#i mean x!tale's an au so it's not too far of stretch-

[f3llow-colbaltblu3-d3mon]

[amethystarachnid]

APOCALYPTIC LOVE

⤷ JAMES LOGAN HOWLETT & WADE WILSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: James Logan Howlett x fem!reader x Wade Wilson

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff with a tiny bit of angst and some action

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 8.4k

ᯓ★ Summary: The world went to shit after the apocalypse but you are probably one of the safest people on the planet with your two scary best friends by your side: Logan and Wade. Best friends...You're not sure what you feel for them after you kiss Logan, and then Wade too. You care deeply for both of them, do you really have to choose?

ᯓ★ TW(s): post apocalyptic so destruction, lots of violence, brief mention of cannibalism (none of the characters practices it, it's a 'joke')

ᯓ★ AU: Post Apocalyptic world

ᯓ★ Request: The way I’d eat up deadpool x fem reader x wolverine post apocalypse au is insane. Like mutants etc aside, the world just goes to shit with [apocalypse setting of choice] and for once their proclivities for violence aren’t shameful, a possible relationship turn off, etc- they protect and provide!!! idk something about Logan specifically healing from his ‘I hurt everything I touch’ mentality because in this new world his claws mean the safety and protection of the people he loves 😩 maybe they were all close friends before events of apocalypse happened and it morphs into something more since their survival as a small group depends on that impossibly heightened trust idk man 💖 ( @scarlettsoldier)

ᯓ★Turns out I had my asks turned off (I can't believe it) so now if you want to make anonymous requests you can! <3

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The sky is a sickly hue of red, a canvas of ash and blood that stretches endlessly above the desolate world. Once-crowded streets now lie cracked and broken, littered with the skeletons of old lives—burnt-out cars, shattered glass, and the occasional, all-too-frequent, human remains. You kick a small stone, watching it tumble and clatter in the silence. Silence. It’s unnerving how quiet the world has become, like someone turned the volume down on life itself. But the crackle of flames in the distance, the occasional growl of something far too close for comfort, keeps the dread alive. Keeps you alive.

“Well, if it isn’t the end of the world and we still look amazing,” Wade quips, his voice cutting through the air like it always does—reckless, loud, and defying the weight of reality. He’s walking beside you, his suit covered in a layer of grime, but his stride is confident. Unshaken.

Logan snorts from your other side, his growl more a breath than sound. “Yeah, amazing. That’s the word.” He runs a hand through his wild hair, scanning the ruined city ahead of you with sharp eyes, never stopping, never fully relaxed.

You glance between them. You’re used to their banter—dark, heavy, and always ready to bite back. You were friends long before the world crumbled, before survival became an endless nightmare. Wade’s mask, hiding the scars underneath, has become an almost comforting sight. And Logan’s claws, once more a source of fear than security, now gleam in the fractured sunlight like a promise of safety.

“You think we’ll make it to the safe house tonight?” you ask, pulling your jacket tighter around you. The nights are cold, too cold for October, and you’ve already lost too much to the chill.

Logan’s eyes flick toward you, softening just a bit. “We’ll make it. One way or another.”

Wade grins beneath his mask, probably smirking even though you can’t see it. “Oh, sweetheart, with me around, survival is practically guaranteed. And you know I can be very… motivated when it comes to keeping the three of us alive.” He spins a pistol in his hand, unnecessarily flashy. “Besides, we’ve got Logan. Nothing like a living weapon with a questionable moral compass to keep things interesting.”

Logan glares at him, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Shut up, Wilson.”

You catch a glimpse of Logan’s claws retracting back into his knuckles—something you’d once flinched at, but now… now it feels more like reassurance. Because while the world is full of things worse than death, you’ve got two of the deadliest men in existence walking beside you, and they’ve never failed you. Even if Wade’s jokes sometimes make you wish you could strangle him.

“We’re not dangerous anymore,” you muse aloud, more to yourself than them. “Not like we used to be.”

Wade scoffs, his mask crinkling as he looks at you. “Us? Dangerous? I mean, maybe Logan over here, but I’m a cuddly ball of sunshine wrapped in skin grafts.”

Logan shoots him a look that says everything. “What you mean is, the world got more dangerous than we ever were. Doesn’t mean we’re harmless.”

“True,” you admit. “But the things that used to scare people… those are the things that protect us now.”

Logan doesn’t answer immediately, but you see him flex his hands, as though feeling the phantom weight of those claws. “Guess you’re right,” he mutters.

You stop, turning to look at both of them fully. “I’m glad you two are with me,” you say softly. “Really.”

Wade chuckles, a rare genuine sound. “We’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. You’re stuck with us. Forever. And lucky for you, that’s a long time.”

Logan’s eyes meet yours, steady and unflinching. “You’ve kept us sane this long. Don’t plan on leaving you to this hellhole alone.”

You smile, and for a brief moment, it feels like things could be okay—like the world isn’t a rotting corpse and you aren’t three souls wandering through the bones of what was. But it’s fleeting, because the apocalypse doesn’t allow for much peace.

A distant scream echoes, sharp and frantic, yanking you all back into reality. The world may be dead, but it isn’t empty. Something out there still hunts.

Logan’s claws snikt out, gleaming deadly in the fading light. Wade pulls out his twin katanas with a flourish.

“Showtime,” Wade grins, and then the three of you are moving. You run side by side, the sound of your breath matching the rhythm of your steps, like old times—before the world fell apart, before survival was the only goal left.

And yet, despite it all, you’re not scared. Because the monsters you run with are the ones that will keep you alive.

You sprint through the crumbling city streets, the distant scream still echoing in your ears. Logan moves ahead, a blur of raw power and purpose, while Wade stays close to your side, keeping pace like a madman with a plan. Your heart pounds in your chest, not from fear, but from the anticipation of what’s coming.

You’ve encountered other survivors before. Some are just as desperate as you—lost, broken, scavenging for whatever they can find. But others… others are predators, thriving in the chaos, more dangerous than the creatures lurking in the shadows. The kind that would kill you for your supplies, or worse.

The kind that’s hunting you now.

You round a corner, your boots skidding on loose gravel, and freeze. A group of five—no, six—survivors step out from the alleyways ahead, weapons raised. Makeshift blades, clubs, and a couple of rusted guns. Their eyes are hollow, skin pale and stretched thin from hunger, desperation clinging to them like the filth coating their clothes.

One of them, a tall guy with a buzz cut and wild eyes, points a jagged machete your way. “Drop your packs. Now.”

Wade chuckles beside you, twirling a katana lazily in his hand. “Oh, I love these moments. The awkward stand-off, the tense threats, and then… well, you’ll see.”

Logan steps forward, his gaze locked on the group, shoulders squared. His claws gleam in the fading light, long and wickedly sharp. “We’re not in the mood for this,” he growls, voice low and dangerous.

The leader’s eyes narrow, flicking between Logan and Wade before landing on you. A twisted grin spreads across his face. “She looks valuable,” he says to the others, voice like gravel. “Might be worth more than their packs.”

Wade tilts his head, his tone somehow casual and unhinged all at once. “Buddy, if you finish that sentence, I’m gonna get really creative with how I kill you.” He steps forward, spinning his katana in an almost playful manner, but the deadly intent in his movements is unmistakable. "Like… Picasso-levels of creative."

The leader sneers, raising his machete higher, but Logan’s already moving before the man can blink.

Logan’s claws flash, quicksilver arcs of death. One of the survivors lunges at him, but Logan sidesteps effortlessly, sinking his claws deep into the guy’s abdomen with a wet snikt. Blood sprays, and the man crumples without a sound, his eyes wide in shock. The others hesitate for just a second, but that’s all it takes for Logan to tear through them like they’re nothing—flesh and bone no match for adamantium claws.

Chaos erupts around you, and you feel the air crackle with the violence of the moment. Two of the survivors rush toward you, wild and frenzied. Before you can react, Wade is already there, his katanas slicing through the air with deadly precision. The first man barely has time to register the movement before his arm is severed at the elbow, a spray of blood marking Wade’s path. The second lunges at him with a rusty knife, but Wade sidesteps, twirling with a laugh before driving his blade through the man’s chest.

“Y’know, I used to hate getting my hands dirty,” Wade quips, wrenching his katana free. “But now? Now it’s like therapy.”

You’re frozen for a heartbeat, your senses overwhelmed by the brutality unfolding around you, but you don’t flinch. You’ve seen Wade and Logan like this before. They’re killers—always have been—but now, in this broken world, their violence is justified. Necessary.

Logan cuts down the last survivor in front of him, his claws slicing through the air with brutal efficiency. His chest heaves with breath, and for a moment, the primal rage in his eyes is terrifying. But when he turns to you, the anger fades, and he’s just Logan again, your Logan.

“You okay?” His voice is gruff but soft in that way it only ever is when he’s talking to you.

You nod, even though your pulse is still racing. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good, because you looked a little distracted there for a second,” Wade says, nudging one of the bodies with his boot. “Need me to give you a quick rundown on how to properly dismember someone? Always happy to teach.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “I think I’m good, thanks.”

Wade wipes the blood off his katanas with a flourish, slipping them back into their sheaths with a dramatic sigh. “Another day, another group of cannibalistic weirdos trying to steal our stuff. I swear, it’s like a reality TV show out here.”

Logan wipes the blood from his claws, retracting them back into his knuckles with that familiar snikt sound. He’s quieter than Wade, as always, but you know he’s still on edge. Even in moments like this, where you’ve won and you’re still standing, Logan’s never fully at ease.

“Let’s keep moving,” he says, his voice low. “We’re too exposed out here.”

You agree, and the three of you start walking again, quicker now, the weight of survival hanging heavier than before. The adrenaline still courses through your veins, but beneath that, there’s something else—something that feels almost like safety. Not the kind you’d known before the world ended, but the kind that comes from knowing that the two people beside you are willing to tear the world apart to protect you.

The safe house isn’t far now, just beyond the next few blocks. But with the sun dipping lower, casting long shadows that seem to breathe and writhe in the distance, you don’t take anything for granted. Not anymore.

Logan stays ahead, leading the way, his eyes scanning every corner. Wade lingers by your side, never too far, always ready with a joke—or a blade.

You reach the edge of the block where the safe house is supposed to be, a decrepit warehouse looming ahead. It’s dark, but it’s shelter. And shelter, in this world, is as good as gold.

“Well, home sweet hellhole,” Wade mutters. “Let’s see what fresh horrors await inside.”

You glance at Logan, who’s already inspecting the entrance, his gaze sharp and calculating. He doesn’t say it, but you know he feels it too—that gnawing sense of dread that never really leaves anymore.

“Stay close,” Logan says, eyes flicking between you and Wade. “We’re not out of this yet.”

And with that, you step forward, into the dark, with your deadly companions at your side.

Inside the safe house, the air is thick with dust and the scent of decay, but it’s shelter, and that’s enough. The warehouse’s tall, cracked windows let in little light, and the building creaks ominously as the wind passes through the broken slats. You find a spot in the far corner, away from the door and any potential threats. Logan checks the perimeter, his sharp eyes scanning every shadow, while Wade busies himself by making a bed out of old crates and blankets.

“Well, this is cozy,” Wade says, plopping down on his makeshift bed, already peeling off his gloves. “If anyone tries to kill us in the middle of the night, at least we’ll die in comfort. Five-star accommodations, am I right?”

You chuckle, the tension from the earlier fight easing slightly. Wade’s irreverence, while grating at times, has always been a strange comfort. It feels like a sliver of normalcy in a world that has none. Logan remains quiet, his posture tense, as he finally settles down across from you and Wade. His eyes linger on you for a moment longer than usual before he reclines against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.

“We’ll take turns keeping watch,” Logan says, his voice rough but steady.

You know better than to argue. He never sleeps long, not deeply enough to truly rest. You’ve grown accustomed to that, just as you’ve grown used to the sound of his claws, the low growl in his voice, the way he always seems to be on the edge of something dangerous. But tonight, the weight of exhaustion pulls you down, and you close your eyes, trusting that between Logan and Wade, you’re safe for now.

Sleep comes quickly, but it’s not peaceful. Your dreams are fragments of the world you’ve lost, of the friends who didn’t make it, of the constant fight for survival.

Hours pass, maybe less—time blurs when you live on the edge. You wake with a start, the cold night air pressing against your skin. For a moment, you think it’s the howl of wind that’s disturbed you, but then you notice something else. Logan isn’t where he was.

You sit up quietly, glancing around. Wade’s still asleep, sprawled out in a ridiculous position, muttering something incoherent. But Logan… he’s standing by the window, bathed in the pale moonlight that streams through the broken glass. His broad shoulders are tense, his back turned to you, but it’s the way his hands are held up in front of him, claws extended, that draws your attention.

You slip out of your bedroll, feet silent on the cracked concrete as you approach him. Logan doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge you at first. His eyes are locked on his claws, the deadly, silver blades gleaming in the moonlight. For a moment, it’s like he’s not even there, like he’s lost in some internal struggle, his face shadowed in a way that makes him look even more haunted than usual.

"Logan?" you say softly, your voice barely more than a whisper in the quiet of the night.

He doesn’t answer right away. His claws glint as he flexes his hands, and you can see the tension in every inch of him. Finally, he speaks, his voice low, almost strained. “I used to hate these,” he mutters, eyes still fixed on the metal protruding from his knuckles. “Always thought they were a curse. Somethin’ that’d end up killin’ everything I touched.”

There’s a weight in his words that you hadn’t expected, a raw honesty that cuts deeper than any of his claws ever could. You’ve known Logan long enough to understand some of his pain, but this… seeing him like this, staring at his own hands like he’s still disgusted by what he’s become, makes your heart ache.

“But now…” His voice trails off, and he finally looks at you, his eyes intense, searching yours. “Now, they’re all I’ve got to protect you.”

You step closer, drawn to him, your chest tightening at the vulnerability in his voice. “Logan,” you whisper, not knowing what to say but feeling the weight of his words. “You’ve always protected me. With or without them.”

He shakes his head, his expression hardening for a second before softening again as he looks down at his claws. “I’ve killed more people than I can count. Hurt more people than I can remember. I’ve been trying to fight that part of me for so long. But now… now the only thing keeping us alive is what I hated most.”

You reach out, gently placing your hand on his, feeling the cool metal of his claws against your skin. It’s strange, but in that moment, you’re not afraid. You never have been. Not of him.

“They’re not a curse anymore,” you say quietly. “Not if they’re used to protect the people you care about.”

Logan’s breath hitches at your words, and when his eyes meet yours again, there’s something different in them. Something more than the usual hardness and regret. Something vulnerable, yet fierce. You feel the tension between you shift, a current pulling you closer, heavier than the world outside.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel the air change, thick with unsaid things that have been building for years. Your heart races as the silence stretches between you, and before you can overthink it, you lean in. Your lips brush against his in a tentative kiss, slow and soft at first, but the moment Logan responds, everything ignites.

The kiss deepens, and Logan’s hands, claws still extended, hover near your sides, careful but intense. He pulls you closer without touching you fully, as if he’s still afraid he’ll hurt you. But you press against him, letting him know that you’re not scared, that you trust him.

His lips are rough, his kiss desperate but controlled, as if he’s spent too long holding back and can’t anymore. Your hand rests on his chest, feeling the tension in his body, the restrained power that he’s always carried like a second skin. His other hand cups the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as the kiss grows more heated, more raw.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathing hard, the cold air mingling with the warmth between you. Logan’s forehead rests against yours, his eyes closed, his claws slowly retracting back into his knuckles with a soft snikt.

“I…” Logan begins, but his voice cracks, and for the first time, you see the cracks in his armor—the fear of what this means, of what he’s allowed himself to feel.

But you just smile softly, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “It’s okay, Logan. We’ll figure it out.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, like he’s searching for some kind of reassurance, and what he finds seems to settle him. For now, at least.

Without another word, Logan pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively, and you stay there, wrapped in his warmth, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten.

The warehouse is quiet again, the night’s earlier chaos now a distant memory. After your moment with Logan, sleep feels elusive. You lie awake in the dark, staring up at the cracked ceiling, your mind swirling with thoughts. Logan had gone back to his usual, silent brooding self—though something between you has undeniably shifted.

Beside you, Wade stirs. He’s not asleep, despite the rhythmic breathing you’ve been hearing. Maybe you’ve spent too much time with him, but you can always tell when he’s faking it. His chest rises and falls in exaggerated movements, like he’s mimicking sleep just to mess with you. Typical Wade.

You roll over to face him, catching his eyes already on you. The dim light barely reaches him, but you can still make out the faint glimmer in his gaze beneath the mask. He lies sprawled out on the floor, his arms behind his head, too relaxed for someone who’s always on edge. There’s a familiar playfulness to the way he’s watching you.

“Can’t sleep, huh?” he asks, his voice softer than usual, but still with that teasing edge.

You smirk. “Guess not. And I’m pretty sure you weren’t sleeping either, Wade.”

“Me? Oh, no. I was totally in dreamland,” he says, his tone light as he mimics a dramatic yawn. “I was having this crazy dream where I was a billionaire playboy, and I owned a private island made of chimichangas. You know, the usual.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "Of course you were."

There’s a moment of silence after that, but it’s not uncomfortable. Wade’s humor has always been a kind of shield, deflecting any real vulnerability with a joke, but you’ve learned to read between the lines. He may act like nothing ever gets to him, but you know better. The world you live in has a way of wearing down even the toughest masks, and Wade—despite his bravado—feels it all.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, you know,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wade’s head tilts, and though you can’t see his face beneath the mask, you know he’s staring at you, really staring at you. His fingers tap idly on his stomach, as if weighing your words.

“Pretend? Moi? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, though his voice lacks its usual sharpness. “I’m as real as it gets, babe. What you see is what you get. Unless, of course, you want me to break into a musical number, then all bets are off.”

You prop yourself up on your elbow, looking at him closely. “Wade…” you begin, and this time, his tapping stops. His whole body stills, like he’s waiting for you to say something that he’s not ready to hear, or maybe he’s been waiting too long for it.

“I see you,” you continue, your voice soft but sure. “Behind all the jokes, all the masks. I see you.”

Wade doesn’t move for a long moment, and you wonder if you’ve crossed some line, peeled back something he didn’t want to expose. But then, slowly, he sits up, turning to face you. His usual cocky demeanor is gone, replaced by something quieter, something raw.

“And what do you see?” he asks, his voice low, almost vulnerable in a way you’ve never heard from him.

You hold his gaze, knowing that beneath the mask, Wade is asking you for something more than just an answer. He’s asking you if you can handle him—all of him. The scars, the madness, the brokenness that he tries so hard to hide behind humor.

“I see someone who cares more than he lets on,” you say, your heart pounding in your chest. “Someone who acts like nothing bothers him, but who would do anything to protect the people he loves. Even if he pretends not to.”

Wade is silent for a long moment, and when he finally speaks, his voice is rougher than usual, almost like it’s caught in his throat. “Well… shit.”

You can’t help but laugh, though it comes out softer than you expected. “That’s your big response?”

“What can I say?” Wade replies, his voice returning to its usual self-deprecating humor. “You go and pull on my heartstrings, and I get all emotionally constipated. Not a pretty sight.”

But there’s a warmth to his tone now, a vulnerability that lingers beneath the joke. He reaches up, tugging at the edge of his mask like he’s contemplating something. His fingers hesitate, then slowly pull the fabric up over his nose and mouth, revealing the scarred skin underneath. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him without his mask, but every time he does it, it feels like he’s giving you a piece of himself that he doesn’t share with many.

“God, I must look like an old potato that’s been left out in the sun too long,” he mutters, trying to laugh it off, but there’s something uncertain in his eyes.

You reach out, cupping his cheek gently. “You look like Wade,” you say softly.

Wade stills under your touch, his eyes widening just a little, like he’s not used to anyone touching him so tenderly. His breath hitches as your thumb brushes over one of his scars, and for the first time in a long while, Wade is speechless.

Then, without warning—without overthinking—you lean in. Your lips meet his in a kiss that’s soft, tentative at first, but Wade responds almost immediately. His hand comes up to rest on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. It’s not as desperate or raw as the one you shared with Logan, but there’s something equally intense about it. It’s Wade—his humor, his chaos, his scars—all wrapped into this one moment of quiet vulnerability.

The kiss breaks, and for a moment, the two of you just sit there, foreheads resting together, breathing each other in. Wade’s hand lingers on your waist, his thumb tracing small circles, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Wade says, though his voice is softer, almost breathless. “Not that I’m complaining.”

You smile, your hand still resting on his cheek. “Neither am I.”

He chuckles, though it’s more of a nervous laugh. “So… does this mean I get to put ‘official apocalypse snuggle buddy’ on my resume? ‘Cause, you know, I’m a package deal—jokes, chimichangas, and quality cuddles.”

You laugh softly, leaning into him, letting the warmth of the moment wash over you. "Guess you'll have to prove your cuddle game is up to standard first."

Wade grins, but there’s something softer in his eyes now, something unspoken but understood. He pulls you a little closer, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Challenge accepted, sweetheart,” he says quietly. “Challenge accepted.”

The first light of dawn filters through the broken windows of the warehouse, casting long, pale beams across the dusty floor. You lie awake, staring up at the ceiling, your mind tangled in a mess of emotions that didn’t exist a day ago. The air feels heavier this morning, more charged. It’s not just the lingering exhaustion or the ever-present tension of survival—it’s the weight of what happened last night. Of what you did.

You kissed Logan.

And you kissed Wade.

And now… well, now everything feels like it’s teetering on the edge of something dangerous and confusing. The safe house, once just another forgotten building in the apocalypse, now feels like a pressure cooker. Every breath feels sharper, more significant, and the two men sharing this space with you… they look at you differently now.

Logan is already up, standing near the doorway, his back turned to you as he checks the barricades and watches for any signs of movement outside. He’s always the first one awake, always vigilant. His broad shoulders are tense, his posture alert as usual, but there’s something softer in the way he glanced at you earlier, a warmth in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He hasn’t said anything about what happened last night by the window, but you know he’s thinking about it. He hasn’t looked away from you for long, and when his gaze does meet yours, there’s a silent promise there—something unspoken but heavy.

But then there’s Wade.

You turn your head slightly, finding him still lounging on the floor nearby, but he’s awake too. His mask is back on, but you can feel his eyes on you from behind it. Even with the fabric between you, you know he’s watching, waiting for some kind of acknowledgment, some sign that what happened between you wasn’t just a fleeting moment of insanity. His usual jokes and casual comments are there, but softer now, less of a shield. Every once in a while, you catch him looking at you differently too—like he’s holding back something real, something more than his typical irreverence.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it?

You have feelings for both of them, and not the fleeting, confused kind. Real, complicated feelings that have grown over time—through every fight, every desperate scramble to survive, every shared glance when you thought you might not make it through the day. With Logan, it’s deeper, older—a connection that feels like it’s been building ever since the world began to fall apart. With Wade, it’s unexpected, chaotic, but just as intense. Both of them have been there for you, in their own ways, and now you’ve crossed a line you can’t uncross.

You sit up slowly, trying to gather your thoughts, but your mind keeps looping back to the kisses. Logan’s rough, desperate kiss by the window—the way he had pulled you in like he was afraid to let go. Then Wade’s kiss, softer but just as powerful, laced with the unspoken vulnerability he rarely shows.

The guilt creeps in, though. You care about both of them, but you kissed them both, and they don’t know.

Wade shifts beside you, drawing your attention. He’s stretching his arms overhead, glancing at you with a lazy grin behind the mask. “Morning, sunshine. Sleep well, or were you up all night dreaming of little ol’ me?” His voice is teasing, but there’s an underlying warmth there that makes your heart twist.

“Or both of us,” Logan grumbles from his spot by the door, his sharp ears catching Wade’s quip. His eyes flick to you briefly before returning to the street beyond the window, but even in that quick glance, you can feel the weight of what happened between you last night.

Your stomach flips as their eyes linger on you, and suddenly, you feel exposed—like you’re carrying this secret that’s too big for the small space you’re all sharing. How are you supposed to act normal when both of them are looking at you like this? When you don’t even know what normal looks like anymore?

Wade, ever the one to break any tension, lets out an exaggerated sigh and props himself up on one elbow. “So, what’s on today’s agenda? Raiding a grocery store for canned beans? Fighting off another group of apocalypse weirdos? Or”—he leans forward, voice lowering to a mock-conspiratorial whisper—“planning our post-apocalyptic ménage à trois? I mean, no one’s judging. It’s the end of the world and all.”

Your heart skips a beat at Wade’s bluntness, and you quickly look away, feeling your cheeks heat up. Wade laughs, clearly enjoying your discomfort, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s testing the waters. Logan, on the other hand, tenses visibly, his eyes narrowing at Wade, though he says nothing. The silence that follows is heavier than it should be, stretching out uncomfortably.

You swallow hard, forcing a smile as you stand up and brush the dust off your pants. “We should get moving,” you say, trying to sound casual, like your heart isn’t hammering in your chest. “We’ve stayed here too long already. It’s not safe.”

Logan grunts in agreement, pushing off from where he was standing and grabbing his jacket. He doesn’t say much, but his gaze lingers on you a little too long before he turns toward the door. Wade just watches you with that familiar grin, though you can feel the unspoken questions hanging in the air between you.

You’ve survived so much together—fights, hunger, loss—but this? This might be harder than any battle you’ve faced. You’re torn between two people who mean everything to you in different ways, and they don’t even know it yet.

As you gather your things and prepare to head out into the wasteland again, you can’t shake the feeling that this fragile balance won’t last long. Wade and Logan, so different yet so important to you, are bound to notice the tension eventually. And when they do, you don’t know what will happen—or how you’ll make sense of the feelings you have for both of them.

But for now, you focus on the next step. One foot in front of the other. You’ve survived the apocalypse this long—maybe you can survive this too.

Wade’s joke about the ménage à trois lingers in your mind, even though you know it was just Wade being Wade—always looking for a laugh, always ready to break the tension with something outrageous. Normally, you’d brush it off, roll your eyes and move on. But this time… something about it sticks. Maybe it’s the intensity of everything that’s happened, or the undeniable attraction you feel for both of them. Maybe it’s the strange new world you’re living in, where the old rules don’t seem to matter as much.

But whatever it is, you can’t stop your mind from wandering down that path.

Would they even be open to something like that?

The thought sends a shiver through you—part nerves, part curiosity. You know Logan, with all his brooding and tightly controlled emotions, doesn’t seem like the type to share easily. He’s possessive in his own quiet way, always watching, always protective. But Wade… Wade is unpredictable. Beneath his mask of jokes and sarcasm, there’s always been a deep well of feeling, something more complicated than anyone else gives him credit for. He’s seen more than most, lived through hell and come out the other side—scarred but still here.

And, if you’re being honest, you’ve wondered what it would be like to have them both in your life—really in your life—since last night. Logan, with his fierce protectiveness and raw intensity, and Wade, with his chaotic energy and unexpected vulnerability. The idea feels impossible, even reckless. But the way they look at you, the way both of them have made you feel… maybe it isn’t impossible.

You try to shake the thought away, but it’s like an itch you can’t scratch. In the quiet moments between gathering supplies and checking the perimeter, you catch yourself glancing at Wade, then at Logan, wondering how they see this. Could they…? Would they even consider it?

Unbeknownst to you, Wade has been thinking about something like this for longer than you’d imagine. Long before the world crumbled into chaos, he had joked about it, made those half-serious comments to hide what he was really feeling. He never thought it would actually be possible, but there was a part of him—deep down—that wanted it. That wanted you. And Logan, too, in a weird way. He’d always respected Logan, admired his strength, even if they got under each other’s skin.

