something sour. You’d overstepped by grabbing him. Still, you speak. “That was the last time. I mean it.”

The hybrid’s face shifts from irritation into something unrecognizable. He’s looking at you like there’s an equation written behind your eyes that he’s trying to work out with his own, like if he looks deep enough into them he’ll find the answers etched across your sclera. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as the seconds drag on, but you don’t look away. Instead, you hold his gaze and let the moment swell under almost unbearable tension.

Yoongi gives first. He tugs his sleeve out of your grip and shuffles back out of reach. “Whatever you say,” he scoffs, stalking off into the next aisle, his ears tilted back and tail tip flicking in irritation.

You sigh. You’d done it again. The urge to catch him again wells up in you, but you tamp it down. ‘Time and space,’ you remind yourself. ‘Give him time and give him space.’ Satisfied once the distance between the two of you is enough, you go to follow after him, but hesitate as you pass the cereal he’d been looking at. You tug it off the shelf and place it in the basket underneath a few other things so it’d be hidden. You don’t know why and if he asked you about it later you were sure you’d draw a blank. If nothing else, you told yourself as you hurried to catch up with your hybrid, he’d have a choice.

The rest of the grocery trip passed in silence, just as it’d begun. Yoongi didn’t so much as look at you, but that was fine. You were focused on watching him. Anything that he gave more than a passing glance went into the basket. If the bobcat hybrid noticed your rapidly increasing haul, he didn’t say anything about it. He was silent. Even when you flinched as the cashier announced the total and you waffled between trying to walk home or calling a taxi. Even in the lobby then the elevator on the way up as Mr. Park talked both of your ears off and you had to stop him from carrying your groceries in and stocking the fridge himself, Yoongi had remained eerily quiet. It’d given you time to think.

You didn’t know much about hybrids. If you were honest with yourself, you hadn’t known anything about them prior to what you’d anxiety-googled yesterday afternoon. You were so far out of your depth, it was miracle you hadn’t drowned yet. Still, you weren’t completely oblivious.

In between Yoongi’s open hostility, Jimin’s blase attitude toward his own objectification and what snippets you’d heard about Taehyung’s early life, you knew something must’ve been very, very wrong with the people who’d had them before they’d been foisted upon you. The expectation that you were supposed to treat hybrids like actual pets made you uncomfortable enough without the assumption that you’d be dressing them up like dolls and locking the snack cabinets at night.

A spike of anger shot through you. They might’ve been different than humans but they were still people. They hadn’t deserved whatever shady things their owners had done to them and you didn’t want them to come to expect them from you. You shift the grocery bags up your arm, freeing up a hand so you can punch the code into the door. There was no way around it. The four of you would need to sit down and have a good long talk.

The second you punch the code into your door it swings open. “Hey, Jim-” the greeting dies on your tongue. It’s not Jimin who meets you at the door, but Taehyung, freshly showered, the curly ends of his hair dripping water onto the white tile and the front of his sweatshirt damp. His eyes were still hidden behind his hair but you could see more of him than you’d been able to that morning when he’d shifted.

Well, not more of him. He was wearing clothes now, for one- a dark brown version of the sweat suit Yoongi and Jimin both wore. He was taller than you, which you’d known when he’d wrapped his arms around you, but looking up at him now you have to tilt your head back a bit. “Oh,” you say, a little dazed. “Wow.”

The corners of his mouth quirk up in a smile. “Hi.” His voice is still as deep as it was this morning. Was it always like that? He turns his attention to the hybrid behind you and his lips part in a blindingly bright boxy grin. “Hi, hyung.”

Yoongi hums a hello and slips past you through the door. His shoulder brushes against Taehyung’s and the younger hybrid chuffs happily a little in his throat. He leans down as the older man passes and bumps their foreheads together affectionately. Their tails twine together briefly before the gray-haired hybrid is out of reach and dropping an armful of groceries off in the kitchen.

“You shifted up,” you remark “Did something happen?” There’s a tick of concern in his voice. You step to the side of the doorway so the pair can talk without you in the middle.

Taehyung shakes his head, water droplets scattering. His hyung let out a hiss that erred just on the wrong side of animalistic as some of them hit him. You freeze, but the tiger hybrid just laughs. “No, Jimin and I were just-” His smile falters. You can’t see his eyes but his ears have twitched downward and his tail is suddenly stiff, only the tip ticking back and forth. The hybrid lowers his head, and you finally catch sight of eyes, gleaming amber and full of fear. Behind him, you see Yoongi catch a whiff of his junior’s souring scent and his head whips toward the pair of you, ears straight up and his whole body on high alert.

Worry draws your brows together. “Taehyung?” you call softly. You reach out with your free hand to touch his shoulder, then think better of it. Your fingers hover uselessly and inch away from him. In this moment, that distance feels a mile wide. The line of his shoulders is rigid and he’s withdrawn into himself. “Taehyung, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you-”

“We went out.” He blurts, snapping his head up to look in your eyes. His own are wide and earnest. “You left your backpack open and I saw the list you made with all the phone numbers and passwords and the door code was on there and I really wanted to go to the park. Jimin told me to wait but I made him come with me; we were only gone for fifteen minutes, I swear. We didn’t even make it; the same police officer from earlier was still on the street.”

“Taehyung-”

“Please-” he cuts you off before you can even get a word in edgewise. “Please, just punish me; Jimin didn’t do anything. The whole time he was trying to make me go back. He only went with me so I wouldn’t be alone.”

Your heart wrenches in your chest. You do touch him, then. Your fingertips barely graze the material of his sweatshirt, but he flinches and you pull away. Your hand drops to your side, limp. “Can you and Jimin meet me in the living room?” You ask him, careful to keep your tone light and non-threatening as possible. “We need to talk.” His ears droop, but he nods and shuffles off to do as you ask. You trail behind him into the penthouse, making sure to give him enough space. The last thing you wanted to do right now was crowd him.

You drop the groceries on the counter in the kitchen and look up to find Yoongi squinting at you. He’s coiled up like a spring, ready to bolt at any moment. You try to give him a reassuring smile, but it comes out watery and wan. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “We’re just gonna talk.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you.

Still, he follows you into the living room, takes a seat on the couch while you settle cross-legged on the ottoman across from him. A few seconds later, Jimin and Taehyung slink down the stairs. The tiger hybrid is clinging to his hyung who, for once, isn't smiling. Jimin’s face is settled into a cool mask of neutrality. You almost don’t recognize him.

They sink into the couch on either side of Yoongi, their backs stiff and eyes on anything other than you. For a moment, the four of you sit there in uncomfortable silence. You speak first.

“Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi-”

“Y/N,” Jimin cuts in, “Whatever Taehyung told you-”

“-I’m sorry.” You finish. That seems to surprise them. You interlock your fingers on your lap and look at each one of them individually. “I’m sorry that I didn’t check to see if there was food in the house last night. I’m sorry that I didn’t make sure you had the things you needed to feel comfortable here. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t allowed to leave.”

Taehyung swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He’s got a death grip on Yoongi’s arm with one hand and the other fisted in the fabric of his sweatpants. “You...You’re not mad?” The tremor in his voice makes your heart ache.

“No,” you tell him with all the sincerity in the world. “I’m not mad at you. I’m sad that you were ever around someone who made you feel like you needed to apologize for wanting to see the sun and I’m angry that they made you think that was something to be punished for.” It was true. Beneath your sadness, beneath your shock at his expectation of punishment, anger was twisting in your gut. What type of person would reduce another to fear and trembling for the sake of leaving the house? “I’m not going to...to punish you, I need you to know that.” You tell him, before looking at Jimin and Yoongi. “Any of you. Ever. I’m never gonna hurt you.”

Taehyung’s jaw is clenched like he’s trying not to cry. All the wind has gone out of Jimin like a deflated sail and the leopard hybrid just looks exhausted. Yoongi’s rubbing soothing circles in both of their backs. You can’t tell from his face, but by the way his ears have relaxed, you think he was worried about your reaction, too.

You let out a little exhale and slouch. “Whatever happened to you with your previous...the people you lived with before? It wasn’t okay.” You’re as firm with it as you can be while still keeping your tone gentle. “They were supposed to take care of you and love you and help you grow, but if they starved you, if they made you feel this bad, if they treated you like property, then fuck them. I don’t want to be anything like them.” You admit. “I don’t want to be your owner and I don’t want you to be my pets.”

“What do you want us to be to you then?” Yoongi rasps. Despite the question, there’s no challenge in his voice. He’s genuinely asking.

One corner of your mouth quirks up and you give him a small shrug. “Friends, maybe? Eventually, if we can. For now let’s try…” you search for the word you want. “Roommates?” You supply. “We live together, but you guys don’t need to feel like you owe me anything. I’ll get you phones tomorrow, if you want, and copies of the credit card. We can get you clothes and furniture too. And if there’s anything you want to do or want to see, go see it. The door code is 0613.”

The tension that’d run between the three hybrids like a livewire is gone. Now they’re...if not relaxed, then at least relieved. There’s nothing else to be said. You stand and move to hurry into the kitchen so the trio of hybrids can have their space. The last thing you wanted to do after having a talk about their freedoms was crowd them. Before you can take three steps there’s a hand wrapped around your wrist, holding you in place. It's Taehyung's.

The tiger hybrid is looking up at you, his eyes beseeching and a nervous tremble in his bottom lip. “Don’t go,” he croaks, sounding like he’s still unsure just how to use his voice. He tugs once on your coat sleeve. “Please.”

Your eyes flick from him to his hyungs. Jimin’s looking at you with apprehension, perched on the edge of the couch like he’s a split second away from helping the tiger hybrid drag you down- but Yoongi’s face is turned away from you. As usual, you can’t tell what he’s feeling. “I’m just going to the kitchen,” you assure him. “I’ve gotta put the food away-” Your brain short circuits as the tiger hybrid flips your hand over and presses his face to your palm. His eyelashes brush against your lifeline; his lips trace the veins in your wrist.

You’d never say it outloud, but it was hard to deny you were touch starved. You could count on one hand the amount of times someone had touched you gently since your mother died. You didn’t show yourself kindness most days and you’d come not to expect it from others. The world was cold and cruel, and you were far too old to be seeking solace from strangers. You’d thought you were above it, but the feeling of Taehyung nipping at your radial artery is almost enough to make you go to pieces. “Just a little bit,” he huffs, his voice muffled against your skin.

“...The groceries will get warm,” you argue, finally managing to make your mouth move. “Do you wanna eat hot kimchi?”

“I’ll put them away.” Yoongi is up and vaulting over the couch before you can get a word in edgewise. With him gone the last of your excuses goes up in smoke. Taehyung smiles against your skin and you let yourself be pulled down.

No sooner have your legs touched the cushion, then Taehyung is snuggled up against your side, his arms wrapped loosely around your middle and the cool tip of his nose pressed into your neck. “Tell me again,” he murmurs softly. “Can you tell me again that you’re not mad?” He wanted reassurance. The least you could do was give it to him.

You slip a hand into his hair, scratch gently at the base of his ears. He chuffs happily, the sound vibrating in his chest as he presses closer to you. “I’m not mad at you, and you’re not in trouble, buddy.” You tell him. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A warm presence on your left tells you Jimin’s settled in beside you. Sure enough, a second later a golden tail is tracing the edge of your calf. “Don’t leave me out,” he purrs, settling his chin on your shoulder.

You slide a hand into his hair too, letting the locks slip through your fingers as you pet him. “Never.”

The three of you stay like that for what feels like an hour. Even when their hyung finishes putting the groceries away and returns to sit with them -albeit at the far end of the sectional- they don’t seem like they’re in a hurry to disentangle themselves from you. You’re surprised to find you don’t mind it. The weight of two grown men against your shoulders was heavy, but not uncomfortable and they were warm and the steady hum of Jimin purring is almost enough to lull you to sleep. You cut a movie on and order samgyeopsal. You think they’re gonna kill the delivery man for making you get up, and they stay glued to your back even as you pay. It’s not until the first movie goes off and Taehyung and Jimin are playfully bickering over what to watch next that you’re able to slip away to the bathroom.

You shuffle quickly down the wide hallway, trying to remember which door the closest bathroom lay behind. You careen around a corner and run smack into someone. They let out a huff and you stumble back a few steps, an apology on your lips. You look up and find Yokngi there. Guilt bubbles up in your stomach. Between Jimin purring in your ear and Taehyung rubbing his cheek against your hand every ten seconds, you hadn’t even noticed he was gone. “Sorry,” you mumble.

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “For what?”

You’re not even sure you know.

He stares at you and you stare back, frozen. Finally, the bobcat hybrid sighs and gestures at you. “C’mere,” he mumbles.

You approach hesitantly, not trusting him to not suddenly snap at you. “Why?” You ask, apprehensive. Should you have not let Taehyung and Jimin scent you? He’d been around the entire time and hadn’t said anything, so you’d thought it was fine. Maybe you’d made a mistake. You gnaw at your bottom lip and creep slowly closer to the hybrid before you. Another miscalculation, another mess-up, another mile tacked on to that incalculable distance between you and Yoongi. Should you apologize again? Would taking a shower help wash their scents away?

Before you can volunteer to do any of that, Yoongi reaches forward, hooks one finger through your belt loop and drags you toward him. You feel a yelp crawling up your throat, but it’s stopped dead in its tracks by the feeling of Yoongi cradling your jaw and his lips pressed against the column of your throat. His spine is tense and his tail is ticking in the way it does when he’s irritated. “...What are you-?”

“They’ve both scented you.” He murmurs. “If I don’t, they’ll think I’m rejecting you. My job as their hyung is to put them at ease. If I can’t do that, I’m useless.” Despite his closeness, despite the way his fingers were slipping into the hair at the base of your skull, despite the little nips he’d started giving you, you could practically feel his reluctance.

You exhale and push against his shoulders. “Yoongi…” He doesn’t budge. “Hey-”

“There’s no good reason for me to not just mark you and get it over with.” There was that word again. You’d forgotten about it in the whirlwind that followed, but Jimin had joked about marking you earlier, hadn’t he? And Yoongi’d gotten upset with him. From what you were gathering, it was a lot more serious than scenting.

“I don’t want you to.” That gets his attention. The hybrid pulls away and fixes you with an odd look, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“What are you talking about? Owners always want us to mark them.” You feel that same twinge of anger again. The articles had said scenting was a sign of trust and security. It was used to mark family members. Had the people they’d been with before forced their way into their family without the hybrids consent? Without Yoongi’s? No wonder he’d been touchy about his juniors scenting you right away.

“Well, I don’t.” You give him a gentle nudge and put a few inches between the two of you. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with or not ready for.” You offer him a smile you hope comes across as reassuring. “You not wanting to is a good enough reason for me. Besides,” you say, turning to head back to the living room, the original reason for your trip forgotten. “I’ve never been marked before, so it’s not like i’m missing out on anything.”

At that, something flashes in Yoongi’s eyes that you have no name for. It passes as soon as it’d come. “Come back when you’re ready!” You call over your shoulder, retreating back down the corridor before he can say something one way or another.

When you settle back on to the couch two minutes later, There’s a movie queued up and ready to be played. It’s an action movie, one you haven’t seen before. “Yoongi’ll be back in a second,” you tell the boys. “Let’s wait for him.”

Taehyung hums his ascent, leaning in to settle back in the crook of your neck- but something stops him. He hovers near your neck, takes a few short inhales and tosses a look at Jimin behind your back. You frown. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah!” Taehyung responds a bit too quickly, lacing your fingers together to distract you as Jimin gives the other side of your neck the same treatment. The leopard hybrid purrs, seemingly happy at what he’s found. His ears swivel up and a second later, Yoongi slinks back into the living room.

“Hyung…” Jimin starts, his voice taking on a teasing lilt.

“Play the movie.” His hyung orders. He does, but there’s still a little smirk on his lips.

The screen darkens and the opening credits roll as Taehyung and Jimin settle back against your side, careful to avoid your neck. Yoongi drops onto the couch, this time only a foot away from the three of you. You allow yourself a little spark of relief. The distance was starting to close.

#bts fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #hybrid!bts #ot7 x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #jhope x reader #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader

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n0bamak1s · 3 years

Text

whisper of the heart- megumi fushiguro x reader

summary: you begin to take notice of the name “megumi fushiguro” on all the tops of your library checkout cards. a semi-retelling of whisper of the heart featuring you and megumi. (genre: fluff, high school au, meet cute)

warnings: none! except maybe slightly ooc megumi

word count: 3.2k

a/n: hi everyone! ty all again for being so patient with me publishing this. i’ve been very busy with college apps lately, but i’m gonna try to keep this blog as active as i can while balancing it with school life. anyways, i had a lot of fun writing this, but i’m definitely not used to writing megumi, so feel free to leave feedback ^^ i also changed some details from the original movie and left it a bit open ended, so feel free to let me know if you want a part 2!

“who the hell is megumi fushiguro?”

your gaze was fixed on the faded ink reading the now all too familiar characters. the characters spelling out a name that managed to keep showing up on the yellow tinted checkout cards tucked into the books you borrowed.

nobara glanced over your shoulder, inspecting the piece of cardstock tucked between your fingers. wrinkling her nose in disgust, she plucked the card from you, holding it closer to her face.

“whoever it is, they have terrible handwriting.” she stuck her nose up, turning back to you with a playful smile. “i don’t know how you managed to get ‘megumi fushiguro’ out of that chicken scratch.” a face of mock distress crossed her features as she did air quotes around the name, as if she couldn’t believe such a delicate name would be given to someone with such handwriting. she’s always had a tendency to be a bit over dramatic about trivial stuff like this.

with nothing more than a huff in response, you snatched back the card, tucking it neatly back into your library book. your fingers grazed the worn down cover for a moment, gliding along the slight tears around the corners and the stiffness of the yellowing pages.

‘i wonder how many of these creases came from megumi fushiguro?’

“whoever it is, it seems like that name shows up in every book i check out in the library.”

nobara kicked a rock as she walked, leaving a small cloud of dust around her feet. “maybe you’re just imagining it. you always stay up so late doing whatever the hell it is you do in your free time that you’ve probably begun to hallucinate.” she nudged you playfully, eliciting a dead pan expression from you.

“i’m serious nobara. i mean, i’ve never really believed in fate but there’s no way it’s completely coincidental!”

she raised an eyebrow, as if to say you can’t be serious. “i think you’ve been reading too many romance novels, for all you know this person could totally be just some weird old guy with nothing better to do than visit the library.”

“hey!” you acted as if that last bit was a personal attack on you, and knowing nobara it probably was. “i’m not saying this megumi fushiguro person is my soulmate or anything, i just think it’s a very strange coincidence.” you shrugged off your backpack as you talked, putting away your book. noticing the suspiciously light weight of your bag, you rummaged your fingers around for a moment to find that your sketchbook had gone missing.

crap.

nobara turned to you, perceptive as ever of your suddenly altered demeanor. “forget something again?” it was almost annoying sometimes how well she knew you. was it really that obvious?

“just my sketchbook,” your hands rifled through your bag one final time to make sure you really didn’t have it “probably left it on the park bench or something, it’ll just be a minute to get it.” you turned to her with a sheepish smile, silently pleading her to follow you there. she stared blankly at you for a moment, probably having one of her internal monologues about how lucky you were to have her as a friend, before rolling her eyes and following suit.

“this better be quick, i have places to be you know!”

“no you don’t.” you turned around before you could meet her melodramatic glare.

behind you, you could hear her huff of dissatisfaction, though she made no move to leave, reassuming her position next to you, giving you a gentle nudge as she brushed next to you.

as you walked, the sunlight peeking between trees framing your pathway began to warm your face, highlighting the ends of your eyelashes and the tops of your cheeks with the warm glow of the first hints of summer time. for a moment, you closed your eyes, letting yourself be enveloped in it, before your fleeting thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a bike coming in your direction. you felt as if you’d jump out of your own skin in that moment, hearing a “move out of the way!” from a husky, disembodied voice.

it probably looked pretty ridiculous how you jumped out of the way, kicking up a fleeting cloud of dust as you avoided the sudden presence of the biker. grounding yourself, your eyes flickered up to the source of the voice, being met with the gaze of stormy blue eyes, framed by long, dark eyelashes that nobara would most definitely be envious of. taking in the boy’s whole figure, your eyes were drawn to the messy black hair atop his head, formed at the ends into contradictorily gentle looking spikes. the sleeves of his white button down were rolled up taut around his forearms, leading your gaze to his hands wrapped tightly around the bike handles.

oh, right. he’s still biking.

you turned your focus back to keeping to your side of the path momentarily, before the sight of your name written atop the sketchbook peeking out of his bag came into your field of vision as he continued to move past you. before you had time to think rationally, you turned to his now retreating form, breaking into a jog, kicking up a few more dust clouds as you did.

ignoring nobara’s incredulous calling of your name, you tried to call to the boy who had no intention of slowing down. “excuse me!” you cupped a hand around your mouth, hoping to project your voice louder. “hey!” the irritation in your voice was clear, but you breathed a small sigh of relief as the bike slowed to a stop, and the spike headed boy turned to your direction.

after an awkward moment of your continued jogging to him while he stood with a blank expression, you stopped in front of him, an accusatory look grazing your features.

“i think you have something of mine.” you tried your best to imitate the confident attitude you always admired from nobara, placing a hand on your hip and using the other one to point to his bag. his gaze followed the direction of where you pointed, his eyebrows raised while the rest of his face remained stagnant.

“oh, this?” he tugged the cardboard covered sketchbook out of the pocket it had been placed in, examining the cover. his eyes flickered between your name written in the top corner, and your currently annoyed looking face, as if he was playing some sort of word association game. you simply nodded in response, anticipation clear in your actions.

as he held out the sketchbook to you, he leaned down so his face was closer to you, as if to tell you a secret, voice low and eyes trained on you. “you should be more careful next time. you’re lucky i’m nice enough to not just steal this from you right now.”

you didn’t have an explanation as to why your heart began to race.

taking your silence as a response, he pushed it into your hands, his fingers brushing against yours gently. “nice drawings by the way, i recognize your friend over there from the portrait you drew of her on the first page.” his face remained stoic as he pointed at nobara, who was tapping her foot in boredom.

face warm from embarrassment, you snatched the sketchbook from where his hands lingered on it, muttering a bitter sounding “thanks” before stalking over to nobara once more, who looked relieved that she’d finally be able to go wherever it was she was going to.

“what an asshole.” you glared at him over your shoulder as he biked away, your gaze lingering a second too long for someone so insistent on hating him. nobara shook her head in response, clearly annoyed at your own obliviousness after witnessing the whole interaction.

a smug smile crossed her soft features. “maybe that’s megumi fushiguro.”

you raised a brow as you glanced at her. “as if!”

despite your insistence on your distaste for the mystery boy, he managed to have flooded your thoughts. ‘he must be using sorcery or something to keep himself on my mind, weirdo.’

still, you couldn’t deny how just a few more of your portraits were accented by ocean blue eyes, or pointed ends to the different mops of hair you sketched. how did you manage to keep attracting mystery people into your life?

when you returned to the library, you gripped a thick science fiction novel, the pages brushing your soft fingers as your marched it up to the checkout counter. as the librarian wrote the date on a small piece of cardstock, you took note of the fact that your name would be the first one there. had megumi fushiguro missed out on this one?

a pleasant smile stretched across your face as the librarian handed the book back to you. scrawling your name at the top of the checkout card, your eyes flickered to a stamp of ink beneath the slot for it.

donated by fushiguro.

of course it was.

the library door squeaked quietly as you pushed it open, one hand on the door, and the other placing your new book in your backpack. zipping it up and throwing it over your shoulder, you were met with the feeling of a dog sniffing your leg. your eyes trailed down to a dog almost akin to a small polar bear brushing its nose against your calf. reaching your hand to scratch softly against the back of his head, you coo gently at the not-so-little little guy.

“what’s got you all by yourself buddy?” an involuntary smile creeps onto your face at how he calms at your pats.

wordlessly, obviously considering this is a dog, he turns and walks a few steps forward, before pausing and tilting just his fur covered face toward you, egging you on to follow him just as you had the other day with nobara. you considered for a moment, before shrugging and giving in to his pretty minimal amount of convincing. nobara would be out getting lunch with maki today anyways, so you could use something to do today. after all, it could be fate.

it was almost as if you were one of those people who walked their dog without a lash, but in reality, it was more like the dog was walking you as it lead you down tall, sidewalk-lined hills and through parks filled with young parents having picnics with their children and couples going on walks. you wondered to yourself if this was a worthwhile excursion, was he just leading you to a dead end, or worse, was he some dog trained by a gang to lure people into danger?

after walking a few minutes more, you found out the spot you were being lead to was, in fact, even worse then both the possibilities you’d been brainstorming in your head, when you were met at the bottom of another hill with the stoic expression of that spike head. his eyes softened at the sight of the dog, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips that quickly vanished as he met your gaze, his eyes hardened in contrast with the bashfulness that shone on his cheeks.

“oh, you found him. thanks for that.” he cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his gaze back to the dog. you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. to be fair though, what did you expect you’d do when you found where the dog was leading you?

“i should probably go.” your usually collected demeanor had been replaced with that of a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs. with a stiff wave, you took your leave, turning on your heel.

“wait.” his voice wavered, as if trying to catch himself before he spoke. “i can walk you home if you want. it’s the least i can do after you got him home.” he forced a smile onto his face, though it made him look more constipated than inviting. what happened to the snarky, aloof boy who had handed you your sketchbook just a few days ago?

still, you nodded, lips pressed into a line that you hoped resembled somewhat of a smile. surely, you should have been more worried about his sudden change in demeanor, but the relieved expression on his face seemed to soothe your nerves a bit. he assumed a spot next to you, tucking his hands in his pants pockets.

“your little buddy there lead me all over the city trying to find you, so i don’t exactly know how to get home from here, but maybe you can just lead me to the library.” you turned so you faced him, now aware of the close proximity between you two. nobara would probably laugh in your face if she could witness the moment you paused, stunned by the eye contact he made with you under his thick eyelashes. had you been perceptive enough in the moment, you may have noticed the blush creeping up his face. he nodded his head, which was already tilted down to face you fully, with eyes hazy and lips slightly parted.

“it’s just this way, i’ll show you.” he removed his hand from its pocket to point up the hill that had brought you to him in the first place. you gripped the straps of your backpack and faced in the direction he pointed to obediently, hoping to ignore the weird tension in the air. what could you talk to him about?

before you could continue your internal dilemma, he cleared his throat again. “you seem to like the library a lot, huh?”

by god was this boy terrible at small talk.

“i guess i do, but i don’t know how you came to that conclusion considering i only just brought up the library.” you cocked an eyebrow as you looked at him, probably sounding more annoyed than you’d intended.

he smiled knowingly at you, a hint of disbelief on his features as he raised his eyebrows. “i guess you wouldn’t know since your nose is always buried in a book, but i see you there like every day.”

your eyebrows furrowed so they practically touched, trying to rack your memory for seeing him in the library. “i’m sure i’d be able to recognize you if you did.” you were completely oblivious to the implications of how memorable you found him that laced your statement.

he shrugged nonchalantly. “believe it or not. i even tried sitting down in front of you a few times, but you were always too focused on your books to notice.” his smile was almost bittersweet as you waited by a stoplight. before you could respond, he continued. “it’s kind of admirable though. i think it’s nice that you’re so passionate about your books.”

you took a chance to look at him, really look at him, for the first time since you’d glared at him biking by. he held your gaze, eyes gentle. there was absolutely no way this was the same boy carrying your sketchbook in his bag from a few days ago.

