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thereweredragonsss · 6 months ago

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Saw you're asking for requests 👀 would you write something HTTYD from Toothless' pov? Maybe about Hic teaching him to write. With some "I wonder what name my cat gave me" elements to it?

I know it's very specific but 🙈 this thing has plagued my mind lately.

Thanks in advance!

Oh my god! So sorry it took me so long. I had some stress with college but here its is. Enjoy reading!

...

Contains: friendship

~ English is not my native language ~

All my fics

...

The night fury wakes with incredible pain. It almost catapultes him back into unconsciousness. But he fights against it. The pain spreads from his tail fins. Or rather, his one tail fin. The events of last night come back into his mind. Him flying over that island, fighting with the other dragons against the viking's attack. But then suddenly, something hit him and he lost balance. The last thing he remembers is the crash through the capony. And now he is here. The dragon tries to stand up, but a rope stopped him. It is wrapped around his whole body. A frustrated growl escapes his throat as he tries to free himself. But that rope just gets tighter - whoever built that must be an excellent craftsmen.

Suddenly, the dragon hears something in the woods. A twig breaking. His eyes dart around and his ears twitch. A boy steps out of the woods. Climbing over the destroyed ground, that the dragon had created with his crash. Blasting fast, the night fury closes his eyes, trying to stifle his breaths. He could hear the boy taking to himself. He could feel a boot against his leg. With an unsteady growl, he pushes the human away from him. How dare he put hand on him!?

He opens his eyes and could see the boy, a dagger in his hand. Fear rises up in his body and his primal instincts take over. He wants to flee but these stupid ropes pin him in place.

The boy now screams: "I'm a Viking!"

The night fury takes a deep breath. He could see the determination in he kids eyes. A feeling of hopelessness floods the dragon and he puts down his head. Waiting for the final strike. But that never comes. Instead, the buy cuts his strings lose. He is free! The night fury hesitates a split second. Then he furiously jumps onto the boy. Wants to kill him. But there is something in that kids eyes. The same fear, the black dragon just had seconds ago. So he gathers all his anger and roars loudly in his ears. He turns, spreads his wings - only to crash again.

Stranded. He is stranded in this stupid cove. He had tried to fly away all this day. But the missing tain fin makes it impossible. Unsettled, he paces back and forth. There must be another way. He gets distracted when he hears someone approaching. It was the boy that shot him down. The night fury growles as a warning. But the boy doesn't seem afraid. The night fury's eyes fall onto the fish in the boys hand. His stomach rumours. When was the last time he had eaten something? Carefully, the boy comes closer. Pulling a dagger from his belt. The dragon moves into attack pose and growls. Ready to fight. But the viking boy throws the dagger away. He is no threat anymore, the dragon realises. Curiously, he closes the space between them, his eyes on the fish. The boy reaches out his hands and frownes.

"Toothless", he says.

Toothless!? What kinda name is that? But it seems funny, because the boy thought he had no teeth. A dragon without teeth, c'mon! But the boys smile moves something inside him.

In the next few weeks, the boy - whose name is Hiccup by the way - visits him almost every day. Brings him fish and talks to him. He tries to get to know him, to learn more about dragons. And Toothless tolerates it. He is also curious about humans. He watches him write something in his little book. Watches him draw. And one day, the boy draws him - Toothless. The dragon has never seen that behaviour before. Normally, humans would kill him within seconds. Especially him. But that boy is different. Hiccup draws Toothless face and when the dragon imitates him, his eyes wide. It looks funny, Toothless thinks. The boy stumbles around, trying not to step onto the lines. Toothless watches him amused. And suddenly, he stands directly in front of the dragon. The boy hesitates. But then he slowly reaches out his hand. Toothless growls. That was way too close. Even for that boy. But then, he moves his head away, and something inside Toothless clicks. The kid could've already killed him if he wanted to. But he didn't. So Toothless decides to trust him. Let him touch him.

The next months, they became friends. Hiccup built a new tail fin for his dragon friend. Toothless could fly again! And even if the beginning was a bit rusty, due to the fact that his human friend had to help him steer, it feels heavenly. They fly around the islands and discover the place. It could have been amazing, if there weren't the villagers. They killed dragons their entire lives. And only his friend hiccup is the first one to befriend a dragon. Toothless is afraid, they could find and kill him. So they hide. But then they discover the dragon queen and they have to do something. They fightt it, kill it. And almost get killed themselves. Toothless can barely save his human friend.

The village turns into a dragons paradise. And Hiccup and this friends become a dragon rider squad. They discover islands, new dragon species and have a lot of adventures. The Viking boy, who almost killed him becomes his best friend. And Toothless his. As they get older, they change. But their friendship remains. One day, Toothless catches his friend staring at Astrid, the blonde viking girl in their group. Toothless knows, that Hiccup has a crush on her. But that stupid boy wouldn't admit it. So he has to help him a bit. Toothless pushes Hiccup's shoulder from behind. He stumbles, only his metal leg catching his weight. Toothless mimicking towards Astrid. Hiccups eyes wide. "Stop that!"

Toothless makes a little growl.

"No, I am not in love with her." Hiccup insist. But Toothless can see it. He can see it in his eyes, his movements. And sometimes, something inside him wishes he had the same feelings. That he could share his life with someone. Sure, there is Hiccup, but he is a human. And the other dragons, well they are a different species. He is the only night fury out there. Sometimes he just longs for someone who is just like him.

With the years passing, their adventures get bigger. They discover new worlds, Hiccup's lost mom. And they fight new enemies. But Drago Bludvist is another level. Somehow, he can control dragons. He even controlles Toothless. And he shots Stoick the Vast. He dies. Hiccups' father is dead. And it is his fault.

Toothless wings hurt. His heart hurt. He almost can't bear the fact that he - Hiccups best friend - killed his father. And now he is under Drago's control. But he can't do anything. He tries fighting against it, bit the whirring and buzzing in his head just gets louder. You killed him. He hates you. I am your new master. He hates you. It's your fault.

Toothless wants to give up. But Drago's control doesn't allow it. His gaze is blurred. Every cell of his body numb. But suddenly, a silhouette moves into his view. A voice. Hiccup? No that couldn't he, he hates him.

"It's me, bud"

Bud. Something inside him flickers. It is Hiccup! But the buzzing only gets louder, he couldn't hear him anymore.

"... not your fault." Not his fault?

"You're my best friend"

Toothless shakes his head. It must be Hiccup. The whirring fades for a second and he could see more clearly. Brown hair, green eyes. Hiccup! He doesn't hate him. He came back. His best friend came back! He lets out a happily roar and pushes Drago from his back.

A few years later, they have to leave Berk. Toothless' heart breaks, the island had become his new home over the last couple years. But he knows that his rider is devastated. Hiccup had been grown up there and now he has to leave this place. The only ray of hope for Toothless, is her. The lightfury. Every time he thinks of her, his heart flutters. He had never been in love before, but he knows it must be love. It feel exactly like the closeness Hiccup and Astrid had. Hiccup had told him a lot about those feelings. (Only in private of course, when no other dragon rider was around). He wants to see her every day, every second. And his rider had noticed that.

So one sunny afternoon, Hiccup builds a new tail. One that replicates the automatic tail Hiccup once gave him for Snoggletog. Toohless prances around excitedly while Hiccup tries to attach the tail fin. He closes the last straps and stepps a few metres away. "What do you think bud?"

Toothless growls happily and licks his human friend over his face. Hiccup laughes and complaines at the same time but Toothless doesn't bother. He turns around and runs into the woods, into his freedom. But at the end of the clearing he stopps and turns around. He lets him go. Hiccup lets him go. The dragon throws a questioning look at his friend. But Hiccups just smiles. "It's okay", he says approvingly.

It is time. It is time to leave. Toothless knows it is right, but on the other hand he doesn't want to leave his human friend. His best friend. The closest friend he ever had. How many adventures did they had! They all hold a special place in Toothless' heart. They always will. His eyes wander over to his human. Hiccup smiles but in his eyes shimmer tears.

"Alright bud. Its time.", he says. His smile shakes.

"You looked after us for long enough. Time to look after yourselves."

Toothless wants to cry but dragons can't cry. He is so grateful for all those years. Grateful that Hiccup shot him from the sky. Yes, even grateful that he lost his tail fin. Because if he hadn't, they woul've never became friends.

The dragon wants to show Hiccup all those thoughts. Wants to show him how much he means to him. How much he loves him. So he does what humans do to express their love. He rises up and puts his forelegs around Hiccup's shoulders. Hugs him tightly. He can feel Hiccup's small body unter him shudder.

"Go Toothless. Go", the boy whispers.

Toothless lets him go. Hiccup puts his hand onto his snout and closes his eyes. It immediately catapultes Toothless back to their early times when they just became friends. And for a second, it feels like no time has passed. His best friend lets his hand fall and he smiles. Then Toothless lets out a roar and the dragons rise up into the air.

He looks at Hiccup one last time. Then the nighr fury opens his wings and follows the other dragons into the sunset colored sky.

Something disturbs their peace. She had smelled the foreign scent and woke Toothless from his nap. He reaches his nose into the air and his instincts sharpen. He smells humans!

With a small growl, he tells his family to stay hid behind him. Toothless crawles onto the edge of the rock on which they had camped. Though the mist mandifests a viking boat. The night fury rises his wings and moves into attack position. With a powerful jump, he closes the distance and lands on the deck of the boat. Four humans stare at him. A blonde woman holds two children close to her. And in front of them stands a man with brown hair and a beard. Toothless growls. But then, the man reaches out a hand. Irritated, Toothless hesitates and sniffs.

A familiar scent rushes through his body. And suddelny, thousand memories flood his mind. Memories from his past. From a boy with his dragon friend. A boy that wanted to kill a dragon but befriended it instead. Their first flight. The Alpha. Berk. Dragon's Edge. Snoggletog. Dragon races. And vikings.

And the remembers that boy. Skinny, with brown hair and freckles. And suddenly he realises. The man in front of him is an older version of that boy with freckles. It is him. He came back! Hiccup came back. They are together again. Just like old times.

#httyd #how to train your dragon #toothless #hiccup #hiccup and toothless #fanfic #fanfiction #story #mine #thereweredragonsss

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lunaastoir · 3 years ago

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Hi! I really enjoy your writing so is it alright if i request xiao, diluc, childe with an idol s/o where one of their old stalkers come back or they just recently had a stalker in general but with how busy they were since they’re an idol they don’t even notice? And something bad happens (i cant think of anything</3) Thank you very much !!

hi anon!! a million apologies since this is so late but i hope you like the fic <3

there also aren’t any explicit details for anything bad happening - i briefly touched on subjects that you may not have control over, i hope that’s ok!

warning (?): struggled a bit on this prompt so i apologize in advance if this isn’t my best work LMAOO

gn! reader

tw: hints of assault, slight angst, very light abuse if you squint

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xiao

now xiao is a very observant man but he's also extremely busy keeping liyue safe

he makes it a point to always come to your shows even if you don't actively see him bc he cares a lot abt you and he enjoys listening to your music ‼️

it's normal for him to sometimes get lost between his own world of demonslaying and the world he shares w you

so one night, he's hanging on the rafters of a house with the perfect view of your singing

everything goes smoothly, he sets his spear down while lightly swaying his head to the music

the concert ends and fans disperse after you say your farewells

a night like this is rare since for once, xiao can walk home w you back to the inn sweet boy really cleared out his schedule for you huh

you're unsurprised when you see him materialize next to you, opting to flash him a smile and a hello

his cheeks are lightly flushed as he crosses his arms before talking quietly about how well you did

he relishes in the wide smile you give him as a result of his praise and he lets the corners of his lips curve upwards slightly

the quiet bustle of the harbor seemed to slow down as the night grew longer

since this was a fairly large concert, you had boxes among boxes of equipment so xiao decided to make your life easier by quickly flying them to their appropriate locations

when he got back however, he was surprised to see you talking animatedly with someone

he didn't think anything was wrong until he saw the person trap you between the stage and words filtered into his ears

your back was painfully pressed against the stage wall as you defiantly met their gaze. after xiao had left, they had immediately come over to you: first introducing themselves as a fan and making amiable conversation, before divulging in personal details of your life that made your skin crawl. you weren’t helpless, you always had your weapon on hand regardless of whether you were performing or not. the way they pushed you against the wall however, made it near impossible to summon your sword should you need it.

they leered down at you while balancing an arm against the wall next to your head. you had dealt with things like this before so you weren’t overly worried; you could defend yourself. you almost felt pity for the person in front of you as they asked for your number with a sadistic grin, disgusting words tumbling off of their lips. however, that was before you felt their cold fingers idly make their way to your stomach and you felt your breath hitch. oh no

the telltale sound of whooshing alerted you of xiao’s presence, and the press of the tip of his spear against their jugular brought you relief.

“back away” he tightly growled while his golden eyes narrowed into slits. they stared at him in shock before holding their hands up and moving to step a foot away from you.

“farther” he motioned with his spear before stepping in front of you as you attempted to collect yourself.

“ok ok, i’m far away can you put your spear down now?”

“no.”

you mentally cursed as you watched the two of them glare at each other. this was supposed to be a carefree night but this unfortunate twist made the air thick with tension. you could feel the anger radiate off of xiao in waves and in an effort to deescalate the situation, you spoke.

“i’m glad to meet such an...avid fan but i’m sorry the two of us must get going now” you hastily said before attempting to grab xiao’s hand and walk off past them.

the next words had you halt your steps as they divulged their secret.

words painted in careless arrogance with hints of violet overconfidence flew out of the person’s mouth - “judging from the weeks i’ve been following you, it didn’t seem like you had a boyfriend”

at the mere mention of prolonged stalking, xiao immediately lunged to pull you behind him. god, he didn’t kill mortals but he swore if he plunged his spear into this human being right here, no one would even blink twice considering how low of a person they were.