Now, in the post-apocalyptic wasteland, where survival means making your own rules, Wade’s been waiting for a moment—waiting for you to realize that maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to choose.

As the three of you move through the remains of a once-bustling city, Wade walks alongside you, his usual swagger in place. He cracks a joke about the abandoned cars you pass, something about Mad Max and your new potential career as a desert warlord, but his eyes keep flicking toward you, more serious than he lets on. Logan stays ahead, scouting silently, but even he glances back more often than usual, as if he can feel the weight of everything unsaid.

When you find a small diner that hasn’t been completely picked clean, you settle in for a rest. The windows are cracked, grime covering the once-shiny counters, but it feels safe enough for now. Logan takes first watch outside, his back to the door, as Wade plops down in one of the booths across from you.

“Ah, breakfast for champions,” Wade says, gesturing to the dented cans of food you’ve scavenged. “Can’t wait to see what culinary delight we’ve got today. Hope it’s Spam or baked beans.”

You snort, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. “I think it’s some kind of… corn mash? I don’t even know anymore.”

“Delicious. We’ll call it ‘Corn à la Apocalypse,’” Wade says, and you can’t help but laugh. His humor always finds a way to crack through your walls, even when you don’t want it to.

But as you laugh, that thought creeps back into your mind. The joke. The impossible idea that’s been following you since this morning.

“Wade…” you start, your voice hesitant.

He looks at you, his expression still light but his eyes sharpening. “What’s up, buttercup?”

You pause, chewing on your lip for a moment, unsure if you should even bring this up. But the weight of it has been pressing on you, and maybe if you just throw it out there as a joke, like Wade does, it’ll be less terrifying.

“About what you said earlier,” you murmur, keeping your tone as casual as possible. “The, uh… ménage à trois thing. You were joking, right?”

Wade blinks, his head tilting slightly as if he’s surprised you’re even asking. “I mean, yeah, I was joking. But, you know… joking with a sprinkle of truth. Like all great comedians.” He leans forward, dropping his voice to a mock-serious whisper. “Why? Were you hoping I wasn’t?”

Your heart races at the way he says it, playful but laced with a hint of something real beneath the surface. You glance toward the door, where Logan stands on guard, unaware of this conversation. The thought of him mixed up in all this makes your pulse jump even more.

You try to laugh, but it comes out too forced. “I don’t know… maybe.”

Wade’s eyes lock onto yours, his usual playful mask slipping just a bit. He sits back, folding his arms over his chest as if he’s sizing you up. “Oh? Well, that’s interesting. You know Logan’s not exactly the ‘share your toys’ kind of guy, right?”

“I know,” you whisper, unsure what else to say. “I just… I don’t know what I’m feeling right now.”

Wade’s expression softens slightly, and for a moment, the tension lifts. He lets out a slow, exaggerated sigh, then leans forward again, resting his arms on the table.

“Look,” he says, his voice unusually gentle, “I’m not gonna lie. If this apocalypse has taught me anything, it’s that life’s too damn short for regrets. And, full disclosure, I’ve been hoping for something like this since way before the world went all zombie movie on us.”

You blink, startled. “What?”

Wade shrugs, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “What can I say? I’m a man of… complex tastes. But it’s not just a joke to me, sweetheart. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m all about the jokes, but if you’re asking whether I’d be open to it—us—then yeah, I’m game. I’ve been game. But you… you’ve got to be honest with yourself. If you’re into me and Logan, that’s not exactly something we can pretend isn’t happening.”

Your mind reels. You hadn’t expected this kind of openness from Wade, though you should have known better. Beneath all his chaos, Wade is probably the most straightforward person you’ve ever known. He doesn’t hide who he is, not really.

But now… now you have to figure out if you’re ready to be that honest. To admit that you have feelings for both Logan and Wade, and to figure out what the hell that means.

Wade watches you carefully, his playful demeanor tempered by something more serious. “It’s not like we have to figure this all out right now,” he says, his voice soft. “But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that we can’t let the world tell us how to live. Not anymore.”

Your chest tightens, and as you sit there, staring into Wade’s eyes, you realize he’s right. You don’t have to figure it out right now. But sooner or later, you’ll have to face the truth: you want them both.

And somehow, that doesn’t feel as impossible as it once did.

The weight of everything Wade just said hangs in the air between you. His usual sarcastic, playful attitude is gone, replaced by something raw and honest—something that feels entirely real. Your pulse pounds in your ears as you sit there, processing the fact that Wade has been hoping for this, for you, for you and Logan, since long before the world turned upside down. And now… now you realize you want it too.

You’ve spent so long trying to ignore your feelings, pretending they didn’t exist. But it’s time to stop running from them. The truth is undeniable: you want both Wade and Logan in your life. Not one or the other. Both of them, in ways that shouldn’t make sense but somehow do. They’ve both been with you through the worst, through every fight, every moment of fear and desperation, and you can’t imagine facing this world without either of them.

Wade leans back in his chair, watching you with a mix of curiosity and patience. He’s waiting for you to say something, to give him a sign that you’re on the same page.

“I think…” you begin, your voice quieter than you expect. “I think I want this. I want both of you in my life, and I don’t want to have to choose.” You swallow hard, your gaze flicking to the door where Logan stands on watch. “But Logan… he doesn’t know. He has no idea.”

Wade smirks, though it’s softer than usual. “Yeah, well, I figured that much. He’s not exactly the ‘let’s talk about our feelings’ type.” He tilts his head, eyes thoughtful behind the mask. “But he cares about you. He’d tear apart this entire wasteland if it meant keeping you safe. I think that’s something we can work with.”

You nod, your throat tightening. The thought of Logan’s reaction—of how complicated this will be—makes your stomach churn. But Wade is right. Logan cares about you, and you care about him. If anyone can understand the messy, chaotic nature of love in a world like this, it’s the three of you. Survival has forced you to redefine everything, to make new rules in a world where the old ones don’t fit anymore.

“We’ll have to talk to him,” you say, your voice steadier now. “As soon as we find another safe place, we’ll tell him. I don’t want to keep this a secret from him.”

Wade nods, surprisingly serious. “Yeah. We’ll talk to him. And I’ll try not to make too many jokes during the whole ‘hey, we both want to be with you’ conversation. Promise.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, despite the tension. “Good luck with that.”

“Hey, I’m capable of being a little serious.” Wade stands, stretching his arms over his head and casting a glance toward Logan outside. “Well, maybe not too serious. But I’ll behave. Mostly.”

You smile, but there’s still that nervous flutter in your chest. It feels surreal, the idea of sitting down with Logan and Wade and having this conversation. But as terrifying as it is, you know it’s the right thing to do. You owe it to both of them to be honest, to let them know how you feel.

Wade catches your eye again, something softer in his gaze now. “Hey,” he says, his voice low. “No matter what happens, we’ll figure this out. We always do. And for the record, I’m glad you want this. I’ve been waiting a long time.”

His words warm you in a way you didn’t expect, and you realize that, despite all the chaos and fear, there’s a strange sense of peace in knowing where you stand with Wade. That he’s been waiting, hoping, for this moment. That he’s willing to face whatever comes next with you.

You take a deep breath, standing up and stretching the tension from your shoulders. “I guess we’ll see how Logan takes it.”

Wade chuckles softly. “Yeah. Should be fun.” But there’s no malice in his tone—just a shared understanding that this conversation won’t be easy, but it’s necessary.

As the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, casting the remains of the city in a golden haze, you and Wade gather your supplies, mentally preparing for the road ahead. You’ll have to move again soon, find another place to hole up for the night—somewhere safer, more secure than this crumbling diner.

Logan steps back inside, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you. “Time to move,” he says gruffly, though there’s a flicker of something in his gaze when he looks at you—a softening, maybe, from what happened last night.

You nod, your heart beating faster as you stand beside Wade, feeling the weight of what’s about to come. You’ll tell him soon. You’ll lay everything on the table, and you’ll deal with whatever comes after. Logan deserves to know the truth.

As the three of you head out into the wasteland, the tension between you is palpable, but different now—less about survival, more about the unresolved feelings hanging in the air. Wade walks beside you, occasionally tossing out sarcastic comments to break the silence, while Logan keeps his usual steady pace ahead, unaware of the conversation waiting for him.

It’s only a matter of time before you find another refuge—another place where you can stop running for just a moment and finally have the conversation that’s been building since last night.

And when you do, you’ll be ready to face whatever comes next, knowing that no matter what happens, you won’t have to choose between them.

Because in this broken world, maybe there’s room for something unexpected. Something messy, but real.

The sky darkens as the three of you push further into the wasteland, navigating through the crumbled remains of a city that was once alive. You move in silence, each step taking you closer to the inevitable conversation that weighs heavily on your mind. Wade walks beside you, his usual swagger muted but present, while Logan leads the way ahead, his posture tense and alert, as always.

After a few hours of walking, you find a relatively safe building—an old, abandoned warehouse with heavy metal doors still intact. It’s not perfect, but it’s shelter for the night, and that’s all you need. Logan pushes the door open, motioning for you and Wade to head inside before sealing it behind you.

Once inside, the air is thick with the quiet hum of anticipation. You glance at Wade, who gives you a reassuring nod. It’s time. You know that. It’s just… how do you even begin?

Logan drops his pack on the floor, his muscles visibly relaxing for the first time today. “We’ll stay here for the night,” he says, his voice gruff as he checks the windows. “Move again in the morning.”

You take a deep breath, stepping closer to him, your heart hammering in your chest. “Logan, we need to talk.”

He turns to face you, his brow furrowed. “About what?”

Wade moves in beside you, leaning against a wall casually, though his eyes are more serious than usual. “It’s kind of a big talk, actually,” he says, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Like, ‘world’s going to end again if we don’t handle this’ big. But no pressure.”

Logan’s frown deepens, clearly sensing something unusual in the air. “Spit it out.”

You swallow hard, glancing between the two of them. “It’s about… us. All of us.”

Logan’s gaze sharpens as he looks at you, then flicks to Wade. His arms cross over his chest, a defensive stance you’ve seen him take a thousand times before. “What about us?”

Wade clears his throat, stepping forward with his hands up like he’s trying to calm an angry animal. “Alright, listen, bub. Here’s the deal. Our dear Y/N here”—he gestures toward you—“has been doing a lot of thinking. Like, a lot. And what she’s realized is that she doesn’t want to pick between us. She’s into both of us, and she kinda, sorta… wants us both in her life.”

Logan’s eyes widen slightly, the expression unreadable. His gaze flickers between you and Wade, his jaw clenching as if he’s trying to figure out if this is some kind of joke. But then his eyes settle on you, and there’s that softness again—mixed with confusion. “You want… both of us?”

You nod, your voice coming out softer than you expected. “I do. I care about you, Logan. I care about Wade, too. And I know it’s not exactly… normal. But nothing about this world is normal anymore. I don’t want to choose between you two, and I don’t think I should have to.”

Logan’s face is unreadable for a moment. You watch as he processes, his shoulders tense, and you brace yourself for the worst. Wade, however, just stands there, his usual carefree attitude tempered by a quiet patience. He knows this won’t be easy for Logan, but he also knows it’s the only way forward.

After what feels like an eternity, Logan lets out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. “So, what? You want me and Wade to share? That it?”

Wade can’t help himself. “Look, it’s not so much ‘sharing’ as it is ‘teamwork,’ Logan. And I know you’re more of the lone wolf type, but come on—we’re in the apocalypse here. Gotta adapt.”

Logan shoots him a sharp look, but it’s not as biting as it could be. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the idea, his eyes narrowing as he turns back to you. “You’re serious about this?”

You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest, and nod. “I am.”

For a long moment, Logan just stands there, staring at you like he’s searching for some kind of answer in your eyes. Then, slowly, the tension in his shoulders eases. His expression softens, just a little, and he lets out a low grunt, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Well, shit,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I can’t say I saw this coming. But…” He looks at you again, his voice quieter. “If this is what you want, I’m not gonna stand in the way.”

Relief floods through you, the weight lifting off your chest. You can’t believe it, but Logan—gruff, guarded Logan—is actually willing to give this a chance.

Wade, of course, wastes no time in breaking the tension. “See? I knew the big guy had a soft spot for us. Now, don’t worry, Logan, I promise not to steal all your clothes in the middle of the night. Well, not unless you ask nicely.”

Logan glares at him, but there’s a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if even he can’t help but be amused. “Keep talking, Wade, and I’ll find a new use for those claws of mine.”

Wade puts his hands up in mock surrender, laughing. “Hey, no need for threats! We’re a team now, remember? A very sexy, very complicated team.”

You can’t help but laugh, the tension in the room finally breaking. Wade’s inappropriate jokes are his way of lightening the mood, but underneath it all, you can tell he’s just as relieved as you are. Logan might still be wrapping his head around the idea, but he’s in. You know it, and so does Wade.

Wade grins, throwing an arm around both of you, clearly enjoying the moment. “Well, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, what do you say we celebrate this beautiful union with some canned beans and a group cuddle? Or—wait for it—a ménage à trois?”

Logan rolls his eyes, but there’s a softness in his gruff exterior that wasn’t there before. “You’re pushing your luck, Wilson.”

Wade winks at you, leaning in with his usual flair. “Oh, trust me, I haven’t even started yet.”

first time writing this type of relationship thing, and I hope I did good lol.

if you liked the story like, reblog and if you want to read more drop a follow! <3

[suhnshinehaos]

growing pains : act three, part three (2/2)

series synopsis : people say that you’ll experience three kinds of love in your lifetime. the first is an idealistic love, the kind that feels straight out of a fairy tale. the second is the hard love, the kind that will leave you with lessons about yourself and the love you want and need to experience. finally, the love you never see coming. this is the story of your three loves. pairing : svt 97 line x gn!reader genre/s : non-idol au, coming of age, angst, fluff, my attempts at humor act three, part three wc : ~1.3k

act three : the unexpected love  ➤  part 3 : editor-director supreme

after years studying and working abroad, yn is finally back home to a new job and new faces. all they want now is to focus on nothing else but their career and one of their coworker’s friends, minghao, makes it all the more interesting. 

previous  ➤  act three, part three (1/2) next  ➤  act three, part four growing pains ➤  masterlist 

“are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” jun asks, his hand on the back of your chair. but you don’t look back at him, your focus on the screen in front of you as you review the pictures you just took of him. 

it’s a routine at this point. he’s taken his makeup off, he’s back in the clothes he wore earlier in the day. he tells you that he could give you a ride home, especially considering how late it was. the set’s being cleaned up, the staffs is putting away their things, yet you’re showing no sign of getting ready to leave.

“don’t worry, i won’t stay too long.”

“you said that last time.” jun replies. a sigh escapes his lips right after, knowing that there’s no convincing you. like someone else he knew, you were much too dedicated to your work. despite knowing that you don’t see him, he fights off the smile threatening to make its way on his lips. minghao never confirmed in his text that he would actually go, but he knew his friend.

he pats your shoulder a couple of times. “alright. let me know when you get home.”

“i will, thanks.” you finally look up at him with a smile. “great work today, jun. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“you too, yn. take it easy, okay?”

jun leaves and you place your attention back towards your laptop, taking note of the pictures you knew you would be making the cut. you don’t even attempt to fight off the frown on your face when you realize that most of them were made from the instructions that minghao had given. of course, you made your own calls and decisions for some of the photos as well, but it disheartened you a bit that they weren’t as good.

you’re not too sure how long it’s been since jun left. or how many goodbyes you’ve said to people, the lighting crew, the stylists, the production assistants. you’re sure that you’ve pretty much burned through the arrow keys of your laptop that the symbols have partially faded. your eyes feel heavier and your lean back in your seat, stretching your arms over your head as you let out a yawn.

“you shouldn’t be here this late.”

you stop yourself mid-yawn. eyes wide as you turn to the source of the sound.

xu minghao stands there, just a few of feet away. his hands are stuffed inside the pockets of his pants, and there’s a look on his face that you can’t quite place. there’s a feeling building in the pit of your stomach, an emotion you can’t quite place either. perhaps contempt. maybe surprise.

still, you wonder why he’s here in the first place. especially after not showing up the past couple of days. 

“neither should you.” 

you don’t mean for your tone to be so sharp, but you turn away from him and back to the screen.

“that’s fair.” minghao chuckles, but it’s devoid of humor or lightheartedness. he walks towards you, dragging one of the nearby chairs with him. 

you raise a brow when he places the chair next to yours, not close enough for your arms to brush but not too far that you don’t register the scent of his cologne, and takes a seat. “what are you doing?”

“keeping you company.” he brings your laptop towards, so it’s right in between the two of you. minghao scrolls through the very top and begins looking through the photos.

you bite the inside of your cheek, and you can’t help but stare at him in complete astonishment. not even five minutes in and he’s already taken charge. it’s already off hours, and he wasn’t even there for the shoot. what gave him the nerve?

“look at the photos, not me.”

his voice is as monotone as it comes and you scoff, but still turn your gaze back towards the screen. “are you sure you’re just keeping me company?”

“hm.” minghao hums, not exactly answering your question and continuing to breeze through the photos. his lips are pressed into a thin line and his brows are furrowed. “these are good. great work, yn.”

you blink back your shock, trying your hardest not to turn to him once more. it almost feels strange to be complimented, mostly because he says it in such a matter-of-fact way that it doesn’t even feel like a compliment. “it’s thanks to your suggestions.”

minghao sees you in his peripheral, and he’s aware enough to pick out the slight disdain in your tone. he shakes his head, stopping at one of the pictures where he knows he didn’t have any sort of influence in — a picture that didn’t come from one of his suggestions.

“not all of them. look-” he turns the laptop slightly towards you, both of you leaning in closer. “-this is an interesting one. dynamic, good movement. exposure is a bit too much, but nothing that can’t be fixed in post.”

you nod, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. even when he’s giving out compliments, he still can’t help but critique something. it almost feels strange to have this sense of disdain towards someone, having never experienced the feeling before. nearly all of the projects you’ve worked on have been a collaborative effort, you’re not entirely used to someone exerting this amount of control on a shoot.

was it earned? of course. your coworkers spoke so highly of him that you couldn’t help but do a bit of research on your own. minghao was already building an impressive portfolio before you were even accepted into university. he was nothing short of a prodigy. 

a silence falls between the two of you, and minghao can’t help but take one more quick glance at you as you processed his words. he doesn’t fail to notice the subtle clench of your jaw, or the quiet yet sharp intake of breath. 

“did i-” he pauses, trying to find the right words. “-strike a nerve?”

you let the question hang in the air for a few more seconds. you bite your lip, then your tongue.

“no.”

the project wasn’t over yet, and you weren’t looking to create any bad blood. still, you could feel minghao’s gaze on you; intense, searching for any sign of dishonesty in your answer through your features. if he does find any, he chooses not to call you out on it.

the tension in the air is thick, palpable even as he continues to go through the photos, dictating the edits to be made and what could be improved. you nod along, opening the notes app in your phone to jot down everything he was saying. as much as you hated to admit it, his passion and expertise are as tangible as the tension. for a bit, the disdain you have was replaced with awe.  

you’re not sure many minutes have passed until a security guard came up to both of you, telling you it was time to lock up.

“do you need a ride back?” he asks as you both exit the building.   

“i’ll be taking the bus.” you nod towards the stop directly in front of the building. “thank you for the offer.”

“it’s late.”

“i’ll be fine.”

minghao sighs. there’s clearly no convincing you. 

“alright. i hope you get back safe.”

the unmistakable sincerity in both his words and his tone surprises you for a second. you’re not sure if this is the same person you had just been going through photos with.

“i hope you do too.”

you mean it, and he can tell despite the apparent nonchalance in your expression. 

without another word, you both go your separate ways.

from reese, with love <3

oh my ynhao... this is just the beginning you've still got quite the journey ahead hehe ++ some mh backstory crumbs,, we'll get more as the act progresses ;> hope you all enjoyed reading, i'd love to know what you think of our first written part of the act !! hope you're all doing well and taking care !

[joz-yyh]

DDMonth ▪️ Day 8: Prayer 📿 TITLE: Of Monks and Monsters - (Preview) SUMMARY: Role Reversal AU. What if Damian was a wechuge and Bigby was a traveling monk who got lost in the woods? After spending some time together, Bigby must make a choice. Will he save the monster that abducted him or leave him to die? No beta. Read at your own risk. RATING: T (blood / violence / horror) PAIRING: Flagellant x Abomination WORD COUNT: 1,400+ A/N: (A little teaser for a project I've been working on that's not yet been published! If you want to know more, click here + here for concept art + here for a cute snippet of them bonding.)

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Damian trusted him enough to let him wander outside the nest, far enough to forage, but not far enough that he would breach another's territory.

Bigby is grateful to stretch his legs, for the change of scenery. He'd spent too many hours inside the creature's den, surrounded by rock and bone, under its scrutiny. 

The young monk preferred the taste of berries to whatever questionable meat the creature sustained itself on, the discarded remains leftover from his numerous hunts painting quite the macabre tale.

Once again he thanks the Light for its protection, that he didn't wind up like the others that came before, that he was spared it's wrath, although a willing captive to this place. 

He's thought about it, running, betraying the same wechuge who gave him this small semblance of freedom. 

“There's no point in trying. He'd find me, just like last time.” 

He's talking to himself, picking from the cluster of mushroom caps he found, using his robe as a pouch to harvest them.

“I don't even know how far away the town is. Who's to say I’d make it?”

He sighs, sitting on haunches, staring down at his humble collection. Was this enough food? Should he pick more? How much longer was he planning to stay?

“Maybe, I can convince him to show me …”

His green eyes seem to be asking the foliage around him, but the forest can do no more than offer a quiet ear.

“Would he let me go? I mean, he left me out here alone.”

His grasp on ethics and morality are beginning to blur, spun around the longer he stays here, as twisted and cursed as a bramble bush. 

Why should he feel bad for an evil spirit? So what if he was manipulating him for his own survival? He was the victim here, forced into captivity, isolated from the world. Despite these internal arguments against Damian, Bigby couldn't bear the thought of leaving, not yet. 

He's too absorbed in his own head to notice the jagged shadow approaching, not expecting an ambush in the middle of the day, especially so close to what he considered safety.

A crack of sound and now the dark-haired boy glances up, a familiar figure just beyond the trees, too distant to make it out clearly.

“Damian, are you trying to scare me?” 

He chuckles, taking steps toward it, about to meet the creature half way. After being practically inseparable, almost suffocatingly so, he doesn’t expect to rejoice at his arrival, but the closer he gets, the more he realizes something is wrong. 

Damian would never think of parting with his chains, but there are none there, this beast's antlers are stripped bare. Its robes too are off, rags dusted with umbra instead of the splatters of vibrant red he was used to.

And those eyes, there's something sinister in them, leaving nothing to the imagination of what it intends to do. 

Fear shivers down his spine, cold, nauseating.

“You're … you're not Damian …”

He trails off, frail words swallowed down into the pit of his stomach. 

He never considered the possibility that there would be others like Damian, this encounter being the unfortunate result, cowering from it, slowly.

The creature must sense his fear, its movements erratic, crazed, drawing near with barely repressed hunger. Surely, if it possessed a tongue, it would be licking its chops, salivating before the meal it's about to consume.

“Please, take all the food I have. Just … don’t hurt me.”

He sets out his spoils across the ground, a modest haul, a deterrent in hopes that this creature will spare his life in exchange for this pious offering.

As he kneels there, in the dirt, he wonders if this was foolish, laying himself out for slaughter, debating if he should run, praying silently with all his might. 

'Damian, please save me.’

He can feel the creature darken the sun, chilling the very air around him, an eerie chitter reaching down into his core.

Just as he did that night, Bigby won't face his demise, head bowed in prostration, clinging to hope, denying all else. 

A sharp pain, a rush of air, grunting, growling, two figures rolling amongst the forest floor, sticks and leaves kicked up as they tussle.

Bigby eyes blink open, still alive, still breathing, touching over his body, finding that his face stings, his fingers coming back red. 

More hissing, groaning, the monk looking toward the source, friend and foe locked together in conflict, one set to destroy, the other bound to protect.

Damian has the opposing wechuge impaled upon his antlers, but their enemy grips him back, prying him off, slashing at his eye sockets. 

Bigby’s body moves on it’s own, turning his back on the horrific scene, fleeing further away, into the woods.

What was he doing? How could he be this selfish? Damian had answered his prayer, saved him just as well as any guardian angel would. He couldn’t leave him to die, even if it meant being a prisoner to his whims. 

Donning his courage, the monk turns back, seeing that his friend had lost the upper hand, the enemy on top of him, skull rammed into his gut.

Amidst the rush, an idea is born, spying a fallen branch amongst the brush, big enough to resemble a wooden bat. 

“Hey,” the boy shouts, distracting the entity long enough to take a swing.

Even with his puny musculature, it does the trick, the creature falling limp to the side the moment his weapon connects with a bony head, bark splintering from the impact.

He’s huffing with adrenaline, heart hammering against his chest, in disbelief that he'd managed to overwhelm an opponent much bigger and stronger than himself.

A pained chitter, this cry for help getting his attention. He tosses the broken stake in his hands, shuffling over to Damian’s side, collapsing on his knees.

“You’re hurt,” he sobs, seeing the extent of the damage, brutal gouges that gush with fountains of blood.  

Damian offers another weak churr, body seizing, spasms driven by pain.

“This … this is my fault. I never should have wandered off.” 

Now wasn't the time for self-pity, it would do neither of them any good. Instead, Bigby puts pressure on the wounds, staunching the flow, not having enough hands to cover all the gaping holes.

In what might be his final moments, the crimson glow in Damian’s eyes flickers, fading, but still holding such warmth, all for his precious mortal friend.

A claw reaches up, touching the tiny human’s face, addressing his injury, saying what words couldn't.

“I am alright. Don't worry about me.”

It was a harmless scratch by comparison, hot tears slipping down, making the slash marks burn with salt because this just wasn't fair, but there was a way he could make it right. 

Bigby rarely called upon his powers, a well kept secret, having no idea if they would work on a demon, but however small the chance, he would try. He owed Damian that much. 

“Lie still, I am going to heal you.” 

With eyes closed, he lifts his head, exalted, voice beckoning the sky to fulfill his wish, hands holding back the hemorrhage of blood.

“Merciful Light above, hear my plea: lend this penitent vessel your strength. Let me heal this waning soul in your name, embody your forgiveness always and forever your servant in this life and the next.” 

There's warmth under his hands, as heavenly as it is golden, the wechuge’s ghastly white complexion looking more human, bright with color.

This proved that the creature could be saved, that there was goodness in him, the Light had shown him such truth, solidified it within this holy act.

“Light be praised,” Bigby cries, pulling back to see the miracle himself, the wounds mended, staunched of the gore that once was. 

Damian reaches for him again, much steadier now that his faculties had returned, admiring, caressing, showing Bigby how dear to him he was, even if he couldn’t say it aloud.

The monk hugs him, cradling a mantle of chains and antlers in his arms, spurring a trill of happiness for his trouble, the wechuge completing the circle, wrapping lanky arms around him. 

“I am glad you’re OK too.” 

His voice is breathy, thick with relief. Even his face swells with emotion, the smile he gives, effortless.

As warm and reassuring as their embrace is, the possibility of the other creature awakening looms overhead, driving Bigby to cut their affectionate moment short. 

“C’mon, let's get out of here.”