“well if you think i’m so nice, what was with you trying to be all smart about my sketchbook?” ever the stubborn one, you were.

he shrugged his shoulders, shoving his hands back in his pockets. “you really should be more careful of your stuff. i was just letting you know. it’s not like i would have put in that effort for just anyone’s sketchbook. i guess i was just trying to make sure you wouldn’t lose it again. sorry if i offended you.”

the way he was blushing would have made any bypasser believe he’d just asked you to marry him.

“it’s just…” he continued “after seeing you in the library all the time, i thought you were really impressive. i thought if i tried to return your sketchbook, i could impress you too.” he kicked a rock that touched the edge of his sneaker.

“why would you wanna impress me?” your obliviousness was excruciating for the poor boy, though it was completely sincere on your end.

“you know, for someone so smart, you really are dense.” he pursed his lips, feigning annoyance. “and here i was thinking i was so obvious.”

at this point, you were nearing the library, and suddenly desperate to continue this conversation that you would have been dreading at the start of this walk.

“when it was obvious you weren’t gonna look up from your book, i tried checking out as many books as i could to get on your radar.” his smile had a weird hint of sadness behind it. you stayed silent, piecing together facts in your head.

“recognize the name megumi fushiguro?”

oh.

it pained you for a moment to know you’d have to tell nobara she was right.

“you’re megumi fushiguro?” your eyebrows shot up in surprise, mouth slightly agape. he seemed to stifle a laugh at your expression.

“i mean, what were you expecting?” he looked a little too smug for someone who was too scared to talk to you in the library.

“some weird old person, probably.” you shrugged, still with an incredulous look on your face. “i’m glad it wasn’t though.”

“oh?” he really did have a nice smile. “i guess you’re glad it was me then.” even he was unsure of this sudden confidence.

you pondered his question for a moment, but your body moved before your brain did, nodding your head slowly. he seemed to loosen up then, hands out of his pockets again, making you aware of how close you stood to him with the way his fingers brushed yours every few steps. a slight sadness filled your being as you stopped in front of those squeaky library doors that suddenly seemed so uninviting.

“i’ll tell you what then,” he started confidently, juxtaposing the bashful way he avoided eye contact with you all of a sudden “come to the library again tomorrow, and i’ll meet you there. really meet you this time, not just walking past your table. i can show you my favorites there and you can show me yours, it’ll be…fun.” he looked up almost worriedly for your reaction, slightly angry at himself for his sudden shyness, you seemed to have quite the effect on him.

there was a beat of silence, and he almost cut the tension in the air by taking back his request and booking it back home. before he could fully hatch his master escape plan, you reached over to grab his hand, his slender fingers lacing through yours. you gave it a light squeeze, and swore you could feel him jump a little at the contact.

“i’d like that a lot,” you looked in his eyes, which had gone from defensive to doe like in just your five words “megumi fushiguro.” he loved the way his name sounded coming from you. his anticipation cracked into a smile as he squeezed your hand back, and you prided yourself on getting to make him smile again.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, then.” he leaned down slightly as he said it, reminiscent of how he had scolded you about your sketchbook just a few days ago. you nodded in response, unable to stop the giddy smile stretching across your face.

tomorrow couldn’t come any faster.

#megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk imagines #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen

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vendettaparker · 4 years

Note

Tom Holland x actress reader

Where are there in the same movie together and the cast goes out and Tom and reader really likes eachother maybe smut and after it’s really awkward between them fluff with a sprinkle of angst

Not In Love [T.H]

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: sexual themes, cursing, slight angst, probably some typos

a/n: hi hi! i’m so sorry but i don’t write smut, so i hope it’s ok that i just implied it! i will probably start writing smut in the future but for right now i find it a bit awkward for myself to write. also, sorry that this took so long to get out, i planned for this to only be like 800-1k words, and obvioulsy, it just kept going. hope this works well for you!

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

(Y/N) (L/N) does not fuck around with co-stars. Ever since you started acting at the young age of eight, you were always told by your mom, manager, and others in the industry to avoid casual, co-star related hook ups. As your career progressed, even through puberty, you remained faithful to your vow. No mingling with co-workers in a non professional manner. Sure, some of your previous co-stars and you remained good friends, even after filming. But the main internal lesson always stayed the same: don’t fuck your co-stars.

In your long and glorious career, the only hindrance to your resolve was Tom fucking Holland. His stupid British charm and playful wiles always had your knees buckling and the butterflies in your stomach going haywire. And when he called you darling? In that stupid, yet honey-like accent? You were done for.

Tom had the absolute pleasure of working with you in The Devil All The Time. He watched all of your movies and practically grew up watching you on Disney Channel. To say he was simply starstruck would’ve been an understatement, he was enamoured. Practically in love. And when he got to know how kind and sweet you were in real life—not just on screen— he just had to turn on his British charm, just to watch you squirm.

Every little comment he made caused your skin to tingle. Your stance on co-star relationships had never been so harshly challenged. He would constantly call you whatever cute pet name he could think of at the time, and unluckily for you, they always seemed to just roll right off his tongue. He even went out of his way to grab you a coffee if he went out to get one, or he’d ask his brother to make sure to bring back your signature order: caramel macchiato with almond milk, two pumps of vanilla, and extra caramel drizzle. How he knew that was your go to order was a mystery to you.

It’s not like you didn’t retaliate with your own antics though. Sometimes during his scenes you send him a wink and a smile, just to watch him lose focus. Or maybe you’d tease him about the way he says croissant, but then also say it in the over pronounced way he does, just to bug him. On days when the sexual tension between you two was especially palpable, you’d kiss his cheeks after his scenes and say “good job, babe” or something else to rile him up. So no, you weren’t innocent in this matter at all.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

This build up of tension was bound to boil over at some point. But why the fuck did it have to be during the fucking full cast and director dinner?

You all arrived at the fancy restaurant, all 40+ of you. You sat next to Eliza and secretly hoped that Sebastian, Harry, or even Robert would take the seat next to you, anyone but Tom. He had been especially touchy that day, and you knew if he continued his ministrations, especially under the cover of a table, your resolve would surely fade away.

Unfortunately for you, Tom practically bolted to the seat next to you. You scooted a bit closer to Eliza, who nudged your shoulder playfully.

“You should just give in.” She stated, smirking the whole time. “Look at him, poor thing just wants some love and attention.” she giggled, nodding her head to where Tom was whispering with Harry on the other side of him.

“Stop it, you’re insufferable.” You rolled your eyes, but still smiled at the joking banter.

“(Y/N), hon, he’s one of the hottest celebrities in Hollywood right now, and he wants you.” Eliza pinched your makeup covered cheek, “you’re telling me you don’t wanna just jump in his pants? Do you not find him hot or something?”

You smacked her hand away, “No, I do find him attractive, I just d—”

“Find who attractive, love?” Tom interrupted, smirking at the comment he heard. No, he didn’t know for sure you were talking about him, but one can hope.

“Nobody,” you dismissed, “I was just telling Eliza here that I think her dog is cute, right Eliza?”

“Sure.” She mumbled, rolling her eyes dramatically, then winking directly at Tom, just out of your view.

“Ah, I see.” He chuckled, “Yes, you find her dog attractive then?”

“No!” You defended, red faced from being backed into a hole, “I didn’t even use that word; you’re just hearing things.”

“Don’t worry, love. I find you absolutely, without a doubt, drop dead gorgeous.” Tom winked, before returning back to his conversation with Harry.

Eliza pinched your side, causing you to yelp. “See, I told you!” she whisper-yelled, a knowing smirk dawning her face.

“You didn’t tell me shit.”

“Ugh, whatever, you’re hopeless.” She sighed, just as the waiter was coming around to take your orders.

The majority of the evening went by just as simply and smoothly as possible, it was when dessert arrived that Tom stirred up trouble once again. His damned British charm made him the perfect devil in disguise.

“Darling, you have some cake right—” he licked his thumb before drawing it over your bottom lip, slowly, “here.”

He smirked at your surprised gaze and wiped the chocolate cake from your rose-painted lip. Never breaking his gaze, he drew his thumb back to his mouth and sucked on the digit, gently humming at the sweet taste of chocolate and strawberry lip gloss that flooded onto his tongue. This bitch.

You cleared your throat and ceased your—more than obvious— gawking. He wasn’t going to win this time. You sat quietly, smirking as he watched your every move, simply waiting for retaliation. And it came soon enough, when you knocked your water off the table into his lap, on accident, of course.

He jolted up the second the cold water hit his slacks, cursing, yet still keeping that charming smirk on his lips. You immediately started the steady stream of apologies, a faux look of remorse etched on your face. The rest of the cast simply looked on, none the wiser.

“Oh Tom! Gosh, I am so sorry.” You stood up as well, taking the napkin from your lap and dabbing his torso where the water splashed up. “I’m just so clumsy, forgive me.” You looked up at him with false serenity in your eyes, but a devilish grin.

“No worries, love.” He mused, “I’m just going to go dry off in the washroom. Could use some help though; it’s the least you could do.” The rest of the cast went back to their desserts and conversation, so they failed to notice the hidden glint in Tom’s eyes or the lustful insinuation behind his request.

“Sure.” You smiled up at him, determined not to lose this game of cat and mouse. You followed him to the large family restroom in a dimly lit corridor. He opened the door and gestured for you to go in first. What a gentleman, hm?

He closed the door behind him and locked it before undoing the buttons on his dress shirt and removing it. His toned torso also damp with freezing droplets of ice water.

You sucked in a shaky breath, taking in his less than professional, disheveled look. “You gonna come help me, princess?” He reached for paper towels and grabbed a handful, dabbing the wet spot on his lap, right over his crotch.

“I—um, sorry,” you snapped out of it. Following his movements, doing the same but to his wet torso.

“You’re okay, love.” He looked at you, the close proximity of your bodies creating the most delicious heat in the bathroom. Tom leaned in slightly, just until your noses were brushing against one another. “Though, I’ll admit, the fact that you're not giving me an apology kiss right now, makes this a little less than okay.”

You didn’t even process your actions completely, the second those words left his mouth yours lips were on his. You held his face in your hands, rough passion seeping through your entire body, and he was just the same. He kissed you fervently, holding your waist with one arm and the back of your head with his opposite hand, tangling his fingers into your hair. The tension and desire that had been building up for almost as long as you’ve known him finally boiling over.

Tom gingerly inched his hand up the side of your leg, under your dress.

“Wait, wait,” you pulled away, breathlessly, “we need to get back, they’re probably wondering where we are.”

Tom was about to concede when a knock rang through the room.

“Hey guys,” It was Eliza, “Seb paid for all of us, so we’re gonna head out. Take your time! Oh, and use protection!” You could practically hear the smirk on her face.

Tom stopped your little scowl by returning his attention to kissing you, “How lucky are we?” he mused, repositioning his hands, starting to fumble with the zipper of your dress.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

The next Monday at work was hell. You spent the whole weekend internalizing your little rendezvous in the bathroom. Tom texted you nearly fourteen times over the two day break period where you didn’t see each other, and you ignored every single one of them. The first ones were simple ‘hey’s’, ‘hi’s’, and ‘good morning’s’, but they soon progressed to show Tom’s concern over you not responding. The last message being,

Tom: I hope you know, I don’t regret it, but I’m sorry if you do.

You didn’t mean to ghost him, but your feelings were so confusing. You liked him and the things he did to you. But you had a code. And maybe the ‘don’t date your co-worker’ was a bit old school and shitty, but you’d been able to stick to it for this long and your work has never been better. Then again, all your previous boyfriends have been assholes; constantly upset over how busy your schedule was. Maybe a fellow actor would be more understanding?

The second you arrived to set Harry was on your ass.

“(Y/N), hey!” He called to you from the snack table where he was talking with Tom. You gave him a small smile and wave, but proceeded to your makeup chair. He motioned for you to join them, but you waved your hand in dismissal and gave him an apologetic look. Whether or not you regretted your night with Tom, you were absolutely not ready to confront it just yet. However, you didn’t miss the disappointed look on Tom’s face or the way Harry gave his brother a reassuring shoulder squeeze.

Harry even came up to you asking how your weekend was and if you were busy or not, no doubt trying to gauge your mood for Tom. You were friends with Harry so you didn’t mind talking to him, but when it was becoming apparent that you weren't giving much away as far as how you were feeling, Harry resorted to more ‘less than subtle’ questions.

“So… are you seeing anyone, currently?” He asked, playing with his fingers, the question struck you as extremely off-putting, especially since Harry said it with little to no confidence, like he really didn’t want to be asking that.

“Why? Are you trying to ask me out?” You teased. Watching him squirm was almost as fun as when it was Tom.

“No! No, I mean— I’m not opposed, you’re very pretty—no wait, I don’t mean it like that, I just—uh, I think you look nice, but not too nice—I’m gonna go.” Harry painfully stuttered out. Cursing under his breath as he walked away, back to where Tom was standing, watching on. These idiots were the most obvious divs in the whole world.

After you finished with your stylist, you were ready to start running lines for your scene. You have the majority of your scenes with Tom, so as per usual, you were acting opposite him. As the director was explaining how he wanted the scene to go, Tom kept glancing over at you, raising his eyebrows a bit, obviously wanting to clear the air.

The scene went by fine, but it was clear to many of the people around you that you were not on the top of your game today. It even got to the point where the director needed to ask if you needed a break. You said you didn’t and persisted. The scene was finally done to perfection, but it took almost double the amount of time it usually would for you.

Tom noticed you struggling the most and couldn’t help but feel guilty. He was quick to give you words of encouragement between takes, but you only responded with a quick ‘thanks’ and moved on.

When lunch time came around, the caterers were all set up and prepared on a different part of the lot. You quickly made your way over, running into Eliza on the way.

“Oh, hey (Y/N)!” she beamed at you. “Did you finish your scene?”

“Yeah, are you going to set right now?”

“Mhm, I’m shooting the scene at the church with Robert.”

“Well, good luck.” You smiled at her, about to move along when she grabbed your wrist.

“Wait, did something happen between you and Tom? He’s at the lunch table moping, even Seb is trying to cheer him up.”

“Um well no, I mean, maybe? I don’t know, I guess I’ve been avoiding him a bit.” You shrug, now not really wanting to go to lunch, but you know you have to. If you don’t show up then it’d be all too clear to Tom that you were definitely avoiding him.

“Oh, well, maybe just talk to him?” Eliza comfortably put a hand on your shoulder before walking away to set.

You continued to the lunch set up, seeing club sandwiches, soups, and cupcakes set up. You grabbed what you wanted and went to sit by Tom and everyone else. Yeah, you may have been avoiding him, but you didn’t want to make it that painstakingly obvious.

As soon as you sat down, Tom put his arm around you like he always did when you had lunch together. Only this time you stiffened up, not because you hated it, but because the action felt so different after what you both had done, it felt like it meant more. Tom noticed, of course, and removed his arm, frowning.

“Can I talk to you, (Y/N/N)?” he whispered to you, the rest of the table in their own little world, too caught up in their interactions to notice yours.

“Um, sure,” you mumbled in response, “but maybe when I have free time later? I’m just really hungry right now.” you gave him a small smile, trying to keep up the amicability.

He nodded and continued his conversation with Seb, who looked completely uninterested, but still continued responding since he could tell Tom was feeling shitty about something.

Later that evening, the entire cast had a one hour break since the next scene they wanted to shoot needed to be done at night and it wasn’t dark yet. That’s when Tom took you to his trailer to talk.

“Look, (Y/N), I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I can’t help but feel like you’re avoiding me.” He stated, once the door was shut and you were already seated on his couch.

“I’m not.”

“But you are. I can tell. You didn’t talk to me at all today, even when I made a joke that I knew you’d have the perfect come back to.” He sat next to you, but kept more of a distance than usual.

“I don’t have to talk to you, Tom. You can’t rely on me to keep you entertained.” You rolled your eyes, annoyed that you’d been caught.

“That’s not what I’m saying, (Y/N), and you know it.” Tom pointed a finger at you, equally annoyed now.

“Fine, so what if I was avoiding you? You’re a grown man, you can handle rejection can’t you?” You spat. The argument was quickly becoming more heated. If there was one thing you hated the most in the world, it was being called out, especially if you knew you were in the wrong.

“What the fuck is your problem today?” Tom asked, exasperated at how defensive you got so quickly.

“Tom, I’m sorry, but I don’t do this,” you motioned between the two of you, “I don’t do the cliche Hollywood, sleeps around, one night stand scenario, so back off.”

“So you regret it.” Tom looked down, trying to keep his emotions at bay. He really did like you, but maybe it was naive of him to assume that sleeping together would open the door to something more.

“No, I just—it shouldn’t have happened. I liked it, but I’m not that type of girl. I’m a relationship type of person. I never wanted to be another girl for you to mark down on your list of possible hook ups.” You sighed. Tom wasn’t necessarily notorious for random hookups, but he was a famous actor who just so happened to also be single. It was hard to not go there with your thoughts, so in your mind, you had him pegged.

“I’m a relationship person too, though. I wanted all of this. All of you.” Tom inched closer, gingerly taking your hands in his. “I may have gone about it wrong, I should’ve asked you out first or something.”

“Tom, stop.”

“No, (Y/N), because you’ve got it all wrong. I didn’t flirt with you or spend time with you just to get in your pants.” Tom pulled you closer. “I surrounded myself with you because I wanted you. And I think you want me too.”

You looked in his eyes, searching for any sign of insincerity, small as it might be, but Tom was being the most sincere he could possibly be. Tom cautiously leaned closer, just wanting one more kiss, even if it was the last. However, you were the one that took the final plunge and pulled him in, kissing him. You both moved together so fluidly, like you were made for each other.

When you did pull apart, Tom was the one to break the silence, “So does that mean you like me or…”

“I kissed you, didn’t I?”

#tom holland #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader angst #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #tom holland oneshot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x actress!reader

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btswrckd · 3 years

Text

War of Hearts

Mafia Boss!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

Summary: Being in an arranged marriage with Kim Taehyung does not mean you have to be civil. Or make his life easy.

Warnings: mentions of violence, slight angst, mentions of weapons such as guns and knives, brief mention of smut, future smut

A/N: I wanted to post this as a one-shot, but naturally, I couldn’t condense it enough. There’s just too much that can’t be left out. But the good news is that I’m about 90% done with this fic and should be able to post it in maybe 3 parts. Enjoy guys!

Also, title is inspired by War of Hearts by Ruelle. Go listen to her music, it’s amazing!

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“You’re asking me to do what, now?” you hiss through clenched teeth, fingers curling into the underside of the armrest of the boarding room chair. How your idiot cousins managed to both purchase a rather nice building in the middle of the city, and run a legitimate business as a cover to their true nature, is a mystery to you. Yet here you are, ten seconds from launching yourself across the table to strangle either one of them.

“I don’t believe I stuttered,” Joongki is confident in the way he answers you and buttons his suit jacket. “And I didn’t ask you to do anything, I’m telling you what’s going to happen.”

Your eyes flicker to Jeonghan as he stands by his brother and nervously stuffs his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He catches your eye, licking his busted lip as you raise an eyebrow, as if waiting for him to confirm what Joongki just said. You watch his hand come up to rub at his sore jaw and get some satisfaction as he works his jawbone back and forth.

Joongki lets out a heavy sigh as his brother all but whimpers under your gaze. He was well aware of how much you’d fight their men in getting you to the building, but he wasn’t prepared for the strong swing of your fist, or the nearly deafening sound of said fist cracking his younger brother across the face.

“We’re all each other has,” Jeonghan finally pipes up after deducing that his jaw was not broken. “This is for your own safety, Y/N. I don’t like it any more than you do but there’s no other option.”

“I will not be thrown under lock and key just because you two have enemies.” You’re standing before either of them can argue. “I didn’t ask for this! For you two to be who you are and making my life more difficult than it already is!”

Joongki scratches at his brow when a mop of messily done up chestnut hair pops up over the cubicle wall separating her from the boarding room. He waves his secretary away with a slight twitch of his lips, watching the flushing of her cheeks and bobbing of her head before it disappears. He’s too busy smirking down at his feet to notice the way you swing around the chair. Or the way Jeonghan desperately reaches to stop you from storming out. What he does notice is the small ‘oomph’ leaving your mouth when you stumble into somebody, and suddenly he’s brought back to the importance of the situation.

You don’t expect to be stopped, you certainly don’t expect to be stopped by a firm chest and steadying hand on your hip. When you finally catch your bearings, you blink up at the man that had somehow walked into the room without making a sound. It’s with a heavy heart that you recognize this man despite having lost contact with him years ago. You were children when you’d last met so it takes you a minute to see him clearly, your eyes roving all over his face. Starting with what used to be his bouncy black locks that were now replaced with slicked down hair, to the never changing intensity of his dark brown eyes, down to the defined jaw that used to harbor a little bit of cute chub, and finally back up to his plush lips that split into a grin.

“You,” you breathe airily and your stunned reaction only makes his smile grow wider.

“You,” he mimics and tilts his head playfully, eyebrows raised high in mock surprise. “It’s nice to see you too, princess.”

“Mr. Kim,” Joongki reluctantly smiles while extending his hand to greet his rival, fingers tensing around the man’s answering hand. “Thank you for coming. I’m aware that my brother and I are asking a lot from you and that this situation isn’t exactly ideal for either party, but I just want to thank you for helping us out.”

“I never said this situation wasn’t ideal for me.” Kim Taehyung gave one final squeeze to Joongki’s hand before slipping it into the pocket of his pants. His other hand remains firm on your hip, the heat from his palm burning through the denim of your jeans and making your breath hitch. “I believe my father’s been hoping to merge our families for quite some time. I look at this as an opportunity rather than a ‘situation’.”

“Yes, well.” Joongki shifts uncomfortably on his feet. The Kim family had great influence over 90% of the city and before your grandfather’s passing, Mr. Kim had high hopes of taking two entities and making them one strong force. With your grandfather’s death came the need for new leadership and it fell heavily on Joongki’s shoulders. To say he’d snubbed the Kim family when it came to working together would be putting it lightly. “It seems your father will be getting exactly as he’s always wanted.”

Jeonghan thrusts an elbow to his older brother’s arm. He may not understand the magnitude of being a leader, but he knows when to play nice, and this moment called for practically kneeling down and kissing the Kim family’s feet. He looks to the way you stand stiff in Taehyung’s arms and the curling of your fingers against his suit vest. For a moment, he considers calling the entire thing off and convincing his brother to find another way to keep you safe. He opens his mouth to do just that when Taehyung speaks.

“I have every intention of keeping Y/N safe, be it from whoever is threatening you, my own family, or even you two.” Taehyung’s deep voice rumbles in his chest as his hand pulls you ever so slightly closer. “My father may have wanted this for some time, but believe me when I say that I’ve wanted it longer. Nothing and no one will hurt her, I promise you that.”

Jeonghan and Joongki share a concerned glance with each other before your voice breaks the silence.

“Kim Taehyung.” His name sounds foreign coming from your mouth. The last time you’d seen him you were being carted away by your parents at the age of 10. The sudden announcement of your family’s move left you waving to a chubby cheeked, teary eyed Taehyung as your father pulled away from your childhood home. They died not soon after and you were taken under the care of your grandfather along with Joongki and Jeonghan. But even after your grandfather reestablished a relationship with the Kim family, you hadn’t seen Taehyung again since that day.

“Princess,” he husks out, eyes dropping to your lips and thumb stroking your hip in soothing circles as if it were going to help any. Something dark is swirling in your eyes as you regard him, and he’s sure you don’t recognize it as lust but he does. He sees it fester and simmer before you blink it away and sneer up at him.

You cousins simultaneously wince as you draw back and take one quick strike to Taehyung, kneeing him in the groin with a huff before you stomp out of the room. When Taehyung slumps to the floor with a pain filled groan, Joongki feels a bit of sympathy for him. Your temper and raging need to fight against anything and everything to do with this life will be a daily struggle. Jeonghan coughs to hide his laugh as Taehyung’s right hand man looks torn between helping his boss, or chasing you down to make sure you don’t get too far. This will certainly be entertaining to watch.

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

“Let go of me!” you grunt out as Taehyung adjusts your frame on his shoulder. You’re kicking and pounding against his back with the hopes of getting free and escaping, but those hopes are dashed when he tosses you on the mattress of the master bedroom. You scramble back against the headboard as he unbuttons the cuffs of his dress shirt and rolls up the sleeves. The frustrated roll of his shoulders and neck is undoubtedly sexy, but it also serves as a reminder that you aren’t meant to find him attractive. At all. As you curse yourself for even thinking as much, he’s snatching your ankles and dragging you down the bed.

Taehyung would never hurt you, he knows that you know that, but watching the small bit of fear flitting across your face has him smirking down at you. He plants both hands on either side of your head to cage you in, hips pressed to yours as you unconsciously widen them to accommodate his frame. “If you wanted to go out, princess, then you could have asked. Jungkookie and Jimin would gladly drive you wherever you want to go.”

“Even away from you?” You glare at him, panic washing over you when you feel the bed dip and he’s on his knees, the added weight pulling you closer to him. His arms slide forward until his nose grazes yours. He’s so close that he could kiss you and you think he’s going to until his nose skims down the length of your neck instead.

“There is no getting away from me, princess,” he whispers against your skin. “I’d think you’d know that by now. You’ve been trying to run from me for the last 6 months and it’s gotten you nowhere.”

You’d beg to differ, Being underneath him was surprisingly pleasant. The push of his hips against yours made you gasp and arch into his chest. You slam your eyes shut to get ahold of yourself, silently reciting your mantra of ‘I’m not a horny teenager, I’m a grown woman, and I am not attracted to my husband’.

Taehyung could smell the sweet scent of berries on your skin from that damn bottle of lotion you love so much. He didn’t think it was possible to be jealous of an inanimate object but he is. He’s also tempted to throw the stupid thing away and burn down every Bath and Body Works store so you can’t get another one. The image of your hands slathering the cream up and down your smooth legs makes him groan and push against you a little harder. He likes to think he isn’t some creep who forces himself on a girl, and if you weren’t so responsive, he wouldn’t even touch you without permission.

A lot of men in their line of work didn’t think consent was an issue, some of them even found the fight to be a turn on, and you’re grateful that Taehyung‘s not that kind of man. In fact, he’d said on several occasions that he wouldn’t come closer than necessary if you weren’t okay with it. He even went as far as sleeping in one of the many guest rooms in the house, dropping the one and only key to the master bedroom in your hand so only you had access to it. This went on for 2 months before you’d lashed out and tried sneaking off for a night out with friends. Naturally Taehyung had hunted you down and dragged you back to the house, lecturing you on the dangers of leaving without telling anyone where you’d be. The next morning his things had been moved into the room and he invaded every inch of your space every chance he got.

You didn’t want to admit that waking up to his face inches from yours was something you’d easily gotten used to, but then again you didn’t actually need to voice it out loud. Not when you’d woken up one morning to find your legs tangled with his, your arms tossed across his torso, and clinging to him like a koala. You had squeaked and fell out of bed in your haste to untangle yourself from him. He had woken up in fear that something happened, but chuckled when he saw you on the floor, blankets and sheets raveled around your legs. Embarrassed and flushed, you’d shot him a glare as he’d gotten out of bed and strode into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

After that, you had made it your daily mission to see just how far you could push him to his breaking point. Little things such as “accidentally” walking away from Jimin or Jungkook in a crowded area, or turning down a meal that Seokjin had prepared because you were “exhausted” even though you’d done nothing that day, and even taking the hand of Namjoon or Hoseok once or twice instead of Taehyung’s when moving through a room full of people. You could see Taehyung’s frustration boiling beneath the surface and kicked it up a notch by giving your undivided attention to Yoongi during dinner one night. Yoongi of course, knew what you were doing and would have been scared of the repercussions of flirting with you if Taehyung hadn’t trusted him so much.