“if i ever see you near them again, i will not hesitate to kill you. i won’t blink twice, i already have blood on my hands.” he ground out.

at the threat, the person grudgingly turned their back to you before leaving the two of you alone in the quiet harbor.

you carefully reached a hand out to touch your boyfriend’s shoulder, but stopped after you saw the expression on his face. the mix of rage, sadness, and anguish imprinted his features as you watched his chest rapidly rise and fall - a result of his emotional battle.

“i’m sorry i didn’t notice them before. i should’ve been paying more attention to you” he whispered before silently striding away from your grasp

you knew that no matter how many reassurances you gave him about how, “it’s not your fault xiao, i didn’t notice them either” he would still blame himself.

he was supposed to protect you right? so why couldn’t he sense the danger beforehand? what would’ve happened if he wasn’t there?

it’s still a learning process for him to realize that things happen, and he inevitably couldn’t be there to save you from everything. he needs time to understand and adjust. you’re willing to wait, patiently helping him through it. why? because love is worth it.

god im sorry this ended up kinda sad whoops

diluc

i swear everytime i say i’m a childe simp diluc kinda wrecks me

ahem anyways onto the hc!

he’s kinda never around but similar to xiao he will overwork himself to clear out an hour or two just to watch your concerts

he’ll always stand off to the side too so if you tilt your head while you’re singing you can spy his red hair

you always flash him the sweetest smile and this man blushes like CRAZY before quickly lifting his hand up to give you a thumbs up

everyone watching the both of you like 😍😦

people think it’s the cutest thing i swear like c’mon the elusive “bachelor of mondstadt” being seen in public supporting you??? wow pls can we share him

he walks with you back to the winery, the entire time linking his hands with yours while gushing about your performance

1939248/10 it’s literally the sweetest thing

the next day however, adelinde brings you a pink letter addressed to you

he doesn’t pry because it’s addressed to you and it’s your business but as the letters start coming by everyday, he starts to grow curious

one day he straight up just asks you about it

“hey, you know those pink letters you keep getting? who are they from?”

you laugh slightly at his bashfulness and respond with a “just some overexcited fan” and he smiles before kissing your forehead

he loves that people are noticing your talent

loves it! until you get stalked by the same person who wrote you those letters while you were shopping!

diluc knows something’s wrong when you rush into angel’s share panicked after not returning his usual smile.

“darling? are you ok?” he asks worriedly before quickly setting down the glass he was cleaning to move towards you.

the widening of your eyes as you looked behind you at the sounds of someone else entering was all he needed to swiftly step in front of you, blocking their gaze of your face.

the slightly panicked look in your eyes before you hurriedly whispered, “they’re following me” made diluc glance at them subtly out of the corner of his eye. he watched as they walked over to find a seat next to the bar, seemingly ready to order a drink. he quietly asked if you would like to sit in the room reserved for the employees, away from their prying eyes. your hasty nod was all the confirmation he needed for him to let you access the door behind him.

the night went by fairly smoothly with kaeya’s usual teasing and venti’s usual begging for alcohol. diluc’s eyes narrowed however, when the person seemed to ask him questions regarding you. things like, “i heard you’re dating y/n... they’re amazing, how long have you been together?” and “do they live with you at dawn winery?” diluc answered these questions as short as he could, trying to convey with his body language that he truly did not want to talk to them.

everything was going well until he made the mistake of leaving the bar unattended. he had briefly forgotten about your residence in the room behind him as his mind immediately gravitated to breaking up a brawl. when he returned, the half drunk glass of liquor combined with the person’s absence from their seat, caused sparks of worry to light up inside his chest.

turning to the door, he knocked once.

“is everything alright in there love?”

the sounds of things rustling about and the occasional muffled voice had him opening the door quickly. he saw you with your arm being held tightly in their grasp, your mouth muffled with their hand, while you strained against them by pulling at your arm.

diluc immediately made his way over to you, quickly pulling your arm away before letting you enter into his embrace.

“get out.” the venomous words clawed their way out of his throat as he looked at them with eyes that screamed hatred. his blood was boiling as his mind replayed the scene; your scared expression and their greedy eyes.

diluc didn’t need to repeat himself twice as they ran out, trying not to trip over crates of wine. he made a mental note to find out who they were in order to make sure they never came near you ever again.

he quickly looked down at your form, relaxing slightly at the sight of your tentative smile. “my knight in shining armor” you joked before softly nuzzling your head into his shoulder. the anger had yet to dissipate from his veins, and although he knew you were still shaken up, he was sure you would be fine.

a pink letter placed on the table next to you caught his eye, and he made sure to quickly pocket it as he led you out, gently jesting with you about the “unnecessary amount of wine barrels in here, diluc this is a safety hazard!”

he would deal with this person later.

childe

ayo AYO ITS THE TOY SALESMAN

ok tbh he’s very rarely around so he unfortunately cannot make it to all of your shows

dw tho, he will try his hardest to be there for the ones he’s in town for bc what is he if not your number one hype king???

ok kinda creepy! alert

he’s tasked two of his subordinates to keep watch over you whenever he’s out of the harbor

it’s not anything creepy,,, he just gets extremely worried abt you and wants to make sure you’re safe

sO when he gets a ransom note??? he’s understandably confused but also very much freaked out

bc did they not know who he was??? the fact that they thought they could get away with holding you captive was quite honestly kind of funny to him

very stressed and angry tho - hides it behind a facade of smiles but he’s raging

takes him only a few hours to track you down bc he had everyone and i mean EVERYONE looking for you

the note crunched in his hand as the harbinger made his way towards windrise. his pace was erratic, long legs rushing towards the small cave his agents had found. they were bordering the perimeter of the enclosure, careful to not alert you or your captor of their presence. childe’s subordinate head had calmly stated that childe need not come out to rescue you, the situation was under control and they could do it for him. however, childe’s sharp gaze along with his sickly sweet words of “thanks but no. i’m coming out to see this sorry asshole for myself” had the agent backing away apologizing. he wanted to see the look on this person’s face before he shoved their sorry ass into the abyss himself.

as he reached the opening of the cave, he glanced over his shoulder at his head agent; a silent warning to keep the area sealed. his blue eyes glinted with a thirst for blood before making his way into the cave, sealing off the exit with his body.

“well well, playing games with the love of my life are we?”

his teasing words reached your ears as your eyes immediately found the face of your boyfriend. you weren’t horribly scared, just a little shaken up and sore from the bindings on your wrists. relief coursed through your body at the sight of him. you needn’t put in your plan of getting out of these bindings to fight your captor yourself anymore.

childe’s eyes quickly scanned over your frame, making sure you weren’t hurt. at the state of you completely unharmed, the harbinger let his heart calm down slightly. you were completely ok.

“wait a little longer, love? i promise this will be over soon”

the wink he sent you had you lightly rolling your eyes at his antics before he directed his attention back to your kidnapper. if your captor wasn’t scared before, they were certainly shaking in their boots now at the sight of childe’s twin hydro blades rotating playfully in his hands.

“listen, all i want is the money-”

“and all i want is your head”

your boyfriend smiled after cutting them off. the severity of the situation truly seemed to sink in at that moment before pleas of mercy fell from your captor’s lips, desperate to escape the bloodthirsty gaze of the harbinger. childe’s eyes flickered over to yours where you sat there, with your head ferociously shaking. a silent “no.” he sighed before swiftly bringing his arm up to hit your captor on the head, effectively knocking them out cold.

his hands worked at the ropes holding you and he gingerly rubbed at your bruised wrists. you silently thanked the archons he could never say no to you. archons forbid what would've happened if you hadn’t said anything. while you were explaining what happened, the young man quickly scooped you up in his arms before walking out of the cave.

you playfully hit his shoulder while muttering “drama queen” but you stopped when you saw his face morph into an expression of seriousness. you had informed him on the situation about your captor revealing themselves to be a recent stalker of yours, completely oblivious to the look of frustration on his face as he freed you from your bondages.

“i was scared you know.” he quietly divulged. “i knew that it wasn’t anything extremely serious but i... i was still scared”

you swore as you looked at him in that moment, he had turned ten again. the youth of his face betraying his vulnerability.

you quietly hummed before tangling your fingers in his hair. “i hope you know it wasn’t your fault. it wasn’t anyone’s fault. not even the two fatui agents who you sent to stalk me while you were away.”

he quietly laughed at that before mentally filing away a reminder for a lecture to those two agents in the near future.

“i’m just glad you’re safe. i know you can save yourself but i’ll always be here. i still wish you would let me take care of your asshole kidnapper myself though.” he pouted jokingly.

“i’m sure the millelith will lock them up for a long time.” you laughed sweetly.

his usual smile reappeared at your antics. maybe he didn’t get to beat your captor up and do...much worse. however at the end of the day, your smile was still intact regardless of what happened. that’s all he wanted.

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yeojaa · 4 years ago

Text

( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud. Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t.

(or: Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

pairing. tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. slice of life fluff, light smut. explicit (but only at the end).

tags / warnings. mentions of heavily tattooed!JK, casual drinking, tender lovemakin’, JK with the bad jokes, honestly just him being funny and chill like that one guy you never get over...

wc. 7.6k.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif, @papillonsgf, and @yeoldontknow 💛 ty for always indulging me and most importantly, supporting me when i begin to spiral. 🤠

author note. i got this idea into my head one evening in the shower and now... it is this. it’s not your usual bad boy tattoooist!JK fic but i hope you enjoy regardless. as always, feedback means a lot!

You and forethought aren’t close friends. You really aren’t even distant cousins, or part of the same family tree. You consider it a stranger, wave loftily as it passes you by, squinting like you can’t properly make out what it is. Careful consideration? Thoughtful patience? None of that exists for you. At least, not when you really, really want something.

It’s what has you here now, bumbling your way into the tattoo shop like a newborn baby bird.

You wonder how it must look, whether the shop assistant is used to this. Random girl shows up on a Sunday afternoon looking like a fish out of water, eager yet afraid. By how she greets you - with a curious stare and not quite a smile - you’re sure she is.

“Do you take walk-ins?”

You’d meant to make an appointment. Had sat for hours on the shop’s Instagram page, combing through the residents’ portfolios, trying to decide who to reach out to. When you’d finally decided, you’d realised books were a thing and most of them were closed. (Just your luck.)

Still, it never hurt to try, right?

“Everyone’s fully booked.” The girl sounds bored, apathetic yet genial. (You don’t blame her.) By the way her stare swings over you, it feels like a dismissal. You’re ready to admit defeat - head half-bowed, words draped over your tongue. “But our apprentice might be able to squeeze you in.”

An apprentice? Well— that’s not exactly what you’d been hoping for, but this shop is reputable. Well-known. Considered one of the best in the city. Surely their apprentice would be fine. Just less seasoned, not as experienced.

You all but snap your neck nodding along, gratitude tumbling out in the form of awkward laughter. “That’d be great!”

The girl passes you off with a nod of her head, gesturing down the hall. “Last room on the left. His name’s Jungkook. His schedule says he’s all clear, but maybe knock before you go in.” It’s not the sunniest smile you’ve ever received, but the small thing she offers helps with the nerves. Stills them beneath your skin as you do as you’re told.

“Jungkook?” There’s not really anywhere to knock, every wall neatly frosted glass and no doors in sight. (You had passed a few folding screens but otherwise, it’s open concept, each room offering a glimpse into the artist who works inside.) It feels too disruptive to tap your knuckles on one glass pane, lest it interrupt someone else.

(His studio is minimally decorated but inviting: one big cabinet; two of those typical IKEA shelves in the 4x4 grid that every new homeowner and their mother have; and a shop table, upon which a black backpack sits. Various plants dress the room - both hanging from the ceiling and along the window - and Polaroids string over walls, held aloft by twine. A Roomba sits by itself in a corner and the tattoo bed dominates most of the space, positioned closer to the dividing wall; one teeny tiny rolling chair sits beside it. There’s a bench on your left, with a pair of Birkenstocks tucked beneath. All in all, very homey. Reminiscent of your own apartment.)

Hidden behind the bed, crouched low to the ground beside the cabinet, is a head of dark hair that speaks, drawing your attention from studying the cozy space. “Oh?”

You’re not expecting the face that turns to you, all big doe eyes and the sweetest dimples.

For a moment, you forget what you’re here for. Why you’re standing in the empty door frame, staring down at the guy like you’ve spent your entire life secluded and have no idea how to speak.

The longer you’re quiet, the more his concern seems to grow, single brow disappearing into his inky fringe. It hangs in his vision at certain angles, shields the brightness of his stare with each turn of his chin. “Are you okay?” He’s even risen - stopped what he was doing - so he can see you more clearly, without any obstruction in the way. Good for him, but worse for you.

He’s so cute. Were you prepared to look like an uncertain idiot in front of this… angel?

“Y-yeah.” You manage after what feels like forever, sweeping your nerves under the rug that sits on the floor, separates the sole of his sneakers from hard concrete. “Um— I was told you might have some time? For, uh, a walk-in?”

(Why’re you stuttering? You’re never shy. Or rather, you’re not this nervous mess. People have always called you an extrovert, outgoing as hell, a social butterfly.)

(You aren’t those things but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.)