He takes Damian by the hand, helping him up, his pale fingers so small by comparison to spindly claws, leading them back to his den, a place he’s starting to call home.

{End Preview}

[nicomundthered]

A Tale of Two Animals

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

warnings: quarantining, tooth rotting fluff at least by my standards.

summary: from the prompt- Modern au, where Arthur and reader are self quarantining with each other, and reader catches Arthur playing on her animal crossing island.

word count: 1,899

a/n: I've never played AC. I know nothing, repost from ao3.

Masterlist 

Admittedly, self quarantining hadn't been that bad of an experience for you. In fact, it made you feel more than a little guilty. That while you were cooking meals, binging Netflix, and cuddling with the love of your life. People were sick, losing their jobs, and even dying.

But the way the two of you were living, It was your idea of paradise...that was until the both of you cleared out your Netflix queue.

Then things got a little rough. Arthur was a man of action, and not having anything to do had made him stir crazy. He was quicker to argue, and sometimes he’d say things without fully thinking them through.

He would always apologize profusely, even when it wasn’t necessary. You knew him, and knew that this was really hard on him. Besides, he never hurt you the way he always assumed he did. He was too hard on himself.

One time it was a little argument over a mug you loved. He had put in the dishwasher, when you’d always carefully hand wash the item.

He’d called it a ‘stupid mug’, and you, being locked up and slightly stir crazy yourself, started to tear up. He apologized on and off for the next hour, and promised to do the dishes for the next month.

A promise that so far he’d fulfilled.

Then you made the grave mistake, one that you’d regret for the next TEN days, you turned it to a local PBS station and got Arthur obsessed with a damn ten-part horse documentary.

They were an hour and forty five minutes a piece. And it wasn’t really that the footage was so boring, it was the narration. The man’s voice was calming, almost too calming, and would put you to sleep within minutes. You’d awake to the sound of the man's voice only to find Arthur still enthralled.

Which, all of this didn’t sound like a big deal, but it threw off your sleep schedule. And when you're stuck inside, with nothing to watch, sleep becomes something you really looked forward to.

And so, it became his nightly ritual to eat his dinner, wash all the dishes, put on his oversized comfy lounge pants, and sprawl out on the couch to watch another episode of the documentary.

On the fourth night of the documentary you had reached your limit. You just could not take one more second of his old monotone voice, and you searched the internet for something to entertain you...or rather something that you could buy, you should say.

It was then you came upon the new Animal Crossing game. You had played it when you were younger and really enjoyed it, so without overthinking it you added it to your cart, paid a little extra for overnight shipping (you desperately needed it before tomorrow night), and purchased it.

After making sure you received your email receipt, you stood from the couch, stretched a little, and kissed Arthur on the top of his head.

He tore his eyes from the television and looked up at you. “You goin’ to bed so early?”

“Yeah, I’m feeling a little tired.”

He moved to stand but you gently pushed him back down. “Finish your show.” You bent down and kissed him lovingly on the mouth.

“I can pause it and save it for tomorrow.” His eyes twinkled with mischief and any other night you would have pulled him to the bedroom, but you were NOT prolonging your torture for another night.

“No! I mean no, I don’t really feel well. Kinda got a headache.”

He frowned and reached up to feel your forehead. “You need me to run to the store to get ya sumthin’?”

You smiled. “No, I’m fine, really just need some sleep.” You yawned trying to convince him.

You were apparently an ok actor. “Well alright. You let me know if ain’t feelin’ good sweetheart.”

“I will, I promise.”

When he nodded satisfied with your answer, and pressed play, you almost ran to your bedroom.

The next day you spent not so patiently waiting for your package. Just after you put away the sandwich stuff that you used to prepare lunch, you got the notification that it was delivered.

You ran to the door almost dropping your phone, and retrieved your small box. You ripped through the packaging and waited for it to load on your switch.

And just as Timmy and Tommy were welcoming you to the game, Arthur walked in hair wet and slicked back, wearing nothing but a towel. He smelled fresh and amazing, just as he always did.

“I thought I heard the door slam.”

“You did, it’s fine. I just got a package.” You didn’t look up as you were reading the instructions on the small screen. To be honest you didn’t want to get distracted, and before you was one hell of one.

He frightened you a little as he bent over you curious as to what you were doing.

“It’s just a little game that I wanted to play. Figured it would be a great time since I’m stuck here.”

Taking one look at the graphics you could tell he wanted to make fun of you by the way he opened and closed his mouth a few times.

You decided to stop him short, not wanting another stupid argument. “I played it when I was a kid. It's super nostalgic for me.”

His nod was one of understanding and thanks, glad that he didn’t start something from nothing.

And that’s the last you really paid attention to anything for hours, until he brought you a plate of hot tacos.

You looked up red eyed and confused. “What time is it?” You looked around for your phone.

He handed it to you and chuckled. “Goin’ on eight. Thought you might be hungry.”

You gave a playful pout as your stomach growled smelling the delicious looking food.

“Game must be really good.”

You nodded with a mouthful of taco. A little embarrassed that you ate half of it in one bite. But happy that he knew exactly how you liked yours prepared.

“What’s it about?”

You swallowed. “Eh, nothing really. You just kind of build things and help friends out”.

“Oh well, I’m glad you're having fun.” He said without any malice.

“Gosh Arthur these tacos are amazing.” You took another large bite.

He chuckled lightly “It’s like you say, things always taste better when you don’t make them.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t help. I know it’s been our thing since...”

He raised his hand in dismissal. “You cook all the time for me. It is the least I could do for you. ‘Sides you looked like you were really having a good time.”

Your face flushed slightly. Had he been watching you? You knew you did that thing where you bit your bottom lip when you concentrated. It made you a little self conscious, but he would have none of that.

“You sure are beautiful, you know that?” He gently moved a piece of hair from your forehead.

“Arthur…”

“I mean it. You’re absolutely perfect. Can’t believe I’m so lucky.” He shook his head in amazement.

You were at a loss for words so you replied with the only thing you knew he needed to hear. “I love you so much Arthur.”

He reached down and kissed you hard. Sometimes words weren’t enough for him. He was after all, a man of action.

Things were getting heated, your tacos forgotten, when an alarm started blaring.

You looked at him in a daze and giggled softly. “It’s time for your program.”

He slowly opened his eyes and sighed. “Yep.”

He stared at you looking drugged by your beauty.

You smacked his arm playfully. “Watch your ponies.”

That sobbered him up. “They ain’t ‘ponies’ they are stallions and mustangs, and..”

“I’m joking.” You cut him short saving his lecture for later you were sure. “Hurry you're going to miss some of it.”

He turned the TV on, and you excitedly picked your game back up. So focused on it, you never heard a word the boring old man said.

It was late. Real late. You hadn’t played a game through the night since you were in high school. But as you admired your island, you felt that it was worth it.

You looked to the otherside of the couch and saw that Arthur hadn’t wanted to leave you. He was sprawled out breathing heavily, obviously deep in sleep.

The sun was rising and you thought it a better idea just to leave him be. He’d be up soon anyhow. You plugged your game in to charge and went to get a couple hours of sleep.

It was around lunch time when you awoke. You hated sleeping in but then again, where did you have to be?

After showering, and brushing your hair and teeth, you groggily made your way to make some coffee.

When you entered the hallway you heard your game. Worried that you had left it on you hurriedly entered the room, and to your surprise, were met with the sight of Arthur, brows furrowed, deep in concentration playing your game.

You smiled wickedly at the sight and cleared your throat loudly.

He jumped like he had just been shot and placed your game quickly on the coffee table. “Oh god! You scared me.” He placed his hand on his chest for dramatic effect.

You walked over to him slowly, hands on your hips, and tried your best to look angry. “Now what were you just doin’?”

“I, I…”

“You what?”

���I was just curious is all.” He nervously ran his hand through his hair.

“Curious?”

“Well, yeah. You were havin’ so much fun, I just wanted to see what it was about. Ya know?”

His voice sounded so innocent and his eyes looked so wide from shock. Arthur Morgan wasn't used to getting caught.

You really shouldn't do it but you couldn't help it, you started laughing. So hard that you actually had to bend over.

He stood up placing his hands on his hips. His hair was an absolute mess, sticking up from all angles, and he actually attempted to look at you seriously.

Which, of course, made you laugh harder. So hard that tears started streaming down your face. There was something about this large, handsome, intimidating man, sneaking your switch and waiting until you were asleep to play Animal Crossing. And then getting caught all while being extremely embarrassed about it.

Either he finally started to see the humor in it, or perhaps he got joy out of seeing you so happy, he too started to laugh.

He walked to you and hugged you tightly, then playfully threw you onto the couch. Neither of you stopped laughing for a while, not until your sides were splitting and you could take no more.

He nuzzled your neck. “I’m real sorry I played your game without permission.”

You briefly chuckled while stroking his muscular arm. “No you're not.” You whispered back.

“Alright, I’m sorry that I got caught.”

You both kept laughing until, still tired from the previous night, you fell asleep in each other's arms.

A loud alarm woke you both. You snatched his phone from the side table mercifully stopping the noise.

He mumbled. “Don’t worry it's recording.”

You sighed heavily.

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

[noxxha]

Find the Word!

I was tagged by @tales-from-nocturnaliss, and her post can be found here!

Rules: scour your writings and Find the Word!

Ohh this was a fun one! I’m quite shocked to find that I have not written a story/novel/scene/sentence with the word “mourning” though ._.

Words I was given: Beloved, Silence, Mourning, Star

Words I give to the one who wants to join in: thoughtful, brother, helpless, sorrow, love

🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱

/silence / - Why the Sun sets Red (Isa and Lea, Kingdom Hearts fanfic)

”I never thought I would get to see this view again, not with you especially.” Straight to the source of my anxiety I go, and there is a contemplating silence that stretches out as far as the crimson in the sky. I watch your gaze return to my face, a fond - wistful even - smile.

“You know I would have done anything to save you, Isa - none could, nor can ever replace who you are to me, and what you mean to my heart.”

I take a bite - the salt and sweet taste a comforting taste onto my tongue - all to garner time, to hide behind something familiar as I find tears skim across my jaws.

/beloved / Courage (Marluxia x Larxene fanfiction, AU)

I exhaled, my breathing threatened to spiral into hysterics.

“What kind of lover waits for over three years to meet the parents of her beloved?”

“What kind of lover arranges a meeting with said lovers’ parents on Christmas Eve, with a house brimming with people, while aware that his beloved struggles with anxiety when it involves other people?” We stare at one another, and you dissolve the silence with a sigh.

“You break free from your shackles little by little - each day a little more - and you should be ever so proud of that achievement- you’re changing your life, it may be slow as a tortoise, but the change is there and it’s a joy to witness it.”

“What have I done to deserve you?”

“You loved me when I couldn’t.” A tender kiss that weakened my knees. “And you allowed me - a soul just as wounded and fucked up - to love you; I cannot think of a more deserving reason to love than this.” A whisper near my ear. “Because is that not what love is after all? An unconditional acceptance of our personal hell?”

/star / 3 AM Conversation (Marluxia and Larxene fanfic, AU)

“Oh Romeo, where are thy?” I rolled my eyes to the heavens, before shaking my head slightly at your attempt at humour. “And here I thought I could stargaze without any interruptions.” You inclined your head, mustered me with clear mirth against your lips and no ill-meaning behind your words. I released merely another cloud of vapour, before giving you a slight - if just as playful as your words before - bow.

“Hello Larxene.”

“Hello to you too, Marluxia.” Laughter in your voice - something I thought always fit you well, ever since the moment we became acquainted. Eventually I looked once more to the sky when aware how your gaze drifted skyward - I made even a half-hearted attempt to search for any constellation, I could remember the name of, amongst the millions of stars above.

“Are you looking for a particular one?” There followed silence at that, and I waited - enchanted by how beautiful this particular night was - so that your subdued answer came to startle me.

“Nope, I’ve never been much for constellations and astronomy.” I looked towards you, and while many details got lost at the distance between us, I thought you looked troubled, forlorn in a sense - even your voice carried a tone of vulnerability as you spoke your next words. “I’ve always been someone who prefers watching storms.”

[helenazbmrskai]

Garden Of Red Petals (M)

– A dying planet reaches out to save her soil from infertility. Straws are drawn and seven men accept the burden to take care of the planet’s soil and in return, the planet provides them with mates. Old tales indicate that seven women were to arrive and fulfil the ache in their hearts for eternity. –

⤷ Part of Alien Garden Series

Pairing – Alien! Jungkook x Reader

Genre – Alien AU, Sci-Fi, Smut, Strangers To Lovers

Summary – You couldn’t find a better flower to represent his burning passion than the red roses in his garden.

Warnings – water sex, outdoor sex (but they’re alone), switch! jungkook + switch! reader, grinding, dry humping, brief handjob, mentions of (f) oral, fingering, big dick! jungkook, you only eat one petal folks so this is what happens when you don’t eat the petal (uhm, aphrodisiac) to take alien cock but you manage, size kink (duh), finger sucking, kissing, dirty talk, unprotected and penetrative sex, lots of cum, cockwarming, jk stuffs his cum inside you and asks you to keep it in, cum kink (?) yeah let’s go with that

Word Count – (5,5k)

Menu: Masterlist l Be part of my permanent taglist to recieve a notification when I upload a new fic or send an ask!

A sweet smell lingers in the air something flowery that reminds you of a sweet childhood memory. Your eyes fly open on reflex as you try to take in your unfamiliar surroundings, your nose more awake than your droopy eyes. You inhale the suffocating aroma of roses while your eyes dart around the place, searching for something or someone inside the enormous rose garden that is well kept there’s no way it’s abandoned as you see freshly made cuts to get rid of the withered flowers. There must be an owner somewhere.

Your eyes discover a path in the middle that beckons you to follow it and your legs move on their own, your hands dusting off your clothes, thinking that maybe it will lead you to someone who could answer your questions about this place. Even the roses seem to bend into a specific direction and you’re curious to find out what that might mean. Your mother used to have red roses in her garden so the endless flowerbeds give a sense of calmness to wash over you and add familiarity to this odd dream. She liked to use freshly cut pairs to decorate the dining table in your old home. A few of them were always in the centre of the table while your family shared a meal sitting in a pretty vase till it lasted for you to ogle at. Unfortunately, they only last for a few days.

You never had a dream like this before, somehow, it feels different from anything you experienced before but not real at the same time. The path takes a left turn so you turn left as well, the road ahead of you stretches into two separate roads but oddly enough you know where to go which path to take so you take another left. It leads you to a clearing surrounded by more rose bushes that hardly surprises you anymore but a man crouching near the water makes all the difference in the scenery and your eyes widen.

His muscular back is full of angry red marks that catches your attention he’s too far away to see more details of his features but you’re sure it’s a he. You watch the man take a step further ahead of him staying with his foot at the edge of the rock but by the time your lashes flutter open a second time after a dreamy blink he’s under the water. Disturned droplets from the mass of liquid that ensures you it did happen.

He’s up before you could worry about his safety and you realise you’ve been holding your breath the whole time like you were the one instead with its head submerged under the spring water. You think you remained perfectly still while you were watching him but he makes eye contact with you suddenly as if sensing your presence and your breath hitches. He’s watching you with a curious tilt to his head if you’d be closer you could have seen the mischievous glint in his eyes. His gaze is piercing even from a fair distance.

Not knowing what to do you stay rooted to your spot, your cheeks turn to a lovely shade of rosy red from being caught staring at this beautiful stranger. A charming smile lits up his entire face doe eyes observe you expectantly. It only takes a gesture from him to realise he wants you to approach him and approach him you do. Your inner voice screams in your head at full force telling you to turn around and don’t ever look back but your body doesn’t listen to that silly voice in the back of your head, you feel enchanted by his strong presence and you find yourself wanting to go take a closer look. He’s like the roses to you that surround your body, even with thorn you want to reach out with the possibility of getting hurt and once your burgundy blood spills and your head mocks you with its ’i told you so’ you still can’t find it in yourself to feel sorry for it.

His face becomes clearer with each step in his direction and his eyes are turning playful. You don’t feel shy till you’re face to face with him but he seems to like your reddened state and girlish embarrassment sit like an open book to read on your face. Now that you’re closer you could see the weird markings on his face and chest what you thought to be bruises turned out to be petals like the ones planted in this mystery garden.

It looks like rose petals are all across his skin in different shades and shapes, only one part of his face has a kind of flowing petals like a teardrop would fall down his full cheeks but there’s something else that catches your attention. There’s a half-moon shaped red petal marking under his left eyebrow that makes the petal formations even more unique. You can’t tear your eyes away from his beauty.

He obviously knows you’re staring (not that you were trying too hard to hide it) when that eyebrow raises in question and there’s an almost childish sparkle in his orbs as you lock eyes with him. He’s not shy even though technically he’s the one who’s half naked and wet, you’re the only one who’s self-conscious.

You didn’t realise he’s standing that close to the edge again until his hand grips your wrist in a sudden attack, using his strength to pull your unsuspecting body down into the water. Everything about you gets drenched, your hair, your clothes, your shoes, everything. The man just smiles when you let out a loud yelp he has two steady hands on your waist to guide your body above the water as soon as you ungracefully land he has at least half a mind not to let you drown. Your heaving chest is flush against his naked one that gets all your blood to travel to your blushing face.

You shiver even though the water is lukewarm around you but he decides to humour you as he pulls you impossibly closer or he was just waiting for an excuse to do that. His warm breath hits your neck first before you feel his lips close around your pulse point taking advantage of the hug to taste your skin. One hand tosses your hair to frame your other shoulder in wet heavy locks so he could slip lower and trace the shape of your collarbones with his pillowy lips possessively.

Your hands hover above his shoulders undecided what to do with them until he guides them to pull on his dark hair. There’s a tiny moan coming from him that resonates against your throat when you abide by his wishes, his voice is low and manly unfiltered desire drips from it like honey.

You jolt awake when he leans in to kiss you, red petals surround your laid down form as you crumble some in between your grip to finally feel stable enough to sit without feeling dizzy, the ghost of a kiss from the beautiful stranger with flaming red markings lingers on your parted lips. You don’t want to admit it but you’re disappointed about the sudden interruption, you wanted to enjoy the cool feel of his lips before you had to come back to reality. Thinking about reality, there’s a familiar sight when you look around and your body stiffens. The melody is sweet, you can’t pinpoint a particular direction where the voice might be from so you follow your instincts.

”Where the hell am I?” You murmur under your nose, following the cheerful song to see who this beautiful melody belongs to. Your head is getting clearer from the sleepy fog and you almost gasp loudly when your predicament seems to be correct. This is the rose garden from your dream, you’re sure of it and strangely enough, you’re not creeped out by it when you see that beautiful stranger again just in a different setting. The man who you still don’t know the name of is cutting fresh roses, picking the thorns out one by one without getting hurt. You don’t want him to stop the song so you observe him a little longer before you eventually decide to make your presence known.

”Uh, hi. Can you perhaps tell me where I am? I think I’m lost.” You cringe hearing your own high pitched voice. This man has a peculiarly different reaction than the one in your dream who looked bold and playful. He drops the rose in his hands and falls face first into the accumulated red flower bed that conveniently cushioned his fall. You bite your tongue to avoid laughing out loud but his wide doe eyes are making it hard for you not to coo at least from the cuteness.

”I didn’t mean to startle you.” The corner of your lips twitches to fight off a smile. His mouth is agape as he cranes his neck to look up at you from the position like he’s in disbelief to see you. There’s a sense of familiarity in his passionate gaze that takes place after his initial shock wears off.

You offer him a hand to help him up and he gracefully accepts it curling his much larger hand around yours like a puzzle piece. Your faces are closer than you anticipated when he regains his full height but neither of you does anything to change it. This time you need to look up into his eyes.

”Wow, I can’t believe it’s my turn! The boys will be so jealous. Well, except Taehyung because he already found his flower.” You could hardly concentrate on his words as he started jumping up and down in place, holding onto your hand like a lifeline and eyes radiating pure joy and excitement. You don’t understand a single word that he said but you let him indulge in his happiness for a few more minutes before you ask him about it.

”What is this place and what do you mean it’s your turn?” Your confusion is written all across your face. The man in front of you stopped his celebration and took a huge breath of fresh air into his lungs before he explained your situation. By the time he finished his interesting monologue, you feel like the main protagonist in a sci-fi movie. The hardest part to wrap your mind around is the fact that you’re on a different planet and have no recollection of how you even got here. After you somehow tackled that part down there’s still this flower thing going on.

It’s unbelievable how a planet chose you to be this person’s mate for eternity without even discussing it with you, it just feels surreal it’s not even a full day that you were doing your own thing on Earth and now you’re suddenly on a different planet without any means of transport to reach home. The fact that now you need to live here with only one other female and seven other males in the vicinity blows your mind away.

”Well, I guess I have the right to know the name of the man I’m supposed to be paired up with.” Jungkook was watching you anxiously this whole time. He remembers how Taehyung’s flower kind of freaked out by this and he didn’t want to be the first one to be rejected by their flower. He doesn’t know anything about you yet but he really wants to. So when you ask for his name he beams with a perfect smile on his face. If you want to know his name that probably means something good right? – that’s what he tells himself.

”Jungkook but call me whatever you want!” His cheerful answer makes you laugh this time aloud. You offer him your name in a more reserved tone, he calls your name like it’s the most precious sound on Earth, or well, on Trebis. You can’t say you don’t like it. There’s something else that has been bothering you since you woke up so you take the chance and ask about it while it’s still on your mind.

”I had this really weird dream before I woke up here and you were in it.”

”A dream?” Something changed in his shiny orbs as you mentioned your dream but you can’t tell what it is that changed and he snickers silently under his nose before offering any kind of explanation.

”I think you should ask about it from Taehyung’s flower, you’ll be embarrassed if I explain it to you.”

And oh boy you were embarrassed the next day you actually met with a lovely girl with wild hair full of pink petals in it and she told you everything there is to know about ’mates’ and ’flowers’ as soon as you learned that this dream is a way to see you’re compatible with your match and the inappropriate thoughts that you were having while watching Jungkook bath is a form of a discreet push on the planet’s part to encourage you to mate with your partner. She told you that it’s surprising you didn’t have sex that day when you arrived. It’s not like you don’t find your alien match well, a match because he’s handsome and a very fun person to be around, you could even picture yourself falling in love with him. You thought it will be awkward to sleep in the same room as your alien but he was out like a light before you could turn to your other side.

You’re thinking about the things Taehyung’s mate told you while Jungkook busies himself with tending to his garden. He’s cutting flowers not too far away from you as you sit on a makeshift flowerbed of red rose petals. You heard that they taste good. You roll one petal between your fingers and watch the pinkish liquid coat your fingers as you experimentally crumbled them in your palm. They smell sweet.

Jungkook stopped cutting while you’re attention is still fixed on your hands. He rushes towards you to see if you cut yourself as there’s red coating your fingers but when the scent of rose petals hits his nostrils and see the crushed pieces stuck between the juncture of your fingers he understands that you were just playing and he visibly relaxes again. He didn’t realise he was holding your hand protectively until you tried to pull away shyly.

Seeing Jungkook kneeling before you is a sight to behold. You feel your stomach twist in a pleasant way that allows heat to spread through your entire body. The dream you had put ideas into your head, showing you an appetizer and now you want more, just like the core wanted you to react with lust and want. You can’t run or hide from the feeling that rooted itself into every crevice of your mind, there’s nowhere else you can go, you’re stuck here with Jungkook and you don’t even hate the idea of forever with him. It’s confusing to feel so many things at once with a simple glance in his direction.

”All of you have these petals on your skin?” You ask, curious, and you stretch your hand towards him to follow the lines but you hesitate to actually touch his skin without his explicit permission, you don’t want to invade his privacy or make him uncomfortable. However, he doesn’t feel that way at all if anything he’s dying to feel your touch on his skin. Having you near him but unable to act on his base desires is torture.  

Jungkook nods guiding your hand to touch the one under his brow first, he sighs contently and you gain confidence from his reaction to keep tracing his markings with delicately moving fingers.

”They appeared on our skin after the first week we spent here. They’re very sensitive, it connects us to our gardens. If we don’t take care of ourselves the flowers will eventually die there’s no garden without us and there’s no us without a garden.” You trace a long petal near his lips while listening intently mesmerised by his mouth forming the words, you could feel his jaw tense when your fingers venture lower to line along his pretty neck and follow the drops of petals down until his shirt allows you to. His garden is thriving in the distance, the rose bushes are bending to watch you two intimately as the petals open up to bloom and mirror the feelings inside the alien’s heart. His beautiful doe eyes are watching your every move, he has to restrain his hands from reaching out to you as well.

”I really want to kiss you right now.” Jungkook whispers it between you like he’s revealing a deep secret and to him, maybe it is. There’s a burning passion behind his words that easily catches you off guard. You had no idea you wanted his lips on yours before he pointed it out so appealingly.

You can’t nod your head fast enough to show him your eagerness with a bite to your lower lip, you meet him in the middle and kiss him back immediately until your lips are moving languidly over his.

First, it starts with your timid lips pressing against each other and more small little pecks are exchanged for sloppy seconds to get familiar with the feeling. After he realises you want this as much as he does Jungkook’s kiss turns out to be firmer against your pillowy lips, his hands find the back of your head and use it to pull you closer coaxing your mouth to open with a choked moan for him so he could explore more and more.

He chases after your sweet taste that’s better than any flower petal of his. Your hand leaves a red trail alongside his biceps as the slightly sticky liquid on your fingers transfers to his skin. Neither of you cares as he rubs his fingers on your thigh opening your legs to fit between them. Jungkook’s torso is trapped between your legs as he’s still kneeling before you and you use this to your advantage by snaking your hands around his neck and lick into his mouth. Both of you are breathless when the kiss ends, small chuckles are escaping from between your lips due to Jungkook’s cute gesture to nuzzle your noses together affectionately. Once your senses clear up again you faintly hear the water running. It reminds you of your dream as a thick blush spreads across your lovely skin.

”There’s a clearing nearby by any chance?” You surprised to hear your voice sound so affected just by his kisses. You can’t deny that you want more, feeling his lips on yours is even better than in your dreams and now there’s no chance of distraction. All you have to do is ask, that’s what Jungkook told you on the day you arrived. That he’ll do anything for you if you ask except for sending you home. He can’t do that even if he wanted to. That’s out of his power – so he made sure not to make an irresponsible promise even if momentarily it made you sad. Right now, however, you’re only fixated on him and the hungry look in his darkened orbs. It takes a while for him to register your words.

”Right, yeah. Do you want to bathe? This is a really warm day.” Jungkook looks away bashfully after his eyes regained their focus. You think he thought it was your subtle way of telling him to slow down and now he’s embarrassed. You find him endearingly cute like this so you entertain his thoughts for a little longer to see him squirm under your gaze. You can’t decide if his confidence is real or the way he blushes and looks away how he truly feels under his skin and you’re getting excited to find out soon.

”Where are you going?” You ask him playfully once he turns around to leave you. He sees the smirk adorning your features and if it’s possible he gets even more jittery under your heavy gaze.

”Come here.” You beckon him to get closer and when he does you start unbuttoning his pants.

”W-What are you doing?” Jungkook avoids your eyes but doesn’t stop you when you pull his pants and undergarments down his muscular legs. You take his hands after you removed all his clothes and guide them to the strap of your dress. He gazes over at the roses, looking at everywhere else that’s not your face or body but his fingers instinctively wrap around the thin material and start pulling it off your shoulders.