Yoongi played along with your little show, allowing you to lean in a little too close when talking, whispering in your ear about how much trouble you’d be in if Taehyung snapped, and letting you “subtly” run your finger across his knuckles. He had used his napkin to hide his smile when Taehyung had sprung up from his seat, snatched your wrist, and dragged you to the master bedroom. He had cleaned up the table and clapped Jimin and Jungkook on the shoulders, advising them to use headphones or sleep in the car for the rest of the night.

Taehyung had watched you stumble into the room, descending on you quickly when you had turned to yell at him. Whatever you were going to say had died on your tongue as he backed you against the wall, gripping your chin and hissing something about the possibility of killing Yoongi. You, equally as pissed, began to rant and scream about having your freedom taken away and wanting to teach Taehyung a lesson for confusing your already fogged up brain by being a gentleman rather than the piss poor excuse of a man most gang members are.

Taehyung had the audacity to smirk, fucking smirk, before crashing his mouth to yours and tangling his hand in your hair. He had tugged at the strands until you gasped and he slipped his tongue in to push against yours. He felt your hands wrenching the fabric of his dress shirt but he didn’t give you room to breathe, instead pressing you against the wall further. At some point he had started toying with the button to your jeans, waiting for your refusal, and when you hadn’t slapped him away, he popped the button open.

You had gasped loudly at the feel of his fingers, the rough pads running up and down your slit, stopping to press and rub at your clit before he was sinking his fingers in knuckles deep. You didn’t remember much else except for the overwhelming pleasure and the raspy sound of Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung echoing around the room. Afterwards, he had avoided you like the plague until you’d finally managed to corner him in the kitchen one night. You’d been huffy, demanding an explanation for his absence. Not that you’d missed him, of course. He’d said that he didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable that night and that he was sorry for losing control, to which you had scoffed. You clarified that discomfort wasn’t what you had felt, you were an adult, and just as willing as he was, and to stop tiptoeing around you.

“Princess,” the bane of your existence growls out, bringing you back to the present. He chuckles, deep and rich, and sends goosebumps across your skin. “For someone who wants to get as far away from me as possible, you don’t seem to be willing to let me go.”

You look down at your hands curled into his shirt and immediately release your hold. It seems you were too caught up in your trip down memory lane to notice. You drop your hands from his chest and avert your eyes to the door where two sharp knocks catch his attention as well.

“Boss,” Namjoon’s voice drifts through the wood, “your phone’s been ringing like crazy. Your father is trying to reach you.”

Taehyung sighs in disappointment and shifts away, pressing against your core one last time and you squeeze your legs together as if to keep him in place. He recognizes the faint blush on your cheeks as embarrassment and places a soft kiss to your cheek. “Be a good girl and do as you’re told, princess. I know you get a kick out of raising Jungkook’s blood pressure, but raising mine in the process will leave you widowed sooner than you’d think.”

You feel as though you’re finally able to breathe now that he’s out of the room and put a hand to your racing chest. It wasn’t just his blood pressure that’s been spiking lately. You sit up and tuck your arms beneath your legs, resting your chin on your knees. You really thought you were close this time around. The memory of being giddy as you tore through the airport to catch the plane to literally anywhere but here, only to freeze in the middle of the terminal as Taehyung stood in your way with his hands casually tucked in his pockets and his army of men around him. You run your hands through your hair and tug at the roots in anger, cursing your cousins and the day they were born.

Outside, Taehyung tugs at the buttons of his dress shirt while pressing his phone to his ear. “Dad?”

“Either your security system has gone to shit,” Mr. Kim calmly scolds his son, “or there’s a rat in your home. I’m looking through your camera footage as we speak, and unless I’m officially going senile, the cameras look like they’re in some kind of loop.”

“What kind of loop?” Taehyung is already making his way to the security room with Namjoon in tow.

“A car speeds past your security gate, seemingly at the same exact time every day, same make and model every time too. That’s not a coincidence, son, handle it quickly before it gets out of control.”

“On it.” Taehyung throws open the door to the security room, startling the guys watching the live feed from the cameras. “Where’s Yoongi?”

“Behind you,” Yoongi’s voice makes his presence known, trailing in and sitting at his personal computer to go through the footage Taehyung is there to discuss. “Everyone out.”

The other two men scramble outside with break neck speed. If Yoongi and Taehyung are here then something only they know about is going on, and nobody wants to get caught in the middle of it unless necessary.

“What’s going on with our cameras?” Taehyung looks over Yoongi’s shoulder at the computer screen.

“Nothing,” Yoongi sighs, pressing play on the paused screen while a miniature box with his personal coding pops up in the corner. “I noticed the same gray Tahoe driving down our street every day for the last week, and at first I thought somebody tampered with the cameras, so I built a code to filter through the system and push out whatever was installed to make this look like it’s on a loop. When nothing changed, I did some maintenance on the camera’s themselves, and still nothing. Someone is timing it just right to fool us, because check this out.” Yoongi pulls up another screen, zooming in on the corner of the frame where another car is doing a surprisingly good job of hiding. “So I can’t see who exactly the driver is, but I do know that they wait in this exact spot until the clock hits 3 on the dot. When that happens, they make a call, and out comes the Tahoe. Every. Single. Time.”

“One of ours?” Taehyung’s referring to one of the guys they keep on the property for extra measure.

“No one here did it. I rifled through their phones, computers, whatever I could and nothing popped up.” Yoongi confirms and points to the screen. “About an hour after the Tahoe zips by the screen, the car in hiding pulls out and goes the opposite direction, also part of tricking the cameras so we think there’s a glitch.”

“And the license plate?” Namjoon chimes in from the seat beside Yoongi.

“Belongs to a little old lady on the other side of the world. Looking for a date, Joon? She likes to read the same books you do and she crochets.” Yoongi jokes, “personally, I’d like a new sweater for Christmas.”

“Find out who it is.” Taehyung doesn’t laugh, not exactly appreciating the joke, and storms out of the room, throwing the door open so wide that it smacks against the wall.

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

You don’t recognize your own reflection. The woman in the mirror with foundation caked on much too heavily, curled and mascara filled lashes, and lips painted in a color that was meant to seem natural, did not look a thing like you. You’re close to wiping your face clean when the door to the room swings open and Jeonghan strolls in like he owns the place. It occurs to you that he probably does.

“What?” you huff at him as he comes up behind you.

“I know you’re angry,” he whispers, sadness in his eyes as he meets your reflection. “But we promised grandpa that we’d take care of you. Too much is happening for us to not take precaution. Everyone knows how much you mean to us and if they get to you, we’d be devastated.”

“Then why can’t I go abroad?” you ask, turning to him with pleading eyes and he takes a step back. You see tears building in his eyes as he takes in your appearance. He’s proud, you realize, as a smile spreads across his face. He’s proud of you, proud of who you are as a person despite the kind of business your parents ran.

“You’re gorgeous, little cousin,” Jeonghan lets out a shaky exhale, unprepared for the whirlwind of emotions slamming into him. “Grandfather, our parents, everybody would have loved to be here. To see you---.”

“Signing my life away?” you don’t let him finish whatever he was going to say. You don’t want to hear it. There was a time when you believed your wedding day would be a celebration, not a life sentence. You look down to the white of your dress, the gown suddenly felt too constricting and you wanted nothing more than to rip it off. “I don’t want this, Joenghan, please don’t make me do this.”

“If this were anyone else, I’d whisk you away without argument.” Jeonghan looks away from your face to keep himself from ruining everything. “But this is Taehyung, Y/N. You used to be friends and you cared so much for each other. We’ve known the Kim family for so long now that this would have happened eventually, don’t you think?”

“I would have still liked to have the option!” You stand from the chair and stalk towards him. “My friendship with Taehyung ended when we were children. I don’t know who he is now or what he’s done to get this far, but I do know that anyone willing to go to this length to get what they want is not someone to be trusted.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Joongki steps into the room and looks to his brother to find relief crossing his face. “It seems I got here just in time, little brother, you look like you’re about to hurl.”

“She scares me,” Jeonghan admits while moving for the door. “Men with guns, knives, even the occasional psychopath I can handle, but Y/N? Nope, that’s asking too much.”

You glare at your cousin slipping outside before you can say more, and you turn to Joongki. “I’m not being dramatic, you jackass, I’m being logical. You guys have hovered over me my entire life, is it so wrong to want control over at least this part of it?”

“I don’t need to remind you that this is for your own safety.” Joongki’s tone is harsh, a complete contrast to Jeonghan, but harsh was something you could fight against. Harsh, you could throw back in his face. The gentle lull of Jeonghan’s voice, you couldn’t, and often found yourself feeling guilty for hurting him.

“I don’t need to remind you that even if my parents were still alive, this isn’t the life I would have chosen,” you spit back at your eldest cousin, watching his shoulders tense. “Even if grandfather were still alive, I would have fought tooth and nail against this just like I am now. What the hell, Joongki? Weren’t you the one that was opposed to merging the families in the first place? And what, because you and Jeonghan pissed off some people, I have to pay the consequences?”

“Powerful people, Y/N,” Joongki hisses at you, “powerful people that wouldn’t think twice about torturing you to get to us.”

“So then this is more about protecting yourselves than it is me?” Your chest rises and falls with the building anger, and he looks at you with so much fire in his eyes that you’re sure Joongki would strike you at any moment. “This is about not having to babysit me anymore and dumping me off on some poor sack whose life I’m about to make a living hell!”

“It was always about you!” Joongki roars, the volume making you drop your eyes to the ground as you had with your grandfather and father. They’d never hit you, never even so much as raised a hand to you, but they were able to correct your behavior with their voices alone. “We didn’t babysit you, Y/N, we took care of you. We are still taking care of you not because we think we’re obligated to, but because you are our baby cousin. The only family we have left and someone is threatening that, threatening you, and if you think that doesn’t haunt us every time you’re out of our sight, then you’re wrong. I’d do this for Jeonghan too if I had to, I’d even do it for myself, as long as all of us are safe and alive. You want to make a mess of Kim Taehyung? Go ahead, turn his life upside down if you want to, so long as you stay under their protection.”

“I don’t want protection, Joongki.” You look back at his face with a trembling lip. “I want freedom. I want to walk down the street without your men trailing me or the fear of looking back and finding that someone else is. This is your world, not mine. This was our parents world, it wasn’t ours until they were gone. They wanted more for us, Joongki, don’t you remember that?”

“I remember their broken and bloodied bodies when they crossed the wrong person. I remember their pale, lifeless faces in their caskets as you curled up in grandfather’s lap and fought your sleep for weeks afterwards. I remember the way you screamed every time you shut your eyes because all you could see was ‘the bad man with a gun’. I remember promising grandfather that I would do whatever it took to keep you and Jeonghan from suffering the same fate that our parents did.”

You turn away from him to peer out of the window, seeing the guests that consisted solely of friends and family on Taehyung’s side. Children ran across the yard, parents scolded them for dirtying their clothes, and as you glanced around you spotted Taehyung. He was standing with Jungkook, a man he kept close to his side out of trust, nodding along to whatever Jungkook was saying. There was no denying how handsome Taehyung was, or the way it sent shivers up your spine when a little girl ran to him and he scooped her up without hesitation. You didn’t know what the little girl was excited about, but you could guess it had to do with your soon to be husband with the way she looked at him with stars in her eyes. His eyes were warm when he looked at her, accepting the little flower she’d picked from the garden around the side of the house. He tucked it into the pocket of his suit jacket, right where his heart was, and patted it gently in promise to keep it on. He set her down and she ran off with a giggle and a blush across her cheeks. You were staring too long, you knew, because he felt it. Taehyung peered up at the window in time to catch you moving away.

“Y/N,” Joongki whispers to catch your attention. “Please don’t be stubborn about this. Taehyung’s family may run in the same circles as our parents, but they’ve always been kind to us. My refusal to bring the families closer didn’t stop them from keeping a relationship with us.”

“Maybe it’s out of pity.” You try one last time to get under his skin, but you know better than anyone that he’s tired. Tired and defeated and hanging on by a thread.

“Even if it was out of pity, that’s something we can use right now.” He comes up behind you, smoothing down the back of your hair and leaving a kiss to the top of your head. He presses his forehead to the spot he just kissed and sighs. “Mr. Kim could think the lowest of me and the mess I’ve made of our family’s reputation, and I’d still take his help if it meant I didn’t lose you or my brother.”

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

“You know, eventually,” Jimin sighs tiredly, trailing behind Taehyung as they walk into the house, “people are going to call the cops for kidnapping.”

“The cops aren’t stupid enough to go against our family,” Taehyung grunts out, the squirming and fidgeting nearly made him lose his grip more than once. It was admirable, at first, when you’d begun thrashing against him, believing you could truly break free. Now, it was a nuisance, and he promptly drops you on your ass in the middle of the living room.

“Asshole!” You seethe, jumping back to your feet and wincing at your sore bottom. You have no idea what set Taehyung off at the mall, but you’re pissed that he ruined the first outing you were actually excited about. One minute, you were browsing through your favorite section at the bookstore, and the next, he was dragging you out by the hand. In the car on the way over, he hadn’t spoken a word, refusing to explain himself, so you refused to get out of the car when Jungkook pulled into the driveway. Apparently, Taehyung wasn’t so mad that he couldn’t throw you over his shoulder and march into the house.

“Jesus, Taehyung, what the hell is your problem?!”

“Who was he?” Taehyung demands, shooing Jimin and Jungkook to the other room. He grits his teeth when Jungkook hesitates to move. ”Jeon Jungkook, did I or did I not tell you leave?”

“You’re pissed, Taehyung, and look like you could tear someone’s head off,” Jungkook fires right back and looks past his boss to you. You may not be afraid of Taehyung’s temper, but Jungkook is. He’s seen what Taehyung and his temper could do to things and people, and he’ll be damned if you end up hurt because of it.

“That head could be yours if you don’t get the hell out of my sight,” Taehyung snaps, “go!”

“Go, Kook,” you agree with Taehyung. You’ve never seen him go at Jungkook like this and it isn’t helping if Jungkook keeps defying Taehyung, so removing him from the situation seems like the logical answer at the moment. “It’s ok. Just go, please.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw and turns to leave with much reluctance. He’s out of sight but not out of ear shot when Jimin meets him halfway. “He’s going to hurt her, you and I both know that.”

“It’s not as serious as you think.” Jimins pats his shoulder, reassuring him that everything will be fine. “You know that someone’s been circling the house, and had Y/N not insisted on going out today, then Taehyung wouldn’t have been so on edge to start with. There’s too many people at the mall, too many entrances and exits, too many cracks to be slipped through, too many opportunities for someone to get at Y/N if they tried. Trust me, Jungkookie, this anger that you think Taehyung has is actually fear, okay? So leave them be to hash it out and we’ll go running in the second something seems off.”

Back in the living room, Taehyung is pacing, running a hand down his face, and seeming like he’s having trouble putting into words what exactly he’s upset about. When he finally stops, it’s simply to stalk towards you and stand toe to toe. “Why are there rules, princess, hm? Why do I tell you to stick to Jungkook and Jimin like glue when we’re out? Why do you think I stick to you like fucking glue when we’re out?”

“Oh, so it’s ‘princess’ now?” you scoff. “A minute ago, you wouldn’t say a damn thing, but now you’re asking me to recite some bogus ass rules like I’m in primary school. You don’t get to be pissed in this situation, Taehyung, not when I’m the one who’s getting zero explanation for your outburst.”

“I don’t need to explain myself,” he raises his voice, not quite yelling. “I need you to fucking listen when one of us tells you to do something. The guys aren’t here for decoration, Y/N, they’re here to keep you safe, but they can’t do that when you insist on being a brat.”

“I’m not a fucking brat!” you screech loud enough for half the world to hear. It’s actually surprising that Taehyung’s eardrum didn’t burst.

“Well, you’re not exactly a fucking saint,” Taehyung counters and it’s your turn to start pacing, your hands gripping onto the roots of your hair.

“Oh, my God,” you laugh humorlessly, “Oh, my God, oh my God, oh my fucking God, Kim Taehyung! You irritating, overbearing, senseless piece of---.” You don’t know what possesses you to swing your hand out, palm open, and try to slap his face.

He catches your wrist, sees the immediate regret in your eyes, yet still hauls you to the nearby wall. He presses you to the plastered surface, using his free hand to box you in so you can’t run away. Truthfully, he’d let go the second you ask, but a line has to be drawn. You have to, absolutely have to start listening to him and the other guys, otherwise something could go very, very wrong.

“Want to hit me, princess?” he hisses inches from your face as he leans in. “Want to get violent because you can’t do whatever you want anymore? That’s pretty ironic for someone who cried at the mere thought of being hit. I can barely raise my hand to you, but you can swing at me all you want, is that it? That’s not how it works, princess, I suggest you learn that real quick. Now you owe me something for trying to hit me. I let that shit go when you first kneed me in the balls, so it’s more like you owe me two, but I’m nice enough to collect on just one. Tell me who your little friend was in the bookstore.”

You’d like to think you’re not scared, yet it was evident what Taehyung was really capable of when pushed too far. He’s been patient with you, far too patient, and willingly plays along with whatever bullshit you pull for the day. It’s amazing he hasn’t broken your wrist for trying to slap him. Especially, when you know good and well that you wouldn’t hesitate to break his if the roles were reversed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There was no friend in the bookstore.”

“The guy, princess,” he hisses, momentarily tightening his grip. “The guy in the store that was happily chatting you up. Who was he?”

You wrack your brain for this person he’s talking about and it’s like a cartoon light bulb goes off above your head. “The man who was talking to me about the book in my hand?”

“Yes, that guy.”

“He’s not a friend,” you insist, glaring at your husband, “just some stranger trying to hit on me. Is that what this is about? Some random guy trying to get my number? Your jealousy is really unparalleled, Kim.”

“I wasn’t jealous. Even if I was, you wouldn’t be the one I’d take it out on.That ring on your finger is there for a reason, anyone who can’t respect it or the boundaries it represents won’t live to see the next day. I’m asking about this ‘random’ guy because I don’t think he was random at all, I think he approached you with a purpose.”

“Contrary to popular belief, not everyone is afraid of you, Taehyung.” You relax now that he’s calmer than before. The grip on your wrist was loose and he was drawing patterns on your skin with his thumb.

“No, princess, they’re not afraid of me in front of you because they have a hard time believing anyone as gorgeous as you would have anything to do with someone like me.” He slumps against your frame, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. “I shouldn’t have scared you like that. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” you ask with shaky breaths. It wasn’t easy to hold him up and he wasn’t even putting his full weight on you. “Better yet, why didn’t you ask him right then and there?”

“Where do you think he is now, baby?” Taehyung opens his mouth against your neck, working the flesh between his teeth and using his tongue to soothe the sting before he bites down again. He feels your fingers grip his hair, to hold him in place or tug him away, he doesn’t know. He just knows that you haven’t recoiled from his touch yet.

Your head lulls back and your eyes shut on their own accord. Your hand also has a hard time listening to your brain as it reaches out to hook a finger in his belt loop and pull him closer. He obliges, using one knee to part your thighs and press against you. The sudden feel of his muscled thigh putting pressure against your clothed core makes you jump in his hold. When he flexes that muscle, you gasp and buck your hips. So he does it again, and again, and again until you’re riding his thigh, and he’s moving his mouth to the other unmarked side of your neck.

You choose an awfully slow pace for someone trying to get off. Taehyung’s done marking up the skin of your neck with deep shades of purple and can finally pull back a bit to admire you. He presses his forehead to yours as you let out a breathless moan and your face contorts with pleasure. You’re riding him slow, but with a purpose, he realizes, intent on enjoying every single push and pull of your hips. Both of your hands lock together at the nape of his neck and you whimper at your building orgasm. You don’t recall the coil in your belly winding as tight as it is right now with anyone else. No, only Taehyung can evoke this kind of reaction.

You know he can feel the wet patch growing on his pants and you’re thankful that he doesn’t comment on it. In fact, he’s rather quiet for someone who’d been scolding you just moments before. You don’t look at his face, not purposefully ignoring him, but completely mesmerized by the deep onyx color of his pants growing even deeper the wetter it gets. You clench around nothing, nearly sobbing at the empty feeling and rocking your hips just a little bit faster than before. You want more, you need more, you need, “your hand,” you gasp out to him. “I need your hand, Tae, please.”

“I can’t do that ,baby,” he groans at having to deny you, ready to shoot himself in the foot for being all too in control. “If I touch you, I won’t stop.”

“You did before.” You want to cry. You’re probably going to cry soon if you don’t get what you want.

“Barely, princess. I barely controlled myself last time. If I do it now, I’ll take you against this wall, and then every other surface of this house. You’re not ready for that yet. You can do this. Cum against me like this, baby, I know you can.”

You’re close, so fucking close but then...

“Hey, boss-- oh shit, sorry!” Seokjin’s shoes squeak against the tiled floor as he quickly spins around to face literally anywhere but you and Taehyung. “Uh, Namjoon and Hoseok need you for something.”

“What?” Taehyung growls out, watching your entire neck and face flush a deep shade of red out of embarrassment. “What could they possibly fucking need in this exact moment that you can’t handle, Seokjin?”

“Uh, th-they didn’t say,” Seokjin stammers, silently cursing Namjoon and Hoseok for sending him to get Taehyung instead of doing it themselves. Those little bastards had to have known Taehyung was busy. And you. Oh, the look on your face when you saw him hurt his heart. He knows how mortified you feel at having been caught. He can hear the rustling of clothes as you gather yourselves, the panting breaths of two frustrated adults doing adult things, and holy crap Seokjin wants nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. “I can tell them you’re busy, if you need me to.”

“No!” you squeak, shoving Taehyung away harder than you meant to, and Seokjin jolts at the octave of your voice. “I mean, no. Tae’s not...Taehyung isn’t busy. I’m-- I have to be...anywhere that’s not here.”

Seokjin hears you run off, the patting of your shoes carries you across the house with speed he didn’t think anyone but an olympic track star had. He doesn’t want to turn around. He’d kill to not have to turn around.

“If this isn’t as urgent as they made it out to be,” Taehyung’s voice is steely, cruel as he approaches Seokjin, “then all 3 of you are getting tossed into the river, do you hear me?”

“Understood.” Seokjin holds his breath while Taehyung shoulders past him, ducking his head down and following close behind.

Yoongi is busy deleting all the footage from the past hour when Taehyung barges in. “I’m already on it, and no, I didn’t watch it. I’m not some greasy perv. None of the other guys were in here either. I kicked them out as soon as you had Jungkook and Jimin leave you two alone.”

“Right now, Yoongi, you and Jimin are the only ones safe from me.” Taehyung leaves feeling a little bit better knowing that you’d at least be spared from the entire house knowing what happened.

Seokjin stops in the doorway of the security room. “You little kiss ass.”

“Don’t get mad at me because I’m doing my job.” Yoongi smirks at him. “It’s not my fault Namjoon and Hobi threw you under the bus.”

“So they did know!” Seokjin has half a mind to pummel the both of them.

“Oh, they knew. Namjoon was actually on his way to the living room when Jimin and Jungkook stopped him.”

“I’ll kill them,” Seokjin swears, “I’ll kill all of them.”

“Seokjin, get your ass over here now!” Taehyung’s voice booms, making Seokjin jump and scurry in his direction.

Namjoon and Hoseok are in the garage, standing a few feet away from the poor bastard tied to a chair. When Taehyung had called them earlier to pick up the guy talking to you at the bookstore, they didn’t imagine he’d look like an average Joe. Guys in the mafia tend to dress nice, carry themselves a certain way, even walk and talk a certain way. But this guy. This guy looks like he could be an accountant or a librarian.

“Man, this is going to really suck if he’s not working for anyone,” Hoseok comments, almost feeling guilty. “He really could be just some guy who saw a pretty girl and tried to get her number.”

“I’d agree if he wasn’t carrying Cecil’s business card.” Namjoon hands the man’s wallet to Hoseok.

“It must be nice to have such a big ego that you’d make professional hitman cards and label them as ‘business’.” Hoseok rifles through the wallet, pulling out credit cards, debit cards, cash, a few photos, until he finally finds a little white paper with Cecil’s number scrawled across it. “I’d hardly call this a business card.”

“Hobi, focus,” Namjoon reminds him, tilting his head in the man’s direction.

“Alright.” Hoseok approaches the man and bends to his sitting height, producing an I.D. card. “Sunho. How do you know Y/N?”

“Who?” Sunho whimpers, blood seeping from his busted lip. “I-I don’t even know who that is.”

“Seemed pretty chummy with her in the bookstore this afternoon.”

“That girl?” Sunho is quick to shake his head. “I just thought she was really cute, that’s all. I didn’t know she was married.”

“Ok, then how do you know Cecil?” Hoseok moves on to the next question without missing a beat.

“I don’t, I swear!”

“Why else would you have his card?” Namjoon asks as the garage door swings open, a very pissed looking Taehyung strolling in a second later. He whistles low and grips the back of Hoseok’s shirt to haul him out of Taehyung’s path.

“Oh, hey, Seokjin.” Hoseok shoots him a teasing smile. “I see you were able to get Taehyung’s attention.”

“I swear to God, I will fuck you up right here and now, Hobi.” Seokjin glares at the younger man before turning his attention to Taehyung and Sunho.

“Sunho,” Taehyung sighs, rolling his neck and shoulders. “I was very, very fucking busy inside my home and I was interrupted before anything productive got done.” He shoots forward and braces his hands on the arms of the chair Sunho is tied to. “So you see, I’m not in the mood for playing games. I’m going to explain to you how this works very carefully. Ready?”

Sunho manages a pathetic nod and Taehyung stands straight while undoing the buttons of his shirt sleeves and rolls them up his forearms. He swallows the saliva gathered on his tongue, panic washing over him when Taehyung produces a crowbar from the workbench he’s only now seeing.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions,” Taehyung explains, pointing one end of the crowbar at Sunho. “If you answer me honestly, I’ll let you go. Pay for the hospital bill that’s sure to wrack up given what these two have done to you,” he pauses to point at Namjoon and Hoseok, “and set you up for life as an apology. Sound fair?” He doesn’t wait for Sunho’s reply before continuing. “But if you lie to me, this crowbar will be the least of your worries, definitely one of the less painful weapons in our arson. Now tell me, how do you know Cecil?”

Sunho’s face is covered in tears by the time Taehyung is finished talking. His body shakes with how hard he sobs. “He ap-approached me last month, p-paid me $3,000 to drive a gray Tahoe down whatever street his guys called from. I didn’t think anything of it, until it got really weird. I noticed they’d only call me once a day at 2 or 2:30, tell me to wait at the end of your block until it hit 3 on the hour and then drive past the gate. They gave me your wife’s picture and told me to keep an eye out for her. When I realized they were stalking her, I thought I should warn her.”

“So you followed us to the mall?” Taehyung asks, crouching down to look Sunho in the eye. He uses the end of the crowbar to lift Sunho’s chin up. “What did you say to her?”

“I didn’t know what I could say,” Sunho sobs harder. “I mean, I-I was helping them stalk her. She’d think I was crazy if I just came right out and said it. So, I just walked up and asked her about the book she had. I didn’t know what the fucking title was, I just knew she had to be warned. I didn’t get that far before you came up and took her away.”

“Did Cecil tell you what he wanted with her?”

“No. Just to drive the car and watch out for her.”

Taehyung looks back to Hoseok, taking the picture from his outstretched hand. He observes the photo quietly. “These your kids, Sunho?”

“Yes.” Sunho’s bottom lip trembles. “Please don’t hurt them! Please! They’re just kids to a shitty father drowning in debt. They didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Did Cecil threaten them?” Seokjin comes up behind Taehyung, scanning the faces of two kids that couldn’t more than 8 and 10 years old.

“He said I could either take the job willingly,” Sunho cries, snot and tears mixing together at his top lip, “or I could watch him torture my kids until I accept it.”