“Oh!” Realisation dawns across his features, throws his kind smile into greater relief, and you have to actively tell yourself not to stare, tearing your gaze away to focus on the wall of stencils past his shoulder. He moves into motion then, stepping around the bed to meet you still rooted in the doorway. “Yeah, I’ve got time. Come in.” Up close like this - there’s only maybe two feet between you - you can make out the little scar on his cheek; the tiny beauty mark below his bottom lip; each individual lash that frames his Bambi eyes and flutters when he blinks. “I probably can’t draw you anything new right now but I’ve got some flash, if you’re interested?”

Even if you weren’t interested, you don’t think you’d say no. You were always a sucker for a cute boy and this Jungkook? He was that. In spades.

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” He’s retreating back into the room, moving to grab his iPad off the far table. It’s balanced on his arm when he swivels to you, prominent front teeth on full display. “I’ve got a pretty big selection.”

When he drops onto the bench - a wayward vine above his head tickling his cheek - he gestures to the spot beside him. This time, you don’t stare for a stupid amount of time, instead taking up the seat without hesitation.

“So—” He’s swiping through the photo library with his Apple Pen. You’re sure there are pretty sketches on the screen - you just can’t focus on them, too preoccupied by the artwork that crawls across his hand and into the sleeve of his oversized, well-worn shirt. It’s an intricate chrysanthemum, impossibly well-shaded with bold colours that demand attention and stand out over his fair complexion; it creeps halfway up the back of his hand to tickle over his knuckles. He notes your attention with a quiet chuckle, fingers wiggling. The ink moves, flows, ripples with the motion, before his hand relaxes, knuckles unravelling as he offers the limb to you and your curiosity. “Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible.” It really is. You’ve never seen anything like it, as if a painting has been done across his skin, laid in watercolour rather than tattoo ink. “Did it hurt?”

(You almost want to hit yourself for the stupid question. Of course it did. It’s a hand tattoo.)

Jungkook only laughs again, doesn’t hold it against you despite the verbal barrage you’re faced with internally. “Like crazy, but it was worth it. This was my first tattoo and all the rest have just sort of been—” He shrugs, fabric of his shirt bunching around his collar.

“A piece of cake?” You can only imagine.

“Exactly.”

You nod thoughtfully, as if that means anything to you. (It doesn’t. You’re bare as a baby’s bottom, blemish free save for the occasional hellish pimple and the scar you have from surgery on your hand when you broke parts of it in sixth grade.)

If he can tell you’re talking out of your ass, he says nothing, redirecting your attention back to the iPad propped on his lap. “Do any of these interest you?” He’s resumed scrolling, swiping carefully through pages of flash. There are assorted floral pieces (plum stems, lily stalks, fully bloomed mums) and various skeletons (what looks like a deer, a dragon, a wolf). They’re mostly blackwork with fine lines and heavy contrast, so wonderfully detailed you spend too much time studying one piece before he’s flipping to the next.

“That one.” It catches your eye more than the others have. Likely because it’s one of the few pieces in colour, soft hues spilling over neat lines. A pretty little cat with a braided collar, big golden bell centered beneath its head, unravelling petals sweeping around it.

“You like cats?”

You do. “She looks like mine.”

“It’s settled.” He beams then, rising so quickly you’re startled; you watch as he moves around the space with decisive steps, putting your plan into motion. A paper is pulled seemingly out of nowhere, laid on a wooden clipboard and offered with a blue ballpoint pen. “If you can fill all of this out, I can get the stencil ready.”

Well, that was easy. Somehow, you’d thought it’d be more complicated, a ton of back and forth and yes and no. You can’t deny you’re nervous, staring down at the consent form.

(It doesn’t mean you read it any more than you normally would, though. You gloss over all the points, making note of what you’re agreeing to without really considering any of it. You’ve wanted a tattoo for most of your life. There’s really no going back now.)

(You just hope it turns out like you want - that you’re not just being blindsided by a sudden superficial crush and a lack of critical thought.)

“I think I’m done,” you mumble, slashing the date into the paper with gusto.

“Do you have your ID?” You’ve got it ready for him when he returns to take both it and the form. “I’m just going to make copies and then we can discuss more.”

He’s gone with that same smile, disappearing back the way you’d come.

Alone, the nerves set in. You’re actually doing this. Getting a tattoo. Putting something permanent on your body. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, shaking your hands in your lap. Maybe you should’ve eaten more before you’d come. (You’d woken up late - had only shoved two pieces of raisin pinwheel bread into your mouth before you’d made up your mind about this.)

(But had you really made up your mind? Was this going to be it? It feels mostly like yes, though the repetitive thud of your toe against concrete seems to indicate otherwise. It’s as if you’re tapping out something in morse, telling yourself—)

“Okay!” Jungkook’s back before you know it, driver’s license returned to you along with an unsealed envelope. You eye it curiously. “A copy of your form and an aftercare sheet.”

He’s really thought of everything. Or the shop has. Either way, you appreciate that when you’re not so sure, caught somewhere between giddily excited and vaguely worried, as if someone’s pulled a weight off your shoulders, taken on some of the burden of this spontaneous choice.

“So, where do you want it?” It’s like he has a one track mind, utterly focused on the task at hand. (Probably a good thing, given you’re about to voluntarily let him needle your poor skin.)

You hadn’t thought about that. You’d always liked the idea of a back of the arm tattoo, positioned somewhere along your tricep so it could be seen while turned away. “My arm?”

“Upper? Forearm?” There’s not an ounce of annoyance or exasperation or anything else negative. He’s just genuinely curious, peering over his shoulder at you.

“Tricep area, I think? Would that look good?”

“If you like it, it will.” Then he grins - beams so bright you half expect the sun to come zooming out of his mouth - and laughs, a funny little cackle that makes you do the same. “I’m kidding. That was cheesy. But I’m sure it’ll look fine. We can try laying it down first, so you get an idea?”

“That sounds good.” A lot better than endless years of regret for poor placement.

“You’ll, uh— need to take your shirt off though.”

It’s then you realise your mistake: wearing a turtleneck. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, then another, and he smiles so kindly you wonder what your expression must look like. Sour, like you’d sucked fresh lemon? Awkward, as if you’d never worn anything less than double layers before (a proud Never Nude)?

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule. Or I can put a divider up so you don’t have to worry about being seen from outside. Whatever you’d prefer.”

The longer you stay quiet - a seemingly common occurrence today - the closer his brows furrow, preparations coming to a standstill. You can tell he’s not trying to rush you, politely waiting for an answer with transfer paper in one hand and scissors in the other.

(If only he could peek into your brain, see the whole reason you’re hesitating is because you can’t quite remember which bra you’re wearing, whether it’s the slinky black one that offers absolutely zero support or the lacy blue one with the cute detailing and practically see-through cups.)

(Did it really matter either way? He was probably desensitized.)

“It’s fine.” You find the confidence somehow, nodding firmly. Jungkook’s still studying you carefully, though. Waiting as you strip your purse off your shoulder and reach for the hem of your sweater. It feels funny in your fingers, more like steel wool than sheep’s.

One breath. Two.

You fold your turtleneck neatly, laying it beside your bag and turning back to face him. “All right. Let’s do this.”

“So, which arm?” He’s close now - crossed to you in two strides of his long legs - and holds up the stencil.

Your right rises, fingers wiggling as if to say hello.

He lays the design down, pats it into place with deft fingers. You don’t realise the breath you’re holding until he pulls the sticky paper away, leaving neat line work in its wake.

“Oh.” It slips out of its own accord, almost a whisper as you stare at the design in the mirror. “It’s so pretty.”

There’s pride in his eyes as he stares with you, bounces his gaze between it and your face. “Thanks.” He lets you linger, peering thoughtfully at your reflection before speaking, casually hopeful. “What do you think?”

“This is it. Right here.”

Maybe he’d fist pump, if he were any less cool. As it stands, he simply nods, cheeks round like fresh baked bread, nose scrunched with glee.

“All right. We’ll shave you down and get started. You like the colours, right?” Once again, he’s buzzing around the room, gathering up all his materials and snapping black gloves on once everything is laid out upon his cart. It’s heavily stickered, covered in video game vinyls and anime mattes. (You recognise a handful of them, make a note to ask him where he got them from.) He pats the tissue papered bed top when you make no movement toward him. “Hop on up. Face down, if that’s okay.”

You do as he says, climbing atop with minimal grace. It takes you a bit of adjusting to get comfortable, folding your left arm under your head and allowing your right to simply dangle, uncertain of where it should be.

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?” You’d misheard that, right?

“Your skin. You’re sparkling.” He sounds a little in awe, surprised as wetness spills across your arm, the edge of a razor following closely thereafter.

“Oh.” Heat creeps over your cheeks, slinks all the way up into your roots and has you chuckling awkwardly. “It’s my soap.”

“Sparkle soap?” Whether he’s just making conversation or genuinely curious, you’re not sure. He does seem delighted by the fact, though, as if he’s never seen a girl covered in glitter before. (Which, fair.)

“It’s this specialty holiday soap. It has pigment in it.”

“That’s cool.” He’s laying the stencil down again, smoothing it over your now-hairless arm. “It smells nice.”

Obviously, you agree. It’s honey and citrus, brightly fragrant but not overpowering, lingering on your clothes like the subtle golden glitter does. Still, you flush, heat crossing from a casual day under the sun to burning-on-the-stove hot. “Thanks.”

“Was that weird? I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.”

He hums a tiny noise, something that sounds like understanding and appreciation all at once.

Then the buzzing starts - a steady, inescapable brrrrrrrrr - and he’s gripping your arm, steady yet gentle. “Ready?”

Honestly, you’re not sure. Hearing the noise makes it seem scary, has your entire body tensing up like Pavlov’s dog. Your honesty can’t be helped, a nervous giggle chased off your tongue. “I think so.”

“I think so too.”

By the time you’re done - a good almost five hours later, your arm stinging so bad you wonder why you’d ever sat down in the first place - you’d fallen asleep twice, started drooling on your other arm once, and really, really have to pee.

“All right—”“ The incessant buzzing stops. Liquid spills where the pain centres, followed by rougher paper towel. “You are finished.”

(You might be imagining it, but he sounds about as relieved as you. Maybe because you’d been sitting for hours on hours, turning down his offer for a break because you just wanted to get it done and therefore forcing him to do the same.)

“Can I see?” You don’t want to leap to your feet - feel a bit too lightheaded for that - but you’re bouncing with excitement, the thrumming in your arm intensified when you shift to catch a better look at Jungkook’s face.

“Yeah, go ahead. Just be careful - you might be a bit—”

He’s right. You nearly topple over the moment you stand, none-too-gently rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing safely on your feet. It’s only his close proximity that prevents you from falling to your knees, one degloved hand darting out to steady you.

“Careful!” It’s politely reproachful, coloured soft with worry.

“Sorry, sorry.” You seize the edge of the bed, gripping tight as you wait for everything to settle, the lightheadedness to recede. Everything straightens out quickly enough. “Got up too quickly.”

“Do you need a snack?” He’s already up, moving faster than you, rummaging through the cabinet against the far wall. “I’ve got seaweed and Choco Boys and shrimp chips and—”

You can’t help but laugh, hobbling to the mirror to inspect your new piece of art. “I’m fine.” That, and you’re too occupied with the ink that now sits embedded beneath your skin, a flurry of lovely colour and impressive line work.

“Choco Boys it is then.” The familiar yellow package is thrust toward you, a pack of his own already ripped open. Mushroom-shaped treats are tossed into his open mouth, lips curling around chocolate and his next words, “it’ll help with your sugar levels.”

A thank you comes, fingers curling around the snacks, but you’re still in deep, so focused on the lovely hue that bleeds over your skin, marks up previously unblemished flesh and holds your attention. It’s better than you could’ve possibly imagined, a piece of artwork forever yours. It makes you giddy as you stare at it - almost reach for it, but stop when you catch the alarmed widening of Jungkook’s eyes.

“You like?”

“I love.” You’d stare at it for hours, if you could. Likely will, once you get home, sitting in front of the mirror like a zombie. “Thank you so, so much.”

The brunet beams as he polishes off the last of his Choco Boys, tossing his dark hair back with a flick of his head. Triumph rolls off him in palpable waves, sitting pretty in the lines by his eyes, the scrunching around his nose. Seeing how it blooms in his stare is like a straight endorphin shot, as if you’ve done more than just be the canvas he’s laid all his hard work into. “It was a pleasure.”

It’s a whole month later - enough time for the piece to heal - before you decide you want another one. It’s not as spontaneous as the first time, instead led with an Instagram direct message to @jeonink. (You half expect him not to answer; you’re utterly delighted when he responds not five minutes later.)

Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s luck that has him with availability the same day you reach out, bringing you back to the studio three hours after you’ve messaged him.

He’s just as cute as before, black baseball cap pulled low over his ears, silver-lined ears twinkling beneath the shop lights.

“So, what’re you thinking?”

Truthfully, you hadn’t done much thinking. Just like before, you’d decided you wanted a tattoo and, well, the rest had been history. You figured you’d let him have free reign, given how happy you were with your first piece. “A sleeve?”

That surprises him. His whole face lights up, eyes wide, mouth rounding curiously. “Like, a full sleeve?” It’s not necessarily a no - more of an are you sure? he hides between the syllables.

“I think so.”

He nods slowly, knowingly, arms folded over his chest, expression suddenly unreadable. “You caught the itch.”

Your own features twist, brows shooting high. “The what?”

“The tattoo itch,” he clarifies with a laugh, the sound sweeping your concern away like the sea. “People say once you get one, you get addicted to the feeling.” He’s extending both arms to you now, hands palm up. For a moment, you’re note sure what he’s doing. (In actuality, you’re distracted by the fact that he’s in a tee, muscle cording his limbs, undulating as he turns his arms over.) “I got bit by it when I lived in Japan. It’s actually what got me into tattooing myself.”