You take your time watching him toy with your straps low on your arms, your top half is naked while the dress is still hanging around your lower frame. Licking your lips you grab his hips and pull him close until you feel his hard cock rest against your covered legs. He gasps for air when you use the hands gripping around his tiny waist to press his bare cock into your body, the silky material of your dress creates the delicious friction that aids his low moans directly muttered into your ears. His hands grip your shoulders for leverage as you guide his motions to grind against you. Jungkook buries his face into your neck as soon as the dress falls to the ground now that his hands are not holding them in place. Your hand finds the wet tip of his cock that has Jungkook tighten his grip on you, he moans louder when you smear his arousal around his gritty length using his natural lubricant to glide along your skin smoother as you position him to grind against the juncture between your thighs. Now that your skin is wet with his precum you speed up placing both hands back on his waist to set the pace for his desperate thrusts.

The juice from the petals you crushed earlier now is dried on your right hand. It gives you an idea. You use the same hand that’s heavily coated by the red liquid to test out your wetness. Two of your fingers finds your clit with ease as you play with your pussy making sure that Jungkook is still rubbing his cock on your skin. Lost in the moment you don’t realise that Jungkook watches your hand work on your soaked centre, he imagines it’s his fingers instead that glide between your wet folds. He would slowly rub your clit for you and only when you’re whining and begging him would he slip two fingers inside your tight heat. He bets you would be so tight around his digits.

Your eyes widen in surprise when Jungkook spats your hand away from your needy pussy and positions his dick to feel you. He drags his cock up and down your folds gripping your hipbones firmly to keep you immobile. ”I want to taste you.” Jungkook sighs dreamily, watching you with half-lidded eyes. You think he’s going to eat you out but learn as soon as the request leaves his mouth that you’re very wrong when he has something different on his mind.

”I want to suck your fingers.” You blush this time around as you observe his fucked out expression, his mouth open waiting for you to give him your fingers. If you’d feel bold enough you would tease him and give him your other hand even though you know he wants the fingers that are coated with your essence but watching the erotic sight in front of you makes you obey without further thinking. You could feel the vibration from his sinful moan as he swirls his hot wet tongue around your digits, sucking and licking like a starved man having the most delicious meal. Your centre throbs in want as you see him enjoy himself so much. He lastly nips on your fingertips before you withdraw your hand.

He’s reluctant to pull away but you don’t have to wait long until he envelops your frame again with freshly picked petals in one hand. He drops them into the water and steps down from the rock, gently luring you to join him inside the spring. The water is cold but refreshing on a hot day like this when the sun is so high up in the sky. There’s a stray petal sitting on Jungkook’s collarbone and you feel the urge to lick it off his skin so you do just that. Sliding your hands down his torso to find the perfect place on his waist again as you bow down to kiss his mark covered shoulders, leaving a trail of saliva behind. You reach the petal with ease picking it up using your teeth. He visibly shudders when your pearly white teeth make contact with his sensitive skin. You first chew and then swallow proud when you see his expression painfully twist with the sheer desire in response to your teasing.

You feel heat pool into your lower belly even standing inside the water you feel yourself getting incredibly wet once again. Your slick is sliding down your inner thighs as dirty thoughts fill your head, you want to have his dick buried deep inside you so bad that you’re slowly going insane. ”J-Jungkook.”

You’re moaning his name pulling him closer until he’s firmly pressed against you. He could tell your desperation simply as he feels the same way. His hand grips the base of his dick to align the tip with your entrance, using his fingers that are rubbing your folds to get a direction as your lower halves are under the water. ”We’ll go at your pace. Whenever you’re ready.” His tip is nudging your entrance but not quite entering your inviting heat, he’s waiting for you to push your body towards him while his hand is rubbing comforting circles into your waist. You kiss his lips sweetly before you place your own hands on his hips as well to guide him into you. He penetrates you slowly feeling every inch as he stuffs you full. ”Ah, Jungkook. Too much.” You want to fit all of him inside but it seems like an impossible task as you feel your walls slightly burn. Jungkook can feel your snug walls stretch around him, leaving him barely any room to move as you envelop him tightly. It excites him how well you’re taking him he wants to test your limits as he pushes more of himself into your greedy cunt. Your arousal is pushed out as he eases more of his length inside you. Despite the tight fit, he can slide in easily as you’re so wet for him.

”My flower is opening up to me so beautifully. This beautiful wet pussy is all mine, right?” You nod your head as words fail you. Jungkook’s finger finds your clit underwater to ease the tension in your muscles and make you relax for him. He surprises you as he successfully coaxes more of his length inside with minimal burn. The water and your own arousal are helping greatly to keep your pain at bay.

You’re confused when he starts pulling out, you thought he wants to go all the way although he’s not letting you question his moves for long as he pushes back deeper than before. His thrusts are calculated and slow but persistent as he takes more each time he nestles inside you again, giving you time to recover before he moves his hips pushing in and out until the pain turns to only pleasure.

”I wish I could watch my cock move inside you. You’re so fucking tight. Ugh, can you take more? I want you to have all of me. You’ll take my cock right? I want to give all of myself to you my precious flower.”

You want to please him so you nod, meeting with his thrusts as you take another inch, already feeling so full that you don’t know if you could even handle more. You’re tempted to look down and see if you’re close to taking all of him or there’s still inches to go but Jungkook tilts your head to look into his eyes. He kisses you deeply as one hand came up from underwater to caress your cheeks with his cold fingers.

”I’m so proud of you. Hmmn, human’s are so tiny but you’re taking my big cock so fucking well. I don’t think I’ll ever fit entirely.” He’s not trying to mock you, you know that, you can see it in his eyes as he watches your body in awe but you still take full offence and you want to prove him wrong. Taking him well is not enough for you, you want to take him all. You gasp when he rolls his hips testing the flexibility of your walls distracting you from your thoughts. With each thrust of his hips, his cock rubs against your sweet spot making your insides clench. ”A-Ah, don’t d-do that. I can barely move as i-it is, you’re squeezing me so tight. I want to fuck your tiny hole forever.”

Feeling powerful as you see Jungkook lose himself because of you, you decide to proceed with your plan. You still his hips observing his eyes as it shows momentarily confusion of why you stopped him from moving but his eyes are opening wide as he feels your hips touch for the first time. You have a tight grip on his waist as you rest your head against his chest trying to get used to the feeling of him fully inside. It hurts but you want this, you know once your body gets accustomed to the feeling it will feel so good. Jungkook lets you rest, his fingers card through your hair while the other is tracing the line of your spine. He does this to distract himself from your throbbing warm heat.

Pushing the thoughts of how much he wants to fuck into you to the back of his mind. It’s enough to hold him back that he knows it won’t feel as good for you as for him if he moves now so he waits patiently until you’re ready. He learnt from the short time that you two spent together that you can extremely stubborn but he never thought you’ll take this as a challenge, his heart is filled with pride and appreciation for you.

You use his hips like before to set the pace once the pain subdues enough, strangely you start to like the pressure on your walls as he stretches you open on his big cock. He must see it on your face because there’s amusement colouring his voice.

”You like this, don’t you?” He chuckles darkly when you nod with your head thrown back when he takes over the motions, thrusting in and out faster and deeper than before as he makes sure you’re pussy is taking his full length until he’s entirely nestled in your stretched out cunt. You get impossibly tight around him once you’re close to the edge, tasting your sweet orgasm on your tongue before it washes over you with its incredible force.

Your moans mix in the air as Jungkook stills inside you unable to move as you cum around his twitching cock overwhelmed by the sensation of you coming undone. He never experienced such a tight fit before you.

Letting your taut walls squeeze his cum out till he’s spurting his big load inside, the tiny space is forcing his dick out of your spent hole to accommodate his impressive cum. Jungkook is surprised to realise he just released without needing to thrust in and out of your heavenly cunt to create the delicious friction that made him go over the edge so many times before on his home planet – he never once cum from just being inside someone but you managed to steal his breath away.

”Fuck, you’re amazing.”

You lazily smile up at him entirely spent as you let him clean you in the water that so conveniently surrounds you.

”No more.” You protest with a whine when Jungkook slips two of his fingers inside, the feeling bordering to be more painful than pleasurable.

”Shh. Let me do this for a minute I need to feel how well you took my cum.” He’s strangely fascinated and you can’t quite tell why but silently obligated. If it makes him happy to plug his cum inside your pussy with his fingers then you’ll let him do that. Truth to his words he didn’t try to arouse you again he simply stayed there while his head rested on your right shoulder. ”Can you keep it inside just a little longer?” You nod clenching your walls to keep as much inside as you can while he helps you dress up after the bath.

[lubdubsworld]

Insatiable ( Jungkook x OC) Chapter 7

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC!   Age difference!!!

Chapter 1   Chapter 2  Chapter 3    Chapter 4  Chapter 5   Chapter 6

Chapter 7

“I love this...” I whispered, arms wrapped around his neck, staring up into Jungkooks face as he rocked his hips against mine , hands stroking my hips gently as the hard length of him dragged inside me , almost gentle as he placed soft kisses on my brow. 

“What? “ he smiled. 

“You inside me... it feels.. i feel complete somehow..” 

He smiled sweetly, kissing the corner of my lips. 

“You’re so warm and wet and I think you’re perfect.” He breathed against my cheeks, pillow soft lips pressing smooches down my jaw and up to my lobe. 

“I liked ...tonight. “I said shyly and he grimaced.

“I may have gone a little overboard..” He said sheepishly, grunting as he thrust a little harder and I closed my eyes , savoring the feeling of him inside me. 

“But I liked it. Liked that I couldn’t even watch the fireworks because of ...well another kind of fireworks..” I laughed.

He grinned.

“ I aim to please.” 

“Good. Then why dont you hurry up and fuck me like you mean it.” I said with a wink and his eyes narrowed, flashing red.

“You never learn, do you angel?” 

I laughed as he pulled out and flipped me over, fingers sinking into hair, hand gripping my waist as he rove straight into me with a force that shook the bed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“On a scale of one to ten, how mad would your siblings be if you don’t go back to your bed tonight?” Jungkook whispered, burying his face in the slightly damp strands of my hair, breathing deeply before going back to running a small fluffy towel through the strands. 

I stared up at the ceiling , eyes at half mast because I was so sleepy, still pleasantly warm from the hot bath I’d just had . I was dressed in one of Jungkook’s big white t shirts , lying sideways on his bed with my head hanging over the edge because y hair was still wet. Jungkook being the perfect man that he was , was towel drying my wet locks for me. 

“Probably a twenty?” I grimaced. “ I need to be up early to go down to the kitchen. We’re taking the kids out to the park remember?” 

Jungkook groaned.

“Minae needs to be kept away from the sugar ... I am not going to piggy back her for two straight hours like yesterday.” He swore. 

i laughed, rolling over and smiling at him. 

“ She has a crush on you.” I grinned, waggling my eyebrows at him. 

He shook his head laughing. 

“I’m too old to be dealing with four year olds that have a crush on me., “He shuddered. I smiled, shaking my head because , Jungkook was the one who had begun helping out with the children and he was often the first to offer a piggyback ride to the kids. 

Being a single father, I knew he had experience with kids, of course. But still it was quite something watching him handle them with confident hands and a ridiculously kind disposition. And he didn’t shy away from  anything. Changing toddlers out of nappies, cleaning spit up off my office desk , even offering his nails for the smitten Minae to color with her markers.  

And it felt good to have him around, his presence somehow grounding me even during the most hectic of times. Story time with Mr. Jeon,  was fast becoming a thing, with Jungkook gathering all the younglings around him in a circle and regaling them with tales from his life ( a toned down, child friendly version of it of course ) while I set up the beds in the nap room, every afternoon. 

The kids slept for about an hour every afternoon and that was the time we ate our lunch, the workers heading off to the kitchen while Jungkook and I shared a meal cook sent up for us. The small stone bench on the yard was right outside the window of the nap room, and leaving the window open helped us keep an eye on the kids while we ate. 

Not too mention the effect it had on Joo Won. 

Although he spent most of his time with Somi and Jimin in the other cottage , learning his number work and language skills, he occasionally ran up to his father, eager to show off his work. Jungkook always dropped whatever he was doing to shower praises on his son and the boy thrived under the attention. 

The idea that I could do this with him for the rest of my life, was impossible to push out of  my head. 

But i wouldn’t bring it up. 

I would enjoy this , now while I had it and I would wait for him of course but I wasn’t going to play games with him. 

“I’m not meeting anyone else anymore.” I said quietly. 

He gave me a look. 

“anyone as in?..”

“Any vampires. potential suitors” I said with a shrug. “ I’m not going to. I’m going to tell my father I’m... not interested in it anymore.” 

Jungkook stopped his ministrations and gave me a guilty laden look.

“Sera, about tonight-”

“Don’t you dare apologize.” I glared at him. “ I loved it. I love you , as I’ve told you often enough and I also understand that you’re not there yet. and I can wait.”

Jungkook looked away.

“That’s not fair to you.” He said hoarsely.

“Maybe. But it’s still my choice. And My life. And if I choose to spend that life pining over you for the rest of eternity , that’s upto me.” I shrugged. 

He merely stared at me, lips turned down in a frown. 

“You’re too young to understand what you’re asking for Sera. You don’t realize how powerful you are. I’m not... I’m not good enough for you.” He shook his head. “ Far from it.” 

I rolled my eyes. 

“What does that even mean? You’re a vampire. There’s literally nothing that stops us from being together than your twisted belief that you aren’t good enough. Which is so baseless I could laugh. ”

Jungkook stared at me. 

“It’s not just about me. What about the kind of power you would have with the right vampire? not to mention the people in my life that  would want me fucking dead sera? You think everyone would just let it go? Me , a fucking nobody marrying the most adored girl in  our kind???  ” he laughed in disbelief. 

i frowned. 

“What do you mean ?”

Jungkook opened his mouth to elaborate but the door to his bedroom slammed open at that exact same moment and I jumped, terrified. Scrambling to my knees, I crawled back to the headboard just as Jungkook swore, moving to the door , bodychecking the figure that crashed through. 

“JEON FUCKING JUNGKOOK GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!!!!!” 

I felt my eyes widen in horror as my brother in law launched himself across the room, fingers closing right around Jungkook’s neck as he rammed into him, the two of them skidding across the floor and crashing into the ornate fireplace with a noise loud enough to wake the dead.

I stared, my brain unable to process what I was seeing. 

My sister appeared, eyes wild and panicked.

“Oh God... Sera I’m so sorry...he came to your room and saw you were gone...” she began but then stopped.  

Her eyes fell on the pandemonium in the corner and she yelped. 

“jIMIN!!!!” She screamed, rushing to the corner where the two vampires were locked together in a scuffle and the only thing I could think about was the fact that I was naked underneath his t shirt and if anyone else walked in-

“What is this ruckus?” The loud booming noise was familiar and terrifying and i squeaked, diving for the covers and crawling in as I stared horrified. The figure that appeared in the doorway was so imposing that all of us went still. Even Jungkook’s eyes widened as he took in the gargantuan man framed in the entryway. 

Hwang Jaebum was seven feet tall, 1800 years old and the scariest Vampire i had ever seen in my entire life. His skin was shriveled , his eyes permanently red and he stared at the two fighting vampires , now frozen and gawking at the towering vampire and he scrunched his nose in disgust before his red eyes flashed and landed on me. 

“There you are.” He said softly. “Sweet Seraphina.” 

The name, God.

 My uncle had named me and no one called me that but him. 

I swallowed, clutching the covers as sheer unadulterated terror coursed through my veins. I knew my uncle wouldn’t hurt me but still, power radiated off him in waves and I did not want to be on the receiving end of his displeasure. 

“Come here , child. Let me look at you.” 

I winced. 

Before I could react though, Jungkook was climbing on the bed, scrabbling to kneel right in front of me, arms stretched out to keep me from the vampire’s view. 

“Who the fuck are you?” He snarled and I gasped, stunned. God, Uncle Jae had killed people for less. 

I grabbed Jungkook quickly, pulling him back into my arms and away from the vampire who now looked suitably furious. 

“That’s my uncle. Shut up.” I hissed quickly. Jungkook didn’t show any sign of backing down, still crouched in front of me, muscles locked in a fighting stance and I clutched his shoulders, burying my face in his back. 

“Jungkook relax...” I begged but he merely grabbed my hand where it lay wrapped on his waist, squeezing gently. 

“It’s okay baby, I’m here.” He was still glaring at my uncle who peered over him to lock eyes with me. 

“Who is this? Why are you in his bed, Seraphina? “ My Uncles’ voice rumbled through the room, echoing off the rafters and Jimin and Somi scrambled to their feet. 

“Sire.... We didn’t know you were here already..” Jimin began, moving to stand in front of him but Jaebum ignored him, moving closer to the bed. 

“Who are you? Tell me now.” He snarled. 

I stared at the anger flashing in my uncle’s eyes  and I swallowed. 

“He is her intended, brother.” My father’s voice came from the doorway and i jumped a bit, staring over at the door. 

My father came floating in, face calm but eyes narrowed in annoyance as he stared at me. I found myself wilting under the glare. He was upset, Rightfully so. 

My uncle frowned, glancing at my father in disbelief. 

“She is betrothed?” He frowned. “ Why was I not informed of this?” 

My father gave him a reassuring smile.

“It is fairly new, this courtship. Jungkook and Sera are very fond of each other and they have my blessing.”

Next to me Jungkook had gone as pale as parchment. He moved up and away from me and my entire body went cold. 

I reached for his hand, flinching when he yanked it away.

Fuck.

Fuck. 

“I need to speak to the boy. What is your name boy?” My uncle growled at Jungkook. 

“Jeon Jungkook , sire.:”

He frowned.

“What clan are you from?” 

I flinched.

My father looked a little uncomfortable.

“Surely we can talk about this-”

“I was bitten , Sire.It’s just me and my son, now.” Jungkook’s voice was deep and steady and he stared right at my uncle. 

Uncle Jae’s eyes widened and then he stared at me.

“That is what you will settle for , Seraphina? A mongrel with tainted blood?” 

The sharp sound of hurt that came from Jungkook shattered my heart. 

But it was my father who growled, affronted. 

“That is enough. You are a guest , Jaebum and I will not have you insulting my daughter’s betrothed. Leave him be.”

My uncle laughed.

“It is not an insult. It is a fact...is it not, boy? Look at him... he knows his place. And it not by  her  side.” 

“Jungkook, don’t listen to him ...” i whispered feverishly , reaching for him again not letting him pull away and gripping his fingers hard. His fingers felt icy cold to the touch and there was no mistaking the sheer hurt radiating off his features. 

“Unless the girl is in trouble, I think you should sever the connection, Jaehyun.” My uncle snapped at my father . 

“We shall talk about this later. For now, I want you to remember your place, Jaebum. You have duties to attend to and my daughter’s choice is her own. I will not have you interfering in things that you aren’t responsible for.” My father’s voice was just as loud, radiated just as much authority and i had never loved him more. 

Jaebum scoffed once again before turning on his heel and leaving . I sagged in relief and Jungkook, got off the bed, moving away from me so quickly I felt like someone had stuck a knife in my gut. 

“Jimin and Somi, come. Jungkook , Sera. I want the two of you to come to my office after you fix yourself up.” My father said coldly. 

“Yes, Sir.” Jungkook bowed. 

“Yes,  father.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Father....I...”

“You slept with him. “ My father said thoughtfully and I stared at my feet. There was no point denying it. 

“Has he agreed to court you?” He said sharply. 

I looked up at him, biting my lips.

“No.” I whispered.

My father’s eyes widened and he shot me a glare that could melt gold. 

“He fed from you during the act?” He demanded. I felt the phantom throb in my thighs at the memory. 

“Yes, father. “ I admitted.

“Then I must ask. Was it consensual?  Did you influence him in any way Seraphina.” 

My heart turned over, tears springing at the accusation. 

“No... No .. I didn’t.. he doesn’t know.. he doesn’t even know I can do that.” I whispered. 

“Could you have done it unconsciously? If Jungkook fed from you and you were near him you could have convinced him to do anything. He wouldn’t have been able to consent. You know this, Sera. I don’t understand how you could be so reckless. We are not monsters. We know our limits and we stick to them for fuck’s sake.” 

“He... we... I... It’s my fault. He didn’t.. He didn’t want to court me so I convinced him we could just...fool around. That was all it was. He loves his son father. He’s only here to give him a better life. I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry for being so selfish and ..Please just don’t send him away. I’ll never meet him again if that’s what you want but please....don’t send him away. .” I stared at my father, feeling the tears sting. 

My father’s gaze softened but he sighed, shaking his head as he held his arm out. I walked into his embrace, letting the tears fall as I clutched his robe. 

“You have not been selfish, dearest. . But, no matter who are, we cannot covet what we are never meant to have . Jungkook is not for you.” He whispered into my hair and I felt my insides clench in rebellion, every part of me screaming in protest at the phrase. 

No.. No... he was mine.. he had to be mine....

I was his and he was mine.

“ I’m going to offer him the position as head of the security team.” My father aid gently and I shuddered. 

“Father..”

“It will pay well. He will be working from the administrative building close to me. . There’s no reason for your paths to cross. Namjoon will take over as your bodyguard from tomorrow.” 

i nodded. 

“I want you to remember who you are. What you are capable of. I raised you to be kind and gentle but that does not change who you are, Sera. It doesn’t change what you are.” he said gently, eyes firm. 

I swallowed.

“You may leave.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook stared at the whiskey decanter on the table. watching Sera’s father pour him a drink. His eyes focused on the golden liquid, the way it caught the light and danced with all the colors of autumn. 

“I’m going to ask you one thing. I want you to answer me, as truth fully as you would your own father.” 

Jungkook was a father, himself. He knew the anger and trepidation in the man’s gaze was real. He knew exactly what it felt like, that desperate clawing need to keep your child safe. To destroy anything that dare hurt them. 

“Do you love my daughter?” The man’s voice shook a little. 

“I cannot court her.” He whispered. “ I’m not... I can’t. “

“That is not what i asked .” The older man said gently. 

He shook his head.

“I don’t have the right to feel anything but respect for her, sir.” Jungkook said softly. 

The vampire shook his head laughing.

“Your eyes tell me all you refuse to say, Jungkook ah. You care deeply for her, do you not?  it is obvious in the tremble of your hand. it was obvious in the way you stood up to my brother, when surely everything in your blood must’ve screamed to back away from a Vampire of such a high ranking. ” 

Jungkook clenched his fists. 

Sera’s father went on. 

“I know you love her and honestly, If you didn’t.... you wouldn’t be alive right now.” 

Jungkook winced. 

“Yes , sir.” He croaked. 

“I will destroy entire continents for my daughter. You know this. “ He said quietly. 

Jungkook nodded. He believed the man . 

“Which is why I must ask. Who is after you?”

Jungkook’s eyes snapped up, eyes widening in surprise. 

“Sir...”

“I’m not the head of the largest clan in the country for nothing. You are protecting your son...but from what? A man of your reputation , choosing to stay inside an estate , helping out with infants and children.... it doesn’t make sense. So tell me. What are you hiding from? And how can I help?” 

Jungkook stared at his hands. 

“It’s Joowon’s grandfather. The man who’s daughter I killed.” 

Sera’s father stiffened. 

“Ahh... yes. Gong Tae Kwan. An old nemesis .” He shook his head, sighing. “ You’ve made a powerful enemy , Jungkook.”

Jungkook nodded.

“I know. I’m no match for him. And I know he’s  not going to stop until he kills me and my son.” 

“You’re right. He’s not going to stop. Now, what so you want to do? Hide out till he finally catches up or confront him like the warrior you are?” 

“i can’t do it. I need to be here for Joo Won.... It would be suicidal...”

“ Only if you’re alone. “

“Sir?”

“It would be suicidal , if you were to confront him alone.” 

“Are you saying that...”

“I’m going to be there with you. We are going to lure the bastard out , and we are going to end this once and for all.”

“Sir, i can’t ask you to...”

“You’re not asking me damn thing kid. I’m doing this for my daughter’s sake. And you are going to repay me by making her as happy as you possibly can.” He said sternly. 

Jungkook flushed

“Sir.. I’m sorry I...”

“When this ends, and it will....you will court her. You will court her, because unlike what you think, you do not get to decide whether you’re worthy of being my daughter’s consort. She does.” He gave him a smile, reaching out and clamping a hand on his shoulder. “  If she chooses you it means you’re worthy. And she has chosen you , Jeon Jungkook . Don’t be the idiot who walks away from the best thing to ever happen to him, son. ” 

Jungkook stared at him.

He took a deep breath. 

“Yes, father.” He said with a small smile. 

The older man laughed out loud. 

“Excellent. Now come, we have a murder to plot. “ 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Well....now the plot picks up... :D :D feedback is always welcomed !! Come scream with me about how amazing Sera’s father is!!!!

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drop me a message if i missed you name for the tag list Thank you. 

[hongism]

the little things - c.san

↣ pairing: san x reader; poly ot8 x reader ↣ genre: sfw, fluff, slight angst, fantasy au, witch ateez au ↣ wc: 3.3k ↣ summary: one of your favorite things to do is look at the stars with san ↣ warnings: none !

“You’re out rather early.”

You don’t turn towards the source of the voice; just hearing him speak is enough of a clue for you to know exactly who it is. Although, even if he hadn’t spoken, you’re sure you would have known from the flutter of wings that resounded before his arrival.

“The stars are prettiest right before dawn breaks,” you sigh, hugging your arms a bit tighter around your knees. Your new companion moves forward and comes to a stop beside you. He doesn’t sit down quite yet; for a while, he merely stands at your side and stares up at the same sky hanging above your heads. The time is roughly four o’clock in the morning — a late night for you and an early morning for San — but your words hold true. The glimmering stars are tucked behind fluffy and luscious clouds that seem to herald coming rain, and they shine against a midnight blue background that seems infinitely deep.

San sinks down to sit beside you at last, tossing his legs over the lip of the stone wall you’re perched on, and he sways his legs in rhythm with an unknown melody. You squeeze your knees as you press your cheek to one of them, enough to have a clear view of San’s pretty side profile against a landscape of green pine trees and shining stars.

“I thought you were out here to look at the stars,” San whispers. He glances at you out the corner of his eye. There’s no malice in his speech, just a hint of teasing, and you can’t keep your lips from quirking into a smile.

“I’m looking at you instead.”

“I should be the one looking at you, little star.” San turns his chin to face you, and his dimples flash as he grins back through the hazy moonlit night. “Our precious star,” he murmurs before reaching a hand out to trace over your forehead, slipping down to your temple then to your cheek and dragging the pads of his fingers over your skin in an unknown pattern.

“Why are you up so early?”

“Waiting for Hongjoong,” San says through a sigh. His hand retracts as quickly as it made contact, and you can’t pretend to be oblivious as to why. Things are always… harsh for San when Hongjoong is gone. It’s much worse when it’s a job like Hongjoong’s current one where the witch has to be gone for weeks at a time. Then San becomes quite volatile and hard to deal with — it only makes sense when a familiar is separate from his master for so long. Seonghwa tries to do damage control every time, tries to use techniques that normally help his own familiar Yeosang calm down, but they never work for San. Hongjoong is the only person and thing that can quell the anxieties and worries and stress that flow through San’s veins in times like these. And seeing as they are a bonded pair, it makes the connection of sharing emotional states weaker. They can’t share emotions this far apart, and that weighs heavily on San’s shoulders after being so used to sharing his heart in such a way for so long. Even if Hongjoong has a tendency to cut San off from feeling the brunt of his negative emotions, there’s still a lingering knowledge that the other is right there, just within grasp.