“Where are they now?”

“Their grandparents’ house. Their mother died 3 years ago, it’s just me and them. I gave them to their grandmother the same day Cecil came to me.”

“Why you?” Hoseok wonders aloud. “There’s professionals out there to get jobs like this done. Hell, even Cecil’s guys, as dumb as they are, could do a better job than you did. Their morality wouldn’t get in the way either, that’s for sure. So what makes you so special for a job like this?”

“My kids’ mother.” Sunho releases a fresh round of tears. “She was a girl he’d taken care of in her teenage years when she was a waitress at some dingy dive bar. There was an accident 3 years ago. A head on collision with a drunk driver. Cecil hates that I survived but she didn’t. This is his way of getting back at me, I guess.”

Taehyung stands, makes his way to the workbench, and drops the crowbar on it. He braces his hands against the bench as Namjoon steps up next to him. “Yoongi?”

“Pulled up hospital records, a death certificate, and foreclosure notices on the house,” Namjoon confirms Sunho’s story. “It all checks out.”

“Get the kids, take Sunho, and get them as far away from here as possible. We’ll clean up his debt and set him up with enough to get himself started again.” Taehyung nods at Namjoon, but stops him before he gets too far away. “You make sure he understands that he needs to get his shit together. And to call us if anything happens, we’ll move his family again if we have to. Go.”

Namjoon gestures Hoseok to follow his lead, untying Sunho and ushering him into one of the many SUVs in the garage. He slides into the driver’s seat as Hoseok jumps into the passenger side, and he backs out of the garage to start his orders.

“Think Cecil would know we’d look into Sunho and set up fake accounts?” Seokjin asks Taehyung, following him on their way out of the garage.

“Yoongi will catch it if anything is fake.” Taehyung undoes the top three buttons on his dress shirt. It’s late, he’s exhausted, and he just wants to climb into bed next to you as soon as possible.

“Do you think Cecil’s after Y/N herself, or just trying to get to the Seong brothers?”

“We’ll be finding out soon.” Taehyung claps Seokjin on the shoulder before going his separate way. “And yes, Seokjin, it was important, so you can sleep peacefully knowing that you get to see tomorrow.”

You’re sitting cross-legged in the middle of the king size bed, crossword book out, and pencil scribbling across the empty spaces, when Taehyung comes back into the room. You want to say something, want to talk about what happened, but it wasn’t the first time the two of you had gotten a little too carried away. Well, more so you than him earlier when you’d begged for his touch, and then Seokjin had walked in. You’ve never, in your entire life, been more humiliated and turned on at the same time, and some part of your brain insists that it really wouldn’t have been bad if Seokjin hadn’t interrupted. You certainly wouldn’t have had to take a cold shower, that’s for sure.

“You’re still up,” Taehyung comments softly as if he hadn’t seen the light peeking out from underneath the door. He’d dismissed Jungkook before opening the door, expecting you to have simply fallen asleep while reading as usual. He’s unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it from his shoulders when his ears pick up the rustling of bedsheets.

His back muscles flex with each move and you bite down on your tongue for composure. “You didn’t apologize to Kook for snapping at him earlier.”

“Jungkook understands that when he’s told to do something, he does it. If he wants to fight back against his orders and be a rebel, then he’s going to be treated as such.” Taehyung unclasps the watch on his wrist, setting it down on the dresser. “If sometimes I go too far, they don’t expect an apology.”

“Because you don’t know how to give one?” Your tone is sarcastic and it makes him smile even though you can’t see his face. “Or you just don’t want to?”

“Because I don’t need to.” His hands reach for his belt, unbuckling the leather band and sliding it out from the loops of his pants. “We’ve been a tight group for a long time, but I’m still their boss and sometimes I need to be more strict than usual. The fact that Jungkook hasn’t been strung up by his feet and left to bleed out for arguing with me earlier says a lot already.”

“I know,” you answer immediately, having seen that very scenario dozens of times before either by accident or because your grandfather wanted to remind you and your cousins of what happens to people that can no longer be trusted. “This is the only time Jungkook’s gone against you, Taehyung, you know that.”

Taehyung whirls around to face you, understanding and patience written all over his face. “I need to make sure that it stays the only time he’ll go against me. The only reason he isn’t dead now is because it was on your behalf, which is his job. Yes, it’s unfair of me to be pissed at him for doing exactly what he’s supposed to, but when you’re with me there’s nothing to be afraid of and he needs to understand that.”

“Something in you scared him today,” you argue as he turns back to the dresser, pulling out a pair of sweats and plain gray t-shirt. “Something in you scared me. It’s like a switch went off inside of your head and you became an entirely different person.”

“I am who I need to be when the situation calls for it.” Taehyung steps up to the bed and braces one arm on the mattress as he leans closer, touching his forehead to yours. “I didn’t mean to scare you, princess, that’s my fault and I’m sorry. I want to say you’ll never have to see it again, but you know as well as I do that it would be a lie. What I can tell you is that it won’t always happen, I swear that to you. Right now, with whatever Joongki and Jeonghan have going on, and the spike in threats against your family, the boys and I are on edge more than normal.” He cups your face with his other hand after dropping his spare clothes to the bed. “It won’t always be this way.”

You don’t know what you’ve done in your past life to have fallen into the Kim family, or what you did to deserve one of the rarer, kinder mafia bosses that is Kim Taehyung. You’ve come to realize that you don’t hate Taehyung or any of the boys, but you hate the circumstances behind your being in his home. You’ve always detested this life and after your grandfather’s death, you vowed to get away from it. You didn’t take into account how quick Joongki would jump to throw you under lock and key, only ever gifting the small amount of freedom that came with having to attend your full time job.

Taehyung hadn’t expected your kiss, the soft press of your lips against his and the touch of your fingers wrapping around his wrist has goosebumps rising on his skin. You don’t kiss him often, only when you’re out at a charity event or at dinner with his parents, and even then it’s a small peck to keep up appearances. You push your tongue against his and he groans, slipping his fingers into your hair and stepping back as you rise up to your knees. The soft pads of your fingers trace up the path of his jawline until they tangle in his soft black locks, and then you’re tugging on the strands to tip his head back.

His other hand is at your hip, thumb slipping beneath the hem of your pajama shirt to rub circles in your skin. He doesn’t know what brought on this sudden affection, but he isn’t complaining. Your fingers card through his hair, one hand tracing down the broad plain of his chest and bare skin burning the tips of your fingers as they reach the waistband of his pants. He hisses out a small ‘fuck’ against your mouth when your hand slips into his boxers, toying with the length of him. Holy shit, he’s huge, and you moan into another kiss as you have a hard time wrapping your fingers around his cock. He’s thick and long, you note, using the tips of your nails to gently trace the veins running along his shaft. Precum pools at the tip and you circle your thumb around him to gather enough of it before pumping your hand down, then back up, and then back down again.

“What are you doing, princess?” Taehyung nearly chokes on the words as he pulls away from the kiss. You’ve built up a steady rhythm and he’s very near collapsing to his knees if you keep this up. He grits his teeth as the hand in his hair dives into his boxers to join the other, pumping along his cock in tandem. His fingers tighten in your hair, twisting the locks at the base of your neck and you gasp gently at the feeling.

“Earlier, in the living room,” you whisper against his lips, “I was so close to coming against your thigh, but then Seokjin walked in.”

“To be fair,” he growls out and bucks his hips against your hands, “I threatened to kill him for it, so---.” He does choke this time as you squeeze him just a little harder.

“You know what happened when I came back to the room, Tae?” You give him a sweet smile, but you know he can see the devious intentions behind it. “I got stuck having to take a cold shower. I’d blame Jin, but you’re the one who started it, aren’t you?”

“Baby,” he groans, “please don’t---.”

You’re pulling back, taking your hands with you, and falling back onto the mattress before he can finish his plea. You bounce slightly against the bed as you giggle at the death glare he gives you, his chest is heaving and a thin sheen of sweat coats his brow. “Not so fun when it’s you, is it, Tae?”

Taehyung heaves out a shaky breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Alright, fine. I take responsibility for leaving you the way I did.” He snatches your ankles, chuckling at the yelp that leaves you, and drags you down the bed. He spreads your thighs to make room for his hips and rocks against you. The thin material of your pajama pants does nothing to shield the feeling of his hard on pushing against your clothed core. You still feel every inch of him and your mouth drops open as he grinds his hips. “But what you call punishment, I call a reward, princess.”

He’s gone in the blink of an eye, his laugh echoing from the bathroom, and you bolt up to hurl a pillow at the door. Why is he so much better at this than you are?!

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

Taehyung’s home is gorgeous. Well, you suppose it’s your home now too, but the fact that you’re about to be thrown into a house full of strange men and monitored 24 hours a day, doesn’t take away from its beauty. You thought the security gates were a little much when Jungkook first drove through them, yet it’s clear now why they’re necessary. A two story estate looms over you as Jungkook opens the SUV door so you can climb out.

“Welcome home, princess.” Taehyung stands in the middle of the foyer, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dress pants. He’d had every intention of being with you in that SUV after the reception, but his father had hauled him away for some ‘unfinished business’ with the Ahn family.

“More like a prison,” you mutter while Jungkook takes the backpack hanging from your shoulder. He hoists it over his own and grabs the handle of your rolling suitcase, waiting to see what your next move is. “The word ‘home’ doesn’t exactly come to mind, Kim.”

Taehyung hums, crossing the foyer in quick strides before he’s gripping your chin and pulling you so close that you stand on the tips of your toes. He feels the clenching of your jaw against his fingers and briefly worries that you’ll end up chipping a tooth with how hard you grind your teeth together. “Call it what you want, Y/N, but this is where you’ll be for a very long time. I suggest you get used to it.”

“Boss.” Jungkook clears his throat, eyes darting to the strong grip Taehyung has on your face before they’re matching his gaze. The slight tilting of his head serves as a warning and Taehyung nods in recognition before releasing his hold. When Jungkook had first been told that he would be your personal guard from now on, he vowed to do his best, even if it meant going against Taehyung from time to time.

You sneer at Taehyung when he smiles at Jungkook. Whatever passes between them in the look they share is unclear, and it bothers you. If Taehyung’s rough handling was meant to scare you, and Jungkook’s swift response to it was meant to deter that fear, then they were both failing. Miserably. It’s not that you’re afraid of Taehyung, that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s how quick he can be at changing his entire persona in a matter of seconds.

Jungkook puts his free hand on the small of your back to guide you forward, leaving the foyer and entering the living room. He watches you scan the surroundings, gaze lingering a little too long on the loose objects Taehyung has chosen to decorate with. He makes a mental note to have those removed for the time being until you’re settled in enough to not try and kill Taehyung. It’s understandable that you’re frustrated, and angry, and hurt, but it’s also easy for those feelings to boil over and turn into something disastrous. He leads you through the room to the adjoining dining room, then the kitchen, and finally stopping at a door.

“It’s your room,” he explains as he opens the door and shuffles inside the much too big room meant for you. It’s bigger than the entirety of your last two apartments combined. He sets your backpack on the bed before rolling your suitcase over to the dresser in the corner of the room. Leaving the suitcase be for you to unpack at your leisure, he moves for the bathroom that you didn’t even notice was there at first. He comes out soon after and pulls open the doors to the walk-in closet, scanning it from top to bottom.

He’s checking for anything out of place, you realize, as Jungkook seems satisfied enough to make his way back to you. He isn’t anything like you imagined Taehyung’s men would be, the first couple of encounters with him should have been enough to tell you that. You had just been so adamant in hating this part of it to realize that Jungkook would most likely end up being your only friend. Your actual friends weren’t invited to the wedding out of fear of who may have been there. Exposing them to this life was never an option and you’d been doing a damn fine job of it since high school. Until Jeonghan had spilled the beans about your upcoming nuptials and the girls became giddy. Their faces had dropped when you lied that only a handful of people could attend, and they weren’t on the guest list. It took weeks of groveling for them to finally cave and forgive you.

“Y/N?” Jungkook’s voice snaps you from your thoughts. He quirks a brow when you shake your head in apology. “Are you alright?”

“I was just thinking,” you say, letting your eyes float around the room once more. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

“Of course.”

“Not just for checking the room,” you clarify, “but for not making me feel so out of place. I really appreciate it.”

“Jungkookie’s always been good at making people comfortable,” a voice has you spinning around quickly, a hand pressed to your racing heart. The owner of the voice beams like he’s just won the lottery, clearly amused at successfully scaring you. “Y/N. I’m Park Jimin. I’ll be accompanying you and Jungkook every time we leave the grounds.”

“Right,” you heave. Catching your breath seems to be a new level of difficulty for some reason. Well, there was one reason, actually.

Taehyung had been right behind you and Jungkook the entire time. Quietly observing you and the reaction you’d have to the house. He’d also been leaning against the doorjamb while Jungkook combed through the room. Which means he’d also heard your gratitude for the younger man and you pale at the thought of what might happen to Jungkook now. Not all bosses like when their wives become chummy with other men, especially if it’s a man they trust, and you fear you may have gotten Jungkook in trouble.

“Do you think of Jungkookie as comfortable, princess?” Taehyung pins you with a stare that you can’t quite decipher. He sees the look of panic in your eyes as you struggle for words. When you open your mouth to answer, he cuts you off with a stern, “Don’t. Lie. To me.”

“Yes,” you reply breathlessly, clenching your hands into fists. Fear runs down your spine when Taehyung pushes away from the door and draws near. You flinch when his hand reaches out, your body going stiff to brace for the sting of his palm against your cheek. But he doesn’t hit you, his hand frozen mid-air at your reaction. It’s when you feel the slight tug on a single strand of hair that you realize he’d meant to pet your head. You meet his eyes with tears welling in your own, chest rising and falling with short, rapid breaths.

“I’d never hurt you, Y/N,” Taehyung whispers, reaching out once more to graze the backs of his fingers against your cheek. The wet heat of a single tear sliding down your face catches on his knuckles and he grits his teeth. “Has anyone ever hit you before?”

Jungkook and Jimin immediately come closer to hear your answer. If anyone had ever laid a hand on you, they wouldn’t wait for Taehyung’s order to find and kill whoever it was. You aren’t just the boss’ wife, you’re theirs to protect now, and they intend on doing just that.

“No.” You turn away from Taehyung’s touch, drawing back to both create some much needed space, and to reel in the flood of emotions you didn’t expect to feel. Being a leader in a crime syndicate meant being vicious and violent, even to your own family if it proved a point. Taehyung was neither of those things, a heavy reminder of how gentle your father and grandfather would be with any woman or girl important to them. “No one’s ever...it’s just something I’ve seen many times before, is all.”

“To someone important?”

“To people who were people and deserved to be treated as such. Not like the punching bags they became because their boss couldn’t push aside his pride or ego.” You take another step back only to bump into Jungkook’s chest. Damn it. Too many people surround you, too many are witness to how easily you can crumble, and you want them out. You want room to breathe and catch your bearings. You also want the privacy to unpack your stuff.

“Out,” Taehyung demands from Jungkook and Jimin, neither men hesitate to do as they’ve been told. He moves for the door right after them, hesitating with his hand on the knob. Looking back over his shoulder, he sees you pulling a laptop from your backpack, along with a few romance novels and a jumbo book of crossword puzzles.

“Jimin isn’t the only one of the members you’ll be meeting today,” the softness of Taehyung’s voice makes your chest tight as you look up at him. “There’s 3 others roaming around here somewhere and another that’s away on an assignment, but he’ll be back soon.”

You nod your understanding, picking up a book to occupy your hands to keep your fingers from picking at the cuticles of your nails. It was something you’d always done when you got nervous, a bad habit that needed to be gotten rid of.

“I don’t want to do this to you, princess,” he states it like an apology as you draw your brows together in confusion, “but I’m going to take your laptop and phone.”

“Why?” One hand immediately falls to the computer he’s stepping back into the room for. You almost wrestle it away when his long fingers swipe it from the bed. “It’s important, Taehyung. I use it to edit my friend’s photos. She’s a photographer and I help her clean them up when she needs it.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.” He grips the computer closer to his side and holds his palm out. “You’ll get it back soon, I promise. I need your phone.”

“What if Joongki and Jeonghan call?” you scoff, because of fucking course Taehyung knows what you do in your spare time. “They’ll get worried if I don’t answer.”

“That’s a pretty weak excuse given how you tore into them after the reception. I might not have left with you, but I heard all about the way you swore you wouldn’t be speaking to your cousins anytime soon.”

“My friends will think I’m dead if I don’t answer their texts.”

“Your friends,” Taehyung steps closer and leans in, hovering inches away from your lips, “know that you got married today. They know that you’ll be occupied with your new husband. I can bet they’re wondering what you’re doing right this second, but can’t bring themselves to ask lest they interrupt what may be going on.”

Your back hits a wall you hadn’t realized he’d been backing you into. He’s not close enough to touch, yet that’s exactly what you want to do and find yourself pressing the book in your hand to his chest instead.

“I bet they’re wondering if you’re enjoying yourself,” he continues, pressing his forehead against yours. The back of your head thumps against the wall gently with the pressure as he uses it to keep your eyes on him. “They’re wondering if your new groom satisfies you enough, princess. If he’s kissing you like you deserve to be, touching you in all the right places,” his free hand clamps onto your waist, thumb dipping beneath the hem of your shirt to feel your skin, “if he’s able to hit that right spot inside of you over, and over, and over.”

Your breath hitches when his hand slides higher beneath the t-shirt you’d stupidly changed into before coming to the house. His fingers are hot against your skin as they’re splayed along your ribcage.

“I can do all of that for you if you’ll let me, princess,” Taehyung growls without meaning to. He’d only meant to distract you enough to take your phone. However, he’d somehow managed to arouse both himself and you with the way you clench your thighs together. Still, even knowing how turned on you are, he doesn’t press any closer than he already is. His hand doesn’t move any further up your torso though his thumb still rubs smooth circles on your skin. “I can make you feel so good, you’d forget your own name.”

You inhale sharply. You know he can and that he’d be the best you ever had. But giving in now, on your very first hour inside the new house, would be grounds for Taehyung to think you’re actually on board with this whole thing. So you do what you do best, argue. “You really think so highly of yourself, huh, Kim? I’m pretty sure I’ve had better.”

“Don’t push buttons when you don’t understand the consequences,” he whispers darkly, “or throw out empty challenges like that. I might be inclined to take them if you keep it up.”

You open your mouth to fight back, but a yelp comes out instead when his hand rips itself from underneath your shirt and is swiping the phone from your back pocket quickly. You aren’t prepared for him to reel back soon after, nearly losing your balance without him there to hold you up. “Taehyung, what the hell?!”

Taehyung smirks in victory, the phone and laptop in his hands, before he turns around and saunters to the door. “Disappointed, baby? All you have to do is ask and I’ll fuck you any way you want.”

Jungkook and Jimin are standing just outside, backs pressed to the opposite wall, and they both jump when the sound of glass shattering against wood follows Taehyung closing the door behind him. Jungkook wants to check on you, but the satisfied look on Taehyung’s face lets him know that you meant to break whatever had hit the door. “Uh, boss?”

Taehyung hands the laptop and phone to Jimin, who was looking at him with raised brows. “Give these to Yoongi, tell him to go through them, delete anything that can be used to track either device, and have him install the tracking app he created in her phone. I want us, and only us, to be able to access the app. If, for whatever reason, Yoongi feels like someone outside of the seven of us should be able to tap into it, I want to know who and why first. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Jimin disappears with the phone and computer, leaving behind a chuckle that has Jungkook rolling his eyes.

“Oh, and Kook,” Taehyung claps Jungkook on the shoulder with a mischievous grin, “buy Y/N a new perfume bottle. She seems to have broken her last one.”

#kim taehyung fic #kim taehyung smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts mafia smut #kim taehyung mafia smut

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owl-with-a-pen · 3 years

Note

brainy or nia try on karas glasses one day and kara realizes that they were brenda/brandon?

- Oh my god, yes! Thank you for the prompt. x

“No, no,” Alex said decisively. “It’s been years and I still don’t get it. How the hell do glasses make it impossible for people to recognise you? I’d know you from anywhere.”

Nia grinned from across the table, lifting her drink to her lips as Alex pinched Kara’s cheek, only to be batted away by her little sister a second later.

“Okay,” Kara said with a snort. “Your next round is gonna be water shots.” She turned her head from the table, making a show of searching the bar. “Where’s Al?”

“Oh, you know he heads out back the second this party rolls in,” Kelly said with an impish smile, raising her own glass. She took Alex’s hand before she could pester Kara any further, winding their fingers firmly together. “Although, I have to agree with the water.”

“Hydration would appear useful at this stage,” Brainy added with a sage nod. “She may also benefit from lining her stomach with something a little more substantial.”

Nia grinned, leaning back against Brainy’s chest. “Is that your not-so-subtle hint that you want more onion rings?”

She’d perched herself on the edge of Brainy’s stool some time into the evening; her smile widened when she felt his hands link around her front in response. “Sometimes, multiple issues can call for a single solution,” Brainy pointed out, tucking his face into her hair. “What is the saying? Two birds, one stone?” Nia's face warmed when Brainy’s lips traced idly along the side of her jaw.

Kara grinned. “Well, hey, I’m not gonna say no to more onion rings.”

It was fair to say that they’d all had a few drinks between them by now, although Kelly and Alex were strictly drinking from the human menu. Things always got a little whacky with alien grade alcohol, and despite her half-Naltorian genetics, Nia had barely been able to stomach a single sip of Brainy’s drink of choice. It suited his tolerance level far better, and made for a slower automatic response for his body to factor out the alcohol and sober him up. If his sudden confidence with intimacy in a public environment was anything to go by, Nia figured it was definitely working.

Nia knew Kara was drinking something similar to Brainy, although her Kryptonian biology made her far more resilient against its contents. She wasn’t even slurring.

Meanwhile, Nia was feeling all kinds of warm inside. Although, Brainy’s hold on her was probably a major factor in that.

It had felt like forever since they’d last gone out like this, and from the recent stress they’d all been under, it wasn’t exactly surprising that they’d found their way to Al’s bar. Plus, after the number of times they’d saved this place from one catastrophe or another, they got some incredibly generous discounts even on some of the rarer beverages. It was just unfortunate that Alex’s human tolerance really wasn’t matching up. And, considering Kelly was still on her first drink, she was currently the only person everyone was sorely worried about getting home safely that night.

With that in mind, Nia was just about to suggest heading up to the bar to go order, when Alex made her move, whipping her hand out quick enough to snatch Kara’s glasses straight from her face, balancing them across her nose.

She turned to Kelly immediately, staring at her levelly. “Well?” she asked expectantly. "How do I look?”

“It’s like looking at a total stranger,” Kelly deadpanned. She smirked, leaning in closer. “Although, they do make you kinda mysterious.”

Alex’s smile broadened. “Oh really?”

“My turn!” Nia chirped, plucking the glasses from Alex’s face. She rested her elbows on the table, propping her chin up with her hands the moment she had the glasses on. She narrowed her eyes, testing out her new perspective. As anticlimactic as it was, nothing really changed. It was just like staring through two pieces of clear glass. Nia pouted. She supposed it wasn't unexpected - that was exactly what she was doing, after all.

“It’s weird being able to see clearly while wearing someone’s else’s glasses,” Nia mused, playing around with the glasses’ temples, wiggling them up and down in front of her face. “Has anyone who didn’t know your secret ever done this before?” She jerked her head up, snapping her fingers. “Ooh, I know, I bet you just tell them you both need the same prescriptions. Am I right, or am I right?”

Kara didn’t answer.

“...Kara?”

When Nia turned, she realised that Kara was staring directly at her, a half-stunned daze in her eyes.

“What, did the alcohol finally kick in?” Nia prodded good-naturedly, only for Kara to reach out suddenly, taking the glasses away from her. “Hey! I was using those!”

Kara remained silent. Instead, with unnerving intensity, she came forward, slipping the glasses onto Brainy’s face. Brainy jerked from the unexpected contact, lifting them away from his nose as though they'd burned. He blinked quickly in affront, eyeing Kara suspiciously. “What was that for?” he asked.

“It was you two,” Kara said mildly; her voice sounded far too calm for comfort, like she was on the verge of a full-blown freak out. “All those years ago, in Midvale. It was you.”

Nia spluttered at the exact same moment as Brainy. She snapped her head towards him desperately. “What?” she asked, registering the panic in Brainy’s eyes that she knew was reflected identically in her own. “No—what—no?” She dug her hand into her boyfriend’s shoulder, squeezing tight. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”

“I have no idea what you are- what she’s talking about-” Brainy snorted defensively. “Do-do you?”

Nia nudged him nervously, eyes wide. “I just said I didn’t, genius.”

“...Right,” Brainy said quickly, clearing his throat. He raised his voice, turning back to Kara. “Two admissions though! Thus further proving that we have no idea what you are talking—”

But, Kara was still staring, a cold glare of certainty in her eyes. “I’d know that scrambling for an excuse anywhere,” she said, taking Brainy’s hands and guiding the glasses back into place over the bridge of his nose. She met no resistance this time, Brainy was far too busy gaping at her. “Brendan.” She turned to Nia accusingly. “Brenda.” Her lips split into a pained smile. “Rao- I thought you two were hiding something, but I was willing to accept it, because... I thought you were lost.”

“In our defence, we sorta were,” Nia admitted sheepishly. “The crash wasn’t part of the plan.”

It was Brainy’s turn to nudge her. “Nia.”

“Give it up, Brainy.” Nia cringed. “We’re caught.”

Kara ran her hands through her hair, shaking her head in bewilderment. “What were you guys even doing there? When did this even happen for you?”

“When you were in the Phantom Zone,” Nia said slowly, ducking her head.

“We needed your DNA,” Alex said softly. It sounded as though the recent commotion had done a good job at sobering her up. “To track you down.”

“It was thanks to these two that we were able to save you at all,” Kelly added.

Something crossed Kara’s expression then, but it was so quick that Nia barely caught it. All she knew was that in that moment, Kara looked entirely vulnerable. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked weakly.

Brainy swallowed hastily. “Had you known our true identities in 2009, it would have caused ramifications in the timeline that could have irrevocably changed the future.”

“I don’t mean then,” Kara said sharply, attention snapping to Brainy. Her expression fell. “Why not when I came back?”

“It didn’t seem… necessary,” Brainy said uncomfortably. Nia felt his grip tighten back around her and ran her hand across his arm, squeezing gently.

Kara scoffed, folding her arms. “Not necessary? You guys were in my past—you saved my life, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“So much happened,” Nia said carefully. “Kara, we didn’t want to stress you out any more than you already had been.”

“Come here,” Kara said suddenly.

Nia blinked her surprise, catching Brainy’s eyes quickly for confirmation. Hesitantly, Brainy nodded, unlocking his arms from around Nia’s waist. Nia slipped from the stool, stepping towards her alongside Brainy.

They stared at her unsurely for all of two seconds before Kara came forward, swooping them both into the most intense super hug Nia thought either of them had ever experienced.

Nia gasped for breath, wrapping her free arm automatically around Kara’s back. The brush of Brainy’s fingers confirmed to her that he had done just the same.

“I never thought I’d get a chance to say this,” Kara murmured into the space between them. “But, thank you. Both of you, for everything that you did.”

“For... saving your life?” Brainy asked, voice muffled with confusion. “You’re... very welcome?”

Kara laughed, pressing her face into his hair. “Not that. Okay, well, of course that. But,” She sighed, drawing away again, her hands still locked tightly against each of their arms, “you both came to me at a time where I was questioning so much. My future, my identity, my place on Earth. I was hurting, in more ways I ever let on. And without you two—I don’t know what I might have done differently.”