You remember what he’d said last time - how he’d spent a handful of years overseas, working in restaurants after having followed his last partner there. He’d shared lots about his life, giving you the Sparknotes version while you’d ground enamel to fine dust.

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”

Your dream comes to life in four excruciating sessions. It’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever endured (you’re never going to get an elbow tattoo ever again) but you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, utterly in love with the mural that now lives on your skin. A peony caps your shoulder while one runs halfway up your bicep. Another takes up the entirety of your forearm. There’s a darling little bird and delicately inked koi. It’s breathtaking, greater than anything you could have dreamt up.

You’ve been staring at it for at least three minutes now, tracing over the freshly laid colour with a tender touch. You’re grateful for the SecondSkin, the clear bandage that wraps everything up and keeps it safe from your over eager hands.

“You did it.” Jungkook’s grinning at you, feet kicked up where he sits, his usual bag of Choco Boys balanced in his lap. “Big girl.”

From anyone else, it might sound condescending - might rub you the wrong way and have you glaring daggers. Instead, you take it in stride, beaming at him from your seat. He’s been there with you every step of the way, been there for every hour (seventeen over three months, to be exact) you’ve dedicated to finishing this beauty up. Tease you as he might, you know he really is proud of you.

“You mean we did it,” you return, giddy like a child.

“Ah, right.” The chocolate-covered snack he’s devouring goes crunch crunch crunch before he speaks, mouth still full, eyes crinkled. “I guess I did do all the work.”

“Hey! Screw you!” You’re glowering at him, middle finger raised in defiance.

(How curious that your relationship has grown like this, turned from tattoo artist and client to what feels like more. It probably makes sense, given the long hours you’ve spent together, the support he’s had to offer each time the pain has gotten this side of too much, chattering your teeth and dizzying your head. Solidarity in pain and all that.)

(You really had tapped out once, when he’d crept his gun into the ditch of your elbow. You’d asked him whether it’d hurt beforehand and he’d only laughed, shrugged off the question and continued with the careful shading to your inner arm. That in itself had hurt like a biiitch; you hadn’t thought it could get worse.)

(You’d been mistaken.)

“Am I wrong?” He drawls, full of laughter and that big dumb smile of his you’ve grown accustomed to. It eats up his cheeks and disappears his eyes, makes it hard to be mad at him when he looks so sweet.

“Yes, you are.” You’ve got absolutely nothing to back it up, but who cares. This is the sort of banter the two of you have developed, like two old friends forced to spend too much time together. (Not that you’d complain. You’ve loved hearing his stories, all the tales he regales you with whenever you’re in his chair.)

A snort is his answer, the full roll of his eyes over-exaggerated and playful. “You’re lucky we’re all finished or I’d sneak in an ugly fish somewhere on your arm.”

You think he’s kidding - know he takes too much pride in his work to do that.

Still, you stick your tongue out, hopping down from the bed with your freshly inked arm, hands clapping together in celebration. “You wouldn’t dare.” You’re confident, crossing to the bench to tug your flannel on, careful of the dull pain that throbs beneath the thin medical dressing.

“Wouldn’t I? I’m leaving anyway.”

You’re ready to call him out for it, insist he would never ruin the sanctity of his profession in such a way, when you realise the words he’s spoken, the casual tidbit he’s just dropped like it’s nothing.

“Leaving?”

(Is it you or do you sound disappointed? You can’t dwell on it for long, worried you’ll miss his explanation. Had he mentioned it previously? Slipped it in when you’d been delirious from pain? No, you would’ve remembered that. You swear you would’ve.)

“I’m moving to Tokyo.” How he’s so casual, you have absolutely no idea. You suppose it’s not a big deal for him - he’s not from here anyway. Home is back in Korea, the place he’d spent most of his life before moving to Japan and then here, just two years ago. (God, your memory is good. If only you’d retained knowledge like this when you were in school.) “My flight’s next weekend.”

Your face must be hilarious because Jungkook’s laughing, cackling like the evil villain in an anime.

“Gonna miss me?”

Would it be inappropriate to say yes? Because you will, you realise the moment he’s posed the question. You’ve grown to consider him a friend, someone who you send random memes to on Instagram (usually pertaining to #tattooartistproblems or one of your shared hobbies, like video games and finding the best noodle soup restaurant in the city).

You go for the safe bet, answering with a question of your own. “Are you gonna miss me?”

“I’ll miss your restaurant recs,” he answers, offering honesty to your reticence. “You can still send me funny photos though.”

You can’t help your laugh, the tiny quirk of your mouth into a smile. “I guess you’re right. Will you still be tattooing?” It’s an innocent enough question - you really do want to know. You can’t imagine going to anyone else, even if it means you’ll be shelling out an absurd amount of money for a plane ticket.

“Yep, new shop.” Something twinkles in his stare, has him giddy as he rises to his feet, tossing his empty packet of snacks into the trash bin. “Actually, where I got most of mine done.” You understand it then - that it’s a move of faith. He’s finally come full circle. You’re unbelievably happy for him, brimming with delight to mirror his pride.

But you’re still going to give him a little bit of a hard time because you have to. It wouldn’t feel right otherwise. “Whoa, big shot.”

“I am actually,” he sniffs, raking an ink-strewn hand through his hair. It’s longer now than it was when you met him, curling over the tops of his ears, hanging in his eyes at every turn. “You’ll be lucky if I remember you when I’m famous.”

“Famously lame, maybe,” you tease, slipping your bag over your shoulder. You busy yourself pulling your keys from the interior pocket, checking your phone as if you’re ready to go. It’s only when you’re standing in the hallway - you have no real intention of departing like this and he knows that, considering you haven’t paid yet - when you level him with a half-formed smirk. “But I guess I should take you for a drink?”

His hoodie is on before you know it, yanked over his head and tugged into place as he joins you. It’s become your regular routine - leaving together after your sessions, a perk of always booking the last slot he has available. (Not that you relied on that, but simply because your work schedule didn’t really allow for anything else.) “Obviously.”

Jeon Jungkook is a talented artist, a dedicated snacker, a lover of the colour black. You discover, sitting on the patio of the nearby bar, that he’s also really, really good at holding his liquor.

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

“Do you think you’ll get anything else done?” He’s on his sixth pint, casually leaned back in his chair as he picks at the fries you’d ordered but that he seems perfectly happy to help himself to. (Payback for all the times he’s forced snacks on you maybe?) “Like, a face tattoo?”

You scoff at the question as if greatly offended. “You think I’d get a face tattoo?”

While a little glazed in the eyes, you can tell he’s altogether coherent, grinning across the table at you. “Hey, I don’t judge. You like making surprise decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, so he’s got you there. Used your own impulsive history against you. “I would never.”

“If you change your mind, do I get first dibs?”

“Dibs on what? Tattooing me?”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Duh.”

You can only roll your eyes, tossing a wayward burnt fry end at him. “Yes, Kook, you get first dibs on ruining my face.”

His expression twists, mouth shaping around words he’s keeping caged behind his teeth. There’s something he isn’t saying, a comeback he’s chosen to lock up. You wonder what it is.

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”

“Really?” You’re leaning forward, a clear challenge written across your face. “Then why don’t you have one?” He has a million others as it is: a hand, nearly the entirety of both arms, his chest, his shoulders, one of his legs. (You haven’t seen them all in person but you have seen them online, memorialised on his Instagram feed.)

“And hide all this?” One inked hand is gesturing toward his own face, gesticulating wildly as if that’ll drive his point further home. “I would never.”

“That’s what I said!”

It doesn’t matter to him, not when he’s fully sober and most certainly not now, when he’s slightly buzzed, eyes glossier than usual. “But I’m cuter. It’d be a shame if it were me. You…” The way he trails off is suggestive, indicative of something mocking and mean. (Except it’s never cruel - far too friendly and soft to ever hurt your feelings.) “—not so much.”

Another fry hits him right between the eyes and then another disappears into the hood of his sweater, lost to the black fabric that bunches up around his neck and hides the flush he’s been battling since you two got to the bar an hour ago.

“Don’t be rude!”

He beams at you then, so unnecessarily endearing you can only throw one more piece at him.

“I’m kidding.” You knew that already but pretend to ignore the pseudo-apology, choosing instead to polish off the last of your now-cold fries. A bad choice, you realise when he continues, surprising you with the words that come out of his liquor-laden mouth so much so that you almost choke. “You’re actually pretty cute.”

(So what if you’ve sort of maybe been waiting to hear them? Wondering if the tiny crush you’d developed was in some way reciprocated?)

(Not that this meant it was. Only that you perhaps weren’t alone in thinking he was the most lovable - and somehow simultaneously hot - person you’d ever met. It’s almost rewarding to know the long hours together hadn’t left him unscathed.)

“You all good?” The look on his face is worse than that smile he usually offers, instead a devilish smirk that makes him look like Satan himself.

Were you? You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really? You can’t?” You’re not sure what that means, whether you’re simply reading too far into it. But then he’s dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, head cocked curiously. It’s a bait, you realise—and one you’ll gladly take.

“Should I have expected it?”

Shoulders hike, rising up around his ears. “I thought I made it sort of obvious.”

Had he? Thinking back on it, you can’t really recall. Of course, he’d always been friendly, indulging you in your pursuit of body art, sketching up the loveliest things you’d never even think to dream of; accepting your distracting Instagram messages without complaint, always tossing you a like or some sort of acknowledgement no matter what you’d send (and you’d send some random, random stuff). Chatting with him daily had just become the norm, conversation flowing freely whenever you’d pop in for your next session.

But that was just because he was a nice guy - or so you’d thought. You realise now how wrong you’d been, too occupied with your own crush to notice his (if it could be called that).

“You like me,” you hum, surprisingly nonchalant despite the little pitter patter in your chest, the flutter of your heart within your ribcage.

“I think you’re cute,” he retorts, though there’s no real weight to his rebuff. The two statements are really one and the same and you’re giddy with the knowledge, absolutely tickled pink.

Except for the fact that he’s leaving, fully prepared to start a new life in another city in just one week. The irony isn’t lost on you, like fate’s laughing even as she offers you this little crumb. (You feel like Oliver Twist, frankly.)

“Same difference.”

He huffs - you’re reminded of how adorable he is when he does that - and downs the lukewarm remainder of his beer. “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.” Where the confidence comes from, who knows. You grip it tight with both hands though, hold it snugly as you level him with a stare that has his own unwavering. It’s almost as if you’re caught in a staring match, a battle of unspoken wits.

It drags on longer than it should, just the two of you locked to each other with nowhere to go.

Then he does the last thing you expect: shoves his chair aside and leans across the table, stealing a kiss and returning to his seat, all in the span of time it takes you to blink.

(His lips are so soft. A little chapped, a tiny bit dry, but soft - deceptively delicate. Bitter, touched with sea salt and something else distinctly him. French fries and beer and his Chapstick.)

(For the briefest moment, you wonder whether you’d just imagined it - if your imagination had truly gotten the best of you and you’ve absolutely lost your mind.)

“You just kissed me.” It seems like you’ve found your new favourite hobby of just repeating things, giving live play-by-plays like an awkward narrator in a romcom.

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re leaving.” Speaking the words into existence feels bad; you see the way his eyes tighten, the subtle sobering of his expression even while he tries to keep his cool.

“I am.” At least he’s realistic. It saves you from any uncertainty, keeping the what-ifs at bay.

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose.

“Do it again.”

And Jungkook does - over and over, sinking the taste of him almost as deeply as ink, offering a piece of himself you want to keep for just as long.

It takes you longer to add to your collection of art, nearly four whole years before you decide what you want next. (It’s a back piece this time - a full body suit from your shoulders down past your ass. Another cat, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing and surrounded by flowers. An ode to your first tattoo, to the one that had started it all.)

(You’re not sure you’re ready for the pain, though.)

“Lay down,” the artist instructs, back turned to you, busy preparing his materials. You’d stripped down while he was occupied, discarded all your clothes to the allocated basket and stood quietly in anticipation.

You do as he says, dropping atop the tattoo bed with a quiet oof. The stencil has already been laid, the entire outline ready to be inked into your skin. You can’t deny you’re more than a little nervous. It’s been years since you’d last gotten anything done, uninterested in finding a new artist since Jungkook had left.

(Which he had, exactly as he’d intended, gone on a 6 AM flight that you’d driven him to, teary-eyed and embarrassed. He’d laughed at you standing outside of the departure gate, his suitcase at his side, arms wrapped around your shoulders. You’d refused to show your face, burying it instead into the warmth of his neck, into the familiar scent of him that was going away for who knows how long.

“Stop being a baby,” he’d said, smothering you in kisses, the full weight of his laughter palpable through your close proximity. It'd rumbled out of his chest all the way into yours, finding a home behind your ribcage, right alongside where your heart fluttered, shaded blue and sad.

“Stop being mean,” you’d countered, petulant like a child.

It couldn’t be helped. You’d had only one week with him - one glorious, chaotic week filled with eating too much junk, rewatching your favourite animes, and generally making up for all the lost time you’d never even known there was. As amazing as it’d been, it still hadn’t prepared you for the goodbye.

That was your fault, though. You’d wrongly entertained the idea that maybe things would work out, that he’d change his mind or ask to take it - whatever you had, that is - with him, keep it going somehow. He hadn’t.)

“Do you have a preference where I start?” You’re unbothered, hair loosely knotted over your shoulder. Ready for the session to start - ready to feel the familiar sting again. (You’re proud of that. It might have taken you years and years but here you were, tackling something huge.)