Not now, however.

San has gone three long weeks without even a breath of a whisper from Hongjoong.

And tonight (this morning? Today? Whatever time it may be) the witch is supposed to return. San’s nerves must be getting to him if he’s out this early because usually he would curl up in Hongjoong’s bed and await the witch there, presenting himself like a neatly wrapped present for the other to unravel with warm kisses and soft touches.

San clenches his fingers blindly around the lip of the wall.

“Tell me a story?” You inquire out of the blue. Your eyes shift to look up at the sky again. San huffs out a weak laugh.

“What kind?”

“Hm, how you and Hongjoong met?”

A risky choice, maybe, but you know how near and dear that tale is to San’s heart, and how much comfort it brings him in simply thinking of it. So it is also a very wise choice on your behalf. San’s lips twitch into the shadow of a smile.

“You’ve heard it so many times already…”

“I’ll give you something in return,” you coo, reaching out to pinch the skin around San’s elbow. He yelps like a kicked dog and offers up a deep pout that has you ready to tease him further.

“Seven kisses.”

“Seven?” You echo. Confusion slips into your tone. You can’t recall any significance to the number seven, nor can you remember whether it’s supposed to have special meaning.

“One for each time I’ve told you this story,” San murmurs, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to the tip of your nose. You scowl at the faint sensation as a laugh nearly escapes you, but you manage to bite it back enough to smile again.

“I always forgot how good a crow’s memory is.”

“Ravens remember well too, little star.”

You poke your tongue out between your lips in his direction, and San merely laughs at your expression before shifting closer to you. He loops a hand around one of yours, pulling it away from the leg you have propped up on the rock wall, then he loops his fingers through yours.

“Several hundred winters ago, this land we live in now held very different values and laws. The people were cruel and brash, only using their fists and crude weapons to handle gathering food and protecting their women and children. No one imagined there was any other way of doing things — the people knew nothing of what gentle prowess magic could offer.” San glances over at you, drawing a laugh from your lips when he makes eye contact with you. You shake your head ever so slightly.

“I didn’t mean for you to give me the version that’s in books and legends…”

San dares to giggle at that, and a moment later, he’s shifting his position so that he can rest his head against your thigh and look up at the stars like that. You have to push your other leg down to accommodate the shift, and once San is comfortably staring up at the sky with you, he begins speaking again.

“I was alone. It wasn’t something new; I was used to it at that point. Ravens don’t have the longest lifespan, and I was still a young familiar at the time. I had no owner or master. My mother’s master left our nest after she passed, leaving me with two sisters who were sick and close to death. They were too ill to shift to their human forms, so I couldn’t bring them to an apothecary or village. Ravens are seen as bad omens after all; had I brought them to a town, they would have been killed on the spot. I spent some time going between our nest and the nearest village, stealing food and medicine where I could because I couldn’t afford it. I worked some too, little odd jobs here and there, but it was a lot of delivery work. Made it easy to steal thankfully. Then… well, one day, I got too bold and tried pickpocketing a high-ranking guardsman. He was some lieutenant or something like that, I don’t remember. Too many years have passed since then. But I got caught trying to lift some coin off him in a bar, and he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out to the streets. He was planning on killing me right then and there with no trial, but some short little witch came stalking up without a care in the world and knocked the guard on his ass. He was going on and on about how rude it is to grab random people off the street like that.”

“Of course he would,” you murmur, a bit of fondness slipping into your tone. “Don’t let him catch you calling him short though.”

“Eh, he’ll survive. In any case, when the guard tried explaining that I was trying to pickpocket him, this witch extended a hand to me and asked if I needed help. I naturally said no because I didn’t think I could trust him, then took off running. I went back to my nest in the hopes of finding my sisters and telling them to get out of the area, yet when I got there, they were already gone. It had been nearly two years since my mother passed, so they were well enough to do things on their own at that point, but they’d never up and left like that without warning. I couldn’t do anything but stay and wait for their return. We’d gathered some food and supplies, so I was able to live off of it for several months before needing to depart for more again. The entire time, not once did my sisters return. They just… disappeared into thin air. I waited every day, wondered when they would come back, and some nights I would stay awake all night flying around the area in search of them.”

“That part always breaks my heart,” you whisper. Stretching a hand down, you drag your fingers along the curve of San’s cheekbones then his jaws, torn away from the stars as you look at the familiar.

“Why? Had it not happened, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I know but…”

“But Hongjoong found me,” San continues through a smile. You huff but let him finish the story, pointedly ignoring the curling grin he sends your way. “After a few months, I started noticing magical residue near my nest. And sure enough, that little witch from before was setting up camp nearby. I did nothing at first, watched him from afar for a while, then I got brave enough to try to lift a few things from his camp. That turned out to be quite the mistake because he caught me within three seconds of setting foot into that camp. And yet… instead of threatening to kill me or harming me, the little witch simply asked if I was alone. ”Are you alone? Do you have anyone with you? A master? I feel your magical energy yet it doesn’t seem normal. You must be a familiar. Where is your master?“ When I said I had no master and was on my own, the little witch was… hm, I would say he was both confused and concerned. Said it was no good for a familiar to go without a master. Without one, I would die within a few years. He suggested that I hurry along with finding one, and I explained I had absolutely no one else in my life.”

“And after that?”

San hums to himself a bit, bringing his hands up above his head as he stares at the night sky. A delicate little smile graces his pretty lips and squeezes his dimples out, but he doesn’t speak any other words for quite some time. The next voice you hear doesn’t even belong to him.

“After that, I invited San to spend some time in my care and work an honest job for me before going on his way to finding a master.”

Hongjoong.

You twist your neck towards the source of the voice, finding the witch standing a little ways away from the wall you and San are currently seated on, and he grins through the moonlit night at you. San jolts upwards at the sound of his master. The smile that splits his lips is so broad and heartwarming that it feels too intimate to look at, even for you who shares in their love for one another. It’s different for them, and you know that, even if it’s just a different strain of the same love, it’s different nonetheless. San hops off the wall in one swift move, closing the distance between his and Hongjoong’s bodies within seconds.

“As it turns out, we were…we did quite well together. And thus, here we are,” Hongjoong says as he lets San press his nose into the curve of his neck. “I’m sorry I was gone so long. Had to make a few extra stops along the way to gather some supplies. How was he?” Hongjoong directs the words to you, watching with careful yet loving eyes as you pull yourself down from the wall as well and step closer to him and San. The familiar will be like this for a while; unmoving and unresponsive as he soaks in Hongjoong’s presence again and drowns himself in the sensation of having all those feelings doubled once more. Hongjoong will try to ease the burden as much as he can for both their sake, and you’ll do what you do best: taking care of both of them when it gets to be too overwhelming. While Seonghwa and Yeosang (who don’t go a long time without each other anyway) don’t have to deal with this type of ordeal, Hongjoong and San always do. Hongjoong thinks it has something to do with how frequent his trips are, or perhaps the lingering sensation of separation anxiety that San suffers from given his past. Either way, it makes their reunions that much more emotionally taxing and intense. Even you, who has not a drop of magical ability in your body, can feel the sheer power radiating off them both right in this moment.

“You came home at the right time. He was getting antsy,” you murmur back, reaching up to comb your fingers through the long hair at the base of San’s scalp.

“Next time I’ll leave you all with a bit more of a safety net.”

“Or you could come back sooner.”

Hongjoong nearly rolls his eyes, and you catch the way he stops himself just beforehand. The annoyance in his features is nothing serious, only something because he’s heard such words a hundred times over.

“No doubt you haven’t slept yet?” He inquires, trying his best to make his way to the door of the coven’s home. San proves to be quite the obstruction, as it seems, and Hongjoong has to hoist the slightly larger man up enough to loop his legs around the smaller’s waist. Hongjoong grunts from the added weight but manages to carry San the rest of the way with no other complaints. You trail along beside them, taking care of opening the door and grabbing Hongjoong’s satchel once inside.

“Welcome home, my sweet starlight. I see our star and bird found you before I could.” Seonghwa is the first to greet the three of you upon stepping inside. You only notice Yeosang’s sleek black cat form slinking around the hearth witch’s ankles when you’re helping Hongjoong out of his shoes.

“Mm, they were waiting outside,” Hongjoong mumbles into the chaste kiss Seonghwa delivers to his lips. Seonghwa also places a sweet kiss on the back of San’s head before Hongjoong steps around the taller man, continuing to carry San as he goes.

“Mingi fell asleep in your bed last night, so don’t be surprised if you find him there,” Seonghwa calls out over his shoulder. You stretch up to your tiptoes in front of him, half-expecting the kiss that he presses to your lips a few seconds later, but the sudden appearance of Yeosang’s human form popping up on your left is much less expected. You nearly jump out of your skin, and probably would have if not for Seonghwa placing a steadying hand on your hip.

“You haven’t slept either,” Yeosang comments, nose pushing hard against your cheek. You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“No need to lecture. I’m going up with them, don’t worry.”

“I’ll come by after Jongho heads out for morning work.” Yeosang smiles a little before turning on his heel and heading back into the kitchen, no doubt where Jongho waits. Seonghwa huffs out a laugh but sends you on your way without any more conversation. You catch him slipping back into the kitchen as well just as you start climbing the stairs behind Hongjoong.

“Did San fall asleep already?” You ask after the man. You can barely see the familiar’s face from how hard he has it pressed into Hongjoong’s neck, but his eyes seem to have fallen shut at some point. He’s either basking in Hongjoong’s presence as much as he can or he’s entered a pleasant state of unconsciousness with Hongjoong’s warmth around him.

“Almost. He’s calming down some though. I’ll put him in bed with Mingi then take a bath. Care to join?”

“Such a temptress,” you snort to his back.

“I’m only joking, my dear. Keep San and Mingi company while I’m washing up for me instead? We can bathe together another day.”

“Of course darling,” you murmur, drawing a hand across his shoulders once the two of you reach his door. “Be quick though. Mingi will want some time to cuddle before he joins Jongho for yard work.”

As Seonghwa warned, Mingi is already curled up into a tight ball in the center of Hongjoong’s bed when you enter the room. It’s not hard to move his lanky limbs to the side to make room for San, and when Hongjoong eases the familiar down to the mattress, Mingi immediately takes to curling his body around the smaller man like it’s an act of pure instinct. San nuzzles into the touch, releasing a content little hum. You feel a hand brush the small of your back and jerk to look Hongjoong in the eye. Turns out, it was only a way to distract you because he captures your lips in a quick kiss that tastes a bit of honey and cinnamon. You have no time to savor the taste, however; Hongjoong pulls away just as quick and mumbles something about being quick to clean up. You bring a hand up to touch the spot where his lips just were. The smile that overtakes your face is one you can’t hold back, and now it’s your turn to be content and happy as you pull the sheets back to join Mingi and San under the covers. A large hand clamps down hard on your waist, tugging you flush against San’s chest.

“Where’s my kiss?” Mingi’s voice rises through the silence, thick and groggy from sleep. You reach around San to smack him as gently as possible on the arm.

“Go back to bed.”

“Joong home yet?”

“Mhm, he’ll be in bed in just a bit.”

“Good,” Mingi sighs. He settles back into the mattress, maintaining his hold on you around San’s body, and you twist just enough to lean over the sleeping familiar.

“Kiss,” you murmur, and Mingi rushes to meet you halfway with a cheeky grin. “Okay, now sleep. You don’t have long before you have to be up.”

It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep wrapped up in that embrace, and even when Hongjoong does finally come to bed, he doesn’t stir you from sleep except for the barest sensation of lips against your forehead. You might hear him mutter some loving words to all three of you, perhaps lingering a little while longer on San because he knows the familiar needs that reassurance and comfort right now more than ever, but once he settles down and tucks your head against his chest, a wildly comfortable and deep sleep overcomes you.

[miss-smutty]

Forbidden

Chapter 1

A/N- I've teased y'all for so long I hope this series is going to live up to expectations, I'm confident it will though because I'm addicted and it's been super easy for me to write - I'm up to chapter 3 so far so updates can be on time! There's a slight age gap between my professor Hemsy and OC Jess but she's twenty and completely legal. You know this is gunna be a giant tease fest for the first couple of chapters cos that sexual tension is fucking gold 🥵

Summary- Jess meets the man of her dreams and then stupidly leaves without getting his number. Will fate bring them together again?

Word count- 1.5 K

Pairing- Professor!Chris Hemsworth x OC

Warnings- Swearing, age gap

18+ only!

Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.

Posted: 5th August 2021

Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @jjpogueprincess @longlostinanotherworld @mostly-marvel-musings @darklydeliciousdesires @monet-belle

@skyfullofsong123 @swaggysposts

Chapter 2

I pulled out a chair at the last available table in the unusually busy coffee shop, I thought I might've caught a break choosing the one outside of campus but alas I was wrong.

I was about to sit down when the chair opposite me slid out from under the table, my eyes lifted to meet with the most sparkly blue eyes i'd ever seen. The sight of him took my breath away. Literally.

I stood staring, frozen on the spot, my mouth slightly ajar as I looked him up and down. He was tall, so tall, definitely over 6ft and built like a dream. Thick thighs straining against his fitted trousers, wide muscular shoulders and I just knew there was a six-pack hiding behind that tight t-shirt. 

"Sorry. You were here first, I'll just grab a take-out." He smirked a side smile, amused at how I was so obviously checking him out but his sexy Australian accent distracted you from anything else.

"It's fine, I'm on my own. I don't mind if you want to sit there too." I mentally face palmed myself, drawing attention to the fact I was alone wasn't the best idea but then again he was alone too. "I don't bite." I added trying my best to flirt.

It seemed to work, he smiled at me as he sat down and I took the time to admire his handsome face. He was quite clearly a lot older than me, the laughter lines around his eyes a tell tale sign but he was still quite possibly the best looking man I'd ever laid eyes on. His hair was fair and the short beard framed his face perfectly but the one thing that stood out the most were those piercing ocean-blue eyes.

"So do you come here often?" I cocked my eyebrow at him over my coffee cup making him laugh at my reaction. "Sorry, it's been a while." He said nervously, running his hand through his hair.

"It's been a while since you spoke to a stranger or…?" I questioned casually.

"It's been a while since I spoke to an attractive woman." He finished, his eyes sparkling as he watched me almost choke on my drink.

"Oh, I err…. I don't think you're doing too badly." I absentmindedly circled my finger around the rim of my cup, crossing my leg over my other and accidently rubbing my foot up his leg. My cheeks felt hot and flushed as I looked up into his eyes and saw him smiling slyly.

"Evidently. We're already playing footsie under the table." He smiled widely, a genuine smile that stretched the corners of his mouth. I smiled back at him shyly, thinking of something to say to change the subject before I ended up looking like a tomato.

"What part of Australia are you from?"

"I'm originally from Melbourne but I lived in Byron Bay before I came to America." 

"Awesome. I've always wanted to go to Australia, the Spiders put me off though." 

"Yeah I think they put most people off but in heavily populated areas they stay pretty much hidden, I think it's the size that scare people." How have I made this conversation go from flirting to talking about spiders? And how do I get back to flirting?

"Are we still talking about spiders?" I raised my eyebrows questioningly and laughed at the innuendo, flicking my hair over my shoulder. I noticed something in his eyes when I did so, a hunger, just a little flash and then it was gone again. I'm sure I didn't imagine it though because his eyes lingered on my exposed shoulders.

I checked my watch subtly, not wanting him to think he was boring me but I had to get to class and couldn't be late again, not when this semester had only just started.

"I'm really sorry, I'm gonna have to run, I'm going to be late. It was really nice meeting you." I gathered up my bags, ready to leave.

"Already? You've only just got here." He looked disappointed, his smile fading. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something else and then closed again when he saw I was ready to leave. "It was really nice to meet you too, hopefully I'll see you again." His eyes sparkled as he looked into mine, standing from his chair to get the door for me. I felt fireworks when his hand brushed against the small of my back and his face lingered close to mine. The tension was unreal, like we were the only people in the room as his eyes hungrily stared into my soul, undressing me with his eyes. My heart stopped beating when his face moved closer to mine so I could feel his breath on my lips, the smell of coffee and his aftershave filling my nostrils. I paused, my feet routed to the spot, I wanted him to kiss me so badly but I moved away at the last minute. Surely he wasn't actually going to kiss me, we'd only just met, that would be ridiculous. Wouldn't it?

********

I spent most of class daydreaming about my tall handsome stranger and the way he looked at me but most of all how I didn't even get his name. Or his number.

Now I was feeling sorry for myself because it would just be my luck to meet the man of my dreams and then never see him again. So I'd moped about all day and avoided the invitations for drinks after class. Instead I'd

gotten home early, changed into some sweats and settled myself in front of the TV for the night.

"What's up with your face?" My roommate, Ellie said as she walked into our room, throwing her bags onto her bed.

"What're you talking about?" 

"Your face. Looks like you're chewing on a wasp."

"Feeling sorry for myself." I pout pathetically.

"Why, what've you done now?" She rolled her eyes, kicking off her shoes and throwing her legs up onto the bed. I felt so lucky to have a roommate like Ellie, during our freshman year she'd become my best friend practically straight away and now after two years together we were practically sisters.

I sat up in bed cross legged and faced Ellie, getting myself ready to spill my misfortunes of the day with her.

"Well, I went to Impresso's this morning to get my morning coffee before class." She nodded, showing her enthusiasm by also sitting cross legged on her own bed, facing me. "And it was packed full of students, there was only one table left. So I went to grab it as soon as I could." She raised her eyebrow at me, wondering where I was going with the story. "And I kid you not, the most attractive man I have ever seen, pulls out the chair opposite me." 

"Oh my god! No way. Did you talk? Oh my god, this is like the perfect chick flick. Carry on." I smiled at her excitement.

"I told him I didn't mind if he sat there, I mean of course I didn't mind, you should've seen him El. Oh, oh, oh I almost forgot" I flapped my hands, bouncing on the spot. "He was fucking Australian."

"Fuck off, you're lying. Drop dead gorgeous with the sexiest accent ever. How is this even real? Now remind me why you're sat there with a face like a slapped arse?" 

"I panicked when I had to leave, didn't want to be late for class and I didn't get his number, didn't even give him chance to ask for mine." 

"Wow! Ok, now I understand. What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking, I was panicking and you know what I'm like when I panic." You sulk.

"It's ok, maybe you'll bump into him again."

"Yeah, right. I should be so lucky."

"Cheer up." she says throwing a cushion at me. "There's a party at Alpha Kappa this weekend, I'm sure we can find you someone to help get over your mystery man. Or under should I say?" She raised her eyebrow at me, smiling slyly and making me laugh. She always did know how to cheer me up and maybe a party is what I needed.

There must be some good looking boys around campus that could make me forget about my Australian hunk. Surely? I thought about the guys I'd seen around campus, the guys I'd seen at frat parties and that's definitely not what I wanted. How could a twenty year old boy match to the masculine, experienced man I met this morning. My mind was set, I'd dipped my feet ever slightly into the mature pool and that's what I wanted more than anything. There was always something missing with previous boyfriends and I was tired of all the game playing. I wanted someone who knew what they wanted and wasn't afraid to get it.

The only thing was, he didn't know I was only twenty and I had no way of finding him again. If fate did bring us back together, would he mind that I was still a student? That I couldn't even drink when we went on dates? 

Who am I kidding? Of course he would mind, he could get any woman he wanted, why would he want me?

[tomurasprincess]

A Caged Dove Part 1 (Shouto Todoroki x Reader)

Summary: You are a princess from a smaller territory within the kingdom, summoned to the castle to meet with the heir of the throne in the absence of your parents. You think it will simply be a routine trip, until you realize that Prince Shouto has his own plans for you. Whether you agree with them or not. 

Pairing: Prince Shouto Todoroki x Reader Rating: T+ for this chapter, but E+ for future ones. Chapter Warnings: Yandere themes, obsession, suggestion of forced marriage Series Warnings:  noncon, dubcon, breeding, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stalking, yandere Word Count: 2k+ Note: My entry for @bnhabookclub event! Fairy tale AU (although more Grimm than Disney.) I am extremely excited to be doing something for this, and for joining the Discord soon. This idea really struck my muse until I decided to give it a shot, and it blossomed into a multi-chapter fic. I hope you guys like it! Thank You: To @thewheezingwyvern, who discussed this idea with me for hours and then screeched at me for hours more to woman up and actually do it. You only had to screech an average of 9 times before I started, so this is a new record. @jojosmilktea, thank you for making the gorgeous banner for me! I am but a humble peasant compared to your banner making, and must bow to the queen. 

One || Two || Three || Four || Five (Finale)

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so nervous before, standing outside the throne room of the royal Todoroki family. You had received a missive just a few days ago, summoning you immediately to the castle for an audience with Prince Todoroki himself, heir to the throne of the kingdom.

It was not often that someone of your class had an audience with the Crown Prince, so although you have received a full education and are quite knowledgeable in matters of the Court, you cannot help but be nervous nevertheless. An occasion like this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, something that can make or break a noble family, especially one of the lesser noble families such as yours.

You fuss with your outfit one more time, trying to look your best and distract yourself when the doors finally open. One of the royal guards walks out from the throne room and motions you forward. “This way, Princess. His Royal Highness is ready to see you.”

You give a quick nod and begin to walk through the doors to the throne room, your bodyguard trailing behind you, when you hear the royal guard speak up.

“You have been instructed to see His Royal Highness without bodyguards, Princess.”

You pause for a second before glancing over to your bodyguard who gives you an imperceptible shake of the head, indicating that he does not want you to go alone. You wave him off and continue to the throne room. You’re in the heart of the royal palace, you think to yourself, you will be fine.

As you enter the huge double doors to the throne room, what you see in there almost stops you in your tracks. The splendor and beauty of this room is like nothing you have ever seen before. The room itself is huge, with tall ceilings that stretch up to beautiful domes. Statues of previous rules line the walls which are inlaid with what looks like pure gold.

And at the end of the room, sitting in a massive throne, sits Prince Shouto Todoroki himself. You have never seen him in person before, and you realize the gossip of his beauty were not exaggerated. His hair is two toned, cut down the middle with one side being white and one side being red. His eyes are the same, the piercing nature of them staring into what feels like your very soul.

He does not take his eyes off of you the entire time it takes you to walk to his throne, leaving you to feel off balance at the intensity you find in them. You barely remember to drop your gaze, the weight of them almost too hard to look away from.

You finally make it to the throne, stopping a respectable length away from him and falling into a deep curtsy to show your respect. As you bring yourself upright, you wait for him to say the first words.

“Ah, I am very glad that you could make it, Princess. I hope you had a pleasant journey.” Well of course I made it, you think, I had no choice but to answer the Crown Prince’s summon.

You push the thought down and give a gracious nod. “Of course, I am honored to meet you, Your Highness.”

“I was informed that your parents were called away on urgent business, and as such, could not make it today.”

“That is correct, Your Highness, which is why I was sent in their place as ambassador for our territory.” You are momentarily surprised he knows this information so quickly, but you suppose it makes sense for the royal family to be so well connected.

“I remember meeting with them several times while checking on the state of the country with my parents. They seemed like very kind people. I do hope it is nothing serious.”

You remember this occasion well. Your territory is important, but still minor in comparison to the royal family. A visit from them was a huge deal, and there had been preparation done for months before they ever arrived. You met Prince Shouto there very briefly, and it was an encounter you never forgot. He seemed like the very picture of the perfect prince, and you admit to having an almost schoolgirl crush on him.

“Ah, but I am sure you want me to get to the point. You must be concerned as to why you were summoned here today.”

You consider denying that you are nervous, but you think better of lying. “I will admit that I am a little nervous, yes. Someone of my rank is not often summoned by the Crown Prince.”

“Of your rank? You do not give yourself enough credit.” He gives you a small smile. “I have summoned you here for a proposal, after all.”

A proposal? Your heart drops into your stomach as you hear the word proposal. Surely he doesn’t mean…? But it is confirmed by his next sentence, as he sees the confusion on your face.

“Yes, that kind of proposal,” he chuckles, “I am sure you have heard the rumors that I am seeking a wife.”

You had, in fact, heard the rumors. But you had written it off as just that, rumors. Or, even if it was more than that, something that ultimately did not concern you or your family. There were far more suitable matches for the heir to the throne, after all.

The Todoroki family ruled the country with a fair hand and were well loved by everyone, and as such, were constantly called to mediate over disputes and enforce laws. The best match for the Crown Prince would have been one of the more troubled territories, perhaps even another country. Something that would help secure more alliances for the country.

“I don’t -- I’m not sure I understand,” you trail off, before remembering yourself at the last minute, “Your Highness.”  

If he notices your almost slip up, he says nothing and simply continues. “Did your parents not mention it to you?”

You quickly shake your head. “Mention what, your Highness?”

“I requested permission to court your hand in marriage, and your parents agreed.”

The shock of such a casual statement has you reeling. Why would he be courting you, and furthermore, why would your parents have agreed? They were nobility, yes, but they were simple people who were content with their lot in life. They never would have wanted you thrown into the atmosphere of court life.

“But why wouldn’t they mention anything to me about this, my lord?”

You realize belatedly that you did not address him correctly, and a rush of embarrassment hits you at losing your manners in such a way. You worry that you’re going to be kicked out of the castle in disgrace at this rate.

But he simply gives you a smile and ignores your faux pas, a smile that should put you at ease but instead simply makes you feel on edge. You’re being ridiculous, you think to yourself, he is from a family of kind hearted and fair people. Nothing is going to happen to you besides a little social embarrassment.

“One of your retainers mentioned they had been called out with little notice, correct? I imagine they were about to tell you, but the emergency caused them to forget in their haste to deal with the situation.”

His voice and words are reasonable, but something about this situation seems off. Your parents are not forgetful, and are known as some of the most reliable in the country. This level of emergency was unusual as well, for both of your parents to be away at the same time. You were not generally left alone to deal with the ruling of your territory. And then to be summoned by the Crown Prince himself, with a marriage proposal at that...all of your noble training has your instincts screaming at you.

But your noble training also demands that you not bring up any of this to your superiors. “Of course, Your Highness,” you say as you curtsy a bit, “that sounds very possible.”

“Then you will accept?” He is obviously asking a question, but his tone says otherwise, the iron in his voice making it obvious that there is only one correct answer to this question.

“This is all happening very fast, Your Highness,” you desperately try to reason, “may I have enough time to think it over?” You are being thrown into a situation that you are not prepared to handle, and if you could only delay things just a bit until your parents got back, then things can still go okay.

“No, you may not.” But your hope is instantly dashed. “You will give me your answer before you leave this room.” This time, it’s not even phrased as a question. A sliver of fear slides up your spine at the way he’s acting, at all of the breaches of formality that he’s abandoning. There is something horribly wrong here, and yet nothing you can do about it.

“I am not asking you to marry me tomorrow. Simply consent to allow me to court you.” He stands up from his throne at this as he begins to walk towards you. You’re aware of just how tall he is as he moves towards you, until he’s standing far too close for propriety's sake.  

“I - I just,” you stammer a bit, cringing internally at the breach of your own sense of formality that is now occurring. But everything about this meeting is not normal, and you have been thrown off balance too much to respond quickly. “I apologize for my manners. Of course I consent, Your Highness.”

You find yourself staring into those deep, heterochromatic eyes, not wanting to look away but knowing that you have to. When you finally find the strength, he grabs you by the chin, his hand being far too cool against your heated skin. Shock runs through your system as you’re forced to meet the eyes of Prince Shouto, who is staring at you with an emotion that you just can’t seem to place no matter how hard you try.