Nia smirked. “Wait…” She turned her head towards Brainy. “Does that mean we were always meant to travel back to 2009?”

“Pre-destined time travel.” Brainy pondered on that thought for a long moment, his lips twitching into a smile of his own. He shrugged. “I suppose stranger things have happened.”

“You did crash, though,” Alex pointed out from across the table.

Brainy shot her a glare.

“Destiny,” Kelly cut in, sighing dreamily. “I like that, though.”

Nia knocked Brainy’s arm playfully. “Just like how you coming to this time gave you the chance to live freely. With us.” Nia squeezed her boyfriend's hand secretively before she turned back to Kara, smile softening. “Maybe we gave that same chance to you, too.”

“Thank you,” Kara said again. She blinked, wiping quickly at her face where tears were near approaching. “I- I don’t even think just saying that cuts it.”

Nia's smile widened mischievously. “Hey, does that mean the next round isn’t on us?”

Brainy raised a finger in consideration. “I believe tap water is on the house, anyway.”

“Hey, no water,” Alex shot back. “And you guys are not getting out of shots that easily.”

They all laughed at that. And, just like that, Nia felt as though an invisible tension that had been tethering them together had finally loosened.

She smiled as she re-joined her family back at the table, hand-in-hand with Brainy.

For the first time in a long time, it really felt like everything was going to be okay.

94 notes · View notes

darling-i-read-it · 3 years

Text

Wretched Candy

Lucius Malfoy x reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: bad spell casting, break ups, cheating but not really, semi panic attack at meeting a Boggart, Lucius and his pure blood thing

Author’s Note: oh shoot guys, my first fic that I planned since the hiatus bitches...and it’s Lucius fucking Malfoy who has no audience but you know what I really liked this.

Disclaimer: I added some of my own elements to some spells. I am aware that it’s not how it actually is lol

Summary: You and Lucius were together when you were at Hogwarts. You are surprised to meet Draco years later.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

(not my gif)

You remembered your days at Hogwarts well. Most people lived them like they were going to be the end of their days. People like those were the head of the Quidditch team, a Head boy or girl, a prefect.

The place was as magical as everyone said it was. The walls gleaned with wonder and mystery. There were places that were sure to be the doom of some students. Classes that could result in death, if not handled correctly. Although you had never really thought about the death count, you were sure it was up there. No one would give an honest answer if you asked back then though.

You were just a student.

And a rather mediocre one at that. At least at first.

You were sitting in the back of your Potions class. First day of class, your third year. You had your own friends here and there and you were close enough with people in your own year but no one in this class.

You floated from person to person. There wasn’t a set of people that you could be found with. You had to assume that it was in your best interests to float. You looked up at the sky and saw the door open as the next person came into the class. People had begun filing in, finding their seats and their friends. You didn’t know the Professor, he was new. You weren’t sure if he would move you all around later but for now, everyone was looking for a place to stay all year.

You recognized Narcissa Black walk in and take a seat next to one of her friends. You watched her smile rise and fall as other people she knew walked into the room, sitting beside her. There was quickly a group at the front of the class but one seat remained, beside her, empty.

You were looking down when Lucius Malfoy walked into the class. You had taken your cauldron out of your bag, placing it carefully on your desk. The seat beside you was still empty but you expected it. When Lucius sat down you were noticeably intrigued. Not surprised, just intrigued.

You raised an eyebrow at him but he was not looking at you. He was bringing his much too expensive silver cauldron out of his bag and placing it beside yours. Narcissa watched him as he did so and you realized that she had been hoping he would sit with her. You didn’t know that they had ever been together but if they were, they were clearly going through a rough patch.

It would be ample entertainment to try and draw a rift between Noble houses like Black and Malfoy. Perhaps potions wouldn’t be as bad as you thought.

He finally met your gaze, as you had been staring at him for a moment longer than necessary.

“Starring isn’t very polite,” he told you. You shrugged.

“Did your daddy buy that caldron for you from the top shelf in Diagon Alley?” you asked him. He gave you a sly smile.

“I picked it out, actually,” he told you. You raised your eyebrow and scoffed, looking away from him.

“You got a tongue on you Malfoy. Is that what caused you and Lady Black to break up?” you questioned him. He shot you a look and you knew you had taken it a bit too far but you didn’t owe anything to Lucius Malfoy. He had quite a reputation for being a stuck up rich boy around the school. Living under his fathers thumb...a prick regardless.

“Her name is Narcissa,” he told you. “What is your name?”

“Y/N.” He waited for you to give him your last name and you did not. He was too hung up with the family stuff, you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction.

“Alright Y/N. Would you like me to move and sit with her?” he asked. He had an enviable poise to him. You slowly leaned back in your chair and brought your quill feather to your nose. You pursed your lips and leaned forward again.

“Why don’t you stay? I could use some entertainment. You’re not bound to the back left corner seat if you and Narcissa get better.”

Class began then and you and Lucius Malfoy were too intrigued with each other for it to go nowhere.

==========

Over the next few weeks, you would come to Potions and write each other notes, slipping them under the table. They started out with simple curiosity. It was two classes in when he pressed you for your family name and you gave it to him. It wasn’t anything fancy but you were a pureblood and you knew that was important to him.

Every time you came to class you expected him to leave the spot and go back to Narcissa. He didn’t speak to you out of class and you barely paid him any mind.

When you looked back, you knew you were in love with him. You had prided yourself with being able to withstand Lucius’s charms but you hadn’t. You had fallen for the sly smile and mysterious gaze. His silver hair that was cut just above his shoulders looked more and more appealing with each passing Potions class.

You couldn’t let yourself fall in love with him. He was in love with Narcissa.

One day she didn’t show up to class. That wasn’t unusual, everyone got sick every once in a while.

“Where's the princess?” you asked him. He took off his scarf as he sat down beside you. His eyes flicked to Narcissas empty seat.

“Her sisters and her are taking a week vacation. Don’t ask me where, I do not know.” You also had a feeling that he didn’t care. You glanced over at him.

“Aren’t you gonna miss her?” Your voice was a little more emotional than you had wanted it to be. He didn’t look at you.

“Why are you so hung up about her?” he asked. You raised your hands in a sarcastic defiance.

“Sorry lover boy, I won’t bring her up anymore.” He leaned back in his seat and didn’t say anything more until class started.

That class he handed you a note as everyone was dismissed. You took it and read it the second he was out of sight.

‘Astronomy tower, 8 sharp’

=======

You hadn’t taken an Astronomy class yet so you had to do some hunting to make sure you went to the right place. After too many stairs and having to unlock the door with magic, you were able to slip in undetected. Lucius was waiting for you there, standing beside a railing in the dim lighted room.

“You wanted to see me?” you asked, voice small. You had attempted to slip hide your emotion but failed miserably. You walked up to stand beside him and leaned against the pillar. He turned to you and without warning, kissed you. You pulled away quickly, unsure of his intentions and suddenly feeling very flustered. “What about Narcissa?” you questioned, holding his cheek in your hand.

He did not answer so you kissed him again.

=====

Hiding a relationship with Lucius Malfoy had become to be more tedious than you had expected. He would lend you his scarf, even though you had your own, and people tended not to notice. A part of you was fine with the subtlety but you also wanted to be known.

You were your own person but you were also his...for the time being at least.

Narcissa returned to school and you watched her more carefully than you had before. She didn’t even seem to be more than acquaintances with him but then again, you probably looked the same way.

But after classes he would sneak you away places. He would be romantic, he would show you a side to him that you had never seen before. His touch was tender and loving. His home was hard and challenging. Lucius confided in you and you tried to confide in him as well. Your relationship was easy.

You ran your hand through your hair as you sat in the Three Broomsticks. Hogsmeade was alive with students and teachers alike, enjoying a nice day off from everyone's studies. Lucius leaned back in his chair and there was clearly something bothering him.

“So are you going to speak or am I going to have to get you something more to drink?” you asked. His empty cup of cider sat in front of him. “What will it be then? Another cider? Butterbeer? Pumpkin juice?” He shook his head and glanced at the door as another group of students came in.

“No, it’s alright.” He didn’t say anything more though. You rubbed your cold hands together and then took a drink of your butterbeer.

“Lucius…”

“Don’t push it.” His voice was harsher than usual and you took the hint. You stood up and walked over to talk to someone else. You mingled around Three Broomsticks for a while and Narcissa came to talk to Lucius. You were pleased to see that he wasn’t very responsive to her either.

“Hows you and Malfoy?” one of your friends asked. You rolled your eyes.

“Nothing is going on with me and Lucius.”

“Oh yeah?” You gave her a look but Lucius had walked up behind you.

“Let’s go,” he muttered. He grabbed your arm gently and you nodded.

“I’ll see you guys later.” Your friends nodded and gave you looks as you left but you ignored them. Lucius and you walked through Hogsmeade and his breathing seemed to get more shallow.

“My parents sent me an owl,” he said carefully. You shoved your hands in your pockets. You should have brought gloves.

“What did it say?” He looked over at you and noticed how you were shivering. It was snowing pretty well. He took off his scarf and handed it to you and you took it gratefully. “Thanks.”

“I...let’s not talk about it.” You nodded, deciding giving him space would be the best for both of you. You were going back to the school soon anyway and would be going to your separate dorms.

You reached in your jacket pocket and pulled out a handful of candy.

“Where’d you get that?” he asked, an amused look on his face.

“Candy shop. I shoved it in my pocket while you were paying for yours.”

“Stealing isn’t good darling,” he said. You rolled your eyes.

“Thank you mister obvious.” You grabbed his hand and put some of the candy in his hand. “Enjoy,” you said with a smile. He unwrapped one and popped it in his mouth.

“This is wretched.” He was laughing.

“Well I didn’t look when I grabbed!”

======

You remember the day that Lucius Malfoy branded you well.

You were walking to Defense Against Dark Arts. Your mind was elsewhere and you hadn’t been listening to instructions the whole week so when you came in to find that you would be fighting actual Dark Arts, you were flabbergasted and wildly unprepared. You genuinely weren’t even sure what the monster was.

You could slack off in some other classes but not DADA. Sometimes, you didn’t even trust the teacher to make sure they would save you if you couldn’t save yourself.

You thought about skipping, taking the mark downs for the day but it would be hard without predetermined planning. The teachers tended to look around the halls for stray students.

You slipped into the back of the class and listened to the teacher as he spoke.

“Today we will be dealing with Boggarts, as you likely know already. I trust you’ve all practiced saying the spell at home.” You hadn’t. You furiously flipped through your textbook pages in a last dodge attempt to be prepared. “How about you Y/N? Would you like to start us off?”

Your head shot up and all eyes were on you. You saw nervous looks and it didn’t make you feel any better. If students who had been actually paying attention were nervous, then you had every reason to be.

Prideful and with a hard look on your face you stood up. Your teacher gestured for you to walk in front of a wardrobe and quickly the other students stood behind you. You raised your wand but still had no idea what you were meant to say.

What was a Boggart?

Your Professor opened the wardrobe and your greatest fear stepped out. You froze. You kept chastising yourself in your head, you should have been listening, you should have been listening, you should have been…

The thought was the only thing that kept you from becoming paralyzed with fear.

Your greatest fear took another step toward you and you could faintly hear your teacher speaking and your classmates gasping and whispering but all you could really focus on was that you should have been listening.

Suddenly the thing was struck down and you could breathe again. You fell to the ground, your body suddenly feeling exhausted. On your knees you did not feel embarrassed all you could feel was relieved.

You felt hands on your upper arms and assumed it was your Professor that had saved you but was surprised to turn and see Lucius. He wasn’t even in this class.

“Lucius…” you whispered and before you attempted to hug him in thanks, you registered his face. Shock, worry...you couldn’t put your finger on it. Then all at once, completely unreadable. You swallowed. “What is it?” He was knelt on the floor beside you and he reached forward, taking a piece of your hair in his.

Your hair, once Y/H/C, was now silver like his. Just one strip amongst the other natural colors.

“A side effect of reckless spell casting,” your Professor said. “Shouldn’t you be in class Mr. Malfoy?”

He stood up, hard and professional demeanor back. “I saw she may need help and stepped in.” You were holding your new strip of silver hair in your hand, trying to get a good look at it.

“Is it permanent?” you asked. Your teacher turned to you and leaned down, feeling your hair. He pursed his lips.

“Afraid so. Riddikulus is a spell that should be cast only by the person with the fear or someone who has been doing it for years. I’m afraid Mr. Malfoy is neither. It’s a branding that the spell was done wrong, that you did not complete it.” You scrambled up to your feet and the embarrassment set in.

“I’m sorry Professor. I will do better next time,” you promised and you meant it but truthfully you just wanted the attention to be off your new hair do.

“I trust you will. Now Mr. Malfoy, aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?”

Lucius barely gave you a glance as he left the room.

====

You walked into Potions with your head down. People were talking about Lucius and yours little incident and you didn’t need more people gawking at your hair change. You sat in the same spot and only then is when you decided to look up at the classroom.

Lucius was sitting beside Narcissa. You tried to hide your surprise but you didn’t do it very well. A small, heartbroken look on your face was evident to everyone. He wasn’t looking. He didn’t spare you one glance as class went on.

As he was about to leave you yanked his arm toward you, not caring who saw. His face was unreadable as he looked you in the face. You found yourself relishing in his gaze, after being deprived of it for so long.

“What-”

“I thought I wasn’t bound to the seat?” he told you and his words felt like daggers. You let him go just as quickly as you had grabbed him and stepped back.

“You’re right.” You could tell that your words had hurt him a little bit too but he barely showed it. If you hadn’t been paying keen attention you would have missed it. He walked away, Narcissa Black at his arm.

====

As everything in school did, the gossip about the two of you subsided. Lucius never gave you a proper explanation and you never asked for one. You grew to resent him through your final years and your grades went up.

But every time you looked in the mirror you were reminded of the very quick and fleeting fling you never should have had. Constant proof that at some point you had belonged to Lucius Malfoy.

===

- Years Later -

You put down the parchment papers on each desk. Things had changed since you were a student at Hogwarts but not a lot. The desks in the Potions room were likely the same and the textbook requirements definitely were. It made your teaching job a lot easier.

You were teaching a first year class this year, among others. They would start filing in soon. This was your first first year class you were teaching so you really wanted to be prepared. You glanced in your reflection in the cabinet glass doors. You took a deep breath, adjusting your hair. Even after all these years, the streak of silver remained and you had all but forgotten the story of how it came to be. Lucius Malfoy had been nothing but a matter of your past since you left Hogwarts as a student.

The door opened and the first group of kids started to come in. You picked up your attendance sheet and sat down on the teachers desk as people started to take their seats, picking and choosing which friends to partner up with.

You flipped through the textbook as well, opening up to the right spot and getting your last preparations done as the kids sat down. When everyone was seated you looked up with your best teacher smile.

“Welcome first years, to Potions.” You glanced at everyone quickly and your eyes landed on a boy sitting in front. He was whispering with the boys beside him, silver hair, sitting right in Narcissa's old seat. You looked down at your attendance sheet and found what you had suspected...Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. You quickly regained your composure. “I’m going to go through attendance, if you would please raise your hand when I call your na-”

“What happened to your hair?!” someone in the back called. You pursed your lips.

“I dyed it. Now, let's start with A’s.”

====

Draco paid you no mind. You asked around and found that his mother was in fact Narcissa, as you had suspected. You weren’t sure how to feel. It didn’t feel right, that you were sure about. Maybe you were just jealous because you hadn’t gotten married. Sure, you had had your fair share of flings here and there but nothing serious.

You supposed Lucius was a fling as well. It was only a couple months anyway.

But you were not expecting him to show up to the school. You had been comforted in the fact that you didn’t have to see him or Narcissa again so when he showed up, you were noticeably shocked.

Lucius stood beside Draco as they walked down the hallway.

“I will have a conversation with Dumbledore about this, don’t you worry.” You tried to walk past them but Lucius stopped just as you were about to pass.

“Y/N?” You looked up and feigned surprise. You smiled politely, like it wasn’t bothering you that he was there. He looked so much older but almost the same. You couldn’t deal with it.

“Lucius? Oh hello!” You stopped, holding your books close to your chest. His face was somewhat softened, the menacing look he usually had all but gone.

“Draco, go on ahead. I want to talk to an old friend.”

“Professor Y/L/N?” Draco accused.

“Professor?” Lucius said professor but he was really hung up on the fact that your last name had not changed.

“I’m the Potions Professor,” you explained. Lucius had a sly smile creep onto his face.

“Go on Draco.” Draco listened this time and walked forward. The hallway was empty except for the two of you.

“It’s nice to see you again,” you lied. “Draco is a smart boy.” He nodded, gaze following his son as Draco disappeared behind a corner.

“As I was.”

“I was your Potions partner for a good portion of our third year and I beg to differ,” you joked. He raised an eyebrow amusingly.

“Still have the quip of a teenager.”

“And you still have the poise,” you said. He nodded. You were both silent for a second and he reached forward, deleticly grasping your silver strand of hair.

“I never believed that Professor when he said it was permanent.”

“Well it is.” You stepped back and his hand hung in the hair for a second before dropping.

“I suppose I should apologize for leaving you all those years ago,” he said. You shook your head.

“We were just kids you don’t have to-”

“You deserve an explanation.” You didn't expect him to say that. The Lucius you knew would not succeed to any wrong doings he had ever done. “The letter I received from my parents detailed that I was to marry Narcissa if I wanted to or not. In the end I did want to.” He hardened his face into an unamused mask. “I couldn’t face you.”

You always had wondered. You had truly loved him, even for only a moment. You nodded, the understanding showing on your face.

“Thank you for telling me.”

You started to walk away, desperate to go cry somewhere as the feelings all resurfaced but he grabbed your arm.

“Draco should have been yours.” It had been a lapse of judgement on his part but for a moment he truly believed it. Your faces were very close and you couldn’t hide your contempt for his words. He was right but you would never say that. You couldn’t say anything else so you yanked your arm out of his grasp before walking down the hall again. You got only a few steps before turning back around.

“Lucius?”

“Yes?”

“I never thanked you for saving me from that Boggart. Perhaps we’ll get a glass of cider sometime. As thanks,” you said because you needed to say it. You couldn’t leave it like this. He raised his chin and smiled.

“And some wretched candy.”

You grinned and nodded knowingly.

“I’ll pay for it this time.”

“I believe you.”

#lucius malfoy x reader #lucius malfoy imagines #harry potter imagines

226 notes · View notes

alpacaparkaseok · 4 years

Text

The Pact - Date #3

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 7.7k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: none, BUT THE FLUFF IS COMING DOWN FULL FORCE YA’LL

a/n: don’t forget, I taking your guys’ comments/reactions into account for this series, so please let me know what your thoughts are! of course, at the end we’ll really take a deeper look at all of the dates and what stood out the most, but I would love to hear from you about this one!! love you all, enjoy!

Date #3

series masterlist ∆∆∆ join the taglist

The more time has passed, the more you fully come to realize that if you have been that affected by two dates, you are in no way prepared for the five that remain.

Nope. Not one bit.

It was Thursday when Jungkook finally texted to check that you were free around eleven. Your heart leapt, finally. A date that you wouldn’t have to spend all day moping around waiting for.

So obviously, you were ready by 9. You know, just in case.

You’d been instructed to wear casual clothes, something that you rejoiced in. Donning your sweater with the word Harvard in thick blue letters spanning the front and a pair of skinny jeans, you felt right at home.

The boys never missed a chance to tease you about your Harvard sweatshirt, and for some reason they never believed your lie that you actually went there. Of course, that might be due to the fact that they were very much aware of your current schooling situation and it was most definitely not Harvard.

But hey...attending one of the top universities in South Korea wasn’t bad, either.

Currently you were perched on the end of your bed, partly due to the fact that if you went anywhere else you would most certainly just end up staring out the window at every car that passed by. Not wanting to look like a nosy neighbor, you’d confined yourself to your room to wait out the morning.

In the hours that pass, your thoughts are completely occupied by the two boys you shared the last couple of Saturdays with.

It would be a lie to say that you don’t replay the image of Taehyung standing in your doorway every night as you tried to sleep, his hair a fluffy mess and that cable knit sweater proving to be your doom.

Your thoughts were usually interrupted as you took your bracelet off and stared at it, imagining Hobi delicately placing each individual bead it it’s place. It’s when your hand burns with the memory of his gentle kiss on your palm that you finally set the bracelet down and let out a frustrated sigh.

Yeah...Jimin was wrong when he invited you to just think of these as nice, friendly dates.

He probably knew it, too.

“Ok,” you breathe out, closing your eyes and focusing on the rise and fall of your chest. “Just...enjoy it.”

Enjoy it you shall.

That’s the thing that carries you through the waiting, still just breathing in and out and mentally preparing yourself for all that awaits you today.

You get so carried away in your attempts to calm down that the knock on your front door comes before you realize how much time has passed. Taking one more steadying breath, you get up from your bed and amble down the hallway to the door.

Pausing for a moment, you realize that you truly have no idea who might be on the other side of that door. The thought makes you smile. You’ve always loved a good mystery.

Cracking open the door, you can’t help but smile as the figure before you has their back turned to you. At the sound of your quiet giggle, they turn around, eyes a little wide.

A nervous smile in place, Namjoon leans forward ever so slightly. Almost as though he’s being pulled in by your personal gravity. “Morning,” he says almost as an afterthought, his voice low.

“Good morning,” you respond, throwing the door open the rest of the way. “So you’re lucky number three?”

“Well, you know what they say.”

You busy yourself with grabbing your bag and double checking that you have everything. “What do they say?”

Namjoon shrugs, his nervous smile growing until it’s bordering on giddiness. “Third time’s a charm.”

Indeed.

Once you’ve ascertained that you have everything you’ll need (you made sure to replenish your mint stash earlier this week), you’re stepping out into the slightly brisk air and locking the door behind you.

The sound of keys jingling near your ear has you turning to face Namjoon, who wears an oversized, dark plaid shirt that’s open to reveal his black t-shirt beneath it. The picture of casual coolness, paired with his dark wash jeans and sneakers, the look is complete with the way his dimples poke out as he holds up the keys to your eye level.

“Guess who’s driving?” He teases in a sing-song voice, making you laugh as you swipe the keys from him. As the two of you descend the stairs toward the car, you tilt your head to the side.

“How did you get here?” Then, turning to him with wide eyes, “You didn’t drive yourself, right?”

He’s quick to shake his head, pointing out a car that’s turning around at the end of your street and slowly making its way back toward you two. “The guys dropped me off.”

The thought of Namjoon in a car with some of the boys and the rest trailing after them in a separate vehicle is endearing, while also hilarious. “All of them?”

“Yep,” he confirms. “Every last one of them.”

As the car draws nearer, you see the windows roll down and someone with familiar black, fluffy hair sticks their head out. Like a dog pile, another head hovers beside them.

Taehyung and Jimin.

Oh, and there’s Jungkook somehow managing to wiggle in between them.

“We apologize in advance, jagiya,” Jimin croons loudly with a teasing smirk. “At least try to enjoy yourself.”

You snort, clicking the button to unlock the car and laughing even harder when Hobi jumps at the sound of the horn. He sits in the passenger seat beside Jin, who drives. The two merely wave before mumbling something to each other that makes them laugh.

“Where’s Yoongi?” You ask, frowning as you do a head count and not finding him anywhere. In response, a pale hand coming from what must be the very back row of the car worms its way forward to the open window. You swear you can almost hear his disgruntled greeting, but it’s drowned out as Taehyung excitedly speaks up.

“Good luck trying to beat me, hyung,” he teases, shooting Namjoon a sweet smile that’s at odds with his teasing comment.

Namjoon just shrugs, utterly unphased as he follows you around the car and opens the drivers side with smooth precision. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

This encourages a round of ooh-ing that only serves to make you laugh even as you tuck away the momentary competitive side of Namjoon. Calm, calculated, and - if you’re reading that steely look in his eyes correctly - utterly in the zone.

Oh, you’re definitely enjoying this way more than you should.

“Drive safe!” The boys shout out amidst jeering comments directed toward Namjoon and his lack of driving abilities. With a final wave, they’re speeding off down the street. Once they’ve disappeared from sight, you notice the way Namjoon’s shoulders relax. He hurries over to the passenger side, hopping in and buckling up before fiddling with his phone.

“So...where to?” You ask, buckled up and ready to go. You tap the steering wheel excitedly, already feeling hyped up from the short interaction with everyone.

You miss seeing them all together. There’s a reason why you’re friends with the entire group.

“I put the address into the car,” Namjoon explains. “It should give you directions as we go.”

Arching a brow at him, you don’t shift into drive just yet. “So I’m driving us there, but I don’t get to know what the end location is?”

Smiling softly, Namjoon nods. “Exactly. You’re so smart, have I ever told you that?”

Scowling, you press the green button that appears on the screen and a warm female voice instructs you to drive to the stop sign and turn left.

You hum, pondering the slightly sarcastic question. “I’m not sure. But that’s definitely a sign that you should tell me more often.”

“I’ll make note of that.”

With a glance at the screen, you see the estimated driving time. “We’re leaving Seoul?”

From your peripheral, you notice Namjoon’s worried expression. “Is that alright? We can find something to do around here, it’s just-”

“No,” you rush to reassure him. “I was just surprised, that’s all.” It won’t be a particularly long drive, just over an hour, but you certainly weren’t expecting that.

Something tells you that there are plenty more surprises waiting for you today.

It doesn’t take long before the two of you slip into an easy conversation, Namjoon relating his latest experiences in his efforts to add something eye-catching to his studio.

“Like what?” You ask. “I love your studio the way it is.”

Namjoon looks over at you, smiling softly. “Really? I don’t know...I just feel like something’s missing.”

“Well, we’ll keep an eye out for something today,” you promise, relaxing now that you’re on the freeway and in the flow of traffic. “Like, do you want something to hang up? Or something to go on your desk?”

He shrugs, taking a moment to roll his window down and close his eyes as it runs through his hair. “I already have a bunch of stuff on the wall, and if I put anything on my desk-”

“Right, you’ll spill on it.”

“Exactly.” You keep your eyes on the road, entirely missing the fond look he gives you.

“So basically, you don’t need anything.”

He huffs a sigh, rolling the window back up and sinking down into the seat. “No, I do, I just don’t know what.”

“Mmm.”

“Hey,” Namjoon cuts, giving you a dramatic glare. “Don’t mock me.”

Feigning innocence, you peek over at him. “I’m not!”

“Yah, just drive.”

“I am!”

Despite the bickering, you can’t fight the smile edging its way onto your features. A glance over at Namjoon shows that he’s having the same issue, his face turned away from you but failing to hide the silly grin he’s attempting to hide as his fingers curl at his lips. It’s a habit he’s had for as long as you’ve known him, one that often makes its way into many photos.

“Prepare to take exit 14,” the voice instructs, and you make your way over to the far lane, eyeing the looming sign that will announce what exit it’s for. Once the sign comes into view, you give Namjoon a puzzled look.

“We’re going to Anyang?”

It’s not that you have anything against the city, it’s just that...well, what is there in Anyang that isn’t in Seoul?

“See? Super intelligent.” It’s the only response you get from Namjoon, but it has you rolling your eyes in an effort to counter the butterflies that erupt in your stomach at the way he’s looking at you.

In a couple of minutes you’re turning onto a relatively quiet street, only a few random people mulling about, enjoying their weekend. Namjoon points out an entrance to a parking lot that you would have completely missed due to its hidden nature. Once you’re parked and dwarfed between the buildings surrounding the little lot, you jump out of the car and make a show of stretching your legs.

Namjoon mimics you, a loud yet satisfying yawn coming from him. “Hey, are you hungry now or are you good to wait a little while?”

You pause, internally wondering. “I think I’m good for a while.”