“Nope.”

“Sounds good.”

The buzzing begins and pressure lands upon the small of your back, a gloved hand laid over the centre of your spine. You remind yourself to breathe in, out, focus on something other than the pain that fizzles over your skin and then ebbs into tenderness. Where he’s started - just above the fattiest part of your butt - isn’t too bad. Tolerable and yielding.

You can do this.

Your back aches in a different way than you’d anticipated, soreness buzzing beneath inflamed skin and making it uncomfortable to move around. It’s not any worse than your arm had been - the lines along your spine had felt comparable to that of your elbow - but it’s fresh, not dulled by years like your sleeve now was.

The artist is stripping his gloves off, your back neatly covered and the bed stripped of its original tissue paper. He’s leaned against the sink, onigiri held in his now-free hands, nibbling at the edge of the rice ball as you turn this way and that in the mirror. “You did good.”

You’re still undressed, admiring the linework from different angles, shimmying closer to your reflection to catch the lighter inking that makes up the undefined edges of the various florals. Something tells you that you should be shy - eager to redress after spending nearly five hours naked in the secluded studio - but you don’t care. Your back is quickly becoming a masterpiece, something that might as well be hung in the halls of the Louvre. You’re in love with it.

“Thanks.”

You mean thank you for his compliment but also for all his hard work, the long hours he’s put into bringing this beauty to life. It means so much - like progressing to the next level.

Which, you suppose it is. This is a fresh start for you. A new beginning in a new city.

“Proud of you,” he hums, suddenly close, broad palms searing heat over your hips. He’s careful to avoid the edge of the bandage that wraps your back and holds you delicately, like fine china or the most precious jewel in the world, lips sweet against your temple.

You meet his eyes in the mirror - the same sweet doe-eyed stare from five years ago. A little darker now, aged by the hand of time but endlessly kind, shining beneath the overhead lights.

“Proud of you,” you chirp, identical smiles spreading over your faces.

Jungkook’s having none of it though, bratty as usual. “Proud of us.”

You suppose you can settle for that. You really are proud of the two of you - for how far you’ve made it and all the obstacles you’ve overcome. From the first few weeks of sadness, all the melancholy that’d set in when he’d left, to exactly one month after, when he’d called you in the middle of the night, drunk and stumbling home.

(It’d been infuriating at the time - incoherent and foolish as he was - but it’d bloomed something between you, something neither of you could ignore.)

Four years of miserable long distance had become this: a love that's brought you back to his side, to a city you’re unfamiliar with but that he calls home; to a city that never sleeps, loud with pachinko machines and some of the best food you’ve ever had; to the place you’ve been missing every minute you were apart.

You’d never thought you would move for someone, uproot your entire life for a relationship, but he’d changed that. Made it worth it in ways you had never considered. Convinced you more and more with each trip you’d taken, two visits twice a year, for a measly two weeks at a time.

“Should we head home?” He means your physical home - the apartment the two of you had decided on in Roppongi, the one you haven’t seen yet, that he’s had to move into all by himself. It’s not quite as nice as the home in his arms.

You say yes anyway.

“I’m so talented.” The words come entirely too whole for your liking, loud somewhere above your head.

“Are you serious?” You’re levelling your boyfriend with the most incredulous look, whole face scrunched up, hands fisted into his dark sheets. It’s uncomfortable at this angle - kinking your neck as you look over your shoulder - but you really can’t believe he’s just said that. He’s knelt between your legs, knees spread wide around his own, his hand halfway up your back and tracking heat over your spine.

Somehow, he has the audacity to look surprised. “What?”

“You’re really patting yourself on the back right now?” Now, when he should be pounding you into oblivion, working that big fat cock of his through your fluttering walls, making you moan his name into his pillows like it’s his only job?

(It truthfully could be. You’d rank his skills in the bedroom on par with his skills in the studio.)

“Oh.” All at once, he’s the devil - sin personified. Or would be, if he didn’t somehow still look infuriatingly cute.

The gentle touch turns bruising, heel of his palm pressed hard into the tender notches of your spine. “You don’t like when I admire my own work?” Asked as he shifts behind you, length dragging out of your dripping cunt to gently tap against your aching clit. The head of it glides through your folds, mercilessly teasing but never slipping back in, never filling you whole like you need. (Because you really do need it. You haven’t seen him in six months, left to your own devices - literally.) It feels like heaven and hell, too good and not nearly enough all at once.

“Kook,” you snap. Try to, anyway, his name far too whiny and breathless to hold any real weight.

“I’m just admiring you, sweetheart.” He’s dragging the hand over your back, tracing all the lines he’s embedded into your skin. They make up his favourite piece, inked permanently into his favourite canvas. A testament to his hard work, his dedication, his love.

Any other time, you might not care. Here and now, after not having felt his touch in what feels like forever, you’re burning from the inside out, a million volts of electricity tripping your circuits. When you speak, it’s more a plea than a reprimand, uttered so sweetly you know he can’t deny you. “Admire me later.”

“I’ve missed you” is his only answer, punctuated by a fluid roll of his hips, the heavy press of his cock back into your dripping cunt. “I’ve missed this,” he breathes out, sinking all the way in, so slow you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.

“Missed you too,” you parrot back, a little delirious now that you’ve gotten what you want.

Now that he’s right where he should be - with you.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @xjoonchildx

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fairyoftbz · 3 years ago

Text

childish fear | l. juyeon

⚔ pairing: stranger!juyeon x single mom! fem! reader ⚔ genre: fluff ⚔ wc : 3.2k ⚔ tw: none ⚔ a/n: im so sorry it's been so long but my work keeps me super busy and i hate my unposted fics that i wrote in the past, hence my absence. i promise to come back here asap!! <33 ⚔ requested: no

╰☆☆☆☆╮

“Mommy, where are we going?” your daughter asked for the nth time as you guided her foot by the ankle in her shoe. Her tiny hand leant on your shoulder while you fastened the Velcro straps and zipped up her jacket, walking out of your apartment to the corridor of your floor. She watched you locked the front door and sliding the keys in your handbag before grabbing her hand to the elevator.

“As I’ve told you, we’re heading to a coffee shop to see Uncle Kevin and Jinseon, remember?” she clapped in her hands as if she just learnt the news, despite her asking this question over five times since she woke up. You forgave her because she was at the age where she would find everything fascinating and barely pay attention to what you said. You chuckled and shook your head with a smile as her curious eyes observed the elevator, touching the mirror and gasping at the coldness of it under her palm. It was almost guaranteed that she didn’t listen and will ask again in a couple of minutes.

“Where are we going?” here we go again, her tiny voice reaching your ear above the roaring motor of the bus. She grabbed your leg as you were typing something on your phone with one hand, the other gripping the metallic bar as tight as possible as your daughter was not the most balanced child.

“Baby, I’ve told you many times that we are going to see Kevin and Jinseon at the coffee shop because Mommy and Uncle Kevin have to do something for work,” you looked at her with stern eyes, something you always did when she wasn’t paying attention.

“But why aren’t we going to their house? It’s so big!” she argued, and the bus doors opened, quickly sliding your phone in your back pocket and jumped out of the bus with your daughter in your arms.

“Uncle Kevin wants to change the interior of the house, so people work there, and it’s not safe for them and us to meet there. But I promise that we’ll go back there soon!”

“I won’t be able to draw with Jinseon?” you shook your head from side to side, and your daughter pouted, nuzzling her face in your neck.

“Not at his house, but maybe he brought a colouring book like yours today!” you exclaimed, and her mood lifted instantly, getting all giddy and happy to share her passion with her best friend.

Pushing the door of the coffee shop, you were instantly met with a reassuring warmth and the good smell of coffee, placing your daughter back on the ground as you lined up to order. The place was quite busy, but you were right before the time people were fighting to get a table.

“Mommy, this table!” she asked and pointed her little finger towards a table near the window, her little topknot moving on her head as she looked up at you.

“Good choice, baby,” you said, and she grabbed your hand again, noticing her gaze shifting to something scared. You frowned as she went to stand in front of you, her hands gripping your thighs as she stared up at you.

You asked for your usual order and a strawberry smoothie for your daughter, who happily giggled when she saw the sliced fruit inside of her transparent cup. She laughed and ran to the table you had agreed on occupying, her little hands pressed on the seat as she hoisted herself alone on it.

A few minutes after giving your daughter her pens and colouring books, your phone rang in your back pocket, getting you out of your bubble of focus as you stopped typing.

“Hello?” you said, and your best friend’s voice reached your ear.

“Hi Y/N, I’m really sorry to warn you only now, but I won’t be able to make it with Jinseon.” A wave of disappointment flooded your heart, but you didn’t raise it.

“Oh my. Did something happen?” you asked as your daughter was too busy colouring a monkey pink to even hear what you were talking about.

“Thankfully no, I uhm… I forgot that my in-laws invited us to a five-star restaurant today,” he said, and you bitterly chuckled, feeling sorry for him as you knew the exhausting relationship he had with them.

“Sounds fun,” you sarcastically said as you heard him sigh on the other side of the phone, “don’t worry, we can always meet up another time.”

“Won’t Chunae be disappointed?” Kevin asked, and you emitted a laugh, quickly looking to the side as someone at the table next to yours drew a chair.

“I’ll handle her, don’t worry about it. Have fun with your most favourite people in the world, then!” you sarcastically said, and you heard him sigh.

“Thanks, but I’d rather die than witnessing my mother-in-law brag again about the new diamond necklace she bought and lie on how she’s not close to bankrupting,” you giggled and winked at your daughter, amused by the situation. That was what you got to have your stepson handling the family accounts and his best friend as an assistant counsellor. You both could see her lie to everyone, and it was funny.

“Try to make her understand that you know she’s lying in front of everyone else and see how she reacts,” you suggested and heard him gasp at your words.

“I beg you Y/N, can you please schedule us an appointment so I can ruin her?”

“Of course,” you opened another tab on your computer, typing and clicking on a few things to finally get to your best friend’s schedule.

“You can tell her that she can come on Friday at 1 pm to discuss about her financial state. I just sent her an email,” you announced, and Kevin sighed, imagining him biting his lower lip and clutch his fist in satisfaction.

“You’re the best. I gotta go now,” you took a sip of your drink and wished him good luck before hanging up.

“M-Mommy?” you heard your daughter whisper, barely making out her words as the coffee shop music and the hustling was quite loud. You smiled, but it immediately vanished as you saw her scared state, pen lingering on the pages of her colouring book. Her eyes were drawn to the table next to yours, her mouth trembling from time to time, close to crying.

Following her gaze, you noticed a man around your age and immediately understood your daughter’s fear as you took in the sight. The man was scrolling on his phone, his white t-shirt hugging his broad shoulders and slender torso perfectly. His biceps flexed each time he swiped up his finger on the screen or took a sip of coffee, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. You weren’t going to lie that he was super handsome, but something else couldn’t go unnoticed in your eyes.

His tattoos.

He was covered in them. Your eyes could scarcely spot some natural, intact skin. Arms, forearms, chest and neck, only his face remained untouched. His jet-black hair was as dark as his eyes, yet they still held something soft and human in them. A thin nose with plumped, pinkish lips, it would have been almost impossible for you to guess that he had tattoos all over his body if you only saw his face.

You found him quite attractive to say the least, but it was quite the opposite for your daughter. She found tattoos terrifying, only accepting the small, hidden ones Kevin had. Her eyes welled up with tears, and you gently called her name, gesturing her to come closer. She jumped out of her seat, carefully going around the table from the opposite side where the man was sitting and walked towards you.

“Baby, those are just tattoos. You see what you draw and colour in your books with Jinseon? This man decided to do it on his skin because he likes drawings too!” you explained gently as your daughter couldn’t tear her gaze off the man.

“But it’s scary,” she mumbled, and you shook your head, gently cradling her cheek.

“Do you find the drawings on Uncle Kevin’s skin scary?” you asked, and she disagreed, finally looking up at you.

“It’s the same for him. Like Uncle Kevin, he decided to get them on his skin because he likes the shapes and colours. Do you understand?” you smiled as she wiped her teary eyes, nodding, trying to look confident. But you knew your daughter, she was still scared.

“Do you want to switch seats with Mommy?”

“No,” she said in a frail voice, and you kissed her cheek while rubbing her back. It was always the same. Bizarrely, when she feared something, she wanted to stay close to it as if she was determined of getting over her irrational fear.

Chunae walked back on her seat and resumed colouring, her gaze looking to her left from time to time. You smiled and stared at your computer again, getting distracted by the man as well, but not for the same reasons as your daughter.

“You’re a mother Y/N, don’t let those stupid thoughts get inside your head,” you closed your eyes and mentally slapped yourself, heavily sighing as you answered some emails, focusing back on your work.

You were so concentrated on your tasks that you didn’t even notice what was happening in front of you. Chunae became terrified as the man caught her staring, his eyes transforming into crescent moons when he softly waved at her. Her eyes widened and started colouring faster, her nose almost touching the paper as if she wanted everything around her to disappear. It happened once, twice, but she remembered what you always told her; never talk to strangers. So when the young man whispered a small ‘hi!’ to her, she panicked and called for you.

“Mommy!” she got you out of your work bubble, and you stared at her from above your computer screen, fingers still typing on the computer. Your hands stopped when you noticed her little forefinger pointing at the man, whose chocolate eyes were quick to shift to yours.

Shit, he was really handsome.

“What is it, sweetpea?” you asked and lowered your computer screen. “I’m sorry for her behaviour, she's not usually like that,” you said, grabbing her hand as you sent an apologetic smile to the man.