“Since I’m going to be courting you, Princess,” he whispers to you as he trails a finger down your jawline, “why don’t we just skip formalities? Call me Prince Shouto.”

Your eyes widen at the implication of calling him that, something that only family may call the heir to the throne. He wants this to already be a done deal, but there has to be some way to still get out of this. The Royal Todoroki family would never force anyone into marriage. You just need to play along a little longer until you can think of a way out of this.

“Of course, Prince Shouto,” you say, and you watch his face light up. He looks almost boyish when he smiles, no longer quite the severe prince that he truly is, and for a second you feel glad at putting that smile on his face as you remember the meeting with him years ago. But you come back to the reality of the situation quickly and scold yourself for behaving like a doey eyed schoolgirl.

“Then it’s settled,” he steps back from you, although he looks reluctant to do so. “I have prepared you a room in the south wing of the castle, and you will have attendants waiting there to take care of any need you may have. Someone will pick up tomorrow at brunch, and I expect you to be ready.”

“What do you want me ready for,” you ask cautiously.

“I wish to show you around the castle, of course. If this is to be your home, then you need to familiarize yourself with it. And it will be a good way for us to get to know each other better, don’t you think?”

“Then I’ll be ready, my --- Prince Shouto,” you instantly correct yourself at the last minute. But his smile widens when he hears you say “my prince,” like it pleases him. He gives a quick nod and a gesture at the door to indicate that you are free to go. But as you turn away to walk to the door, you miss the way his smile turns victorious, a dark chuckle rising from his chest as he sits back down on his throne.

~~~~

Tags: @burnedbyshoto, @thewheezingwyvern, @animewh0re, @dee-madwriter, @lildreamer93, @katsukisprincess, @yaoyorozuwrites, @redbeanteax, @kittygonyan, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @daedaep69, @heyybrittannia, @groovydreamertrash, @hisoknen, @hoefortodo, @mhafanfics19, @oktamaki

[freefallingforfanfiction]

Fated- A Soulmate AU

Chapter I

Rating: M for Mature

Pairing: Din Djarin X F!Jedi!Reader

Summary: Everyone in the galaxy knew of the Red String of Fate. It was the one thing every single individual had in common: a small, crimson string tied into a neat bow, permanently secured around their ring finger. These strings, no matter how far they stretched or how tangled they got, would never, could never, break. The Red String of Fate, invisible to everyone but the wearer, was tethered to your destined, the other half of your soul. A soulmate. Everyone had one. Well, everyone except for the Mandalorian, Din Djarin, that is. 

Authors Note: (TELL ME YOUR PREFERENCE) Hi all! I have this written in two different ways, one with an OC, and the other as reader with the pronouns “You”. Which would you prefer to read? OC or reader, let me know in the comments!

Everyone in the galaxy knew of the Red String of Fate. It was the one thing every single individual had in common: a small, crimson string tied into a neat bow, permanently secured around their ring finger. These strings, no matter how far they stretched or how tangled they got, would never, could never, break. The Red String of Fate, invisible to everyone but the wearer, was tethered to your destined, the other half of your soul.

A soulmate.

Everyone had one.

Well, everyone except for the Mandalorian, Din Djarin, that is. His own string, while wrapped snuggly around his ring finger, fell short a soulmate, cut off prematurely. It dangled limply, a meager two feet in length off his finger, leading to no one.

There were some nights, when he gazed at his beskar covered reflection, that he thought, maybe it was for the best that he didn’t have a soulmate. After all, who could come to love someone that they could not see? Could not touch? Could not ever truly know unless wed?

But then there were the other nights, the nights where he would agonize over the loss of someone he never truly had, of someone who never existed. If he wasn’t fated to anyone, why did it still feel like half of him was missing?

Those nights were far more frequent since he had found the kid, since he started to long for a life of more than hunting quarries and running from IMPs. He wanted someone to come to after a long day of hunting, a riduur who he could bare his face to, who could help him shed his layers of beskar at days end, and who he could hold through the cold nights aboard the Razor Crest.

He stared at that cut off string now, held in his unbound hand as the ‘Crest flew through hyperspace on autopilot. He twirled it around his fingers, un-gloved but bared to no one, wondering why the universe had not saw fit to give him a mate, but give him all the emotional turmoil that came with having one.

Throughout his years, the Mandalorian had experienced all the symptoms of mate withdrawal. The body aches, the sudden sensation of feeling incapable of breathing, the feeling of his heart clenching in his chest so tightly he thought it might burst within him.

And then there were the dreams. The dreams of her.

Din could never see her face; it was always, always obscured by something. Usually in was her hair, soft locks, rich in color, that fell gently down her back. Her back, that was always to him as she ran through the halls of a large ship, dark in color, save for the splashes of red light that danced across the halls. He always chased her, got so close to her he could almost touch her, but then she would dissipate into the air, and Din would wake.

He always woke from those dreams in a cold sweat, heart pounding loudly in chest, his lungs greedily taking in air as though he had forgotten to breath while dreaming. The longing would settle in when he opened his eyes and she was no where to be found. He yearned for her so much it physically hurt.

It was her, his soulmate, he knew it in his gut, but still, the string tied neatly around his finger hung mockingly at his side.

The Mandalorian heaved a great sigh as he dropped the string and lifted his tired body from the pilot’s seat, the ship was set to course, and it was time for bed. Beside him, in his floating pram, the Child slept soundly. Din smiled fondly beneath his helmet before pressing the button to close up the pram for the night, it followed silently behind him as he made his way to his quarters, turning in for the night to an empty bed.

                                                             ***

The quarry was not a hard man to find or capture by any means. A rodian smuggler by the name of Sio Thule, wanted for the disappearance of a large shipment of spice, was not a clever being.

The tracking fob had led the Mandalorian to a small pub on an outer-rim desert planet. There, Din had found the rodian three sheets to the wind, loudly bragging about the stolen spice. He was too intoxicated to put up a fight, and a swift jab in the stomach was all the Mandalorian needed to bring the bounty down. The Mandalorian grabbed the rodian by the hood of his tunic, dragging him from the pub while he bemoaned his gut punch.

Then, when that pained had faded, and the reality of his situation settled in, the roadian, like all of his quarries, started his attempt at bargaining.

“Hey! Hey, buddy,” from behind him, the rodian fought to capture the attention of his captor, the Mandalorian hunter. “Maybe we can help each other out, yeah?”

Din ignored the attempt at communication, use to quarries attempting to bargain their way out of their situation. The one before the Child had attempted to bargain his way to freedom with credits, but it ended the same every single hunt. A quarry encased in carbonite, ready to transport back to the guild.

“Hey big guy, I know you can hear me up there. I can help, I can help you!” The rodian was attempting to right himself, as Din was still dragging him, but was having little success.

“How could you possibly help me?” The question had ben rhetorical, but the rodian didn’t seem to notice, and took this as a sign that the Mandalorian was up for discussing his potential release.

“Back in the pub,” he started, “You said you were lookin’ for a Jedi.”

Apparently, despite whining profusely about his “injury”, the rodian had managed to hear the brief exchange between the Mandalorian and the pub bartender.

“What do you know of the Jedi?” The Mandalorian stopped in his tracks, Sio, who could now finally regain his bearings, stood up from the ground. He attempted to wipe the debris from his clothes from his unceremonious escort to the ‘Crest, when the Mandalorian cuffed him in on fluid movement.

Din had been tasked weeks ago with returning his Foundling to its own kind, the Jedi, and he had found hide nor hair of the order of sorcerer’s. He was currently looking for more Mandalorians who may have escaped the Imperial attack on the covert to help him by Creed, and was coming up with just as few leads.

Sio gulped visibly as the Mandalorian in his intimidating beskar armor, stared down at him intensely.

“Not much,” Sio attempted to keep his voice confident, free of the fear that had made its home in the pit of his stomach, “Just where one so happened to appear the Day the Galaxy Shook.”

Beneath his helm, the Mandalorian quirked a brow, “Appeared?”

The rodian nodded vigorously, “Yeah, yeah, appeared. Out of thin air,” Sio wiggled his fingers through the air expressively, “They say she was thrown from the Netherworld of the Force.”

“The Netherworld of the Force?” Din said slowly, testing the phrase on his tongue.

Sio tried to plaster on a confident look on his face, “Yea, yea! The Netherworld, where the Jedi reside after death. Like the afterlife or something.”

“The afterlife?” Din grunted, tugging harshly on the rodians cuffs, “You’re wasting my time.” Din pulled his quarry forward with strength much greater than the other beings, and Sio stumbled forward, struggling to keep his footing.

A Jedi booted from the afterlife on the Day the Galaxy Shook, now that was an inventive tale. Perhaps what the rodian lacked in intelligence, he made up for in imagination. In all his years of hunting, Din could honestly say that that was the most outlandish story he had ever been told as a means of bribery.

Not giving up, Sio called out to the Mandalorian once more, “Hold on, hold on, I’m telling the truth!” Sio caught his bearings quicker than Din would have liked, and resumed talking almost instantly. Din couldn’t wait to put this guy in carbonite. At least then he would finally shut up.

“Let me show you! I bring you to where the Jedi showed up, you can confirm the rumors yourself. Just let me go in return.” The rodian was begging now, his voice cracking at his last attempt to persuade the Mandalorian, “What do you have to lose?”

At Sio’s words the Mandalorian stopped in his tracks once more, the rodian, who hadn’t been prepared for the abrupt stop, smacked into Din’s back, the hard beskar rattling his skull.

“Dank ferric,” Sio muttered, rubbing his green head as Din mulled over the rodians words.

What did he have to lose? Some time maybe, but not much else. If the rodian was telling the truth, which Din doubted, then he could finally have a lead on finding one of the Child’s kind. If not, well, it wasn’t like this quarry was smart enough to give him the slip, he would still collect his bounty.

Din spared a glance down at his own hand, where the Red String of Fate was tied neatly, visible to him even beneath his gloves. The Day the Galaxy Shook.  The day Din looked down at his hand and suddenly- his string lead somewhere. Din’s heart squeezed inside his chest. Maybe…

After a long stretch of silence that left the rodian sweating, Din finally spoke.

“Show me.”

Chapter II

[luna-spacedoodles]

Spoiler: Rules Were Broken

A Dream Smp x Ever After High AU

Word count: 1,599

Chapter 1 A Royal Tale

Tommy hauled his wagon full of luggage up to the school as Tubbo

walked alongside him with his hands in his pockets.

Tommy grunted to a stop, “Dude why, why can’t you like, help me? Where even is your stuff?”

“All in here, boss man.” Tubbo tipped his comically tiny top hat and Tommy heard a small quack come from inside.

“I- okay can you help me then please?” Tubbo grabbed the handle alongside him and they pulled it together all the way to their dorm.

Tommy bust open the doors and threw a suitcase on his bed quickly following it and flopping in defeat. Tubbo didn’t even make it to his bed before Tommy heard a thud behind him. He didn’t know how long they’d stayed like that until he heard Tubbo placing down his things. Tommy lifted his head to see all his furniture was already there, that was one thing he didn’t have to set up at least.

Tommy opened up his suitcase and started messily throwing the clothes inside to his right, not all of them made it on the bed. Most of them fell onto the floor or got caught on the banister.

“Oh stop dude you’re making a mess.” Tubbo told him after he got a face full of shirt.

“Shut up man, you’re wrong you’re so wrong, I’m being so neat and tidy and shit!” Tommy retaliated only to throw another shirt.

“You literally just missed the bed so far.” Tubbo let out a small laugh at the end and kicked some shorts off his hammock.

Tommy groaned and went to pick up his failed attempts, “Well don’t just sit there if you’re going to groan about it, come help me man!”

“You don’t need my help, you're just shit. Besides I already finished setting up my stuff so that just makes you look even more shit at this.”

“But that’s not fair you got here earlier than me! And it’s not even true, there’s still a whole other half of the room and you’ve just invaded into my space!”

Just as he finished the two boys heard the door open and someone step inside, they both turned to look at someone Tommy had never seen before. He was quite tall and looked funny, his skin was black and white split down the middle of his face, same with his hair but flipped around. He had wide open red and green eyes that seemed fake, like they were made of glass, open far too wide and he didn’t seem to ever blink, yet it seemed the boy was doing everything he could to avoid making eye contact with either of them. Maybe that was a good thing, they didn’t seem like eyes that’d be pleasant to stare at. He had tall horns atop his head and two tails as well, one black and the other white.

“What the fuck??” Tommy shouted raspily in confusion over the unexpected guest.

“Uhm, hi.” The boy managed to spit out as he tightened his grip on his luggage.

“I think you have the wrong room.” Tommy crossed his arms and lent against the bed, he slipped a bit trying to balance himself.

“No he’s got the right room.” Tubbo butted in, he adjusted himself to sit on the edge of the hammock so his feet dangled over the floor.

“What?” The boy and Tommy asked in unison.

“Yeah, something about a student miscalculation or whatever, not enough dorms so we all have to share.”

Tommy looked at the new guy, this wasn’t what he wanted or planned for but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

—

Tommy woke up to a sudden heavy weight on his stomach. Tommy lifted his head and rubbed his eyes to see a blond raccoon with a red handkerchief tied around its neck laid out flat on his stomach, it’s little arms and legs stretched out.

“Oh, hello!” Tommy cooed at the raccoon, giving it some scratches and pats as it chuckled and rolled around in delight. He looked out the window, it was still dark out but he could spot the sun’s light barely reaching over the horizon. Tommy wondered if it was too early to sneak out his dorm and go walk in the forest before breakfast, wasn’t much to do and he didn’t really feel like going back to sleep so taking a quick walk wouldn’t be that bad.

He got dressed and slipped on a white cloak and a small brown backpack as well. Tommy quietly snuck out the window and climbed down the vines on the side of the wall, before he could lift his head up the raccoon had already jumped and landed flat on his face.

“Clementine, I told you to wait.” Tommy groaned muffled under Clementine, she only replied with some chittering that sounded close to laughter as Tommy pulled her off his face. He looked at her and couldn’t bring himself to scold her anymore than that, how could he stay mad at that face. He let her scuttle over him and sit in the open backpack as they walked off into the forest.

On their walk they saw many different creatures and plants, they even stopped by the pond on their way back. By the time they’d gotten back into the dorm the sun was rising and Tommy’s pockets were full of small flowers, pebbles and anything else he could fit inside, even Clementine had a large hoard of berries she’d picked for her breakfast.

Before Ranboo or Tubbo had the chance to wake up Tommy and Clementine were already out the door and on their way to the castleteria, leaving the cloak and bag stuffed back inside the wardrobe. Dashing down the stairs and through the halls he skidded to a stop in front of the castleteria doors, rocking and bouncing back and forth waiting for the doors to open. A bell chimed, the doors opened and Tommy ran up to get his breakfast.

The lunch lady gave him a stack of pancakes with a side of eggs and sausage, he ran off with his tray and sped towards a lone table tucked in a corner. Despite running here full of energy he ate surprisingly slow, Clementine stuffed her face into her berry pile next to him. Students soon flooded into the castleteria including Tubbo and their new roommate, they walked up the stairs to his table and sat down with him.

“Hey Tommy!” Tubbo set down his tray and immediately started eating.

“Hi Tubbo,” Tommy looked up from his food and started at Ranboo, “…Hi Ranboo…”

“Hi.” The boy replied awkwardly, he didn’t seem like he wanted to make any conversation but Tommy didn’t want to talk to him anyway.

Clementine stopped her feasting and hissed in at Ranboo, running onto Tommy’s back and peaking at the stranger over his shoulder. Or maybe it was the gross looking fish soup she was eyeing, Ranboo slid the small bowl over as an offering and Clementine jumped for it, adding it to her stash. Tommy made a funny look at the soup before he went back to his own breakfast.

“ATTENTION STUDENTS!” The castleteria fell silent as everyone turned to look at Headmaster Grimm standing on the balcony, “As Legacy Day is coming very soon, today we’ll be practicing for it! During one of your classes you’ll be led out to practice pledging to follow your destiny and signing the Storybook of Legends! Thank you for your time, please continue your breakfast.”

—

Tommy walked out with the rest of the class to the stage, the place was white and regal, two large staircases either side of the stage and a pedestal at the front. They all lined up in alphabetical order of their last name and took turns practicing.

“Next!” Grimm called Ranboo up. Tommy watched him take the key and walk up to the pedestal.

“Uhm. I, Ranboo Queen, pledge to follow my destiny to be the next Evil… Queen? King?” Ranboo turned to look at Grimm, “Did I do that right?”

“It’s uh, it’ll do.” Grimm replied, taking back the key.

Tommy zoned out for a bit — That was Ranboo Queen? That’s the guy that was gonna poison him? He’d heard lots of mean things about how his destiny goes. He stared at the ground reconsidering how he felt about this guy.

“Next!” Grimm yelled, Tommy looked up and realized he was calling him up. He walked up to him and silently took the key.

“I! Uhm..” Tommy turned around to Grimm, “I have a question?”

“Yes?” Grimm sighed.

“It’s just, what if I don’t want to follow my destiny? Like, what if I want to do my own thing?” Everyone gasped loudly, Grimm looked shocked and angry, he strode over to him and Tommy backed up against the pedestal.

“Now listen here, if you don’t sign that book, your story will go poof. You will go poof.” Grimm stepped back and Tommy inhaled deeply only now realizing he’d been holding his breath, “Now I recommend we move on and continue.”

Tommy turned around and looked out on the crowd, everyone was staring at him judgingly, he looked down at the key in his hand. He threw it harshly onto the ground and started running as fast as he could from there, Clementine jumped off a chair she’d been watching from and scampered after him. Tommy grabbed his cloak from the dorm and ran into a place he knew no one would find him.

[obutsuwrites]

a single feather (tengu!hawks x f!reader)

tumblr request:  Hi! I just read your new story on ao3 and it was amazing!!! Your writing style is really fantastic and I saw your requests were open. Could I request Yandere Hawks x fem Reader? Bonus points if it’s also NSFW but it doesn’t have to be, I just really enjoyed your take on yandere Katsuki and was curious to see how you’d approach a yandere hawks. Thanks so much for your time!

summary: “G-g-get out!” Her words sounded strangled and afraid. The princess sat up and frantically scooted away from the strange man. ‘She’s so cute, scared like this.’

She wondered how long the man had been watching her. Was he the source of the crimson feather? Was this not a man, but an oni? A pit formed in her chest, heavy with dread and fright.

“Don’t be like that, little bird. I’m a kami, shouldn’t you be falling at my feet?” Keigo asked, his tone casual. His lack of concern or formality was alarming. No one had spoken to the princess in such a way. Under normal circumstances, she would have welcomed his nonchalant nature, but now -- in her darkened room -- it was a threat. xxx basically a really self-indulgent, kinda researched feudal!au with tengu!hawks bc he rlly do got me feelin sum typa way 😳

word count:  6,209

warnings: yandere elements, dubcon, stalking, loss of virginity, choking, possessive behavior 

my ao3 for more shitposts

my ko-fi~!

my ask box is still open 4 requests~!

glossary:

Tokin - a traditional or fictional small black box worn on the foreheads of Yamabushi – practitioners of Shugendō – or Tengu, dangerous yet protective spirits of the mountains and forests from the Japanese mythology

Yuigesa - pompom stash worn by Yamabushi

Yamabushi - Japanese mountain ascetic hermits

Shoji - door, window or room divider used in traditional Japanese architecture, consisting of translucent (or transparent) sheets on a lattice frame

Kami - are the spirits, phenomena or "holy powers" that are venerated in the religion of Shinto

Fundoshi - traditional Japanese undergarment for adult males, made from a length of cotton

lil special author's note: from what i've been able to read, kami/tengu are really similar?? but here obviously they're two different things v.v so hawks bein a lil misleading lmao

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It was midnight and the princess had retired to her chambers. Her plush mattress and soft covers were simply too inviting. She had collapsed into bed and dove into a deep slumber. Quiet snores echoed through the obnoxiously large bedroom. It hadn’t been her choice to have such a spacious room… but it was never her choice. The princess of the kingdom was merely a figurehead. A token of the nobility. Seen in public, but never heard. Her voice was reserved for servants and other royalty behind closed doors.

‘As a lady should,’ her mother would say. ‘Your breath isn’t worth the common folk.’

The princess argued, ‘But mom, the servants… they are common folk. It’s no different!’

Her mother’s face scrunched into a sour expression, as if she ate a lemon. Under other circumstances, her expression would have been humorous, but the empress was a severe woman. A serious woman of royal blood and polite nature.

‘A woman of noble birth only attracts scoundrels and yokai.’

That had ended their discussion. Yokai -- as the princess knew -- were spirits and demons that inhabited the untamed land beyond their kingdom. They preferred the eternal darkness of dense forest. A perfect habitat for such apparitions. She had never seen one, of course, but the princess learned of their many forms from maids. Fantastical tales of wild beast men with protruding horns and unkempt hair; fox-like spirits that brought good fortune, but possessed a mischievous side, and cat yokai that roamed the mountains, often transforming into humans. However, there was one yokai that caught the princess’ attention.

The tengu; a dangerous spirit of the forest. A yokai that possessed the talons and wings of a bird, but the celestial beauty of man. Tengu wandered mountains and forests as the land’s protector. Their wings were said to expand as wide as the sun. They donned the traditional dress of a yamabushi, adorned with a tokin and yuigesa. Tengu were accompanied by strong gusts of wind generated by a magical feather fan. Sometimes, as the princess learned, tengu instead carried a pewter staff. Their approach could be told by the jingle of their pewter staff and currents of wind that almost magically appeared. Some servants even told of handsome tengu. Tengu that charmed and bewitched with their allure. Mischievous and curious.

In truth, the princess yearned to escape the frigid confines of the castle, and explore the forest. She wanted -- wished -- to stumble upon a tengu. She wanted to feel their fabled soft feathers under her fingertips, to taste the crisp air they produced. The princess had no qualms with finding a hideous tengu with a beak, as the maids told her, tengu with beaks were more common. They were also more monstrous. Portrayed as wild birds of prey that lured young women into their nests for unspeakable acts. Eventually, the young women would return… but they were different. Blind. Insane. Soiled.

These stories did not deter her. The princess knew better. She knew such stories were only regurgitated as a means to frighten her. Tales meant for cheap scares of common folk. She was no common folk; she was nobility.

The woman began to drool into her dreamless sleep, too blissfully unaware of the winged beast hovering outside her window. A curious, crimson feathered tengu that was drawn by the scent of royal blood. He inhaled deeply; the princess’ scent mixed with the humid summer air in harmony. Known as Keigo, the yokai’s expansive wings flapped violently, and left shivers of feathers that fell gently like petals. Keigo wondered what she looked like; was she clothed in a thin nightgown or nothing at all? Keigo preferred the latter and nodded his head in solitary agreement. It wouldn’t hurt to take a peek, would it? ‘Her snores could wake the dead… ’ He chuckled at the thought; a woman of her nobility never spoke out of turn -- seen but not heard -- and yet this woman could produce a symphony of noise in her sleep.

“What other noises do you make, little bird?”

Slowly, Keigo unlatched the princess’ window and crept into her quarters. The room wasn’t remarkable, but her scent was etched into every corner. A patchwork of divinity itself. He wanted to bury himself within the fragrance, bury himself within… her. Curious golden eyes searched the darkened room for the princess’ sleeping form, finally resting upon a human-shaped mound. She looked so innocent. So unaware of the tengu’s presence. He could snatch her right now and be within the forest by daybreak, but he restrained himself. He wasn’t like the beastly oni. ‘No,’ Keigo decided, ‘I’ll simply watch over her.’ Keigo watched as the princess shifted in her sleep and caught a glimpse of her chest. Ample and supple. Absolutely begging to be touched and conquered. He ran a cold hand down the woman’s exposed flesh and thought, ‘I should at least take a trophy. ’ A means to memorialize her existence.

The tengu detached himself from the woman and began his search. He wanted a garment, something personal -- something private to her. Keigo remembered that mortals kept such clothing hidden away in drawers. Like treasure. As quietly as he could manage, Keigo rummaged through exquisite textiles and cloth, until he palmed satin material. Curious, Keigo grabbed the garment and examined it. A pair of panties. He brought the undergarment to his nose and inhaled. Fresh linen, welcoming and clean. The tengu would have preferred a pair with the maiden’s carnal scent, but even possessing something that was so close to her body was a gift. It was meant for him, Keigo decided. Stuffing the panties into his robe, Keigo allowed himself a final look at the woman before quietly flying off.

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She awoke, drowsy and exhausted, as if sleep had evaded her. The princess stretched and exhaled a soft yawn. Morning light streamed through the woman’s only open window. Wait. Open window? The princess had no memory of opening her window before bed. In fact, she had been too exhausted the night before to even take off her slippers. She had collapsed into bed in a weary state and fell promptly to sleep.

‘This is odd. So very odd,’ the woman thought and closed the window. She had been awfully weary, perhaps she opened it and had forgotten? It was possible, but the princess still felt perturbed and began a rudimentary inspection around her chambers. Nothing seemed out of place, until she happened upon a single crimson feather that appeared within her dresser. It was long, far too long to be a bird. The feather was unlike anything the woman had seen in her garden.

Tucking the feather away, the princess slowly started to get dressed. She savored this time in the morning. It was her simple slice of heaven. Her escape from prying eyes… and her mother. This was the princess’ only ritual that wasn’t tainted by maids and royal duties. It was a situation she had insisted upon and insisted upon until her mother eventually relented. She was an adult -- the sole heir -- and had no need for maids to dress her anymore. It had been convenient and almost fun as a child, but now as a young maiden, the task seemed almost inappropriate for hired help. The woman reasoned that their time could be spent elsewhere. This was her mother’s weak spot; the empress detested a lack of work ethic. She reasoned it was an absence of pride in one’s work. The maiden believed this to be the very reason for the garden.

The garden was quaint. A private sanctuary away from inquisitive eyes and lurking mothers. A place to call her own. This was a space not yet invaded by her controlling mother or by intrusive maids. Serenity in every meaning of the word. Plants flourished there; the modest terrace was alive with flowers and greenery. She was permitted this piece of serenity if she toiled in the earth. Hands smeared with dirt and sweat trickling down her brow. Such hard work earned her seeds and decorations for the princess’ little terrace. Fairy lights, statues, and decorative pebbles. The princess cherished every addition.

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She sat in the lively terrace, hands tired and dirty. The peculiar feather plagued her mind throughout the day, until finally, the woman decided she would rid herself of such compulsive thought. Toiling in the earth allowed her mind to wander beyond it. Idle hands were the devil’s work, as her mother would say.

The afternoon sun was high in the sky and beat down upon her back. The silk fabric of her summer kimono stuck to the maiden’s back like tree sap. Impossibly thick. The princess felt exhausted and unbearably hot, but busy work kept her thoughts at ease, and away from the stark reality of a midnight visitor. She had wrestled with the thought. How could an animal -- a beast -- flutter into her room, only to escape and leave behind a single feather? What bird could manipulate a latch? Originally, the woman settled on the possibility of a trained eagle being her intruder… but the idea was preposterous. Insane. Unlikely. The empress had no mortal enemies. Not a living soul was capable of such a feat, no commoner had reason. Her mother’s public demeanor was a farce. Kind. Generous. Loving. Traits she lacked in private, behind pristine castle doors.

Unbeknownst to her, on a nearby towering tree, sat a red-tailed hawk. Golden, predatory eyes were trained on the princess; unmoving and calculating.

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Throughout the day, the princess couldn’t escape the feeling of being watched. Like a lab rat. The thought was preposterous. The castle walls were far too great for peering eyes. No pervert could spy on her, and yet, she felt like this. This tightness in her chest that had appeared once she began to toil within the garden. It was so suffocating -- so frightening -- the princess decided to abandon any cultivation for the day. Instead, the princess focused on her studies. Academic topics specially suited for a “maiden of her stature,” as her mother would say. Subjects included etiquette, housewifely duties, mathematics, language, and archery. Archery, of course, was the maiden’s suggestion. A term the empress begrudgingly obliged. If a woman couldn’t protect herself, what sort of woman was she?