“Great.” Rubbing his hands together, he comes to stand beside you. “Let’s go, then.”

You fall into step beside him. “Woah, you still haven’t told me where- oh.”

The two of you have rounded a corner and now stand in front of a nondescript building. Its sage green paint is chipping a bit, giving it a rustic feel that is only accentuated by the gold lettering above the door.

Wanderers & Travelers

However, it’s not the homey feel or the tasteful name that has you stopping in your tracks. It’s what you see inside, through the large windows.

Without a single word, you step forward as though in a daze. The little bell above the door chimes as you walk in, announcing your arrival. And, as though the entire thing couldn’t get better, the scent hits you.

The smell of old and new books, some leather bound and some hard backed, dives into your senses and leaves you whirling.

The walls in here are painted some shade of sky blue, complementing the deep wood shelves. It’s quiet in here, the only sound being that of shuffling feet.

If you blink, you’re afraid it might all vanish.

“Oh! You’re here!”

Turning to your left, you see a woman with flecks of white in her hair, smiling warmly at you and Namjoon. If you’re being completely, honest, you’d nearly forgotten that Namjoon was there.

The woman descends the final few steps of the creaky staircase, keeping a friendly distance as she nods at the two of you. “You were right,” she remarks to Namjoon. Then, to you with a teasing smirk, “You look like you’ve never seen a bookstore before.”

You sputter for the right words. “I- yeah, but this-”

“Is no ordinary bookstore,” Namjoon finishes for you, a hand at your elbow. You can’t help but lean into his touch, momentarily forgetting the rows and rows of shelves just a few steps away as Namjoon involuntarily steps a little closer.

“Ah, right. Well, first thing’s first: I’m Choi Min-jee. And this is my bookstore,” she gestures to the endless rows of bookshelves, and you wonder for a moment how all of these can fit in the building. It looks so much smaller from the outside.

Min-jee motions for you to follow her, and she leads the two of you to the nearest bookshelf. “These books range in languages and age, you never know what you might find. This shop has been in my family for five generations now - we’ve collected our fair share of books and other antique items.” With a little wink, she steps back. “Take your time, and let me know if you have any questions. Oh, and the upstairs is open now.”

Namjoon perks up at this, looking over from where he’d pulled a book off the shelf. “Really? We’ll have to look up there!”

“Please do! I’m off to practice piano.” With that, she whisks away, leaving you to your own devices.

You stare after her in awe, mouth slightly ajar. It makes Namjoon chuckle quietly, he must know the feeling.

“I wanna be her when I grow up,” you whisper, earning a louder chuckle from the man.

“Same.” Namjoon heads deeper into the shelves, and you follow after him. He glances back at you over his shoulder. “This is my favorite place.”

“I take it you’re a regular?” You ask, eyes catching on a bright blue book with frayed binding. Pausing, you ease it from its spot. “Hm… ‘The Cottage by the Sea’.” You run my hand over the shiny inlay, a seashell glinting up at you. “Why do I feel like I just entered the world of ‘Little Women’?”

Namjoon snorts, wandering back over to you and gazing down at the book. He grabs the one that occupied the spot next to it on the shelf, the deep red absorbing in all the surrounding light. “You’re definitely Jo.”

“Really?” You ask, gently flipping through the first few pages and trying to find a publish date. “I always thought that I was more of an Amy.”

Namjoon looks appalled, tearing his eyes away from his book. “What? No. In what world are you Amy?”

“Hey! Don’t act like she’s a bad person,” You whine, bringing the book close to your chest. “She was just...trying to survive.”

Huffing loudly and obnoxiously, Namjoon heads over to the other aisle, peeking at you through the gaps in the shelf. “She got everything she ever wanted, without hardly having to ask for it. Are you telling me that you have everything you ever wanted?”

There’s a skylight above you, allowing the lazy afternoon sun to filter in and play with the lighter tones in Namjoon’s hair. He looks at you with his ferociously focused gaze, something that you had never squirmed under before but now find your cheeks burning as he doesn’t look away.

You sigh contentedly. “More or less. Look at me, I’m surrounded by books.”

Namjoon gets closer to the shelves, leaning down to be eye-level with you through the shelves. “So what’s missing?”

“Hmm?” You hum, getting a little lost as music starts up somewhere. You realize with a start that this must be what Min-jee meant by practicing piano, as the soft sound comes from somewhere hidden.

There’s a little smile on Namjoon’s face, just enough for a dimple to appear. “You said more or less. What are you missing still?”

Edging a little closer and nearly closing your eyes at the smell of leather, you’re tempted to reach through the shelf and poke at the little indent in his cheek. “Just your glasses, I think. I love it when you wear your glasses.”

The statement takes him by surprise, Namjoon’s dragon-like gaze dropping and a flush taking over his features before he steps back. “Hmph.” With that, he continues down the aisle, the red book still in his hands and the blue in yours. “I still think you would be Jo, though.”

“Why?”

The two of you match footsteps, languidly walking along the seemingly endless rows. You catch glimpses of him through the books, a soft dimpled smile on his face as he looks down at his feet. It’s enough to make your coy smile grow, and you clutch the book tighter to your chest.

Finally, Namjoon comes to a stop as another book catches his eye. You take the opportunity to round the corner and enter the aisle he stands in, feet carrying you closer to him. Just as you’re about to reach his side, he speaks.

“Jo is...well, for one, she’s a dreamer. And we both know you’ve got a lot of dreams in that head of yours.” He taps your forehead for emphasis, side-smile growing when you scowl. “But she’s a realistic dreamer. You’ve given up a lot for your dreams, but I believe that you’d leave it all behind if someone you loved was in need of you.”

You blink, unprepared for the genuine compliment.

“And,” Namjoon says breathily, sliding the book back into its place and turning on his heel to walk away. “You two share a tendency to be oblivious to others feelings for you.”

He keeps walking, leaving you to become a sputtering mess before launching yourself after him. “I- we what?!” You all but screech, wincing as you sound twice as loud in the empty shop. “I am not oblivious-”

With a triumphant smirk, Namjoon heads down a little slope that leads toward a sitting area. “Be honest with yourself. You wouldn’t have had any idea about the pact or anything if Jungkook hadn’t spilled it.”

“But that’s not my fault!” You defend, glaring defiantly at his back. “You guys had that under lock and key!”

Diving into another row, Namjoon looks contemplative. “Ok, that may be true. But tell me the truth: did you ever once suspect that...I don’t know, there might be something more going on? Even just once?”

You stand out in the main walkway still, frozen by his question. “Er…” Pausing to think, you squint down at the book still in your hands.

Of course there were moments that had your heart pumping a little faster and a blush rising to your cheeks. Movie nights always meant some form of cuddling, but you quickly just assumed that it was all part of the friendship. Good morning texts that made you sink back into your pillows with a lazy smile, or the little facts that one of the boys would remember about you always made you stop and wonder.

But you never actually entertained the idea. It all seemed too…

“Unrealistic,” you mumble aloud. When Namjoon looks at you quizzically, you walk down a few rows until something catches your eye. You delight in the fact that now he’s following you. “I guess I had little moments where I wondered, but it just seemed like wishful thinking.”

Stopping near the end of the row and looking up at the top shelf, you wiggle on your tip-toes trying to grab a book. Your fingers barely graze the spine of the book before a warm presence overshadows you and Namjoon’s fingers ghost over your own before tugging the brown book from its spot. Still pressed against your back, his light breathing makes the hair on the back of your neck tingle as he lowers the book into your waiting hands.

“Moments like this?” He whispers, hands coming to rest just above your hips.

Suddenly, you recall a moment from months before, when you’d been in a similar situation. The boys had invited you over for some breakfast on one of their rare morning’s off. You’d wanted some cereal, only to find the bowls on the very top shelf. Namjoon had come to your rescue, pulling the exact same move before awkwardly pausing and looking as though he’d wanted to say something. He hadn’t, and instead rushed out of the kitchen before you could even utter a ‘thank you’.

Turning around in his grasp, you can see that he wears a similar expression as before. This time, however, he looks determined to say whatever comes to mind.

With a quiet voice you whisper, “Who in their right mind puts bowls on the top shelf?”

Namjoon’s grip on your hips tightens as he throws his head back and laughs, the kind of laugh that sinks right into your bones. All you can do is watch him, feeling like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him. Perhaps it’s the first time you’ve ever allowed yourself to look freely.

“Ah, so you did notice,” he whispers back. “You acted like nothing happened, so I figured I was in the clear.”

With a roll of your eyes, you’re stepping out of his grasp and taking a look down at the new book in your hand. “With you, Mr. Kim, we’re never in the clear.”

He lets out a low hiss, but lets you walk away. Not like you realize he’s not following you anymore, you’re idly wandering around while thumbing through the mystery novel. It looks like it might be an original copy from one of your favorite authors. One that passed away in the 1950’s, but still stands out among the countless authors that have come after them.

You’ve made it down to the small sitting area, where a large fireplace is crackling.

“Huh,” you smile. As if this place couldn’t get any better. Plopping down on the couch, you let out a sigh at how the cushions sink and welcome you into their warm embrace. Setting the blue book off to the side, you open up the brown one and begin to read.

You’ve nearly completed the first chapter - knees tucked to your chest as you lean against the arm of the couch - when you hear footsteps approaching.

Expecting it to be Namjoon, you glance over your shoulder with a smile. It’s Min-jee, who returns the smile with a knowing look. You listen closely and realize that her piano practice must be over. Classical music plays over the speakers in the shop instead.

“Namjoon’s gone upstairs,” she explains, coming to adjust something in the fireplace. “He said something about finding an item for his studio.”

You close the book softly, stretching before sitting up straight. “What’s upstairs? More books?”

“No, we’ve expanded our antique selection, there’s an assortment of desks and chairs up there, among other things.”

Making an ‘o’ with your mouth, you get up. “This place is amazing, by the way.” You hold up the brown book with an excited expression. “I found this - I think it’s an original! How much is it?”

Min-jee makes her way over to you, smiling softly as she recognizes the book. “You’re a fan of this author too, huh? My grandad used to read these to me back before I had to start running the shop.” She offers you a fond look. “Oh, and Namjoon told me to put whatever you like on his tab. So don’t worry about it. Take the book.”

She must notice your shock, because she places a comforting hand on your shoulder and squeezes it gently. “He also told me that you might be hesitant to get anything because of that. But honestly, get it. And ‘The Cottage by the Sea’. That’s one of my favorites, actually.” Min-jee nods at the blue book with its golden seashell.

“Ah, he knows me too well,” you sigh. “This might be silly to ask, but...do you think it’s alright? You know, to just get them?”

Min-jee, to your eternal gratitude, doesn’t laugh at your question. Instead, she sees right through you, to the worry in your heart. The last thing you want is to take advantage of any of the boys. “It would make him happy,” she responds, watching your reaction carefully. You immediately let out a sigh of relief, nodding and picking up the books.

“Alright,” you concede. “I’ll get them, then.”

“Great! I’ll take them up front and hold them for you, if you’d like.”

“That’s perfect.”

While she whisks away your books, you follow after her until you reach the staircase. She nods encouragingly, and you head up.

Clearing the stairs, it doesn’t take long to locate Namjoon. He’s standing in front of a large wardrobe, inspecting every inch of it. The sight makes you smile, enjoying the way he’s chewing on the inside of the cheek.

“Don’t tell me that’s what you’re getting for the studio,” you drawl, making your way toward him. He looks back at you, a wide smile interrupting his cheek chewing.

“I mean...no, but look at it!” He exclaims. “It’s beautiful, isn't it? Honestly, if I moved some things around, I could probably make it fit.”

You reach the wardrobe, marveling at the expert craftsmanship. “It’s gorgeous. But what would you even put in it? It’s not like you take all of your coats to the studio. And you want your trophies to be visible, don’t you?”

This thing must weigh a ton, the wood is thick and the hinges smooth. “Hmm...no, but I can think of something else I could hide away in here.” The way Namjoon glances over at you with a sly grin makes you stumble back, red rushing to your cheeks as you suddenly become preoccupied with a very old typewriter.

“What would that be?” You venture, running your fingers over the keyboard. You’re waiting for his answer, which you’re sure will be a single word - you. However, just as he’s opening his mouth and looking like he’s garnering the courage to say it, the creaky staircase announces someone’s arrival.

At first you think nothing of it, but Min-jee’s voice is loud. Loud enough that you know she’s trying to be heard.

“I told you, we don’t sell anything BTS related in this store.” She says, and you and Namjoon share a puzzled look.

A couple of voices respond, but one in particular stands out as she raises her voice. “I swear, I saw Kim Namjoon walking around in here just a few minutes ago!”

Their footsteps are growing closer, and you suddenly realize that this is Min-jee’s way of warning you two.

Rushing over to Namjoon’s side, you look around frantically. “Is there another way out?” You whisper. Clearly the staircase is blocked at the moment. When he shakes his head, you’re about ready to suggest causing a distraction but he suddenly gasps.

Quickly and quietly, he’s swinging open the wardrobe and nudging you inside, quickly following. You raise your eyebrows, mouth opening to ask him just how this is going to help anything, but he allows the door to swing shut and presses a hand against your mouth.

Back pressed against the back of the wardrobe and Namjoon looming over you, the two of you hardly dare to breathe as you strain to listen to what’s going on outside.

“I’m pretty sure I would know if he was in my shop,” Min-jee is saying, sounding much closer now. “And right now the upstairs is off-limits, so please-”

“Look, I know I must sound crazy, but I’m absolutely positive that I saw him in here. I was just outside and he went up the stairs! And now you expect me to believe what you’re saying?”

You keep your eyes trained on the thin opening where light is streaming in, trying to see what’s going on. Namjoon, however, shuffles a little closer, hand slipping from your mouth and staring down at you. He braces his hands on either side of your head, needing to bend over a little bit due to the small space.

“For the last time,” Min-jee defends, “the upstairs portion of this shop is closed. As you can tell, nobody is up here besides us. If you wish to continue this conversation, I would simply ask that we do it downstairs.”

You bite your lip, looking up at Namjoon and about to whisper something about how Min-jee deserves a raise. The words die on your tongue, however, when you finally catch sight of him.

Namjoon is slouching a bit, and you realize that his hands are on either side of your head. His hair is slightly mussed, from what you’re unsure. However, that’s not what has your breath catching in your throat.

He’s looking down at you in a way that suddenly makes you aware of just how small the wardrobe is, and has you mentally cursing yourself for coming up here in the first place. Namjoon is looking at you, looking at you in a way that you immediately recognize.

Like it’s the first time he’s allowed himself to.

You watch the way his eyes follow the way your throat constricts as you swallow, the way they trace the slope of your nose and the dip above your lip.

The voices fade away as Namjoon’s fingers feather through your hair, light enough to make your heart melt. He does so slowly, eyes reading your own in order to see if he’s somehow crossed a line that he shouldn’t have.

You, however, are sick of all these dumb lines and boundaries that have been set. Somehow, Namjoon must see that, because he’s opening his mouth and whispering out what he’s been thinking this entire time.

“You,” he mumbles as he watches the strand of hair he tucks behind your ear. Almost as though to verify that this is real, that it’s actually happening. “I’d tuck you away in here, and nobody would find us.”

Breathing has become impossible at this point.

“No prying eyes, no invisible lines to make sure I don’t cross,” he’s tracing the line of your jaw now, and you don’t miss the slight tremor in his hand. “Would you like that as much as I would?”

His eyes land on yours, eyebrows coming together as he awaits your answer. You would smile if you could, but you find that you’ve turned to putty at his touch. Instead, you slowly nod before breathing out, “Yes.”

That’s when you realize that Namjoon is just as tired of rules as you are. Namjoon, the dedicated leader that always makes sure everything is in order. Namjoon, who constantly forgets things like his phone and wallet, but never forgets to say please and thank you.

Namjoon, who leans impossibly closer until you’re closing your eyes for fear of going cross-eyed. His breath fans across your nose, acting as your only warning before his lips find yours.

Light as a feather against your mouth, Namjoon kisses you.

As you sigh against his lips, you suddenly understand why kissing was prohibited. Because right now, all that you can think of - every breath, every heartbeat - it’s all saying the same thing.

Namjoon.

Just as your hands find their way to his chest and bunching up the fabric, he’s jumping back with a gasp and stumbling through the door of the wardrobe. You see his wide eyes, but you’re too busy standing there completely frozen and praying that nobody is up here still.

He looks around frantically, but looks at you with utter horror as the same voice as before pipes up from downstairs.

“See! I’m telling you that someone is up there-”

“Oh! Did you see that? I think I just saw him taking the emergency exit!” Min-jee retorts, and you can picture her frantically pointing out the window in an effort to distract the girls. “Hurry! He looked like he was running!”

The bell above the door chimes, excited voices fading as the group exits the shop. However, their timely exit does little to soothe the raging heartbeat pounding against your ribs.

“I- I’m not supposed to do that,” Namjoon reminds himself aloud. “Please, I’m so sorry-”

“They’re gone!” Min-jee calls out, poking her head up as she ascends the stairs. She spots you still standing in the wardrobe. “Oh, so that’s where you were hiding. Anyway, I’ve locked up the front, so we shouldn’t be having any more trouble with that.”

You can only offer her a weak smile, Namjoon still staring at you with that horrible, guilt-ridden expression, which you’re dying to erase.

“Thank you,” you say when Min-jee begins to notice the odd silence. “We’ll be down in a second, I think.”

Namjoon nods along, finally looking away to check the time. “Actually, we’ve got a reservation,” your stomach flips at the thought of sitting through an entire meal with his guilty apologies, “is there a way we can sneak out of here without being seen?”

Min-jee blinks, looking between the two of you but not saying anything. “Ok...um, yeah. The back alleyway should be clear, it’ll lead to the parking lot.”

Finally stepping out of the wardrobe, you look back at it with a glare.

“So much for Narnia,” you mumble, closing the door.

ˆˆˆˆ

Min-jee quickly places your books in a bag - Namjoon ends up getting the red one as well - and offers it to you with a smile. Automatically you reach out for it, but so does Namjoon. The second your hands meet you can’t help but jump, and the bag falls to the floor.

“Oh no,” you whimper out, feeling sorry for the old books. Before you can lean down to get them, Namjoon’s swooping them up and keeping a firm grip on the bag. He mumbles out a soft, “sorry” before following Min-jee toward the back exit.

The two of you thank her profusely for the day, and you promise that you’ll return soon. There’s no way you can leave a place like that alone for very long. Namjoon smiles for a moment, looking pleased that he picked a good place. However, once he catches your eye, he’s back to chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Slyly sneaking down down the alleyway, it’s quiet between the two of you. No matter how hard you pinch yourself, your thoughts keep zoning in on the way Namjoon’s lips felt on yours...the way he looked at you just before he leaned in...how perfect everything had been until he’d come to his senses-

You’ve made it to the car, and you click the unlock button, jumping back as it honks. Man, you’ve got to get out of your head.

Namjoon hurries to set the bag in the backseat before rushing to the driver’s side, opening the door up for you with significantly less flourish than before.

Knowing Namjoon, it’s eating him up alive. And there’s no way you’re about to let a kiss - something to celebrate, in your opinion - ruin the rest of this date.

Especially when it may very well be the only one you get.

“Namjoon,” you say, walking slowly toward him. His eyes jump up to yours, and you can already see that he’s hard at work trying to pretend like everything is fine.

“We’re going to be about an hour early for our reservation,” Namjoon admits, running a hand through his hair and immediately trying to fix it after. “I’m sorry for rushing you out of there, I wasn’t thinking straight. You can go back in, if you want. I’ll wait out here until you’re ready-”

“Namjoon.” He quits his rambling, red cheeks somehow turning redder as you stop before him. “I wanted you to kiss me.”

At this, he lets the door fall shut. “You...did?”

Wanting nothing more than to dispel the awkward tension, you laugh. “Of course I did! I’d be an idiot if I didn’t! So please...it’s nobody’s fault. So what, you broke a stupid rule-”

“And I’ve hurt the guys in the process of breaking that rule,” Namjoon explains, looking at you with clear, pained eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t me regretting kissing you because- w-well, that’s not the point!” Leaning back against the car, you follow suit just as a large stormcloud blocks out the sun. It’s going to rain soon.

“Namjoon, you’ve all found ways to skirt around the rules in some way,” you confess, remember Hobi’s sweet hand kiss and Taehyung’s forehead kiss. “Sure, you actually broke the rule, but nobody is going to hate you for it. Nobody. Least of all me.”

He leans his head back, closing his eyes as he lets out a long breath. “It’s just, we all agreed to give you enough space to make a clear decision if you felt like you wanted to make one at the end of all this,” he confesses, not seeing the way your eyes widen. Oh. “And I’ve completely screwed that up.”

Sighing, you squint as a fat raindrop lands on your nose. “Well, we’re on a date, aren’t we? People sometimes kiss- I mean, honestly, we could have done a lot worse-” Namjoon chokes on his spit at that. “But if you need something to blame, please don’t blame yourself. Because I love this date, and as far as I can tell, the kiss only made it better.”

He peeks one eye open at you. “Really?”

“Really.” You shrug. “And see? I really am Amy! I always get what I want!” You don’t add the fact that that wasn’t quite true with Hoseok or Taehyung. “If anything, blame the wardrobe. Wardrobes are wacky, anyways.”

Namjoon snorts, rolling his eyes. “Blame the wardrobe? Really?”

“Yeah! Sometimes they transport you to Narnia, sometimes they mess with your common sense,” you give him a pointed look, which he avoids. “So if the boys get all upset about it, just tell them it was the wardrobe. I’ll back you up on it.”

Finally, Namjoon laughs. Like, the annoying little hyena laugh that he hates but you secretly love. And when he looks back down at you and opens up the door, he doesn’t look so upset about it.

“Be honest, would you have rather gone to Narnia or been stuck in there with me?”

You feign annoyance. “Ugh, just get in the car.”

From the way your stomachs were rumbling and the rain was pouring, the two of you decided to bag the reservation. It was for some posh outdoor restaurant in Seoul that Namjoon pretended to be excited about.

Which is exactly how you ended up going through the McDonald’s drive thru and bringing it back to your place.

“Aren’t you on a diet or something?” You ask around your fries, eyes not leaving the television screen. The two of you had decided on Gone With the Wind, completely forgetting just how long it was.

Namjoon makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, taking a swig of his drink. “Yeah, something like that. Today’s my cheat day, though.”

“Aw, you decided to spend your cheat day with me?” You tease. Namjoon rolls his eyes, finally deciding that maybe you really are Amy from Little Women. However, he can’t fight the feeling that he’s the Laurie to your Jo.

Not that he’ll be telling you that anytime soon. He’s certainly done enough today.

“More like our date happened to fall on my cheat day,” he bites back. “And I heard that they have really good cheesecake at that restaurant we bailed on.”

You hesitate before taking another bite of your food. “Should we have gone? They probably would’ve given us our food to go if we didn’t want to sit under the umbrellas. I feel bad, you made reservations and everything.”

Namjoon shrugs. “No, this is way better.” He holds up his McFlurry for emphasis. “They even had the cheesecake McFlurry back in season! Coincidence?”

“I think not!”

You both chuckle before falling back into the companionable silence you’d been in before. Over the course of the drive back to Seoul, you’d taken your time, stopping at a handful of little parks along the way. Namjoon had imitated the ducks before realizing how silly he looked, then hiding behind his hands for a solid five minutes before he could look you in the eyes again. Overall, it had been calm and relaxing.

As you watch Scarlett O’Hara flirting it up with different suitors on the screen, you can’t help but wonder if that’s you.

Sure, Gina told you back at the haunted house to just enjoy it. Chances are it was all just a phase, anyways. There was all of this romantic tension between you and the boys that would naturally fade away as their curiosity diminished after their dates.

At least, that’s what you assumed. However you’re quickly coming to realize that you’re a little out of depth here.

“You alright over there?” Namjoon asks, pulling you from your thoughts. “You have your thinking face on.”

You blink. “I have a thinking face?”

“Of course,” Namjoon replies as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You gonna tell me what’s got you so stressed?”

“No,” you say a little too quickly. “I’m just...thinking about the movie.” Not entirely a lie.

You know he won’t push it if you don’t want to talk about it, but you take a little bit of enjoyment in the way his lip pouts out. “Alright, if you say so.”

Only a few more minutes pass before he speaks up again, sounding a little hesitant. “You know that this is a long movie…”

“Oh, should we end it here?” You ask, a little disappointed because you were just getting to one of your favorite parts. “You don’t need to feel like you have to stay-”

“No, not that. I’m gonna finish the movie. It’s just,” he wipes his fingers off on a spare napkin before scooting a little closer to you. “Long movies call for cuddling, don’t you think?”

You nearly choke on your saliva. “You- you, as in Kim Namjoon, want to cuddle? You’re into cuddling?”

He laughs, tugging on your arm until you give in and collapse against his side. You hope that your content sigh isn’t too noticeable when he drapes an arm around your shoulder. “It just depends sometimes. But yes, I am. At the appropriate times.”

“Ah, and long movies-”

“Are the epitome of the appropriate time,” he explains, lightly pinching your arm when you let out a wry laugh.

“Hey!” You cry out, only to be shushed by him.

“Shhh, I’m trying to watch this.”

You just can’t find it in you to be annoyed.

You’re asleep before the film is over, despite the fact that the sun barely went down. Something about having a full stomach and leaning your head on Namjoon’s shoulder just lulled you right to sleep.

You stir a little when Namjoon fidgets, pulling his phone out to call someone. His voice is deep and quiet, trying not to wake you.

“Hey, can you pick me up now?”

Despite your half-asleep state, you crack a smile. It’s quiet, but you can hear a familiar voice on the other side of the phone.

“Yeah, I’m close to there right now. Be there in a couple minutes. You’re at her apartment, right?”

“Thanks. Yeah, she’s conked out on the couch.”

There’s a laugh ringing through the phone. “Cute. Make sure she rests up, she’ll need it for our date next week.”

Namjoon sighs, not quite annoyed but not exactly pleased, either. “Yah, just hurry over.” He pauses for a moment. “Do you think I should wake her up to say goodbye?”

“Your call. But I mean, it’s not like you’re gonna give her a kiss goodbye. If she’s that tired, I’d just let her sleep.”

Your cheeks involuntarily turn red, and you can only imagine the way Namjoon looks right now. It’s his silence that gives him away.

“Hyung...what-”

“Text me when you get here,” Namjoon says, and suddenly the call ends.

Oh, he’s in for it tonight.

Stretching and trying to look like you totally weren’t just eavesdropping, you crack open your eyes to see Namjoon looking down at you with an amused expression.

“I would tell you that you missed the ending, but something tells me you’ve seen it before,” he drawls.

You chuckle breathily, yawning as you stretch your arms over your head. “Yeah, a couple of times.”

“I’m about to head out,” Namjoon begins, back to chewing on the inside of his cheek. “But thank you for going out with me. I seriously...it was just the best.” He smiles softly, and you wish you could have a picture of it.

Instead, you opt for nuzzling back into his side. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one thanking you? It was great, Namjoon-ah. I’ll have to read that book you got some time.”

He hums, returning the sentiment. “Yeah, we’ll do a book swap.” His phone lights up, but before you can see who it’s from, he’s snatching it up and jumping up from the couch. “They’re here.”

It’s tempting to not resort to begging him to stay a little longer - if only for the sake of his warmth which is quickly fading as he retreats to the door. However, you only pad after him, stopping him before he reaches the door.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his chest. “Tell everyone I say hello.”

“I will.” And with a rush of cool air, he’s out the door.

Gone, leaving you to stare blankly and wonder what just happened today.

And worse yet, what’s yet to come.

main masterlist

again, I’d love to hear from you! ESPECIALLY BECAUSE THINGS ARE ESCALATING!! thoughts, what you liked, what you didn’t, what’s been your fav so far...general screaming, it’s all great. THANK YOU!!!