He shook his head with a smile. “Don’t worry about it, I get it. She’s still quite young,” you were sized by a shiver when two sets of white, perfectly aligned teeth almost blinded you as his mouth stretched into a bigger smile.

“I’m five!” she said, pouting, crossing her arms on her chest, staring at the table with furrowed brows.

The young man’s eyes widened, and pursed his lips, trying to hold back a smile as he acknowledged her stubbornness. You puffed and rolled your eyes at her behaviour, noticing with a smirk that she was still glancing at his tattoos.

“What’s your name?” he asked after looking at you, asking for permission. Your daughter’s unsure eyes stared at you, and you nodded, allowing her to talk to him.

“Ch-Chunae,” she answered, and his mouth transformed into a surprised ‘o’, letting out a small gasp.

“That’s a very pretty name, I’m Juyeon,” he said, and your daughter blushed, a veil of shyness appearing in her eyes as he held out his hand for her to shake it. You smiled as he indirectly complimented you for choosing her name, his gaze softening as she timidly grabbed his hand. Her eyes couldn’t help but scrutinise his tattooed hand with attention, making the man smile fondly and brightly.

“I have drawings all over my arms, do you want to see them?” he asked, keeping a great eye on you to see any sign of reluctance. Or maybe it was for something else, but you didn’t need to know about this.

“But they’re scary,” she said, and Juyeon whole-heartedly laughed, drawing the sleeve of his t-shirt to the top of his shoulder.

“Look at this one,” he said as he twisted his biceps, noticing a dragon spitting fire and your daughter’s eyes widened. He then turned his forearm to show her a dolphin near the crook of his elbow, smiling as he watched your daughter’s expression change as she saw all his tattoos on his arms. She was now mesmerised by the tattoos, the gentle, deep voice of the man explaining to her as she stared at his inked arms.

“Do you wanna colour this one?” he asked, finger showing the rose on the back of his hand.

“Really?” Chunae was surprised by his question, and Juyeon smiled at you, your daughter already grabbing her red pen.

“You really don’t have to,” you embarrassingly said, but the man shook his head, resting his large hand in front of your daughter, who pushed all her belongings to the side.

“If that can keep her quiet while you work, I don’t mind,” he stated, and you raised your eyebrows, a grateful smile drawn on your face.

Colouring the red rose ended up inking the poor man’s entire arm, who had a lot of patience and discipline when it came to children. Chunae went over the line with her pen a few times, only to have him reassure and praise her to continue when she started feeling guilty.

“Oh no!” she gasped as her hand clumsily went over the scales of the snake circling his forearm, Juyeon chuckling before wetting his thumb to erase the misdrawn ink. “It’s okay, it’s okay, keep going,” he said in a gentle tone, smiling at your daughter as she was looking for reassurance.

You had told him a few times that he didn’t have to stay the entire day only here to occupy your daughter, but he genuinely was alright with that. He looked almost happy to talk with you and your daughter since you had stopped working a few moments ago to exchange a few words of politeness with him before heading home.

“Chunae, finish your smoothie before we go home,” you said, and she obeyed, nodding as she placed her pen down and started sipping on her drink.

“I’m really sorry for this,” you gestured to his arms, but he was quick to cut you.

“Ma’am, it's okay, please stop apologising, I gave my agreement for her to do this. You seem like busy parents with your husband, I’m glad I could help,” he smiled, and you frowned.

“H-Husband?” you asked and Juyeon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“O-oh? Wasn’t it your husband on the phone?” you shook your head at his words, only to have him purse his lips in utter embarrassment. “Sorry for assuming,” he said, the tip of his ears turning pink just like his cheeks.

“It’s okay, it was my best friend. I’m actually a single mom,” you explained, and he nodded, his features expressing admiration.

“Wow, you must be super strong then,” he said, and you blinked a few times, discerning something sad appearing in his eyes as he stared at your daughter. It was inappropriate and way too intrusive to ask him about his reaction, so you just offered him a grateful smile.

“I have to admit that it’s not always easy being alone in this, but with a bit of discipline and organisation, you can manage to make it work!” you tried to enlighten the mood, and Juyeon laughed along, but his smile had lost its splendour.

He cleared his throat, and you stood up, your daughter being finally done with her smoothie. You helped her place her pens in the pouch before clearing your belongings off the table, Juyeon standing up as well.

“Will I get to colour your tattoos again?” Chunae asked, and you looked at her sternly, but Juyeon laughed and smiled, gently ruffling her hair.

“This only depends on if your Mommy wants to see me again,” Juyeon crouched down to her level and made sure to get her hair out of the way before zipping her light jacket up to the chin.

You were taken aback by his answer, looking at him in the eyes. Vaguely smiling, he stood back up and stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets, thumbs playing with the belt loops as he waited for your answer. You breathed in heavily as you stared around you but in his eyes, trying to find an excuse.

“I mean… why not?” you eventually said, and his face brightened, his ears going pink at your answer. You grabbed your daughter’s hand as she was about to run to Juyeon and walked to the exit of the coffee shop, not believing what you’ve just agreed to.

Meeting a man? After your ex? With all the work and busy life that you had? Were you crazy?

Juyeon held out the door for you, and you thanked him, your daughter now almost best friend with the man she feared when he appeared. You sighed and replaced your bag on your shoulder, offering a soft smile to the man.

“Is it okay if we wait a bit before all of... this? I have the deadline of a big project that is coming up next week and it has a considerable influence on the future of my career, I really don’t want to mess it up,” you explained, and Juyeon nodded, his hand going to your bag to shove your key ring back inside since it was falling out.

“It’s more than okay, I’ll wait as long as it takes you to finish this and be ready to meet up with me,” he said, and your mouth fell open, surprised by his attitude. The last man you dated and loved unconditionally dropped the family he had created with you for a career abroad and another woman, his words and behaviour offering warmth to your broken, lonely heart.

You got your phone out and took Juyeon’s number, a relieved smile painted on your face. Maybe not all the men were as selfish and nasty as your ex.

“Call me if you need anything. It can be help, someone to look after her, comfort. Whatever you need, I’ll try to help you out as much as I can,” he said and rested a hand on your shoulder, gently rubbing it.

“Thank you,” you said, and he nodded with a smile.

“Good luck with everything,” you beamed and waved at him, your daughter imitating you as you started walking to the bus stop, hailing the vehicle as it was approaching.

Juyeon walked in the opposite way to the small parking lot in front of the coffee shop, his leg swinging over his motorcycle. He sat there for a minute, watching you get on the bus before the doors closing behind you, holding his helmet in hand. You were a busy, ambitious woman, you had set your priorities high, and you were not going to change them for a man. He was a bit scared of committing to a relationship with a busy woman and a child, yet that didn’t prevent him from wanting to get to know you and finding you attractive. He loved it even if he was a bit anxious about getting hurt, as it happened in his past way too many times to his likings.

His gloved hand moved side to side as the bus drove past him, your daughter on your hip as you both waved at him. The smile you had plastered on your face reassured him, hoping that you would give his heart a break and not break it.

255 notes · View notes

rumblelibrary · 3 years ago

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Hello 👀❤️

So... I don't know if this will work or not, but I thought why not, I send it in... And if you don't like it, that's completely fine ❤️🔥

I really like how you write the characters' mind... What they are thinking or how they act... I was thinking, maybe a new mechanic (Reader) at Ferrari (yes, it's a Niki Lauda fic, you know me❤️🔥) who is really shy, but very good at their job, and Niki likes them and he is an asshole with everyone (which is normal from him) EXCEPT with the Reader... And like... Maybe at first he doesn't realize this, but then he does, and gets all conflicted like why is he getting soft suddenly, out of nowhere... (It is obvious, but not for him)... I'm curious how you would see this, write this... The ending of this story is up to you ❤️❤️

Love you ❤️🔥👀

What Is This Feeling [Niki Lauda x Mechanic!Reader]

Word count: 2.5k Warnings: lot of swearing by our favourite Rat King Author’s note: Niki is quickly turning into my comfort character to unleash my sass, thank you for giving me the chance to write him!

Part 2

On your first day at Ferrari nobody took you seriously, but to be a mechanic wasn’t exactly typing letters, it was not a place where somebody high up in the ranks would set a lover to give her some benefit and a free pay check.

You didn’t talk a lot, you stood your ground from the moment you put hands on any part of the car, but you weren’t exactly the chatty type and, being the only woman, it took you time to be allowed to the after work beer, to the birthdays and all the balancing that came with a good team spirit.

In a world full of bias about women, you were spared thanks to your abilities and knowledge. Or maybe, because the mechanics team had someone bigger to fight: Niki Lauda.

To work with him was thrilling, but stressful.

He would walk in at any hour of the day, break some egos, pile up an amount of changes that to make a brand new car would be a faster option.

You sat on the floor beside the baby, yes baby was the car, it wasn’t like you had to stay on the floor, there were more than plenty working stations, but it felt more comfortable for you: it gave you the chance to stand and look at things from afar, you were in need to touch, to understand, to put things together. It was your skill, but also your curse, because it was hard to gain yourself a space on the floor in such a fast paced environment like the one at Ferrari. You were working on the ignition when he stormed inside, the soft chats died fast and the noise of the radio was the only thing left, but he didn’t seem to mind the effect he had on people.

In a couple of long steps he was in front of one of your colleagues.

“What is this?” The man looked down to his sandwich like it was self explanatory, but the following silence brought him to answer “my lunch”

“Nice” Niki said, his lips curling downward in a very sarcastic amusement “well, take your lunch out of my garage because I don’t want your crumbles in my engine” he hissed picking the crumbles that effectively fell on the working table and sprinkling them like salt on the man’s face.

The man frowned and left to eat outside and avoid to punch him as Niki proceeded to his next victim.

“And you call this a design development? I call this dog shit”

“If this is a well done job, I’d better retire already before I get your good job to crack my skull open”

“Just begin again, don’t even ask”

“Are you sure you don’t work for McLaren? Because by the quality of your work I am starting to wonder”

One after the other all your colleagues fell under the axe of Niki’s commentary.

Nobody was spared, it was a butchery.

“So? What is this?”

You looked up at him as he towered over you, Satan himself would be less scary, and probably less attractive, to your eyes. His standing figure with rebel curls and his Ray-ban glasses in his left hand, the polo shirt under the fancy jacket, even his bad character gave him the edge so many men more conventionally attractive lack.

“I am working on the ignition” you said as he bent down crouching beside you as you showed him, his cologne filling your nostrils like the best smell your nose ever encountered.

“Okay, in what way?” He asked resting his elbows on his knees.

You gulped softly “Well, I am trying to experiment if I change this in here” and you pointed to a section in particular “maybe the car will have a better performance at the beginning of the race”

“Have you considered that it could over work the battery?”

“I did, but I wanted to see if I make here something like this” and you took a little tube showing how you lace it around the section “if I use this to push the cooler to work into this part as well, we might avoid over heating”

He listened touching his chin with the edge of his glasses thoughtfully.

“Give it a try”

He just said standing up.

Your colleagues looked at you shaking their heads as he turned around and everybody looked down to their tasks again, so then he left.

______________________________________________________________________ This wasn’t the first time, he wasn’t letting you do things he didn’t approve, but he always listened to you, he advised you, and the harshest thing he said was probably “I think you’re not looking at the bigger picture”

Nobody commented on it and beside some joke here and there, the little preference he had over you seemed to pass unnoticed mostly by him.

“You know, you really need a girlfriend” Clay, the other driver of the Ferrari alongside him, said during some tests.

Niki looked at him.

“Why? Do I look like one that has to fuck a woman to be fine?”

He laughed as Niki was always so overaggressive “No, but you treat everyone like bullshit beside the new girl, so you either can be an asshole only with men or your seduction technique needs a real check”

He frowned, eyebrows furrowing together as his lips parted in disbelief

“You nuts”

“Maybe, but I haven’t heard you complain about her as much as you complain about the rest of the world”

He shook his head “You are just letting you Italian genes getting your head stupid”

Clay laughed at him nodding knowingly “Sure, sure” he patted harshly on Niki’s back knowing how much he hated to be patted around like that as he moved to talk to one of the mechanics working on his car.

Niki crossed his arms resting against the wall of the garage, his eyes instinctively looking for your figure finding you to one of the working table writing down some notes over the changes applied while looking at the projects.

His eyes dropping on your ass like it was the first time he checked it, realising it wasn’t the first time he mentally noted it.

Well, he couldn’t really say you were unattractive, or not his type, or a good mechanic.

His thought process was suddenly interrupted as Clay himself approached you and you moved on side showing him the papers you were just writing on.

He nodded and said something to you, his hand casually resting on the small of your back making Niki’s jaw almost snap for how much he was gritting his teeth.

You shuffled on side avoiding the touch with a casual smile, but Clay kept talking to you and from afar Niki saw him say something and wave his pointed finger between himself and you. You shook your head and smiled turning down whatever he just offered with all the politeness you had, Niki pursued his lips slightly in amusement for his best girl’s behaviour.

Wait a second. Best girl?

He glared at Clay that smirked at him from afar, a big ‘I knew it’ smirk on his lips.

Niki bit the inside of his cheek not liking it.

He was with you like with everybody else, what the hell.

Niki ignored you all day, when you showed him something he himself requested to be shown, he shuffled away, when you handed him something he was looking for, he looked for it somewhere else, he just wasn’t meeting your eyes and hell and thunderstorm fell upon anyone that even tried to engage a talk with him on that day.

“I can’t with your boyfriend anymore, I swear” one of your colleagues muttered to you.