The bow fit neatly in her callused hands. Rough palms were earned from hard work and determination. Hands “unbecoming of a noble,” the empress would chide. As if it mattered. The princess was of age, but still had no suitors. No man of nobility had even considered her as a wife. She was never seen in public enough for such courtship. The castle was her home and her prison.

An arrow flew through the air, hitting its target. Archery was simply another means of keeping idle hands busy. Nothing more, nothing less. The woman felt safer within the confines of the castle. She didn’t feel the carnivorous eyes that burned into her body like hot coals. Perhaps this was all caused by the feather. It’s discovery caused her mind to wander with possibilities until her thoughts landed on something irrational: a tengu.

The thought had crept into the back of her skull and taken up residency like a canker sore. Unrelenting and impossible to ignore. It only grew in size as the day continued, until the idea was all she could muster. A large part of the princess was excited by such a discovery, but a smaller, weaker aspect dreaded the possibility. Her room wasn’t a forest and the maiden didn’t require protection, which left only a simple reality; the tengu was attracted to her. The empress’ previous words now echoed, ‘A woman of noble birth only attracts scoundrels and yokai.’ Was this true? If it was, no maid gossiped about it. It was unlikely shrill midwives could keep such a juicy secret to themselves, the princess reasoned. She prayed it was true a crimson feathered tengu had visited her. She didn’t mind if the tengu wasn’t handsome and instead had the face of a bird. She merely wanted the feather to have significance. It should, at least.

However, the maiden did wonder if the prying eyes were that of a tengu. They could shape-shift -- she only knew from castle gossip -- but they preferred a more mortal form. Imposing wings and a yamabushi’s robe, sometimes, tengu would wear a red mask with a long nose. This was less common now. Instead, such a mask existed for festivals and revelry. An accessory taken by man. Maybe the tengu had taken the shape of a bird. They were, after all, protective yokai of the forest. A bird’s eye view of the land seemed the most logical… but if it was a tengu, why did she feel so uneasy? Why did her skin prickle and become so sensitive?

She was familiar with stories of tengu that were renegades. Yokai -- like oni -- that preferred mortal desires. The mortal sin of flesh. It was a topic that was taboo to the princess. Courtship wasn’t a necessary knowledge. It was more useful of her time to learn household responsibilities. How to hold a babe. How to preserve fruits. What linens were best for summer months. Nothing truly of value beyond mathematics and archery. The prospect of a tengu that wanted her for carnal reasons left a horrid taste in her mouth and her knees weak. It was both thrilling and frightening.

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Days melted into one another, but the princess couldn’t purge the feeling of being watched. Her garden was no longer a sanctuary. It was crypt; suffocating and miserable. Because of this, she opted to stay inside and attend to her studies. Busy work that kept prying eyes at bay. The castle walls now provided protection from the rotten anxiety decaying her gut. Caring for plants used to be a welcome chore; an activity that broke up the monotony of royal life. Instead, the fresh air and bright sun only brought a sense of dread the princess couldn’t escape. It sat in her gut like a stone. Heavy with burden.

She experimented with venturing out during different times of day. Neither the cool morning nor the starless evening cure her. Everyday was the same, except for her lack of gardening. Servants took note and tried to coax the princess into the terrace, but she held fast in her fear. It was becoming all consuming. A black hole even the empress noticed.

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“You insisted on this ridiculous hobby, and yet, you won’t be appreciative?” Cold, hard eyes observed the woman, waiting for a response. Her mother’s eyes never quite held any warmth of familiar love. It was an aspect the princess was accustomed to.

The princess, playing with the hem of her kimono responded, “I… Of course I appreciate it, Your Majesty.”

“Well then, why don’t you tend to it, little bug?”

She winced at the epithet. It was an embarrassing and old name that was born of the maiden’s interest in plants. Nothing more than an insult veiled as a loving moniker. The name brought forth memories of childhood. Memories of learning cruelty.

“It’s been too hot lately, Your Majesty. My kimono sticks to my back and it’s very unbecoming.” Picking her words carefully would be the key here. She knew the vicious nature her mother carried. A stick to beat others down into submission; into the dirt.

Satisfied, or perhaps finally disinterested, the empress curtly nodded and continued her stroll around the castle grounds. The lack of her mother’s love didn’t bother her anymore. She was the empress. Nobility that commanded -- demanded -- respect.

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The day had transformed into night. Humid summer air that melted into a brisk evening. Typically, twilight was the perfect time for tending to her garden, but the princess hadn’t set foot within her sanctuary. She sat directly in front of the shoji that led to the terrace, timid hands fumbling with the hem of her kimono. It was a nervous habit that followed from childhood.

‘Should I try again? ’ Thick saliva began to pool within the maiden’s mouth. A bundle of anxiety coiled within the pit of her stomach; like a hot brand. Truth be told, she wanted to run and hide further within the castle. The princess’ bed was her sanctuary now.

‘...but it’s only a feeling. Mother wouldn’t want me to be such a child. ’ Swallowing the saliva, the woman stood up and meekly slid open the door.

Sticky, heavy air stuck to her lungs. Her chest rapidly rose and fell; the princess desperate to not suffocate. It was a starless night. An inky blackness that threatened to swallow the princess whole. The evening was darker than usual, which allowed dread to further creep into her body. Instinctual goosebumps decorated her arms as she slinked towards a bed of flowers. The floral scent was almost nauseating. Too overpowering and fragrant.

Shaky knees knelt into the earth and trembling hands began to pull at weeds. Her lack of care supported an invasion within her garden. It was no longer a garden of love. Now, the terrace sat abandoned and overrun. Stubborn weeds were plucked and tossed aside. The princess’ hands ached and were caked in dirt. Not becoming a of woman. Of a princess. But the woman lacked care. She didn’t want to live in fear of her only outlet. Her only safe haven from her mother and from the castle servants.

Tears gathered at the corner of the maiden’s eyes as she worked. Her disdain and anxiety had become tangible. She brought a dirt crusted finger to her eye and wiped away the salty liquid. Crying was a sign of weakness. It was a saying the empress had drilled into the princess since birth. Crying wasn’t allowed for nobility. The woman needed to be strong and feminine; not a blubbering child. Gradually, the feeling of being watched dissipated and was instead replaced by a feeling of inadequacy and misery.

Atop a neighboring tree within the terrace sat a red-tailed hawk. Beautiful and majestic. The bird watched the woman below. It cocked it’s head in interest. Despite his watchful gaze, the tengu known as Keigo hadn’t seen the princess cry before. The action seemed almost foreign to her, as if she had never cried before. Her chest didn’t heave and no sound emitted from her. Instead, the maiden sat on her knees and silently toiled. This lack of passion angered Keigo in a way. He wanted to see the woman in all her entirety. He wanted to witness her anger. Her sadness. Her wailing. A part of him would envision her beneath him, begging him with tears in her eyes. It was a sick pleasure, really. Keigo wanted to be disgusted by this desire, but it was a thought that dug its heels in, refusing to leave. He was left with the only option; to embrace it.

Keigo continued to watch the quiet sobbing until he grew bored. Until an idea surfaced. He should try to comfort her, shouldn’t he?

‘I want to touch her. I want to feel her warmth. I want to feel her writhe underneath me,’ the tengu thought as he gently fluttered to the ground. Keigo didn’t want to approach her as a man. He knew mortals weren’t stupid; she would question why a strange man with golden eyes suddenly appeared within her castle. ‘I want you to love me. ’

Softly, the tengu made his way towards the princess. Keigo’s footfalls were ignored by the maiden until he rubbed a wing against her. Startled, she released a quiet yelp and looked at the creature. The bird was small for a hawk and looked to be the runt. An unfortunate bird that had been given the same lot in life as herself. The princess regained her composure and reached out, touching the little bird.

“You scared me! Are you lonely, little birdie?” She asked, trying to stifle a giggle. Being frightened by such a small thing was comedic in a way. Deep inside, the bird and it’s tiny, insignificant body reminded the woman of herself. Perhaps this creature had been the prying eyes? ‘It was so silly of me to worry,’ the princess thought as she petted the bird.

The hawk released a low growl, as if the sound came from the very back of their throat. It reminded the princess of a cat’s purr. A sound only produced from trust and contentment. Soft lips curled into an insignificant smile. Her lips felt tense and unfamiliar with the action; smiling wasn’t common within the castle. The empress saw it as fictitious and unnecessary.

‘You can express pleasantries through your words. A noble woman doesn’t need to stoop down to a commoner.’

She reasoned the bird couldn’t be more than a young babe; the runt of a litter. ‘Are its wings hurt? Is the mother looking for..? ’ Before the princess could finish her thought, the bird gently pecked at her palm. Almost like a warning. The feeling of being watched had subsided; the princess was confident that her intruder was a lonely baby hawk. She hadn’t seen such a bird before. Hawks weren’t common in her kingdom and the woman was unsure the creature could fly. If the bird couldn’t fly, surely she should nurse it to health and then release it. The woman had never raised a dog before, much less a hawk, but it’s kindness proved too powerful.

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The princess managed to smuggle the hawk into her room. The operation had required bribing maids, but ‘business deals are important and are to be honored,’ as her mother would say. It wasn’t bribing; she was merely asking for a service and in turn, the maids were paid. ‘A simple transaction,’ she told herself.

Currently, the hawk was cuddled against the woman. She had made several attempts to leave, but the creature would loudly squawk like a threat. The princess knew her mother would at best be displeased -- and at worst -- demand the bird be confiscated. No animal was worthy of a princess. No creature was bred with the same noble blood. The empress deemed animals unworthy of her daughter’s company. ‘To rule, you must have conviction and a barn animal would only dirty you.’ Remembering her words only caused the woman to flinch. Even the ghost of her words carried severity and coldness.

Keigo was growing annoyed. Yes, it was blissful to be smothered by this woman, but he desired more. His heart grew black with a carnal want that only oni experienced. He wanted to defile her in the worst way. He wanted to feel the princess squirm underneath him, begging him in ecstasy. Naturally, the mind of a tengu is always several steps ahead of a mortal. A plan began to form; once she retired to bed, Keigo would reveal himself, explain he was a kami and had selected her for his divine touch. The tengu knew that even among nobility, the visit of a kami was prized. It was an offer the princess couldn’t -- wouldn’t refuse. Keigo ruffled his feathers in anticipation.

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The night was still and silent, except for a slight breeze that blew through an open window. The princess had retired to sleep, but decided to keep her window open for the little bird. Keigo sat atop the windowsill and watched her sleeping form. He noted how small she was; an impossibly tiny body dwarfed by a mattress decorated in ornate blankets and pillows. This form allowed for the tengu to watch the princess undress. Her body was delicate and without blemish. A part of Keigo felt excited by this; a perfect body he could ruin. He would claim her and defile her.

With a quick pop, and a patch of black smoke, the bird was no more. In place sat a young man with ash blonde hair and golden eyes. His features were sharp and almost avian like, but his expression was laid-back and carefree. He wore the traditional garb of a yamabushi, complete with a tokin. He was a handsome man, but carried the dark intentions of a predator. Yellow orbs that burned with want.

Keigo slowly drifted towards the princess, leaving red feathers in his wake. He watched with interest as she tossed in bed. So blissful. So blissfully unaware of him. Unable to resist any further, the tengu placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. She was soft -- malleable -- and smelled of perfume. Like a garden.

The princess awoke suddenly from the action and came face-to-face with the tengu. By the moonlight, she couldn’t make out his features, but knew the shape was that of a man. Shock ignited in her eyes and the princess instinctively opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She felt suffocated by the intruder. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she noticed how bizarre the man’s silhouette was. He stood of average height, but it looked as if the man had hidden an object behind his back. An object that resembled the wings of a bird.

Finally, a whimper escaped the woman. A small and pathetic sound that aroused the tengu. Before the princess could helpless babble, Keigo spoke, “Sorry if I scared you! Wasn’t my intention, but I’m Keigo.” A lop-sided grin found its way onto his thin lips. The smile did little to quell the fear in the woman’s gut.

“G-g-get out!” Her words sounded strangled and afraid. The princess sat up and frantically scooted away from the strange man. ‘She’s so cute, scared like this.’

She wondered how long the man had been watching her. Was he the source of the crimson feather? Was this not a man, but an oni? A pit formed in her chest, heavy with dread and fright.

“Don’t be like that, little bird. I’m a kami, shouldn’t you be falling at my feet?” Keigo asked, his tone casual.  His lack of concern or formality was alarming. No one had spoken to the princess in such a way. Under normal circumstances, she would have welcomed his nonchalant nature, but now -- in her darkened room -- it was a threat.

The princess’ heart hammered in her chest like a drum. Too loud and too thunderous to ignore.

“A k-kami..? I -- you visited me several nights ago, didn’t you?” She desperately wanted to believe the man. Any other possibility was horrific. She squinted in the dark and noticed the sharp features he possessed; blonde hair illustrated in the moonlight and yellow eyes that seemed to glow.

The tengu laughed. It was soft and gentle, the pure opposite of the roaring cackle she was accustomed to.

“I wanted you to have somethin’ to remember me by, little birdie. It’s flattering how close you keep it.” It excited Keigo that the young maiden had kept the feather. Especially because she kept the feather so close, buried underneath her kimono, right atop her breast. He hoped her breasts were as soft as her cheek.

Plump cheeks flushed with pink. She hated being teased. It was one of the few social interactions her mother was capable of, but it always left a sour taste in the woman’s mouth.

“How… how do I know you’re a kami? You could simply be a convincing oni, a pretender.”

His smile faltered. “You don’t trust me? That’s okay, little birdie. I’ll take my leave,” Keigo replied. Leaving wasn’t a part of his plan, it was merely a distraction from the bewitching magic he cast. A glamour that would enlighten the princess to desires held deep within her heart.

The princess didn’t want him to leave; it was improper to turn away a guest. Compelled, a delicate hand grabbed Keigo’s robe. It was tightly woven material, similar to the great textiles within the castle.

“Stay,” she begged, “please stay. I didn’t mean…”

Keigo placed a large hand atop the crown of her head and stroked. The maiden leaned into the touch, it was unlike any sensation she had experienced within the castle. It wasn’t the uncaring, technical touch of a wet nurse, but the tender touch of a lover. Warmth began to bloom in the pit of her stomach. A feeling that was foreign, but welcomed. She wanted nothing more than to melt into the tengu’s touch.

The woman patted the empty spot next to her. She hoped the winged man would slide into bed and perhaps hold her. Simply hold her and their body heat mixed together in the summer air. A small, childish part of the princess desired to touch the man’s wings. If they were as soft as the feather, they must feel like heaven. ‘He’s divinity in every sense of the word.’

Silently, Keigo slid into bed beside the princess, his wings ruffling against her soft skin. He shivered from the sensation. Tingly and electric. Keigo draped an arm around her and pulled the princess closer. He needed to hear her heartbeat and feel the blood coursing under her skin. The maiden’s floral scent was overpowering now; the smell fresh and heavenly. The woman buried herself into the tengu’s robe. His body was warm, almost hot. A summer heat draped in a man. He smelled of the earth and pine. It was a scent that the woman found comforting.

“Eager little bird,” Keigo joked, his hand now drifting down her form. He was desperate to memorize the soft landscape of her body. She was a treat to be savored. “Gonna touch you and make you feel good, okay little birdie?”Keigo grabbed the princess through her nightgown, her breast fitting perfectly within his palm, as if she was made for him. Only one thought came to Keigo’s mind: ‘This is mine. She is mine.’ It was uncommon for the tengu to feel so territorial -- so protective, but she was giving herself to him, afterall.

He palmed the woman through her nightgown, eliciting a quiet moan. Keigo had to strain to hear it; she tried to stifle the sound. It was unnatural and embarrassing. She had never been touched like this before, much less by a kami.

“Don’t be so shy.” Keigo continued to caress and massage her breast, his other hand wandering down his lover’s nightgown. His hand stopped at the hem of her gown, sliding up the material until it was bunched around her waist. The princess shivered from the cool air, and from a foreign feeling of shame. A part of her wanted to push the winged man away and lock herself in a neighboring bathroom until guards arrived, but another insatiable piece wanted the kami to take her maidenhood right now. Her body burned with an undeniable passion that only Keigo could extinguish.

Mewls of want penetrated the night air as the tengu circled a finger around her sensitive lips, the warmth of his touch separated only by satin panties. The cloth -- saturated with her juices -- would be Keigo’s prize. Another memento of the woman, of his lover. Her squirming underneath him only cemented that fact.

Greedy, trembling hands reached for Keigo; needy for his body to be pressed against hers. She slid a hand underneath his robe, and traveled down his body, stopping at his waist. Pleasing a man was never a topic of discussion in the princess’ studies. The maiden’s hands glided under Keigo’s fundoshi. His member stood proud and leaking pre-cum, unsure and nervous, she began to rub his leaking head. A groan rumbled from deep within Keigo’s chest, like a thunderstorm.

“Don’t stop, little bird,” Keigo murmured, the tengu too enamored from the woman’s touch. He had dreamed of this for several nights, but finally, her soft hands were working his manhood. She stroked down his length, clumsy and inexperienced. The tengu was growling now; noises guttural and rough. Like a wild beast set free.

Encouraged by her touch, he tore her undergarment, allowing for proper access to her nether region. Roughly, Keigo parted the woman’s lips apart and a calloused thumb began to rub her now swollen clit. Under normal circumstances, the princess would have recoiled from such brazen action; she was taught a man should never tear a royal’s garment. It was an act perpetrated by oni and men of lesser nobility, but this man wasn’t of lesser nobility. He was a kami. A god.

Golden, hungry eyes looked down at her; like a wolf appraising meat. Predatory and insatiable. An idea formed within his mind and the tengu detached himself from the princess. She released a whine, her features twisted in a pout. A little brat denied subsistence.

“Touch me,” she requested. Her tone was demanding. It was more of a command than a request. Her hands felt empty and useless, the maiden convinced her only purpose now was to please the kami.

Keigo positioned himself at her entrance and commanded, “Lay down, let me pleasure you.” His words were like velvet, his voice like nirvana. Sickeningly sweet and light. With hesitation, the woman laid down, her cunt in full view of the tengu. She felt another pang of embarrassment. Even wet nurses hadn’t seen her exposed like this. Her instincts screamed to cover up and to run away, but the allure of Keigo proved too much.

A single finger was harshly jammed into her slick core as Keigo’s mouth engulfed her mound. His hot tongue swirled around in her cunt, learning every sensitive spot. His wide finger sent a shock of pain up the maiden’s body, but the sensation was soon replaced by warmth that spread between her thighs. He pumped into her, scissoring and stretching her. Preparing her for him. His teeth grazed against her delicate clit, evoking a wanton moan. Her legs trembled as Keigo shoved another finger into her wetness. She felt full -- whole -- with the tengu’s fingers inside. A thumb prodded her clit again, gently rubbing the nub. The red-hot coil within her center made the maiden feel as if she would burst, the sensation of an orgasm building. Sounds of squelching and a river of moans flowed from her.

The tengu brought his face up to her, fingers wet with her arousal.

“Little birdie all ready for my cock, huh?” Keigo stood up and quickly disrobed. His lean frame vibrating from excitement. In the moonlight, the princess could make out the sculpted body Keigo possessed. The body befitting of a kami. He crawled over her body and positioned his cock up against her lips. Slowly, savoring the moment, Keigo pushed into the woman. His cock stretched her, far more than his fingers. Sensitive, wet walls clasped around him. Her body was desperate to swallow his member whole. The tengu crammed his soaked fingers into his lover’s mouth, muffling her moans. “Don’t want you too loud, little birdie.”

She wondered if this was a normal part of lovemaking, but obliged the tengu and sucked on his fingers. Lewd sounds erupted from Keigo, along with a string of swears. The princess hadn’t heard such depravity before, but Keigo’s thick cock was too distracting. He sped up, provoked by the sucking of his fingers. His balls slapped against her ass at a feverish pace. Keigo’s strokes were no longer slow and delicate, but harsh and starving. A man -- a beast -- possessed. The force of his strokes almost hurt and his fingers were jammed to almost the back of her throat.

“Pl-please stop,” the maiden slurred, spit trailing down her chin. Keigo had to strain to hear her, but decided to partially accommodate. He removed the saliva coated fingers, leaving her to gup down chestfuls of air. Instead, strong hands clasped around her delicate neck. A neck that had only known the pleasures of cotton or satin. His touch around her neck was the opposite of the tenderness she had known before; his touch now felt possessive and dark. An aura of blackness that threatened to consume her. Keigo’s grip tightened, along with his feverish pace. The princess’ hips now began to ache underneath him.

The coil in her stomach reached its peak; a feeling of relief washed over her. The maiden felt grounded, more aware, less hazy. She finally noticed the dangerous shine in the tengu’s yellow eyes, which sent a deathly chill down her body, leaving goosebumps. She no longer wanted this. She no longer wanted him. The woman began to squirm underneath the tengu, defaulting to her original fear. Realizing the turn of her nature, Keigo released a final pump into her soaking cunt. A deep growl sounded from his chest, this time the sound no longer velvet and soft. The sound of a predator. As he climaxed, Keigo’s grip around her worsened. The maiden feeling out of breath. Asphyxiated. She beat against his chest, her vision becoming a blurry mess of black spots and dots.

Keigo’s large hands fell from her neck and the princess swallowed greedy gulps of air. ‘She looks so beautiful like this,’ the tengu thought, ‘sweaty and broken beneath me.’ His seed began to leak out of her, staining her plush thighs. The sensation made her feel dirty, wrong, used.

“L-l-leave.”

Yellow eyes bore into her features, memorizing every inch. A carefree grin plastered on the tengu’s handsome face.

“...but you’re mine now, little birdie.”

[yeojaa]

( TO THE MOON AND BACK. )

You use your one brain cell for love.  It doesn’t always end well.

pairing.  kth x (named) f!reader.  jjk x (named) f!reader.

genre +  rating.   non-idol!au.  there’s some fluff and there’s definitely some angst.  general.    

tags / warnings.  none, except for a lot of emotion. 😐😐

wc.  4.9k

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ as per usual (i owe you my life) and @yeoldontknow​ for tolerating me when i came crying into our messages.

author note.  this was a commission for the endlessly lovely @1088x1088​.  thank you so, so much for loving this series enough to support it.  it was a ton of fun to write (even though this chapter did really hurt).  finding my voice again was a bit of a struggle, but i hope you enjoy it!  i’m sorry this was late! 

chapter 12. 

You can feel the difference in the air the moment you step out of the building and into the arms of your bouncing, bubbly boyfriend.  There’s something about him today - an intensity that radiates out of him, refracts off his edges like an aureate coin.  He’s got the biggest grin on his face - so wide and unabashed you think he doesn’t even need the umbrella he’s brought along - that the sheer power of his joy might be enough to push the rain clouds back.  It stretches wide, brighter than the summer sun, and spills light into darkness, chasing away all the spiders.  It warms you from your toes through to the tips of your fingers, filling your veins with lovely golden thread, dust that settles in shades of yellow. 

“Did you win the lottery or something?”  The question is paired with a sweet kiss to his cheek, your entire body sagging comfortably against his as he wraps his free arm tightly around your shoulders and mirrors the gesture.  Your cheek tingles where his lips land.  You think he might be a wizard, magicking away all the hardships of your day.

“No, even better.”  The excitement is nearly bursting out of him, seeping out at the seams that hardly hold him together.  How he hasn’t simply told you yet is beyond you but you know Taehyung’s a bit dramatic - loves the build up as much as the climax - so you wait patiently, linking your hand through his elbow when you move onto the sidewalk.  It’s easy to fall into this routine:  the one you’ve perfected over the last few months.  It never feels stagnant, never anything less than a warm hug on a cold day.  You find comfort in that.

The sun sits low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the street.  They throw shapes across Taehyung’s face, bathing his features in darkness when you step beneath an awning and out of the downpour.  His eyes never stop twinkling - like stars against the night sky, lighting up even the places where the rays can’t reach. 

“We’re hosting an exhibit for local artists.”  He’s trying to be careful, hold himself together.  Still, you can hear the way he speaks a little too fast, too quick to be nonchalant.  Bite back a laugh when the words tumble into each other, failing under their restraints.  “The director asked me to curate it.”

He stops and looks at you then, hopeful and bright and so brilliant you imagine the sun’s disappeared behind the clouds and found a new home in his smile.  You know how much this means to him - how long he’s worked for this, how it’s cost him his parents’ affection and long hours that he’ll never get back.  It goes without saying he deserves this, this incredible opportunity. 

It doesn’t do it justice, but you offer your congratulations regardless, slipping support seamlessly between syllables.  Blending the words with a squeeze of his arm, a delighted little giggle that spirals into the air like a Christmas orange, tart and sweet.  “That’s amazing, Tae!”  

He’s a million miles over the moon, eyes waning, lost to a flood of emotion as he beams down at you.  

“I did all the research and she was happy with it and—”  A twinkling laugh breaks up the excitement, steeping it heavily in the sound as he exhales a big breath that seems to steal a little bit more of his coherence.  “I just—it’s huge.  It’s next month but the director’s given me the go-ahead.  Me!”  

You decide you’d really like to bottle this moment forever, to keep it on a shelf in your thoughts.  You think it’d be the best cure for a bad day, better than any chocolate, more comforting than an afternoon nap.

“Of course you, Tae.”  You’re matching his smile, cradling his jaw in the small of your palms.  Thumbs brush over the seam of his bottom lip, the freckle that dots the edge of his nose.  “I’m so, so proud of you.  You’ve worked so hard for this.”  You know the words aren’t possibly enough but you gift them anyway because it’s still nice to hear.  Everyone deserves that recognition, kindness to hold you up like ribbons, to keep your head held high. 

“Thank you, jagi.”  He sighs a soft sound, all rounded edges and a deep, abiding satisfaction that fills every inch of his expression.  It’s still there when he begins walking again, guiding you back to his favourite place with you at his side.  You fit exactly as you should, tucked under his arm, the tips of his fingers brushing over the teddy bear fabric of your coat.  

“Have you told the others yet?”  

“No, I’m going to tell them at dinner.”  The pride that colours his tone is shades of yellow - marigolds sprouting between vowels, sunflowers encapsulating consonants.  “I want Jungkookie to show his work in it.”  

He must not feel the way you stiffen at his side, how the blood runs cold in your veins and sticks you to the spot like an icicle.  You play it off well enough, tripping over your own two feet and righting yourself as if it were all just a matter of misplaced steps.  

(In truth, you could’ve sworn your heart had plummeted through your feet, all the way to the molten core.  You can feel it burning to a crisp, setting every nerve aflame at the mere thought.)

“I don’t want him to feel like… it’s a handout though.”  

“He won’t,”  you reassure around the strange, familiarly silhouetted lump in your throat.  You are intimately familiar with Jungkook’s work - what spreads over canvas in lovely lilac shapes, stark ink bringing relief to watercolour.  You know who inspires the evening skylines, the immaculate and yet effortless scenes he brings to life with strokes of pen, paint, charcoal. (Or, rather, you knew.  Things could be different now.)  Who graces - had graced - the rolls of film, painted in sepia tones until brought to life by a careful hand.

(You have a feeling they aren’t - that they’re just as they’ve always been.  Too much the same to be safe.  It’d be impossible to miss, even with blinders on.  You and Jungkook would always be complicated.) 