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ever-is-typing · 3 years

Note

Since I saw you do skins hdc can I request own for Desolate sand pleeeaaase 😗

note: yessssssss desolate sand :sobbing: legit so angry at myself for not being into the game when he was available he's so awesome >:(

🪙⏳ Desolate Sand!Andrew (Grave Keeper)⏳🪙 relationship headcanons

• the gold rush inspired many people to travel west-

• and you were certainly no exception.

• be it to chase a dream or to escape the dreariness of everyday life, you made the journey for the opportunity of a lifetime!

• though, your "opportunity" was cut rather short when Marshall- the wealthiest gold digger in the west- was murdered,,,

• and you were considered a suspect in aforementioned murder,,,

• then again, you weren't the only suspect in this ordeal.

• there were a variety of interesting characters involved- a bounty hunter, a western tycoon...

• and a mysterious masked stranger, just to name a few.

• like you, he wasn't from this small western town- no one knew where he was from, really

• either way, though, you were both outsiders. but that was about where the similarities ended

• this stranger was cloaked in secrecy. he covered his face with a dark bandana, but that didn't help to conceal the shocking red tint of his eyes or the stark whiteness of his hair.

• you were taken aback by his features at first, but you didn't find them as strange as the golden shovel he carried on his person at all times

• like what do you need a shovel for in the wild west bro that's kinda ಠ_ಠ ಠ_ಠ ಠ_ಠ

• he didn't have a name- or, rather, he never told it to anyone. so, when they're not calling him a "demon" because of his unusual appearance, the townsfolk took to calling him "Desolate Sand" for his solemn and enigmatic nature

• and, unlike everyone else involved in the crime, he didn't seem to care too much for money, which was practically unthinkable

• so yeah you were definitely intrigued by Desolate Sand from the start

• he, on the other hand, wasn't too keen on making friends. in his eyes, the westerners were all corrupt... putting their faith in gold coins instead of God, so they weren't worth his time

• but, when he sees you from the other side of the bar one day, fiddling with your empty glass, something about you stands out as different

• maybe it's the worry in your expression? the unspoken plea of innocence in your wide eyes? something about it just seemed so human...

• and, being a suspect of murder, he saw it as a breath of fresh air and rationale. you weren't like these other suspects, with their petty obsession for wealth and status.

• you were a person of reason, like him. a humble survivor of life, just trying to deliver God's justice in your own way...

• or, at least, he hoped so when he slid down into the seat next to you.

• "You look like you could use another drink, dollface."

• as he gestures for the bartender to fill your glass with the alcohol of your choice, you couldn't help but feel the corner of your thoughtful frown tug up into a smile

• "Dollface? That's awfully flattering for someone you don't even know." you would snort cheekily, looking him up and down. "Anything complimentary I should be calling you, stranger?"

• "The folks in these parts have taken to calling me Desolate Sand," he would respond, tipping his hat respectfully. "But something tells me you already knew that."

• you would nod, sipping on your drink in silence. at this point in the investigation, there wasn't anyone who didn't know about this mysterious man.

• "Well then, Mr. Desolate Sand, you can call me Y/N. Y/N L/N."

• "Charmed, Y/N L/N."

• "Likewise."

• from then on, you two would keep meeting at that spot in the bar- you spent most of your time together talking about your dreams for the future and your goals by travelling west

• or, at least, you did. Desolate Sand was rather reserved about his past, but he was more than happy to listen to you talk about yours. what a gentleman (¬‿¬)

• and, with every meeting you had, the both of you began to fall in love without even really noticing at first...

• ...which caused more worry to Desolate Sand than it did to you. you were a kind soul, a good person. you didn't deserve to be with a filthy sinner like him.

• besides, he's done some pretty horrible things in his life...

•...like killing Marshall-

• omg plot twist!! (o‿o)

• so, when you finally admitted your feelings to him and he hit you with that information, it was like a punch to the gut.

• up until this point, you had really grown to trust him- but this confession just felt like the grossest betrayal possible. what other horrible secrets was he keeping from you?

• so, not wanting to find out, you ran away.

• of course, Desolate Sand had his reasons for bringing that sickening man Marshall to his end. reasons he would never want to get you involved in.

• his deliverance of justice shouldn't come at the cost of a good heart like yours- so, even if it hurt, scaring you away from him was the safest option

• though, of course, that backfired on him once the infamous bounty hunter Black Rose got her hands on you.

• she was rather livid when she heard that someone else had gotten to Marshall before her-

• he was always at the top of her hit list, and she was expecting to draw a pretty penny out of his death before someone else had stolen the kill.

• turns out pretending to be a bartender is a great way to eavesdrop for information- and, seeing two of her fellow murder suspects chatting so pleasantly at the bar was quite intriguing to her.

• and how convenient that the mysterious stranger confessed to murder within earshot (even though she was already spying on you guys)!!

• "So, tell me, L/N," she cooed, pressing her cold black pistol to the side of your head. "Do you think that killing Mr. Desolate Sand will be enough for me to collect my bounty, or no? Perhaps I should take you out, too, just to compensate for all of the trouble your little lover has caused me-"

• "You get your filthy fuckin' hands off of them right now."

• even though he was far enough away from you that you could only see his silhouette, the rage in his eyes burned brightly enough that he was practically a beacon of raw emotion

• despite his obvious anger, though, Desolate Sand still leveled his revolver at her head with the confidence of someone who's shot it before

• and, though you were relieved to see him come to your aid, that remaining fact still scared you. the man you had grown to love had still killed a man.

• "So, what's it going to be, Desolate Sand?" Black Rose hollered. "You gonna turn yourself over to me so that I can collect my coin, or is pretty little Y/N here gonna have to die first?"

• Desolate Sand inwardly scoffed. it was always about coin in the west...

• the two stood in a silent stalemate for a while. neither moved a single inch out of place...

•...and that was starting to get on your nerves.

• so, you directed all of that pent up frustration into stabbing Black Rose in the gut with your elbow!

• she was actually caught quite off guard, so much so that she stumbled backwards and fumbled with the trigger of her gun-

• and suddenly, BANG.

•...though Desolate Sand's gun was the only one with one less bullet.

• Black Rose howled in pain and clutched her leg, red pooling around the flesh the bullet tore through

• you stumbled back, dazed by the sight, right into Desolate Sand's arms.

• you were at a loss for words- you didn't even know whether to thank him or apologize.

• though the urgency in his eyes told you right away that you had time for neither

• "Y/N, we don't have a lot of time here. The townsfolk will be out here any minute once they hear this broad screaming. She'll say we tried to kill her, so I'm going to get you onto a horse and send you away while I take care of all this-"

• you were very quick to shut him up with a kiss

• he was shocked for a moment, but he found himself slowly melting into it- you tasted absolutely heavenly.

• when you two regretfully pulled away for air, you told him very passionately that you weren't just going to leave him all alone.

• you'd take your hands in his, rubbing your thumbs over his hard leather gloves...

• "Desolate Sand, I... I know you lead a pretty intense life, but... that doesn't mean you have to live it alone. Neither of us do. I love you, and I'm not ready to leave you behind yet."

• he chuckled down at you. "Funny. I was about to say the exact same thing, doll."

• and so, you both made your escape, travelling from town to town in search of a quiet place to settle down

•...though that was quite hard with all of the wanted posters with your faces on them

• yeahhhhhh you're both kind of wanted criminals now I forgot to mention that sorry

• (Well, Desolate Sand more so than you. You're labelled as an "accomplice," and they just never seem to get your nose right on the posters. ;0)

• after everything, Desolate Sand agreed to deliver his justice in a less morbid fashion. despite everything you've faced in the past/will face in the future, you're both just happy to be at each others sides- and no amount of gold could ever compare to the love that you two share. ♡

"Y/N, you've got something these westerners and I lack- a good heart. You constantly prove to be a breath of fresh air in these lawless lands... don't ever change, darling. I'll protect you with my life."

-Desolate Sand!Andrew Kreiss 🕳🕳

#idv #identity v #idv x reader #identity v x reader #idv headcanons #idv scenarios #idv skin headcannons #idv andrew #idv grave keeper

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verai-marcel · 3 years

Text

Of Dragons and Love (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Arthur didn't want to come to Strawberry, didn't want to help a certain sniveling rat escape his cell. So he decides to explore the town instead and runs into a mysterious woman whom he can't let go.

Author’s Notes: I’m gonna take a moment and lean hard on my heritage to pull some inspiration from an old Cantonese opera. And we're gonna leave Micah in his cell because nuts to that guy. So pretend this takes place in chapter two when Arthur was supposed to go rescue him, but decided to do a side quest instead. This was written for the RDR Mini Bang! @rdrbigbang

Tags: Arthur x F!Reader, spoilers, Chinese mythology-inspired, alternate timeline, mild exophilia, insta-love, magic, smut, HEA

Word Count: 6,378

Accompanying Artwork: @danger-r-98-5 has made some wonderful art for this fic!

AO3 Link is here.

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

Arthur stepped into the small town of Strawberry and immediately wanted to turn around. He could pretend Micah was dead. He could just bide his time and wait for him to hang.

As he rode through the small town, he passed the small jail and kept going to the visitor's center. Seeing the map of the nearby area tacked onto the wall next to the entrance, he hitched his horse and walked over to take a better look.

"Welcome to Strawberry, good sir!"

Arthur flicked a tired glance at the boisterous man before continuing his casual perusal of the map, waiting to see if he would leave. When the man remained beside him, he sighed, exasperated.

"Hullo," he said without looking at the other man.

"Are you here for business or pleasure?"

"Uh, just passin' through." It sure as hell wasn't for pleasure, and his business was his own.

"Ah, I see. Well, please keep us in mind if you ever want to spend a day relaxing in our lovely town. This hotel is the coziest in West Elizabeth," the man boasted, gesturing behind him. "And the scenic Mount Shann and Owanjila Dam aren't too far from here."

"Alright."

"And Big Valley, just past the mountains, is a beautiful place to hunt and camp."

"Uh huh."

When Arthur continued to look at the map without any further inclination towards interacting with him, the man gave up on his sales pitch. "Well, I'll be inside if you have any questions."

"Ayup."

Finally alone, Arthur focused on the path that would take him to Owanjila. He'd been meaning to do a bit of fishing and commune with nature. Seemed like as good a place as any.

Anything to postpone the reason he came here.

***

You weren't sure how you lived so long, not knowing what you were. You had been living with your mother for two decades, not knowing who your father was. Your mother didn't talk about him, and the one time you asked, she had simply said one thing.

"He disappeared."

You didn't know what that meant exactly, and she did not explain.

Until one day, on your twentieth birthday, he appeared. A large, scary looking man came to your door. Your mother paled and tried not to react, but when he held out a necklace and told her how sorry he was for leaving her alone, she broke down and cried.

You found out that when she was young, your mother lived in a small house by a waterfall that fed a large lake. There was a growing town not too far from there, where she worked as a waitress.

One day, on the other side of the lake, a group of Chinese workers made camp as they worked on the railway that was coming through town. They were not welcomed in the town by most people, but your mother took pity on them and sold them food and other groceries, for a delivery fee.

Somehow, your father had caught her eye, and they developed a secret relationship. When her parents discovered the love letter your father had written to your mother, she was kicked out of the house, without anything of hers to take with her. When your mother had gone to the camp to look for your father, it had been abandoned, the workers having left hours earlier to the next site.

Broken hearted, your mother had thrown the necklace he had gifted her into the lake and left town, moving to Strawberry and giving birth to you. You had grown up here, made friends, had a few short dalliances with boys here while you grew up.

Strawberry was a small town, but there was a creek running through it, and when you had free time, which was not often these days, you loved to follow the creek to a waterfall and watch the water. You always felt an affinity with the water, felt like it always pulled at your very soul. You had learned how to swim with ease; your mother had said you were like a fish.

Your father explained why he had left, and why he had finally come back.

"I am a Dragon," he had said. "Great-great grand-nephew of the Dragon King of the North Sea."

He was an immortal creature, drawn to the belief of his people in a foreign land, looking for something to comfort them while they worked in dangerous conditions to make money to send home to their families. He protected them, guided them, and thus, had to follow where they went. When the camp left suddenly, he had no time to say goodbye and was nearly dragged away, the pull of his people’s belief taking him with them.

But now he was free, his people having finished their jobs. They had dispersed, either leaving for China or moving to San Francisco, where other Dragon Gods held domain and took over the belief of his former followers. So he started looking for his long lost love, who still cared for him deep in her heart, and traced the thread of emotion leading back to her.

He promised to take care of you and your mother from now on, and he made good on his promise. For the past five years, he had worked alongside the two of you, making your small farm plot healthy and fertile.

It helped that he could make the sky rain whenever you needed it.

He had also trained you in your small powers. Because you had been untrained for so long, your powers were weak, but over time, and with practice, they grew steadily stronger. You could breathe underwater. You could swim faster than humanly possible. And while you couldn't transform into a dragon, your hair became teal and your skin could shift into a bluish-grey tint. It was a bit unsettling the first time you did it in the mirror.

But your most favorite power of all was the ability to shape nearby water to your will. At first, you could only move a small amount of water in a mug. But over time, you could move water in pitchers, basins, buckets, barrels, and even water troughs for animals.

At this point, if you entered a pond, you could easily create ripples and small waves just by focusing on your energy and sending it outwards from you.

Five years had passed since he had come back, and you had learned so much. Your life was so peaceful now that it came as no surprise when your parents announced that they wanted to move back to their hometown. Of course something had to change; that was the only constant in life, after all.

But you didn’t want to leave. You loved Strawberry. This was your home.

Your father had let out a breath, then smiled, much to your surprise.

“Owanjila does not have a spirit to guard it, since it’s a new body of water. Perhaps… you can become its guardian.”

“But I’m half-human,” you had said.

“So is Owanjila,” he said.

You nodded and smiled. Now you knew why he had been training you so hard all these years.

***

Arthur was pleasantly relaxed for the first time in a long time. He had spent all day fishing and gathering herbs after he set up a small campsite tucked away in the thicker part of the forest. It was quiet on this side of the lake, since all the travelers would go across the dam to take in the scenery. He was glad he picked a spot that was farthest from, for he didn’t have the energy to even say hello.

With a couple of large fish, he made his way back to his campsite, cooked up a fine meal with his freshly picked herbs, and spent some time writing and drawing before looking up at the stars before he fell asleep, the campfire quietly dying as his snores melded with the rest of the night.

***

It had been three months since your parents had left you here. They had sold the small farm and used the money to help you fix up a small abandoned fishing cabin out here on the far side of the lake, where you could hunt and gather on your own, trading furs and fish in town. Ever since you had become the guardian, the fish had spawned much more frequently and grew faster than normal, keeping you well fed. You figured it was a side-effect of the lake having a guardian spirit now.

You looked at your hands; yesterday, you had tripped on a step as you walked back from town, getting some small cuts on the palms of your hands as they had scraped against the gravel. Today, they had healed so quickly that there were no scars; you had never healed so quickly before. You wondered if your powers were growing and had walked into town earlier today to send a letter to your folks, letting them know what had happened.

It was late; the moon was high in the sky, and as bright as the electric lights in St Denis. You were roused from your sleep by the pull of the moon, and knew that it was time.

You took off your clothes and set them on your front porch. Walking to the water’s edge, you slipped into the water without a sound, the liquid embracing you as if you were an old friend.

“Hello, Owanjila,” you whispered as you walked deeper and deeper until you were completely submerged. Then you transformed, your skin turning bluish-grey, your hair shifting to a beautiful teal, and your gills appearing near your collarbone. You kicked your legs and swam gracefully through the water, spinning and twirling as you joyfully moved through the water as easily as you could walk on land.

Once you reached the middle of the lake, you bolted upwards, your legs kicking in unison with such speed and power that you broke the surface easily, your body shooting into the air. You let out a whoop of excitement, for it was only during full moons that you could fly this high out of the water; you had certainly tried other times. For a moment, the starry sky and the bright moon seemed impossibly close, and you held out your hands as if you could gather them all up and hold them tight forever.

Flipping backwards, you extended your hands in front of you and dove back into the water with barely a splash.

***

“Huh, whuzzah,” Arthur muttered as he was jolted awake by the sound of someone yelling. Immediately on alert, Arthur reached for his pistol and carefully made his way out of the tent, looking around. Seeing nothing but trees and rocks after circling his campsite twice, he was about to go back into his tent.

Another yell echoed through the trees. It didn’t sound like anyone in danger, more like… elation?

His curiosity piqued, he quietly made his way towards the lake, following the sounds of the water sloshing around as if someone was swimming. Coming to the shoreline, he saw the full moon, reflected in the water, with ripples circling from the center of the reflection.

Unable to stop himself, Arthur found a nearby rock and climbed it to better see the center of the lake. Squatting down, he peered out at the water.

Something shot out of the water at breakneck speed, surprising him enough that he fell onto his ass.

For a split second, he saw everything clearly.

He saw her nude form, water glistening off her skin, the moon bathing her in a silvery light. He saw the look of ecstasy on her face as she looked up at the moon.

He saw her eyes as they met his.

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat.

Then she was gone, diving back into the water like an arrow, hardly disturbing the surface.

Sitting up, he crawled to the edge of the rock and peered at the spot, waiting for her to return. Part of him wondered if he had imagined it, and part of him hoped she was real. He had felt like he had seen something so evanescently ephemeral that his heart fluttered like a child seeing fireworks. He wanted to experience that sparkling feeling again and again.

When his knees ached and his joints complained, he finally gave up, climbed off the rock, and returned to his tent. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but it didn’t come quickly as his heart continued to race. When he finally managed to nod off, his dreams were filled with a mysterious woman with an expression so filled with euphoria that he could almost taste her joy.

***

You were mortified. A man was camping around your lake and you hadn’t noticed? Granted, you were in town most of the day trying to sell some rabbit pelts, and then you had written your letter at the post office since you had run out of ink and bought some at the general store and didn’t want to walk all the way back to your cabin.

But still, you hadn’t noticed. You supposed it was because he had no ill intent. It wasn’t that you could sense people, that wasn’t how your power worked; it was more you could feel out harmful intentions. People who came and went on the dam were usually harmless tourists and you took no notice of them. But occasionally that greedy mayor would come up here and consider building some cheap cabins out on the lake as tourist traps, and you would cause the lake to be extra choppy that day, splashing water on him if you were nearby. It was usually enough to change his mind.

You stayed at the bottom of the lake, waiting long enough before you slowly swam up again, moving towards the edge of the lake before you poked your head up from the water.

He was gone.

You sighed in relief and swam back to your cabin, looking around once more before getting out and back onto your porch. Grabbing your clothes, you got inside and dried off, thinking of the man’s shocked expression.

But what came to your mind most of all was that in the moonlight, you had managed to make eye contact. In that moment, your heart had pounded like you had seen something beautiful.

Despite your embarrassment at being caught naked and in your half-dragon form, you wanted to see him in the daylight. You wanted to find out who he was, and why your heart had finally moved after all these years.

***

Arthur came out of his tent, bleary eyed as he yawned. He hadn’t gotten a whole lot of sleep, but he was, for better or for worse, used to it. The sound of a crackling of a fire and the sight of a figure sitting with their back turned was also something he was used to.

Until he realized that the fire had gone out last night and he had come to this place alone. Reaching for his pistol, he stopped when he heard her speak.

“I mean you no harm.”

Arthur, suspicious, for people who had said that to him before often would turn around and shoot him, put a hand on his pistol, but left it in its holster. Coming out of his tent and rising to his full height, he walked around to face the woman at his campfire.

When she looked up at him, he felt like he was hit with an arrow.

Those same eyes from last night met his, and he felt like the whole world slowed and became silent. All he saw was her, and he didn’t care about anything else.

***

His eyes were beautiful, like gemstones sparkling in the morning light. His hair was tousled from sleep, but it made you think of him in bed next to you. You swallowed. Why were you thinking of waking up next to him? You barely knew him!

But you couldn’t ignore the heat in your veins as your eyes traveled down his body. His very tall, muscular body. Oh gods, you felt your heartbeat quicken as you suddenly had a mental image of him climbing over you, his naked body above yours, his big hands holding your hips as he thrust—

“Can I help you, miss?” the man finally asked, his voice rough from sleep. His voice was like whiskey, flowing smoothly over your body and making you burn with need. He swallowed, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down in his throat. Oh, to lick that sun-kissed skin…

You shook your head, both in answer to him and to clear the lustful images from your head. “I’m alright, I just wanted to share your campfire.”

***

“Oh?” Arthur asked, sitting down beside her to hide his body’s reaction to meeting her eyes. When he had met her gaze, he was hit hard with desire, the sudden image of her beneath him, legs spread, her expression of ecstasy for him and him alone.

For a brief moment, he wanted to take her, to guide her to the ground and thrust wildly inside of her like an animal.

But instead he reeled himself in; he wasn’t that kind of man. He didn’t even know why he had such a visceral reaction to her. All he knew was that she was sitting here with him now, and she was beautiful. When she turned away, he felt like he was suddenly lost, and wished for her to look at him once more with those mysterious eyes. He observed her as she poked the fire with a stick, wondering what she was thinking.

“So, uh, you live around here?” he asked, berating himself immediately for such an awkward question.

“I do, just down the shoreline,” she replied.

“Oh.”

She turned to meet his gaze, and he felt it once more. A pull, stronger than any he had ever known, as if she was hypnotizing him with just one look. Unable to stop himself, he leaned in closer, her lips beckoning him.

“What are you doing?” she asked curiously.

The spell broken, Arthur quickly leaned back and sputtered, “I, uh, I don’t know, to be honest.”

The woman smiled at him, and he felt his entire world light up with fireworks.

“What’s your name?”

“Arthur.”

“Nice to meet you, Arthur.”

She told him her name, and he repeated it just so he could say it out loud. He loved the way her name rolled off his tongue. He had shivered with desire from the way she had said her name.

“So you saw me last night,” she said after a few moments.

He smiled nervously as guilt wracked him. “Uh, yup. I’m sorry, I didn’ mean to peek.”

“It’s alright, I should’ve been more careful,” she said, a wry grin on her face. “Usually no one camps here.”

Silence stretched between them as Arthur wondered what he should say, if anything.

She brought up her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “And there’s not much to look at anyway,” she said self-deprecatingly.

“You were beautiful,” he blurted out suddenly. He couldn’t believe she’d think that. He wanted to burn the sight of her coming out of the water into his memories so he’d never forget.

She turned her head to look at him, and he felt the pull once more, but it was tinged with melancholy. It made his heart clench. He reached out and put an arm around her, pulling her into his chest, desperate to ease the pain. “Yer beautiful,” he repeated.

***

Surrounded by warmth, you sank into his chest and breathed in his scent. His natural musk, layered with balsam and leather, was soothing to you, made you feel safe and protected. No other man had affected you like this. Was this how your parents had fallen for each other? Was it an instant attraction?

You had been taught to follow your instincts, and something about this man made you want to keep him forever. To hold him tight and never let him go.

So you reached back out to him, wrapping your arms around his broad torso. Looking up at him, meeting his surprised expression, you leaned forward and kissed him. His lips were chapped but pliable as you pushed forward, pressing your body against his.

You were met with a startled grunt. He let you go and backed away, like a shy lady from an all too amorous man.

“Y-you barely know me,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Sorry,” you said, shrinking back on yourself. Maybe you misread him, maybe he was just saying you were beautiful to make you feel better. Maybe you were just lonely and wanted to connect with him, the first man who had made you feel something in years.

“Look,” he said, leaning forward again, “it’s not that I don’t want to, I just think, well, maybe we git to know each other a bit more first before, uh, well…” He trailed off, gesturing blandly.

You laughed. Of course. He was shy. Standing up, you reached out to him. “Will you stay a while? My cabin is small but it’ll protect you from the elements better than your tent. And it’ll be warmer at night too.”

Arthur stared at your hand for a moment before standing up on his own. “Alright. I’ll pack up first.”

***

Arthur wasn’t sure how he was convinced to stay in a cabin with a woman he hardly knew, but every time he met her eyes, everything else fell away and all he wanted was to be with her.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, maybe a few days, maybe weeks. But he had never been so content to just fish and hunt and spend time with his sweet lady. He learned about her parents, who had been small-time farmers near Strawberry before they moved to her mother’s hometown, leaving her to live on her own. When he had asked why, she had said it was because she loved it here and didn’t want to leave.

He understood why; after the first few days of just roaming the land, living off its bounty, he was quite content to just stay and forget his troubles. She would go into town and sell his furs and pelts, and when he wasn’t hunting, he would help upgrade her little cabin, fixing up small things here and there to make her more comfortable.

He had insisted on sleeping on his bedroll on the floor beside her bed, at least for now. He felt like he was working up the courage to bed her, even though she clearly had given him an open invitation to her bed.

Every night he thought about it.

And every night, he trudged to his bedroll and slept beside her bed like a faithful pet dog.

***

14 days had passed. The new moon would be out tonight, and you were itching to go for a swim.

But with Arthur here, you hesitated. He had seen you that first night, sure. But he hadn’t seen you clearly. He hadn’t seen your skin and hair color change, your gills at your collarbone, your preternaturally fast swimming.

As you stood at the end of your little fishing dock that was connected to the porch of your cabin, you sighed. Watching the setting sun streak its beautiful orange rays across the water, you internally debated if you should show him so you could freely act as the guardian once more. You had been feeling stifled as of late, only able to use your powers while he was out hunting, and only in secret in case he might come out of the forest at any given time.

“What’s the matter, darlin’?”

You smiled. He had started calling you his darling or his sweetheart after a week of gentle caresses as he walked by, or even a casual kiss on the cheek as you went into town on an errand. No matter how much he said it, you melted every time. It was endearing and charming to you, even though they were simple words. The way he said them, the love and care he put into those pet names, was everything you wanted to hear.

Turning to Arthur, you saw that he was dressed in his usual blue shirt and black ranch pants, looking concerned. Seeing the care he had for your well-being made you come to a decision. He deserved the truth of you.

“I need to show you something.”

***

Arthur swallowed as his sweet lady began to disrobe right there on the dock. He was shocked to a standstill, unable to move as he saw every inch of beautiful skin exposed to his view. His pants grew tight, his throat dry, and his internal instinct to protect surged through him.

“Darlin’, what’re you…”

He couldn’t utter another sound as he watched her usual skin shimmer and then shift to a blue-grey tint. Her hair became teal colored, and slits appeared above her collarbone.

“Gills,” she said as she pointed at them, shrugging shyly. “I’m a dragon spirit. Or half of one.”

Arthur could only nod in both shock and awe. He had suspected she was hiding something, but he would have never guessed it was something like this. He took in her form, human and yet not, familiar and yet bizarre. But still beautiful, wonderful, her.

“Do… do I disgust you?”

“No!” Arthur said, quickly taking two steps to stand in front of her. “Yer still the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

Seeing her smile shyly and look away, his need to assure her only grew stronger. “That why you could swim so good?” he asked, reaching up to caress her neck, right above her gills.

She nodded again.

“What’d you mean by half?” he asked, curious.

“My father, he was a dragon, the great-great grand nephew of the Dragon King of the North Sea.”

Arthur nodded. “Oh. Okay then.” He didn’t understand what that meant, but it sounded a bit important.

She tittered. “I don’t really know how important that is either,” she said, answering the unspoken question. “But I can swim real fast, breathe underwater, and I can control water a little bit,” she said, her excitement growing with each word. She turned to the water and put out her hand.

Ripples started to appear, and they grew into small waves, rolling across the surface of the lake.

She turned back to him, a happy glow to her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re not disgusted by me.”