“He is not my boyfriend”

He looked at you “Then he’d better be soon, maybe he’ll chill out”

“Are you even paid to stand and do nothing?” Niki shouted from afar and you two parted ways faster than two kids smuggling candies during class. ______________________________________________________________________

The next day was the judgment day for all the changes done on the car, your nerves were cracking as Niki arrived in his driving suit and your eyes immediately snapped a mental photo on his figure.

Did you ever went home wishing to have his company? Yes.

Did you ever wondered if he was so aggressive ever in the intimate times? Way too much.

Did you have any chance? Probably no.

You let out a big sigh as your colleagues reassured you “Hey, if it doesn’t work we either get rid of the rat or have some more time to work on it” he joked but you didn’t feel any better.

Niki looked up as he noticed your worried look, your lips nibbling down on your lips, your foot tapping rhythmically and nervously, the sudden instinct to lean his hand on that waist of yours, to rest his leg beside yours to make it stop that nerve wracking dance, to forbid your lips any more damage not caused by him.

All of that crowded his mind and he growled tiredly.

Stupid Clay, with his stupid theories.

He finished getting ready and put on his helmet settling down in his spot rolling his shoulders back, he needed to focus.

The head mechanic came over him repeating all the changes and just annoying the hell out of him, he is not always around the car only to check you out.

“When you're done telling me what I know, tell me something I don’t, I beg you”

The head mechanic did a big effort not to spit into his face and just left him waving his arms in the air.

You touched on your forehead nervously, if you failed it would show in the timings or maybe the car won’t even start.

You looked at him, seconds before he pulled down the dark lid of his helmet, his dark eyes so focused a shiver creeped over you.

You gasped as the signal was given and the car started.

Your fingers finding their way to your mouth as you nibbled your skin.

The car was fast, that was sure, you leaned beside the head mechanic that was taking the time. You breathed heavily, your mind going through all the changes you did, all the small settlements, the little details.

An eternal list that kept repeating itself.

Then the question as he was halfway through the leap, what if you disappointed him?

What if he asked you to be sent away?

Then you looked down to the chronometer, he was already almost two seconds earlier than usual.

A smile started to grow on you, the excitement filling your veins.

The sound of the engine roaring beautifully, you made it!

Then it happened, some smoke raised up to the sky, one of the wheels snapped, the breath died in your throat.

The car flexed on side but Niki controlled it and guided it against the sandy side of the track that slowed it down until it stopped.

“He was breaking his record” the head mechanic sighed “now he is just going to break our balls”

Niki moved out of the car throwing his helmet on the ground pushing off roughly anyone that tried to help him or check if he was hurt, some of the mechanics moving to the tow truck to recollect the car, Niki moving past you, his face tense and his posture of someone ready to snap some necks. You didn’t see him for the rest of the day, nobody talked about him, nobody mentioned anything as the storm will fall on all of the team the next day.

Now it was the head mechanic to face it for all of you.

______________________________________________________________________

That night you stayed over time, the other colleagues told you to just go home, to not let the thing sink of you, to look at it with fresh eyes and all those circumstantial phrases people gift you when they try to cheer you up.

As always on the floor, you had now the chance to spread the pieces out, collect them into branches of types and use. You pulled closer your notebook writing down the ideas and things to remember to check, the image of Niki almost crashing gutting you even if you soon realised it wasn’t your change that set off the wheel, but it was part of the cause, the car was now too powerful and the stress on the suspensions was deadly.

You yawned lightly pulling a catalogue of replacements parts trying to find the best mix you could manage, but you surely had to make up something about it. You didn’t expect to solve the problem or to find the solution for everything with a creative twist, but to, at least, plan a sequence of possibilities to present to your chief the next day.

A hand slowly leaning a mug of steaming coffee beside you.

You looked up to find Niki there, another cup in his hand, those messy curls calling to be touched, his impeccable style always winning you over with a dark turtleneck and his tweed jacket.

“Found the problem?” He asked sharply as always.

He was surprised to see you there, he spent the rest of the afternoon after the malfunction with the head mechanic and some of the administrators as he needed a solution in time for the upcoming race.

So he decided he couldn’t trust their promises and reassurances, but take the matter in his own hand, for a change. But when he arrived he saw the lights still on and you there. He was almost tempted to leave, it wasn’t a good moment to screw things with one of his most talented mechanics.

But you, again, were so into it, you looked so beautiful with your working jumpsuit and the hair messed up nibbling on that pen like it was a matter of life and death.

He couldn’t just let you stay so beautiful and alone, who knows who could approach you.

You nodded “I think so” you said showing him the piece, he leaned his head on side studying it

“May I?”

You nodded as he took off his blazer before joining you on the floor, he crossed his legs, your knees touching as he stole those papers from your hand.

“Signal to the administration this night shift, or they won’t ever pay you” he muttered without looking away from the papers.

You smirked “I know, but it is more a matter of principle than money, I didn’t like the heart attack you gave me today”

You were surprised by your own words, maybe it was because you really were over caffeinated or just realising how it was the first time you were alone and how you felt comfortable around him. No, not comfort, it was trust, you trusted him.

He looked up from the papers up at you, he didn’t replied to your comment straightaway, he let it sink in, he let your presence sink in.

A one-sides smirk appeared on his lips

“It is going to be a long night, then” Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra Let me know if you want to get added <3

#niki lauda #niki lauda headcanons #niki lauda x reader #niki lauda fanfiction #niki lauda hcs #niki lauda rush 2013 #niki lauda rush

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procrastinatingsapphictrash · 4 years ago

Text

Can’t get over her

Word count: 5010

Genre: A little angst with a little fluff

Pairing: Natasha x fem!reader

Warnings: Little bit of swearing (let me know if I need to add more)

Summary: Reader has always had a bit of a crush on Natasha but it’s unrequited. She lets Tony and Wanda take her to a club and Nat starts acting differently.

A/N: This is not a request, I just felt like writing this story. I’m super nervous about this because I’m not sure if it’s very good but I thought I would post it in case anyone is interested. This is my first x reader fic and first Natasha/Marvel fic so I wasn’t sure how to write it. That being said I hope you enjoy, and if you do, I’m always open to take requests! Btw this is completely unimportant but even though this fic is a medium length, it’s the longest story I’ve actually completed so I feel proud of myself for that!

“Y/n!” A voice rang out loudly disrupting your sleep.

“Ughhhh,” you groaned, “what do you want?” Instead of an answer the door to your room gets thrown open loudly, allowing all the light to come in. You bury yourself under the blankets, partly to stop your eyes from seeing the light and partly to hide the fact that you were wearing Avengers themed pyjamas.

“Rise and shine sweetheart!” You hear Tony’s voice mock. Reluctantly you poke your head out of the blankets just enough so you can see and squint at your best friend/mentor just in time to see him rush off, probably to wake up another unfortunate avenger. When you first joined you never expected to like Tony at all, much less consider him your best friend or look up to him. You had heard rumors of him being inappropriate with women and while his jokes most certainly were and you did occasionally catch him staring at your boobs he never did anything creepy to make you uncomfortable and inside he was a good man, way more so than you expected.

All that in mind you decide to get out of bed to see why Tony woke you up because he (probably) wouldn’t wake you up for no reason. Taking a minute to change out of the avenger pyjamas and into some clothes as well as brush your hair you wander downstairs. On the way down you bump into Clint who unlike you has made absolutely no effort to look presentable and looks like he just rolled out of bed. You say a quick hello but he just grunts in return, not even looking at you. Inwardly laughing about how much Clint hates to be awake in the morning you continue downstairs to meet up with the rest of the avengers who are varying degrees of awake. Most seemed to be like you; awake and fairly alert but not happy about it. Clint was probably the most asleep and Tony the most awake considering he was practically bouncing off the walls. Looking around you see everyone except for Thor and Natasha. Thor wasn’t there very often because he wasn’t from earth and Natasha usually avoided group activities at all costs to your displeasure since you had a secret (not very secret) crush on the assassin.

“So why did you wake us up, at an ungodly hour may I add, and bring us down here?” You ask Tony, curious.

“That information is above your clearance level.” He replies somewhat sarcastically.

“Does anybody else know what is going on?” you ask. “Or did Tony wake me up for no reason, in which case I’m going back to bed.” They all shift guiltily on their feet except for Clint who seems to be still too tired to pay attention leading you to believe they are all up to something you wouldn’t like. Nobody answers your question so you glare around the room, your eyes landing on Steve. He almost squirms under your gaze and eventually seems to give in.

“I’m sorry Y/N, this wasn’t my idea and thinking back on it we probably shouldn’t-”

“We are giving you a makeover and finding you a date.” Tony cuts Steve off.

“Seriously??!??!??” You half shout. “What makes you think I want to go on some random date you guys set up? If I want to go on a date I can find one myself.”

“Y/N…” Wanda says softly, reminding you to stay calm.

“Don’t Y/n me,” you say, still angrily yet quieter, “I can find my own dates, thank you very much.” Tony gives a small snort of laughter in response to this.

“Sure you can kid. I mean it’s not like you haven’t been on a date in over two years. Or that you’re harboring a crush for our resident scary assassin that prevents you from dating others.” You glare at him but stay silent because all of what he said is true. In your head you excuse the not dating off as being busy because you are a hero yet almost everybody on the team is dating someone and it all seems to be working out fine.

“Look Y/n,” Tony says softly which is a rarity for him, “I know you wish something could happen between you and Romanoff but it hasn’t happened yet and likely never will. You need to get over her and back out there. Besides we weren’t planning on choosing your date for you, we were just planning to go clubbing later with you.”

“Ok,” you agree begrudgingly, “I’ll do it, I just don’t see the need to wake me up at 7 in the morning if we aren’t going out until tonight. Also does everybody need to be here right now?”

“I second that,” Clint says in a voice still rough from sleep, “just because I helped planning a little bit does not mean I had to wake up early to have this conversation. I’m going back to bed.”

Wanda rolls her eyes at him before turning to you, “No not everyone has to be here right now, Tony just got a little over excited. As for you, as we said we are giving you a makeover which means we have to go to the hair appointment I set up plus I was thinking we could go shopping since we almost never have time to. Besides Natasha gets back from her solo mission sometime later today, so we wanted to talk with you when she wasn’t around.”

“Ok,” you respond with a little bit of excitement, “when do we leave?”

“Right now! We can have brunch while we’re out!”

“Yes and then we can go get our nails done and gossip!” Tony says in a fake voice. Both you and Wanda turn to look at him exasperated. “Ok fine, maybe not but I am coming and we are gossiping. Also I need to find a good birthday present for Pepper’s birthday next week.”

“Well that’s good you’re coming because unless you want the same reaction as last year, you’re going to need a lot of help.” Wanda replies. You laugh a little as the three of you leave the tower, Wanda and Tony continuing their mock argument about Tony’s gift giving skills.

Five hours later and you severely regretted going along with their plan. You were already exhausted and still had so much to do before going clubbing. You had already bought an outfit plus a few others which wouldn’t be so bad except Wanda and Tony made you try on what you believed to be the whole store before they seemed satisfied with your look. You had also gotten your nails done and were currently finishing up a lovely brunch which consisted of waffles, maple syrup and some fruits. That would have been enjoyable if not for the fact that Tony and Wanda alternated between nagging you about not chipping a nail and teasing you about your pathetic love life. It was a well known fact in the tower that while they didn’t hate each other, Tony and Wanda didn’t usually get along well but that was probably for the best since together they were ruthless. They seemed to have decided that the time for brunch was over so sighing you followed them out of the restaurant after Tony paid the bill. That’s the one positive at least, all of it was free for you thanks to Tony.

Another five hours later and you could honestly say you were looking forward to the night more than you thought you would. You were currently looking in the mirror in your room and although usually you tended to be indifferent towards your body, sometimes even insecure, you had to admit that you looked pretty hot. The dress was in the perfect colour to bring out your eyes according to Wanda and although it was the perfect balance between classy and slutty, revealing a bit of skin and showing off your assets while still leaving it to the imagination. You also were carrying a black purse which matched your nails and shoes. Your makeup was perfectly done, naturally showing you beauty but adding a little extra glimmer. The thing you were most proud of however and the most noticeable change you had made was your hair. Before you had hair that when completely straight could reach your waist but now it was barely long enough to tuck behind your ears. When you first got to the hair salon you were planning on just trimming it and straightening in it but when you got in the chair something came over you and you just decided to chop it all off.

BANG! The door to your room barges open and Wanda comes flying in.

“Damn girl! You look hot as fuck!” You blush profusely at her words managing to stammer out a thank you. You have never been good at taking compliments because you always get a little shy and awkward.

Tony pokes his head around the doorframe and gives a whistle. “You are smoking hot Y/n, I mean if I didn’t have Pepper I would be all over you. You ready to go?” Not waiting for an answer he turns and starts towards the elevator. You follow but not before exchanging an eye roll with Wanda about Tony’s words. The elevator ride is short and smooth thanks to Tony’s engineering so you don’t have enough time to succumb to the urge of placing your hands on the bars and pushing while lifting your feet. The elevator beeps, Jarvis informing you that you’ve reached the ground level and the doors open. You step out ready to get on with your night but the sight of Natasha just back from a mission freezes you in your tracks.

“Hi,” you say lamely, “I thought you were supposed to get back earlier today?”

“We had some intel that wasn’t fully correct but luckily it didn’t take too long to fix. You look different, where are you heading off to?”

You glance at Tony and Wanda for help because for some reason you feel awkward telling her but they don’t seem to know what you want so you answer anyways. “We’re going clubbing, I’m kinda nervous since I haven’t been in awhile but Wanda helped me get ready-”

“Hey I helped too!”