“He’s worked really hard.”  Taehyung’s more or less speaking to himself, carrying a one-sided conversation as you duck back beneath sheets of rain, droplets rolling off the umbrella he carries and splashing all over your toes.  Suddenly, the torrential downpour feels fitting, as if the skies have opened up to soothe the burn beneath your skin.  “It’d be nice if he just caught a break, you know?  Something to give him more confidence.”

He, as well as you, knows just how much of himself the youngest puts into his work.  How every canvas, every roll of film, represents a corner of his heart.  Offers a glimpse into his thoughts.  

You, possibly more than anyone.  But Taehyung doesn’t know that and it certainly isn’t your place to say, so you simply nod along, humming in agreement as you wander the quiet Seoul street.  (It’ll be busy soon, once you pass from the residential area into the bustle of nighttime and exploration.  Not even the rain can keep people away, everyone far too eager to catch up amidst a crowd of smoke and drinking games.  You’re used to it though - used to being dragged out by the ragtag group for their impromptu yet regular weekly dinner dates.) 

“I’m sure he’ll say yes.”  It’s all you can offer as your boyfriend rambles on, lost in his own world

“Really?” 

The amount of hope - strung up on fairy lights, dim and yet somehow so full - rings crystal clear in Jungkook’s voice, tearing your thoughts from the piece of pork belly you’re carefully grilling.  You do your best not to jerk your head up, already all too aware of the topic.  You remind yourself it’s not your place and you flip the slab, gaze trained on the fat that renders out and slides over the metal grill.

It’s hard to do but you weather the storm, quietly observant as the excitement level at the table turns to eleven.  With a group of four it’d be boisterous;  with a table of nine, it’s a cacophony of sound, rising above the din of the bustling restaurant.  It kicks above the chorus of cheers and clattering utensils, as if this moment means so much more.  (It does.)

“You think I’d joke about something like this?”  Taehyung’s doing his best to play it cool, to convey something suave and reassured, but there’s the tell-tale wobble of his words, the way his knee bounces beside yours, nervous energy thrumming through his frame like a livewire.  It practically pours from his fingertips, shooting out past his teeth as his mouth shapes into that familiar boxy grin that belies his delight.

Not that Jungkook’s any better.  

On your other side, his hand’s tensing and relaxing over the tabletop, lips pulling and pursing around thoughts he hasn’t fully formulated.  He’d always been someone who had to be moving - tapping his toes, shaking his leg, simply shimmying in his seat - but this is something else.  It’s as if he’s on the precipice of a realisation, of diving headfirst into his lifelong dream.

(Which, you suppose he is.  He’s wanted this forever, just like Taehyung.  The break he so wholly deserved.  It warms your heart even as it stills it, stutters it uncomfortably in the small of your chest.)

“I’m just—”  Speechless seems to be the appropriate word, because Jungkook simply trails off, wonder in his eyes, his expression that of a child on Christmas.  “Thanks, hyung.”  It’s a rare occurrence, usually offered with that sly bunny smile of his, but it’s dressed in gratitude now, year’s worth of tenderness occupying the spaces between each syllable.

“Don’t thank me.”  It comes, dismissive and yet still just as soft.  Rounded by an awareness that exists only within this group, a tenderness that blooms and blooms and never withers.  “Just make me look good.”

A teasing comment echoes from across the table - that’s impossible from someone who looks and sounds suspiciously like Kim Seokjin - and your group dissolves into a puddle of laughter, the chorus of amusement dissolving above your heads.  

This is too good an opportunity, not the time for your selfish concern.  You swallow your worry with a dab of ssam and a crunch of lettuce.

You miss the look Jungkook shoots you.

He has two weeks.  

Two weeks to select five pieces he thinks will showcase the best parts of himself, the depth of his dedication, the quality of his passion.  Two weeks to go through his extensive portfolio, to rummage through harddrives and pick through his canvases.  Two weeks to determine what home means to him.

It’s certainly not the hardest thing in the world - Jungkook imagines it starts with the words Jeon and ends with a certain group of six idiots - but it still leaves him stumped, sitting at his desk for three long hours as he pours through folders, thankful he’d had the wherewithal to name things properly.  (None of the Aug17uuuuuuughfuck.raw files of his college days.)

It lightens his load, keeps him from upending his entire setup and throwing it out the window in frustration.  Not that he doesn’t still want to.  He very much does.

But perhaps it isn’t the hundreds of images that’s the issue.  Maybe it’s just one - the same one he’s been staring at for the better part of the evening, unable to move on even when he wants to, tapping over his mouse yet never actuating enough to pull him onto the next slide.

It sits front and centre on his screen and he can’t look away;  drinks his fill of it like a man drowning at sea;  savours it like a king at his final feast.  A photo developed with an accidental light leak and how fitting that is, as if all the sunshine has been captured in the single click, trapped behind the shutter for him and him only. 

You’ve always been that to him, though.  Crystalline and beautiful, with light catching off your edges, refracting from every angle to spell something like I love you; with fireflies at the tips of your fingers, guiding him home in the dark;  with the summer sun strung between your teeth, filling him with warmth.  

Could he use this?  Would it be too much?  

More importantly, how would you react?  Had your story ended, chapters of friendship folded between flat pages and tucked within a shelf to accumulate dust?  To sit among the tomes long forgotten, never reached for, barely worthy of a second read? 

Was this meant to disappear, just like you had?  What did that mean for him - for his future?  Were you meant to take all the possibilities with you, tucking them alongside your cotton candy laughter, the sly turn of your smile?  Were they lost to the tangle of your hair, braided into a knot he’d never been able to unravel?

Jungkook hates feeling like this - all the uncertainty swallowing him whole and spitting him out;  leaving him black and blue and bruised all over;  dressing him in shades of grey that only seem to fade with each pass through the wringer. 

A part of him wonders whether he should just ask.  Surely you’d answer the phone, sound so pretty carried over the airwaves he’d probably forget himself.  

Could he find the words?  Would you laugh in his face?

He stares at the photo and wishes it held all the answers, that the light would offer something more than beauty, more than memories that feel more like nightmares.  

Half your face glares back at him, a silhouette of the girl he’d been helplessly in love with.  Rays balance across your cheekbone and cut through him like a knife.  When he blinks, you’re still there but his heart’s all the worse for it, riddled with nicks and tears.

He’ll choose another, he decides. 

Finally, he finds the strength, skips to the next preview - and regrets it almost as much as the first.

(This was his fault, of course.  Jungkook had spent so long living in a world with you, saddled at your side, two pieces inexplicably interwoven.  Of course there’d be thread still, a red string of fate coiled all the way around his heart, hanging uselessly at his side, snipped by hands that weren’t his own, now gone to tatters.)

It wouldn’t matter so much if it were someone else, if the bits of you weren’t so stark, holding his attention like a star in the sky, endlessly bright and unrelenting.  Maybe if he could pretend it was someone else, his hands wouldn’t shake, a tremor in his chest from the way his heart bounces about, demands to be let out, to lay alongside yours.  

As it stands, it is you - brought to life by his hands, overlaid in watercolour and black and a blanket of regret.  The shapes are impossible to miss:  the curve of your hip, rounded and warm, peeking beneath a wash of colour;  the river of your hair, the wayward strands that curl across your cheek and tickle the stack of silver that lines your ear;  the peek of your tattoo, embossed across your ribs, hidden beneath thin layers of paint. 

The longer he looks, the worse it feels.  A white pith of a lemon, bitter on his tongue, stinging all the cuts he’s never taken the time to seal up.  That cry out now, echo the same sadness he’s felt for the last year.  

Was there anything you hadn’t touched?  Something that didn’t carry you in its hands?

He imagines there has to be.

And yet, as he goes along, clicks through image after image, he’s only left with reminders.  Figments of you with blood-stained teeth and scarred flesh, sharks that patrol his thoughts and bite chunks when he ventures too close.  He hadn’t meant to dive this deep - lost somewhere amongst the shipwreck of your friendship, a once beautiful thing now rotten and rusted, devoured by darkness.  The empty hulls aren’t where he wants to be, caught on broken anchors and torn flags, sinking deeper and deeper.

He doesn’t know how to get out. 

It’s absolutely perfect, because of course it is.  Taehyung has put every waking hour into this, coordinating with vendors and artists and hardly sleeping a wink.  The walls are painted, artistry strung up for all to see, picturesque beneath an array of lights.  There’s not a thing out of place, each piece given their due, framed neatly with thoughtful text painstakingly written by your boyfriend.

There are dozens of people in attendance - the turnout the gallery had hoped for and yet still has Taehyung giddy, eyes wide like a child’s, wonderment written into every lovely facet of his expression.

You’re delighted for him, completely over the moon with how happy he is, pride rolling off him in waves that you’d gladly sink beneath.  You whisper words of affection - pride, support - purring them into the warmth of his palms when he sandwiches your face between them and laughs so loudly you swear there’s no other sound in the world.

“Can you believe it?”  This boy before you isn’t the Taehyung you know, carefully composed.  He’s a comet through the night sky, illuminating, fluorescent, lit from the inside out.  Glowing so bright it hurts your eyes, makes you blink once, then twice, then another time just to capture the moment against the backs of your eyelids.  (You wish you had your camera with you - something to allow you to remember this moment forever, process it and store it in your pocket for rainy days.)  

Your laughter comes in tandem, overjoyed for your love, for all he’s worked for and all he’s now achieved.  It spills forth in bell chimes, silver in your ears, and you catch his hands in your own, fingers caught together.  “Of course I can.”  The distance between you becomes nothing, barely a breath passing as you press your lips to his, offering as much affection as you can in the tiny gesture.  “I knew you could do it.”

“Really?”  He doesn’t doubt you.  Doesn’t even really doubt himself.  But he asks anyways and you don’t mind giving, folding your support into another kiss, another squeeze of his hand.  

“You can do anything, Kim Taehyung.”

He animates, a coin-operated boy whose sole currency is your words of affirmation.  Springs to life with adoration in his step, a giddy smile that eats up everything else and wanes his eyes into crescents.  Peaks like the sun above the clouds, endlessly bright - a supernova.  “I love you.”

“I know,”  you answer with your heart in your hands - in his - when they drop to his sides, fingers still intertwined.  

He stares at you expectantly, unabashedly, waiting for the words he wants to hear.  (A man with the world at his feet, whose heart still flutters for you.)  “And?”

“And?”  You parrot, cheeks round, a well of teasing growing in the dimple of your left cheek.  It spills forth when his mouth pouts, turns this way and that before settling into an expression that’s utterly undeniable, the perfect blend of endearing and infuriating.  When you relent, it’s with further laughter, a nudge of your hip against his as he pulls you close, cementing you to his side.  “I love you too.”

You’d been prepared for the people (the professionals, the journalists, all the friends and family, anyone who was anyone gathered to attend) and the chaos (your friends - all of them running amok while simultaneously on their best behaviour, biting back laughter, echoing words of encouragement). 

What you hadn’t been prepared for?  

This.

Standing before a painted portrait of yourself, blown up ten feet and hung in the centre of the gallery for all to see.  Full-lipped and grinning, with hands hiding half your face, dark hair piled atop your head and a bandana knotted below your ear.  A picture that you can hear - your laughter sounding off the page, reminiscent of that night so many months ago, standing at the edge of the water, the ocean calling you out to sea.  The sky streaked in colours you could never hope to replicate, hues that blend and bleed and build into something glorious, beautiful, ephemeral.  An arm that reaches for whoever has taken the photo, light reflecting off the sheen of silver, of gold, of the gems on your nails.  

You recognise it in a heartbeat - one that feels like it goes too long, as if it’s skipped not one, not two, but three beats - that thunders loudly in your ears the moment everything snaps into place.

(And oh, how it does.  A hundred memories that shudder into a single image and tell the story of an entire summer.

Afternoons at Jagalchi, amid the smell of fish and flesh, eating to the point of gluttony.  On the shores with sunshine at your fingertips and a hand in yours, endless possibilities stretching as far as the eye could see.  Staring up into the sky night after night, admiring the stars packed against the dark and yet always drawn back to the brightest one at your side, a heavenly body hidden within the silhouette of your closest friend.

Your head on his shoulder during the train ride there and back, the quiet offered by his presence, the comfort found in his form.  All the little pieces of himself that had somehow found their way to you:  your pinkies intertwined, his dark hair spilling over yours, his breath that came low and slow, condensing between you and turning your cheeks ruddy.

What had felt like a lifetime away - seven hundred galaxies apart, never to be found again, engulfed by a black hole of your own creation.  

What now feels like it’s right at your feet, so close you might touch it.  That echoes in your chest, a spectre living within your bones come back to haunt you.)

“Pretty, huh?”  Hums the voice at your side, filled with too much pride - for himself and his friend, for all they’ve accomplished.  Taehyung has no idea, blissfully unaware, heartbreakingly handsome as he studies the image alongside you, lets his stare rove across the contours of the woman’s cheekbones, the shape of her mouth, pulled wide in a smile that might as well carry the world in it.

There’s something familiar about the girl in the painting, something that calls to him, draws him in and keeps him anchored.  He wonders what it is, makes a note to ask once Jungkook arrives.  

Your answer comes belated, disconnected and strange, a voice too far away to be picked up clearly.  (You don’t mean it to - try to swallow down the emotion that crests and crests like a terrifying wave above your head.)  “Very.”

“Kook mentioned a girl a few years ago, so I think it’s her.”  How he speaks is thoughtful, as if he isn’t sure how much to say.  Doesn’t want to overstep even as he offers these tiny bits of information - things he thinks you have no idea about, that’s the same thing that lives within your bones, settled like bedrock that cannot be eroded.  (Guilt gnaws at you, turns its teeth cruel and unrelenting and licks the salt from your wounds like the back of a spoon.  You swallow it down, listen quietly, quietly, quietly and try to slow the discomfort growing like weeds, the blooming of tiger lilies in the small of your chest.)  

“Really?”  

“Yeah.”  Taehyung’s conversational, adoring, indulgent.  He hooks his arm around your shoulders and holds you close, unaware of the turmoil that turns your insides to ash.  He holds you like you’re precious - a sunbeam caught in his hands, just for him.  

If only he knew.

“Do you want to see the rest?”  There’s an eagerness that spills forth, tacks his words to one another and turns them into a single breath.  He inhales all the bad and dresses you in nothing but good, pins stars into your hair when he fixes you with that smile and pulls you along, further into the gallery with a hop in his step.

You should say no;  you can’t find the words.

So you follow him to his next destination - to another version of you.  Another photo, grainy and overexposed, intimate in its detail.  A faceless blur, made alive by light, artificial and too white, casting long shadows where there should be none.  It’s easier to imagine this is someone else - a girl worthy of this love, of all the emotion captured within the single image.  (Someone who could carry the weight of Jungkook’s affection without dropping it, whose hands would be a suitable home for the heart he’s now offered up, laid out ripe for the picking.  Sugar sweet and saccharine, held aloft by a branch that threatens to give away.)

The truth is in the details, though, and you see them for all they are.  The dainty thread that loops your wrist - mirrored within the frame before you.  It sits evident in the freckles on your arms, the wayward beauty marks sprinkled upon your skin, constellations that should have names - do have names, whispered by the boy at your side. 

“He’s really got a good eye, right?”  There’s that pride again, full-bodied, like a parent with macaroni art stuck to the fridge.  It’s sticky and honeyed, bright with affection, lemon tart and yellow - sunshine streaming past like the warmest day in July.  It further cements the relationship he has - that they all have - one built upon years of friendship, of togetherness you cannot begin to fathom.

The guilt rears its head again, roars like an angry beast.  You bite it back, catch its tail between your teeth and nod along, unfocus your eyes as best you can.  The longer you look, the more it grows, spiny and angry and demanding of attention.

“He really does.”

Taehyung’s satisfied with that, too caught up in his own delight to notice the stillness, the quiet.  It’s a silence he overlooks, sweeps past without a backwards glance.  “There’s one more I want to show you.” The joy is unbridled, eating up every part of him, and your heart thumps feebly in your chest, kicked around by two pairs of feet.  “I saw it and it made me think of you.”

You’re surprised this time - because it isn’t you.  It’s not the shape of your shoulders or the turn of your wrist.  It’s not a half-hidden smile, the dozens of tell-tale signs that would give you away.  It’s something far worse, that sticks to your lungs and makes it hard to breathe, wet paper towels plastered over your airways like papier-mâché. 

It pains you when you step forward to drink in the colours, the texture that lays everything in nostalgia.  An image you recognise because you have the same one in your home, hung upon your wall, taken by your own hand.  

Jungkook in an infinity room, bathed in a million little lights.  

Except this is a painting, painstakingly recreated, with shadows deepened and white ink spread throughout.  One of your most precious memories laid in gouache.

“I swear I’ve seen it before.”  It’s a throwaway thought, more for himself than for you, but it breaks you apart, crumbles the foundation you’ve been carefully laying.  It kicks your knees right out from beneath you and you swear you’d fall if not for the comfort of his side, the way he holds you up and inspects you curiously.  “Are you okay?”

He looks at you with nothing but tenderness in his eyes;  you unwind beneath his stare, sinew and bone unfurling, realigning, forming into someone worthy of his love.  You tell yourself nothing else matters, that all the what ifs pale in comparison to this - how he looks at you as if you’d hung the stars in the sky;  as if you’re more than just a girl who has his heart;  as if you hold all the answers to the universe.   

“Fine,”  you answer, even as you aren’t, as the ground beneath your feet threatens to give way and send you to an early grave.  Even as you cannot tear your eyes from the painting, terrified and awestruck, too many emotions turning your senses to nonsense.

You wonder if Taehyung can hear the tremble of your breath, feel it all the way through into the centre of his own chest.  You wonder what he reads into it, whether he worries for you.  You wonder if he can love a monster like you, who has kept these secrets under lock and key, tucked away into a far corner riddled with cobwebs and spiders and a fine layer of dust. 

You wonder and wonder and then you have your answer when he speaks again, something in his voice that steals your attention, pins it directly behind the light in his eyes.

“Don’t you have this in your house?”

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @codeinebelle​

[jjba-hell]

Respite

Day 1 of LaSquadraweek2021 and the prompt was Fantasy AU.

No trigger warnings: maybe a mentioning of nudity and the awkward moments that come from that. Maybe some suggestive actions but not going into it.

Content-wise: you’re looking at Fantasy AU, you and Risotto know one another, both being Dark Elven-ish creatures. It’s essentially an OOC Risotto x reader

I just wanted to have some fun with it. Enjoy. @lasquadraweek2021

“Quite the team you have assembled, Mr Nero.”

Risotto, knelt down at a hot spring half naked, paused his actions- hand remaining in the warm water as he gazed ahead at the mossy stone before him. It was an enclosed area- a little private spot he’d only considered his own until you came invading it.

“Didn’t think I’d hear from you again- not after what had happened in Graizia.”

He pushed off of his knee, standing up straight and surveying where exactly you were. It was him that taught you how to cloak yourself in shadows to disappear from sight- to you, this was a case of student needing to outwit teacher. You were silent enough to fool most people but Risotto knew what to look for.

The moss under your feet was slippery as you crawled up one of the stones he was gazing at not long ago. He gave a low laugh as he searched his surroundings regardless.

“Should I take your silence as anger.”

You sat down on your haunches as you reached a high enough point on the rocks to confuse him. “Oh please, Graizia was tame in comparison to Crallutha.”

Risotto’s ears wanted to lead his gaze to where you were but you weren’t planning on playing this game too long. So you removed your coat- and the spell- from your shoulders.

“Ahh of course- how much was the witch’s bill for taking care of that nasty burn?”

You threw your balled up overcoat at him, reappearing just in time for your gazes to meet. “Too much for your little adventures to afford.”

He took hold of the neck of your coat to unfurl it. “Touchy.” He commented as he laid your coat on top of his and then shamelessly ridding himself of his trousers before slipping into the hot water with a heavy sigh. His head dipped under so he could wet the long silver strands and wipe them out of his face with a groan.

You and Risotto have known each other for a very long time- you both have vague memories of the fall of the kingdom you hail from and for a long time you returned to the same abandoned cabin after working odd jobs to get by until you both turned about 100- just out of juvenile for your species.

You went your separate ways after one of your plots worked too well and you became a diplomat for the kingdom you’d been refugees in. Didn’t quite seem like he ever forgave you after you altered away the tell-tale tear streaks of your species under your eyes for the sake of human relations. Not that it was permanent anyway.

He still sported them proudly of course- his ink black eyes and the black streaks over his face melding together quite well- in your mind it made him handsome (perhaps that was the remnants of your memories of the Old Kingdom) but to most he was a terrifying sight. Not that his excessive height helped either.

“Now either you’re here for revenge or you have information to sell.”

“Revenge against you?” You mused, laughing at the thought. “Just because I nipped that slit in your eyebrow a few months ago doesn’t mean I want to see you dead.”

“Just maimed.”

“Exactly.”

Your feet had carried you back down from the rocks and at the lip of the spring where the warm water was lapping gently at your toes. Eyes followed naturally toward the sky to bask in the bright beauty of the moon until you were abruptly pulled onto your ass in the water by a firm hand around your ankle.

“Nero!” You screeched as you propped yourself up- gesturing at all the leather he had now fully soaked. “Do you know how long this is going to take to dry?”

“You’ll dry as you ride.” He said so nonchalantly you could feel those streaks under your eyes reappear. You never were good at controlling your magic when you were angry.

“There you are.” He hummed contently. “I so tire of that ghastly mask you put on for the humans.” To emphasize your point his arms came to rest on a half submerged mossy stone.

“And what would you do with me this way? Soaking wet and bare of magic?”

“Well... much comes to mind.”

That was it. You stripped out of your soaked clothes, leaping after the bastard who had already sunk underneath the water’s surface and was making quick work of gliding through the water into the caverns you knew the mermaids once used to get around this arduous stretch of land.

He was quick- always had been. You supposed all of that muscle had to be built somewhere but you weren’t that far behind him- the inky black lines that lined his body and darkened at the tips of his fingers and feet were all you could focus on as the two of you kicked off the walls in rush to who knows where.

The slight burn in your lungs only fueled you to catch up to him even more and you had only thought his abrupt loss of speed was the end of his game until you saw fiery tones dance above the water.

Breaking the surface, you both gasped for air- one strong breath in followed by little gasps to even out your breathing.

“Determined, aren’t we?” He chuckled.

Not so reluctantly you latched onto his nearest arm and dunked his head under before using him to push off and find a ledge to sit on.

A part of you wanted to continue the banter but the exhaustion was starting to set into your bones- both from chasing him on land and in water.

Perhaps he was dissatisfied but your silence only beckoned him closer to lean his folded arms on the ledge you were seated on- his brow knit together in concern. “They weigh heavy on you. All those strings tied around your hands.”

You looked over at him, gaze locking with the reds of his eyes that held a type of softness you suppose only you could read. “Maybe.”

Around you the little cavern had only two torches alight- a trick you wondered if he had any hand in. You didn’t want to speak much on the subject- you were too far gone in your own games wit the humans to realize you could simply disappear from it. Your skin cooled slightly as you stared at the flames wrapped around the torches- cooled enough for the warmth of Risotto’s hand to make you flinch when he touched your thigh.

“The cold will settle into your bones.”

Whether he meant figuratively or literally you’d probably never know but you took him up on both.

He moved back enough for you to slide back into the water- feeling pleasantly enveloped by the feeling. Underneath you, you could feel your feet barely graze on some stones that Risotto stood on easily.

“Surely, my touch doesn’t repel you as much as much as you’d have me believe.”

It had been so painfully long since you let him this close, your arms finding their way around his offering shoulders. You let yourself tangle around him- the added heat off his skin lulling you to prop your chin onto his shoulder.

Risotto reciprocated with his big arms wrapping around your back, soothing the knots out with a flat palm rubbing up and down your spine.

Complicated was the cliché word that came to mind when you thought of Risotto. You’d helped him along many steps to slip away from any trouble his bounties and adventures brought him, you were also the source of all the information he could need about new political decrees or wars that might affect his plans but much like before you were separated- you were far too close to simply forget one another as your paths diverged.

“I’ve missed you.” You sigh into his neck, raking your nails over his back to see if you could still get a reaction out of him.

He groaned out your name as his whole body seemed to tense under your ministrations. It sounded foreign on his tongue but welcome nonetheless.

It didn’t take too long for him have your back pressed against stone and his teeth worrying into your neck hungrily.

“Stay with me.” He groaned, pressing you tighter to him. “Please. They’ll welcome you with open arms.”

Hearing him plead truly had your resolve weak but you couldn’t. You needed to have your heart on the pulse of information if you were to protect him- but would he need to be protected if you two weren’t separated?

He didn’t even need to argue you into contemplating it, the soft thrum of his body luring you to turn your head onto his shoulder and just say yes. But that’s not what you said.

“I can’t.”

The words stuck like sap onto your tongue.

“Three days then.”

“Three days what?”

“Three days you stay with us, surely you could manage that. After that, you’re free to do as you wish.”

He wasn’t lying- it would be easy enough to simply lie about a sudden illness or delay in travel plans. Perhaps you should see it as designated time off- wrapping yourself up in the warm embrace of an old lover.

“Fine.” You whisper against the lobe of his ear before kissing the side of his face.

Risotto on the other hand separated with you a little so he could hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger to give you a kiss so tender you could melt.

“It’s almost dawn.” He muttered against your lips after you separated, resting your forehead against his.

“How can you tell?”

He gestured to a small stained glass oval inlaid between the jagged edged of the cave’s wall. You must have missed it while it was still dark. “Best to head back then.”

You wish you were a person without regrets- that you didn’t ponder how things could have been different but you were and few mistakes felt as dire as when you resurfaced back at the spring near Risotto’s camp.

Hoping for a dignified entrance was out of the question as you resurfaced behind Risotto’s large form to be greeted with quiet talk and snickers from a team of men you’d only been acquainted with from afar.

Often cases modesty was a virtue but not when dealing with outcasts like them. So before Risotto could order them to turn around, you were moving towards the place where your coat lay on top of Risotto’s- gods they must have had a field day with that innuendo.

“I see we’ve never seen a naked body before.” You commented tiredly at the stares you could feel heating your neck.

“More like we haven’t seen two Khallini’s this close in proximity of one another. You’re a dying breed, you know.”

You disregard the comment somewhat as you pick up your coat- the one dry thing you still have to your name and sling it over your shoulders against the cold.

“Might also be the insinuation.” The long-haired brunette was the one to throw that comment- enough to lock gazes with him across the clearing.

“Is that jealousy, I hear?” You ask with a tilt of your head and the sneer you got in return was enough to satisfy you and earn a chuckle from the rest of the team.

Risotto was behind you not long after- throwing his shirt over his head. “We’ll meet up at the tavern in Cranad.”

Which of course was your queue to find your horse to reintroduce yourself to the bunch at the tavern.

But as you stood at your saddle to slip on an emergency pair of clothes you couldn’t help but think.

What did you get yourself into?