“I’d never be,” he replied, pulling her into his arms. His gaze traveled along her face, admiring her hair color, her bluish-grey skin, and the gills at her neck, before looking at her smile, full of self-confidence. She was radiant and it made her all the more alluring.

“You’re beautiful, no matter what.”

***

This time when you kissed Arthur, he kissed you back, unafraid, bold, confident. He quickly took over, his fingers gripping the back of your head as he pulled your body closer to his. You felt the rough fabric of his shirt sliding along your sensitive nipples and moaned softly.

He suddenly wrapped one arm around your waist and one around your ass before picking you up with ease.

“I need you darlin’,” he murmured before turning from the dock and walking determinedly towards your cabin. He maneuvered you inside and shut the door, not wanting any interruptions. Laying you down on the bed, he stepped away to light the lantern before returning to you, taking off his hat and flinging it aside.

You shifted back to your human colors, your gills disappearing.

“Yer magical,” Arthur whispered before resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes, a wry grin on his face. You kissed him back, smiling in return, acknowledging his silly word choice and accepting his sentiment for what it was: a compliment. He shared your gaze for a few moments before kissing you back as he unbuttoned his shirt, leaving it open while he climbed over you. You could feel his impatience as he pressed his bare chest against yours, his kisses heating up and becoming demanding.

“Arthur,” you breathed as he moved down to kiss your neck, his lips tracing lines where your gills had been.

“Why’d I wait this long,” he muttered, mostly to himself, as he ran his fingers from your hip up your belly. His touch was feather-light, almost ticklish as he skimmed the underside of your breast before tracing circles around your areola.

You writhed, whimpering softly. He looked at you, keeping his gaze locked with yours as he leaned down and took your nipple into his mouth.

"Oh, yes," you moaned as his tongue played with you, distracting you just long enough for his other hand to caress the inside of your thighs. You parted your legs eagerly.

You felt Arthur smile against your skin before he switched to your other breast, giving you the same pleasure as his hand slid between your legs, his fingers exploring your slit.

"This honey fer me, darlin'?" he asked in a low, husky voice.

"All for you," you whispered.

He let out a soft growl of satisfaction before dipping a finger inside of you. Your hips lifted up towards his touch. Moving away from your breast, he kissed his way up your neck, to your cheeks, then to your lips once more. He took his time tasting you, his tongue languidly caressing yours as his fingers delved inside of you, his thumb brushing against your bud, each stroke driving you higher and higher towards your peak that was approaching rapidly.

You moaned his name, muffled as it was by his mouth on yours. He growled in return, pumping his fingers faster, his thumb stroking you with determination.

"Ah, ah, Arthur!" you cried out as you climaxed. As you felt the pleasure zip through your veins, you buzzed with power for a moment before it faded.

You didn't have time to think about it, for Arthur climbed off the bed and took off the rest of his clothes. He was such a big man, with muscles from hard work, scars from a rough life, and a dangerous grace to him. He had power and knew how to use it.

And right now, he wanted to make you release over and over again.

He climbed over you, just like in your fantasies, and spread your legs, wrapping them around his waist. Taking his hard length in his hand, he slid the tip around your entrance, slicking himself up as he watched you tremble beneath him.

"You sure 'bout this, darlin'?" he murmured, a slight tremor in his voice, as if he was holding back. He didn't stop sliding the head of his cock along your slit, up and down in a slow rhythm.

"Yes, yes please Arthur, just take me!" you begged. He was driving you mad with his gentle strokes. You lifted your hips up, causing the tip of him to slip inside.

"So needy, sweet girl," he crooned before he pushed forward, driving himself deeper inside of you.

You writhed and winced as your body stretched around his girth. He was sweating, holding himself steady as he waited for you to regain your breath before inching forward some more. Patiently, Arthur watched your every reaction, taking great care to control his movements until his hips finally came flush with yours.

He murmured your name, his lips brushing against yours before he kissed you. His hands cradled your face as he grinded against you, the heat of his body warming you up like a thick quilt. Deepening the kiss, he angled your head so he could devour you. A low moan escaped him as his hips shifted, building a steady rhythm of short thrusts.

"More, Arthur," you said when he finally let you take a breath.

"I'll give you whatever you need," he replied before lifting himself up, letting the cool air touch your body. He pulled his cock out almost all the way and waited for an eternal moment while he stared into your eyes, the lust blowing out his pupils.

Then he slammed back inside of you.

Your pleasure-filled yell was stopped short by Arthur's swift uptick in pace. He was hammering his cock inside of your tight, wet channel, and he couldn't get enough. Not saying a word, he only moaned and panted as he drove into you relentlessly, taking just a split second to adjust his angle before continuing.

"So good," he moaned before he got up onto his haunches, taking your hips in his big hands, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fucked you like a man possessed. He growled, a feral sound of pleasure, before he reached down and stroked your clit.

"Need… to… see… you… let go…" he panted.

You tightened your legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts with your own enthusiastic motions, reaching for your breasts and playing with your nipples before him.

"Oh darlin', you look so pretty like that," he grit out, his face contorted in an effort to control his desires. He was so close. So very close.

"Give me everything!" you gasped, your body shaking, on the edge of a precipice so high that you almost felt fear.

Feeling your body grip him so tightly, Arthur let out a passionate shout before he spilled inside of you. His eyes were wild as he stared at you, his mouth open as he drew in breath after ragged breath. He moaned as he thrust one last time before crushing his hips to yours, keeping his shaft inside of you for as long as possible.

As he spent himself inside of you, you felt your core suddenly overflow with ecstasy, your body shuddering as you came around his thick cock. At the same time, your power unleashed, making your body glow a bluish hue.

"Darlin'!?" Arthur panicked, sounding winded, his brow creased with worry.

The power that had unlocked within you gave your vision a strange overlay of colors. And within the warm orange glow of Arthur was a black cloud in his chest. You reached out through the haze of your afterglow and pulled at it.

He gasped and coughed.

You pulled again. Now that you had touched it, you knew it was bad. It needed to get out of his system before it did permanent damage.

Arthur grasped his chest. "What…" he trailed off as he coughed a few more times before you managed to heave out the black cloud from his lungs. You quickly quashed it in your hands.

Looking up at him, you put your hands on his cheeks and kissed him, pouring the last of the glowing power inside of him. On some instinctual level, you knew you had healed him of something. Whether it was an old lingering illness or a new one that was just about to form, it was now gone from his system.

When you finally pulled away, Arthur looked bewildered. For a few seconds, or a few minutes, you weren’t sure how slow or fast time was flowing, the two of you could only stare at each other, lost in that foggy place between dreams and reality.

"What'd you pull outta me?" Arthur finally asked, still a little breathless.

"Something bad. An illness, I think,” you replied. You took a deep breath before squeezing his hand. “Whatever it was, it will no longer hurt you."

Arthur smiled and pressed his forehead against yours. "Thank you, sweetheart."

***

Arthur left a day later, telling you that he'd be back once he had taken care of some people.

You didn't see him for a long time.

Four months passed before you saw him again. He looked ragged, skinnier, as if he had been through hell and back. But when he saw you, he rushed over and fell into your arms, holding you tight as if you were the only real thing in his world.

***

He told you everything. He confessed that he had been the one to help that criminal escape and shot up the town. That he had been chased all over three states with his gang. That he had stolen money from several trains. That he had been on a ship that had sunk and was stranded on an island for days before finding a way back.

He told you about John. He told you about how he had helped him escape the Pinkertons, had ran with him all the way down the mountain before telling him where to meet his family. Then Arthur had set off, the long way around through the wilds of Ambarino so he could lose the men who were chasing him, just so he could get safely back to you.

You saw now that his eyes were unclouded, having seen his world for what it was. You saw pain and regret in his eyes, but you also saw understanding and a clarity that was not there before. He appeared to have finally found wisdom at a heavy price.

After he had told you everything, you cooked him a meal of steamed fish and herbs. He ate quietly, as if his confession had stolen all of his words from him.

He finished his meal and sat in silence for a few minutes before looking towards you. "I ain't a good man—"

You shushed him. "You are more good than not, Arthur," you said. "We all make mistakes. You were just trying to do your best. That's all any of us can do."

Reaching for his hand across the table, you grasped it and pulled it to your chest, placing it over your heart. "Will you stay?"

Arthur smiled hesitantly. "You… still want me?"

You stood up and leaned across the table to kiss him. "I'll always want you, Arthur. I love you."

He kissed you back. When he looked at you, his gaze full of gratitude. "I love you too, my sweet darlin'. Thank you fer believin' in me."

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

End Notes: I had to end it on a sappy note, of course. Hope you enjoyed that little romp with some folklore!

#rdrbigbang2021 #arthur x F!reader #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #rdr2 #fanfic #writing #nsft #lemon fanfic

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feirceangel · 3 years

Text

Imagine | Awaken

Imagine being there when the Pillarmen wake up.

Word Count: 1072

Archeological digs have always interested you. Delving into the past to uncover secrets of humanity from long ago never fails to bring a smile to your lips.

You were the one to find the mysterious 'statues' beneath the colosseum in Rome. Fascinated by the perfection of the three forms displayed, you were quick to start sketching them.

Through your scientist friends, you heard that they found another so-called 'Pillar Man' in Mexico. The thing that really stunned you was that fact that he was still alive after being encased in stone for hundreds of years.

And it looks like you've found three more of the strange beings.

Your little secret didn't stay a secret for long, German soldiers and scientists raining on your parade, confiscating your find.

Graciously, they still let you observe and take notes, but treated you rather poorly. You keep to yourself, knowing that your input would only be ignored by the others.

At the moment, giant UV lights are shining on the Pillar Men, courtesy of the Germans. You're to the side, not truly paying attention as you finish your sketch of the area.

"Something's amiss, ja?!"

"W-what's with that hole?!"

You sigh. What are they going on about now?

"Keep calm! They're trapped under UV ray exposure and cannot move!" The commander orders loudly. "Analyze the cavity, but with the upmost caution."

Interest piqued, you glance at the soldiers approaching the wall where the beings rest. You're hidden behind a small outcropping of rocks, as an attempt to stay as far away from the others as possible.

"How did this cavity appear?"

You examine your sketches, not seeing a hole and look back at the hole in the forehead of one of the Pillar Men. Curious.

"There's not enough light to see inside."

The hair on the back of your neck rises, a bad feeling overwhelming you. Your heart starts to beat faster.

Maybe you should make a quick exit now, before it's too late.

"I-I can hear something..."

A sudden sound startles you. The man examining the hole has been impaled by some sort of... horn?

Horrified, you watch as the man dies right before your eyes.

"Impossible! The subject couldn't have awakened!"

Terrified, you can't look away from the horrific events taking place before you.

The horn spins and slashes through multiple soldiers, spraying blood over the lights. You scream in fright before biting your hand to mask the sound.

The middle Pillar Man breaks from his stone tomb with a loud rumble, striking a pose as he cracks his neck.

He's glorious, dressed in the bare minimum of purple fabric with various pieces of gold jewelry adorning him.

"I pondered the state of man's strength after two millennia of slumber..."

His voice is deep and stern.

"But dependence on such lacklustre luminance imply declination. The lucent tools of Teutons mayn't withhold the will of Wamuu!"

Fast as lightning, the large man runs through the crowd of soldiers, as they yell in terror.

"O-our hands are joined!"

You can't close your eyes, stuck watching the frightening display of pure power that radiates off of him.

With a thud, the being stabs his finger into a terrified soldier and starts to drain the men's life force.

Petrified, you let out a squeal of fear as they collapse to the ground, nothing but a pile of flesh.

A soft jingle sounds as the otherworldly man walks back to the wall, his clothing swishing. He turns around and raises his hands, "Wamuu! Awaken, my masters!"

More rumbling sounds as the other two break free from the stone.

These guys scream power and danger, more so than anyone you've ever encountered before. Plus, only one of them managed to kill over twenty soldiers without a weapon.

They haven't seen you yet, so hopefully you can sneak away or wait until they leave. You try to control your breathing as tears dribble down your cheeks.

Please leave, please leave, please leave, you chant in your mind.

"We know you're there, human," the first one speaks.

Your breath hitches and your body shudders. How do they know?! Maybe it's a trap?

Playing it safe, you stay put.

You close your eyes, wishing it all away to no avail. When you reopen your eyes, the man is directly before you.

Stammering, you try to back up but run into another man. Your heart is hammering away, blood rushing through you as you blindly try to run.

You make it one step before a powerful being grabs your hair in a vice grip.

This is it, I'm gonna die here.

They chuckle as they look down at your shaking form.

"Hello," the one with a head wrap says.

You can't speak, and even if you could, you wouldn't know how to respond.

The one with golden hair picks up your sketchbook, gazing at the drawings found there.

He shows the others and you wish the ground would swallow you up.

"I am Wamuu," he says, "These are Masters Kars and Esidisi."

You are paralyzed. Why haven't they killed you yet?

"We recognize you. You were the one to find us," Esidisi states in a slightly higher voice.

Kars looks upon you in amusement, "What is your name, little one?"

Should you answer?

Their intense gazes tell you that it wouldn't be wise to remain silent.

"Y-y/n," you stutter, scared stiff.

Kars releases your hair, observing as you fall to your knees in fear, "Don't worry, we won't hurt you."

"W-What?" You're confused.

Kars gently caresses your tear stained cheek, "We don't hurt our property."

It takes a second for his words to click.

"P-property?!" You hero away from his touch, wishing they'd just get it over with instead of toying with you. "Never!"

Bemused, Esidisi takes ahold of your shoulders, "Cute."

You try to wiggle out of his grip, but of course he's too strong.

"You'll make a great pet," Kars assures, a wicked glint in his red eyes. "Don't disobey us and everything will be fine."

Shaking your head, you struggle again, only to have Wamuu clench his hand around your wrist.

"Let's go see this new world," Kars says, leading the way out of the cave.

You try to resist, but the intense pain in your arm makes you rethink your tactics.

You'll just have to wait for the perfect opportunity to escape.

#reader insert #x reader #jjba x reader #jojo’s bizzare adventure x reader #jojo’s bizarre adventure #pillarmen #kars #whamuu #esidisi

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moonlit-han · 4 years

Text

bad squirrel ↠ han jisung

genre: bad boy!jisung au, enemies to lovers au, high school au; humor word count: 2.8k warnings: so fluffy, swearing, mildly suggestive | gender-neutral reader request: yes (thank you for such a clearly imagined and fun request, anon!)

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

↠↞

You’d never understood why Han Jisung had to be so loud.

Wasn’t the “bad boy” of the school supposed to be the quiet, brooding type? Not that Jisung didn’t do his fair share of lurking in corners doing gods knew what, sneaking out of the school to mysteriously reappear hours later, and drinking from a flask in the middle of class…. But he was just so damn loud. All the time! And because Jisung was loud in class, you strongly disliked him. Sure, he did his work (sometimes, like when the sun rose in the west) and had friends—two, to be exact: Chan and Changbin—but other than that, he kept to himself, yet was somehow loud. Jisung also strutted around the school like he owned it, looking much like a disgruntled raven.

As you were in the same year, you were intimately familiar with all his less-than wonderful propensities, and had listened to more gossip about him than you’d care to admit. Granted, that was simply to hear anything about him. You had a strange fascination with Jisung that somehow existed in tandem with your dislike—you couldn’t understand it. And, you commonly thought about him at the most random times; this also meant that you ranted to your best friend, Seungmin, far too often.

Jisung sat in the corner of the cafeteria with Chan and Changbin, and scribbled. He was always scribbling in a notebook he kept in his back pocket, and you wanted to know what he was writing—probably something like emo poetry. And today was no different. Occasionally, he’d look up and stare into the middle distance.

“Do you ever wonder what goes on inside his head?” you asked as you chewed a mouthful of your lunch. Seungmin saw where your gaze rested and rolled his eyes.

“No. Definitely not.”

“But would it be cool to—”

“Again, no,” Seungmin interrupted before you could careen off onto one of your tangents about the merits of this person or that. Except, this person featured all too commonly in those tangents, and Seungmin was tired of hearing it. “I don’t want to hear about the exact wave pattern in Han Jisung’s hair or how long you think he’d had that leather jacket. And I definitely don’t want to hear your thoughts on his skinny jeans.”

You smirked, turning back to the table in front of you on which you’d neatly arranged your lunch: grapes, almonds, a container of rice, and a mix of vegetables and fish. You hadn’t necessarily been planning to rant about Jisung, but now that Seungmin mentioned it…

“What do you think he does when he’s not in school?” you mused, chasing a bit of cabbage around the bottom of your lunch container with your chopsticks. “I mean, he seems to just exist in his own little world—I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with anyone except Minho and Chan, and even then, not that often.”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Seungmin yawned, resting his chin on his hand. “Probably goes off to some corner and broods. That’s what guys like him do: brood and very obviously not talk about how emotionally distraught they are or whatever. But in a Byronic way—I don’t think Jisung has a violent bone in his body.”

You wiggled your eyebrows at your best friend, who was steadily losing patience with the whole conversation. “I can think of one bone that might be quite . . . angry and maybe violent but probably just hard. Good with forceful th—”

“I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT HAN JISUNG’S DICK, Y/N!” Seungmgin burst out, drawing stares from the other students seated at neighboring tables, including Jisung himself. You made to bang your head on the table, more embarrassed than you’d been in a long time.

Seungmin, meanwhile, couldn’t stop laughing. “Y-Y/N, oh my god, I’m sorry. Hey, don’t hit me!” This was because you had started playfully but insistently punching his thigh. “It’s fine,” Seungmin continued, trying to reassure you. “It’s not like I said anything that would— Oh shit, he’s coming over here.”

You tried to slide under the table, but only succeeded in getting yourself stuck before shimmying back into your seat. You looked up just in time to see Jisung slide into the seat opposite you and lean meaningfully on the table.

“So, Y/N,” he drawled, flashing a feline grin at you. “What exactly did I just hear?”

“I didn’t say anything, Han,” you retorted, nose aloofly in the air.

Jisung sighed. “Okay, okay, maybe you didn’t say anything, but Seungmin definitely did.” Seungmin spluttered and shook his head violently, really not wanting to be drawn into your squabble.

“So?” you said casually, still picking at your lunch. Meanwhile, your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest. “So what if he said something?”

“Why would Seungmin say anything about me, though,” Jisung said. “It’s not like you two like me or anything.”

You just stared at Jisung. Why did he sound petulant? “No, we don’t. You didn’t hear anything, so go away!”

“Oh come on, Y/N,” Jisung wheedled. “I know you’re curious….”

“Han, what the hell?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Jisung protested, leaning back as his hands waved wildly.

“I—” you began, and gulped. “It’s just… You’re just this moody guy who walks around like he owns the place. And you wear tight skinny jeans that leave very little to the imagination. How could I not assume you at least think you have . . . um, yeah.”

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Seungmin moaned, and stuffed his fingers in his ears.

Jisung had leaned forward now and was staring at you intently. You looked away, even more embarrassed than before, and he sighed.

“Y/N, I’m not quite sure what to say, besides the fact that I like my tight pants.” He paused, then chuckled lightly and winked. “And that you clearly like my tight pants, too.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and blurted. “Why are you even talking to us, Han?”

Jisung stopped as he rose from the table. “I was intrigued. Plus, you’re cute when you’re flustered.” Han winked, then turned and walked back to Chan and Changbin.

You just watched him go—casually appreciating the view—completely stunned. Had Han Jisung just said you were cute? Ugh?

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N!” Seungmin was shaking your shoulder. “Y/N, you might start drooling if you don’t watch out.”

Coming back to yourself, you hurriedly shut your mouth and demanded, “Did he just say I was cute?”

“How am I supposed to know? I had my fingers in my ears!” Seungmin exclaimed, throwing up his hands.

“Well, you are no help whatsoever,” you grumbled, and went back to eating your food.

Seungmin was silent for a moment, then said, “Do- Do you like him?”

You almost choked on your rice. “What?”

“Do you like him?” he repeated.

“The last time I checked, I definitely didn’t like Han Jisung. He annoys the hell out of me!”

Like the traitor he was, your best friend just made a ruminative noise and smiled down at his food.

↠↞

There was a park along the route you walked to and from school every day, and you liked to cut through to its other side as a short cut and to have some time in nature. Today, the leaves rustled loudly under your feet as you wove between the trees, distracting you sufficiently that you were completely wrapped up in your thoughts until your eye caught on a spot of black.

You stopped and squinted, brows furrowed ever so slightly. You couldn’t be sure, but that looked to be Han Jisung squatting under an oak at the edge of the park. Thinking the last thing you wanted was Jisung to see you spying—no, simply watching as you, too, strolled through the park—on him, you ducked behind a tree.

A few feet away from Jisung, assuming it was him, a squirrel sat on its haunches. It looked like he was talking to the squirrel, holding out his hand with a small pile of sunflower seeds resting in its center. As you watched, the squirrel, clearly used to this sort of thing, scurried forward and then away, its prize of seeds securely held in its mouth. This happened several times: the squirrel snatching a few seeds, stashing them around the other side of the tree, then coming back to retrieve more from Jisung’s hand. Strangest of all, you could have sworn you heard cooing along the lines of, “Aren’t you so good? Yes, you’re such a good little squirrel. Ooooh mhmm that tastes good, doesn’t it!”

Seeing the boy stand, you pulled your torso back behind the tree and peeked out as he walked away with a spring in his step. Yes, that was definitely Jisung.

Lost in your thoughts, you began to walk home. Feeding squirrels and talking to them was not “bad boy” behavior—of that much you were certain. So, did this mean that Jisung wasn’t as bad as you’d thought? Or was he slowly killing the squirrel by lacing the seeds with poison?

You shook your head, scolding yourself for such thoughts. But the fact remained: Han Jisung fed the squirrels and acted distinctly cute around them, and seemed to drop the persona he cultivated at school.

In a nutshell: you were confused.

The next day, you walked home the same way and at the same time, hoping you’d catch Jisung with the squirrel again. As you neared the edge of the park, sure enough, there was Jisung. You wrestled with your conscience for a moment, then walked the last meters to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

“What?!” Jisung exclaimed, shooting to his feet and almost hitting you in the nose with the back of his head. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

“I was walking home,” you said innocently, giving Jisung a bright smile.

The young man in front of you was shifting back and forth on his feet. “Did you see—“

“Did I see you talking to a squirrel?” You grinned now, crossing your arms. “Yes. Yes, I did, Han.” Jisung spluttered. “Not so bad a boy, are you?”

“Come on, Y/N, don’t be like that!” he begged. “Just because I wear all black, brood, and write emo poetry—“

“Hah! So you do write it!”

Jisung gave you a look. “Yes, I write poetry and song lyrics for my friends. What about it?”

“Oh, nothing,” you chirped.

“Can you-“ Jisung sighed. “Can you at least not tell anyone that I feed and talk to the squirrels? It’s, like, my own way of doing good, you know?”

“Sure, I won’t tell anybody. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“Well, the more you know…” Jisung said and, yet again, winked at you before striding away. You admired the stark contrast between his black clothes and the oranges, yellows, and reds of the leaves on the ground.

↠↞

A couple of weeks later at the end of October, your English class was lucky enough to go on a weekend camping trip to experience the misty atmosphere in Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Part of you thought that your teacher was a bit odd for wanting them all to get spooked by mist, but you couldn’t argue with the fact that the foliage was beautiful. After a long day of traipsing through the forest to find the perfect lookout point for the next morning’s mist viewing, the class gathered around a fire to eat and talk.

The fire was warm in front of you where you sat on a conveniently placed log; if you'd been any closer, you would have definitely singed something. You'd been a bit stupid and hadn't brought a proper jacket, thinking the evenings would still be warm at the end of October, but oh how wrong you were. Your nose was cold and your hands were even colder, a fact you tried to hide by sitting on your hands. Soon, however, your shoulders and back felt the slight breeze the rustled the leaves surrounding the clearing.

Across the fire, Jisung tracked your every move with bright eyes. In truth, he’d been watching you all evening and noticed that you were now cold. He noticed a lot about you these days, really. You didn’t see him quietly staring, his black clothes turning him nearly invisible, but you knew he was there on the other side of the flames.

You jumped a little, shoulders shrugging as warmth settled around them, and looked around. On the log next to you sat Jisung, like the piece of the night sky come to earth.

“Better?” he asked casually.

“Y-yeah.”

The two of you sat there silently as your classmates gossiped and ate around you. Occasionally, you saw someone glance your way, then turn back to their friends as if Jisung’s stare repelled them. You’d expected to feel awkward around him, expected to feel some dark aura radiating off him, but it was easy to sit with Jisung. His leather jacket was wonderfully warm, it’s weight around your shoulders oddly comforting, and the faint smell of whatever soap Jisung used caught on the collar made you smile.

“Here,” Jisung said softly, holding out the flask that always hung at his hip. “Have a sip—it’ll warm you up.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me! I’m not going to drink, especially since we’re on a school trip,” you hissed.

“It’s just tea, Y/N,” Jisung said, tone affronted. “What did you think I had in here?”

“I- Tea is fine. Thanks.” You took the proffered flask and sipped what was perfectly brewed and sweetened black tea. The hot liquid sliding down your throat to your stomach was a delicious feeling. You returned the flask to Jisung, your fingers brushing as you did so.

The fire crackled, sparks flying up as sticks fell and broke apart. But these were not the only sparks that were flying around that fire. Between you and Jisung there seemed to be a thread of energy along which those other sparks danced, and, unexpectedly, you wanted to follow that thread to its end with the young man beside you.

Every now and then, you glanced at Jisung. And, every now and then, he glanced at you. After five tense minutes of this madness, you finally glanced at each other at the same time and smiled nervously.

“So,” Jisung began, “um…”

“Hmm?”

“May I say something?”

“I- Yeah, sure.”

Jisung took a deep breath, hands twisting in his lap. “Y/N, I have what’s got to be the biggest crush ever on you. And if you don’t return the feelings, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll never mention it again and I’ll make sure to leave you alone or whatever you want,” he said in a rush.

You wrapped Jisung’s jacket closer around yourself and turned slightly on the log to face him. The firelight danced in his eyes, the look in them soft and searching. His lips were parted slightly, as if to say something.

“It’s okay, Jisung,” you murmured, realizing that this was the first time you’d called him ‘Jisung’, at least to his face. “I think— I think I like you, too.”

Jisung’s face lit like the sun that would rise hours later with the dawn, his smile glorious. “Really?” he asked excitedly.

“Mhmm, I do.”

“That’s great,” Jisung breathed, and made to shift closer to you but stopped himself. “Um, so what now?”

“Want to cuddle?” You hardly believed that you’d just said that, but with Jisung’s jacket around you and him sitting so close, you couldn’t help it.

Jisung laughed and held out his arms to you, and you scooted closer to him so that you leaned against his as his arms went around you. After a couple minutes of shifting positions, the two of you settled. You could practically feel Jisung smiling behind you as you rested your head against his shoulder. Like your own, his heartbeat was faster than usual from nerves and excitement, which made you feel quite proud. You’d actually made the cool, seemingly confident bad boy of the school nervous.

Thinking you’d mess with him a little, you turned your face up to his and kissed his jaw. Jisung nearly jumped, which would have deposited both of you squarely on the cold ground, and then looked at you.

“Are you sure?” he murmured.

“Won’t know until we try, right?” you replied.

Jisung needed no further prompting and brought his lips to yours, sending a current of warmth along that thread between you. You had to smile because, completely unexpectedly, you liked kissing Jisung. You liked it a lot and would be perfectly happy to continue kissing him all night long, if given the chance.

Drawing back from Jisung, you noticed your classmates staring at you and Jisung, and smirked back at them. Unlike you, they didn’t have a cute boy to kiss and cuddle with. They weren’t the chosen person for the Han Jisung.

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