You ignore Tony’s protest and continue to speak. “-and I think it should be fun. Also there will for sure be hot girls there which is always a plus.”

“Seems like it should be fun,” she responds in her monotone ‘I don’t care’ voice that you hate, “Good luck with the girls though, because your hair looked better long, I don’t like it like this.” You don’t usually get offended easily but you feel tears spring to your eyes at her comment. The only good part is that she doesn’t notice because she’s already walking away, swaying her hips, either not knowing or caring that she hurt you.

Tony and Wanda rush over to you. “Oh sweetie,” Wanda comforts while wrapping an arm around you, “don’t listen to her, that’s not true at all!”

“Then why would she say it?” You ask, careful to keep your voice from cracking because you hated showing when you were upset.

“I don’t know and honestly I don’t give a fuck.” Tony replies. “Just don’t think about it too much, the whole point of this night is to get over her anyways.” You give him a small smile at that. Tony is good with words which translates into being good at comforting people. You know he’s right so although the comment is still upsetting you do your best to push it out of your mind. Locking arms with both Tony and Wanda you pull them towards the door and into the waiting limo. You couldn’t help but smile at the way Tony ruffled your hair as you stepped in or how Wanda kept running her fingers over her arm in an attempt to be reassuring. You had the best friends.

The ride over seemed way shorter than it was supposed to be and before you knew it the limo was stopped to let the three of you out. You take a deep breath and wipe your sweaty palms on your dress before smiling and stepping out after Tony and Wanda. Nobody seems to have noticed the three of you yet which was a good thing. Being Avengers Tony and Wanda were pretty much celebrities and often got swarmed by groups of fans. Technically you were an avenger as well but like Natasha and Clint it was only because you were a Shield so while you did get recognized it wasn’t as often and only tended to happen if you were with other avengers. You make your way inside, splitting from Tony and Wanda at the door. The plan was for them to go to the bar and look over you from there while you went straight to the dance floor because you preferred to be anonymous tonight and they would ruin that and also you didn’t feel like getting drunk. That was the plan at least but you suspected that they would get too drunk to continue watching over you because it had been stressful lately with a lot of paperwork and they needed to unwind. Wanda had practically confirmed that fact when she gave you permission to leave without them.

You step over to the dance floor glancing around to see if there looked to be any single women already there. The reason you had chosen this club was because although it wasn’t lgbtq+ exclusive, it was open to everybody and therefore frequented by many members of the community.

Just as you were glancing around you felt a tap on your shoulder. “Wanna dance?” You spin around to find the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen, apart from Natasha. It bothers you that you’re using Natasha as your standard and comparing other girls to her but you brush that off.

“I would love to!” At your response she takes your hand, pulling you into the crowd and starts to dance. You dance as well and slowly you lose track of time as you loosen up and your dancing with the girl becomes less and less innocent. You can feel yourself caring less about what Natasha thought although as great as this girl seemed to be you knew you weren’t ready for a relationship so you hoped she wasn’t looking for one. After what could be a couple of hours because you’ve completely lost track of time, you and the girl whose name you still don’t know head over to a corner of the room and take a seat on two of the stools that were provided.

“Hi, I feel like I should know your name by now, I’m Y/n.” You introduce yourself.

“Wait I thought you looked familiar!” She exclaims. “You’re the Y/n that’s a part of the avengers right?”

You awkwardly give a nod and gesture towards the bar where you can see Tony and Wanda who have obviously had at least a few drinks each. “Tony and Wanda came with me. They are just over there but I didn’t particularly want the spotlight tonight so I split from them at the door.”

“I understand, I must admit I have no desire to be famous. I’m Jamie by the way” She says with a cute little giggle before her mood seems to be more solemn. “I can’t believe I’m saying this to a literal avenger and if my friends find out they are going to kill me but I’m sorry if you’re looking for a relationship but I just got out of a serious relationship and am not ready for another one quite yet.”

You let out a relieved sigh. “I’m not looking for a relationship either, because I’m trying to get over my feelings for a friend.”

“Phew!” She replies. “But tell me more about this ‘friend’ of yours.” You take a minute to think before deciding that Jamie could be trusted. You begin to spill all about your feelings for Natasha and how she didn’t seem interested and what she said to you on your way here. Jamie listens sympathetically the entire time before telling you all about how she thought her ex was the one but it turns out she was emotionally abusive. Even though you just met you talk like old friends, offering advice on serious topics but also chatting about random things. You have 3 more drinks each and after every drink your barriers crumble more and more. Eventually you exchange numbers so you can meet up again although you both agreed it would be a platonic meetup. Just as you were giggling about a joke you couldn’t even remember, you saw Jamie tense up and a second later you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turn your head in anger expecting it to be some creepy guy trying to hit on you but it turns to confusion when you see Natasha.

“Can we talk?” She asks, giving Jamie a dirty look. “At the tower. Without her.”

“Why?” You ask. “I’m having fun here Nat.” You specifically say her name as you speak so Jamie knows who you’re talking to.

“Just come home.” She says not answering your question, instead tugging at your wrist lightly. You sigh not knowing what to do so you glance at Jamie for help.

She shrugs and then says, “I have a ride home planned if you want to leave, but I wouldn’t mind staying longer if that’s what you want.”

You make a quick decision in your head before responding, “Ok, we’ll go back to the tower but there better be a good reason.” You then turn to Jamie, “Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe, and then we can figure out when to hang out.”

“Of course,” she agrees leaning forwards to hug you while whispering in your ear, “good luck but remember not to let her treat you badly just because you’re in love with her.” You pull back from the hug and smile at her as Natasha’s hand moves down to your own as she starts walking, pulling you along with her. You can barely think straight, you have no idea what is going on with Natasha or why she’s acting so weirdly. You glance over to Tony and Wanda to see if they’ve noticed what’s going on but just as you suspected they were drunk out of their minds. If they were normal friends you would have worried about them but you knew Tony’s drivers would get them home safe because although Tony was more responsible with Pepper around this was not the first time they’ve had to haul his drunk ass back to the tower.

Natasha continues to pull you out the door and over to her parked motorcycle where she hands you a helmet and one of her leather jackets. Still not speaking she hops on and motions for you to get on behind her. You swing your leg over the side somewhat awkwardly and scoot forwards so you can grab onto her waist. Once she’s sure you’re secured properly she hits the gas, the motorcycle roaring as it starts. You’ve never been on her motorcycle before so at first you are a bit nervous but after a couple of minutes you start to feel more comfortable. At this point your only nerves come from holding Natasha and wondering what she wants to talk to you about and not the motorcycle ride. Compared to the ride over to the club, this ride feels like it’s taking forever as you start to go over all the important reasons Nat would want to talk to you. You still didn’t know how to feel about everything because she insulted you earlier and now is making you feel important. To protect your feelings you tell yourself that there is probably a mission or a meeting that came up last minute and this isn’t just Natasha wanting to talk. It’s improbable because if that was the case she would have outright said so but you can’t think of any more plausible reasons off the top of your head. Luckily before you can analyze her strange behavior anymore you reach the tower and after parking underground you follow Natasha upstairs into the main living area which is obviously deserted as it is now between 3 and 4 am.

“So why did you want to talk?” You ask, breaking the silence as you take a seat on the couch.

“Why did you go to a club?” She asks, also sitting down on the other end of the couch, avoiding your question.

A surge of anger floods through you and while you don’t shout, you raise your voice a little. “Answer the fucking question Nat. Or did you bring me all the way back just to ask that?”

She looks somewhat surprised that you raised your voice but she keeps hers even. “I just wanted to know. It looked like you were having fun with whoever that girl is.”

“Yeah I was.” You respond, still confused. “But how do you know that?”

Natasha avoids eye contact looking everywhere but you. “I was watching you.”

“YOU WERE WHAT?” You shout before lowering your voice to avoid waking up the whole tower. “Why the fuck were you spying on me?”

“I- I wasn’t.” She replies seemingly caught off guard by your tone of voice. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“Tony and Wanda were with me.” You respond confused. There’s something she’s not telling you that’s making her act weird. She knew you could handle yourself so she obviously was not telling the truth, or at least omitting details. She hasn’t responded to your last statement, instead choosing to look at you in the weird way she does that makes you feel like you’re being interrogated. You decide that if she isn’t going to talk, you won’t either so you pull your phone out of your jacket to check it. You see a text from Jamie saying she got home ok with a little smiley face at the end that causes you to smile. You type back a quick reply, just saying you’re glad she’s safe and that you were with Natasha right now and were probably going to bed soon so you’d text her tomorrow. She wished you luck and goodnight with another little smiley face that made you smile again. Putting your phone away you look back up at Natasha only to find out she’s glaring at you.

Unsure of what could have changed her attitude towards you, you ask, “What?”

“Who were you talking to?” She asks ignoring your question for the second time tonight.

You sigh, “I don’t see how it’s any of your business but if you really must know I was just saying goodnight to the girl from the club, Jamie.”

“So that’s her name.” She says wrinkling her nose. Now you’re really confused as to what Natasha is thinking. You couldn’t tell on normal days but usually she acted rationally and never was like this.

“Why do you say it like that?” You ask.

“I don’t like her.”

“Why don’t you like her?”

“I just don’t.” She answers, offering no explanation. Although you do want to find out why Natasha doesn’t like her you’re too tired to spend the time asking questions so you stand up to go to bed.

“Where are you going?” She demands.

You sigh for what feels like the thousandth time of the night. “I’m going to bed. You wanted to talk to me but won’t actually talk, and when I ask you questions, instead of responding you insult my new friend.”

“Friend?” She questions.

“Jamie.” You say confused because you thought the answer was obvious.

“Oh.” She responds, “I’m sorry, please stay.” You think about it for a second, deciding to stay so you go to sit down again, but before you do Natasha scoots over to your end of the couch pulling you down into her side. Your entire body freezes up because you’re so unsure of what to do. Natasha never initiated physical contact of any kind but now she was practically hugging you. Seeming to realize how uncomfortable you were, she quickly moves away.

“Sorry,” she mutters, “That was stupid.”

“No, no, it’s fine, you can come back.” You respond quickly. As much as you were uncomfortable, it felt really nice to have her by your side. She somewhat shyly shifts back over to you but this time instead of wrapping her arm around your shoulders she nuzzles into your side, maneuvering your arms so they wrap around her. You have no idea what’s going on right now but you can’t help but smile as you look down at her. She looks cute and relaxed, with her hair covering parts of her face. Thinking about her hair reminds you of her opinion of your new haircut. You bite your lip nervously as you debate asking her about that or not. You definitely don’t want to ruin the cuddly mood that she’s in now but the comment still bothers you, not to mention you never actually found out why she took you home from the club.

“Um Natasha?” You ask in a timid voice. “Is my haircut really that bad?”

“Of course not, I think it suits you.” She responds smoothly. “I lied to you earlier.”

You smile at that. “Thank you but why?”

She takes a deep shaky breath before speaking. “Promise this won’t change anything between us first, that we will stay friends.”

“Ok,” You respond, earnest but confused, “I promise.”

“I didn’t like the idea of you going clubbing and coming home with some one night stand or even worse a girlfriend because I have feelings for you. So I was childish and took out my frustrations on you by pretending I didn’t like you. I’m sorry.” She’s looking up at you now, the most nervous you’ve ever seen her. Your mind is exploding with this new information and your heart feels so happy you can’t even believe what is going on.

“Is that why you were watching me with Jamie at the club and then told me you had to talk to me?”

“Yeah”

After a few more seconds of shocked silence that feels like hours to Natasha you finally speak. “I know I promised that this wouldn’t change anything between us but I don’t think it can be the same.” She starts to pull away from your side but before she can you lean over and press your lips against hers. At first you are hesitant but once she starts kissing back you gain confidence, the kiss getting more heated. After a minute or two you both pull away to catch your breath, smiling at each other.

Natasha lightly swats you on the arm. “You’re evil.” You giggle a little in response. “I was so worried for a second there, I thought you would be weirded out by that.” She continues also giggling slightly.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know that I had feelings for you,” you confess to her, “it was actually Tony and Wanda’s idea for me to go out because we all thought you didn’t like me so they thought it was a good idea to get over you.”

“Well that plan failed,” she says smirking, “I guess you can’t get over me.”

You look at her and yawn. “No I guess I can’t.”

At your yawn she glances at the clock. “We better get you to bed, it’s almost the time Steve wakes up for training.” You would like to spend more time with Natasha but you’re too tired to argue so you just nod and follow her as she pulls you up and leads you to your room, holding your hand the whole way. Inside your room she sits on your bed while you change, politely looking away. Once you’re in pyjamas you hold a pair out to her and she looks at you confused.

“Do you want to stay the night?” You ask her. She eagerly nods, accepting the pyjamas as you open your covers and crawl into bed. As soon as she’s done she turns off the lights and hops in behind you, spooning you. You sigh as you feel her plant a kiss on the back of your head. You can barely keep your eyes open and although you still haven’t talked about exactly what your new relationship with Natasha was yet, you were excited for what was to come. Your last thought before you drifted off to sleep was complete bliss as Natasha kept planting soft kisses on the back of your neck, head and shoulders.

The next morning you hear a loud pounding at your door. You groan and slowly gain consciousness, smiling as you remember last night and the redhead still cuddling you. Just like yesterday Tony doesn’t bother to wait for you to answer and instead barges straight in. His eyes widen when he sees the two of you spooning and he starts to splutter. You laugh at him with Natasha until he shouts for the other avengers to come. Multiple pairs of footsteps make your way to your bedroom and you see the shocked faces of a few of the other avengers, including Wanda, Steve and Clint.

“What,” Natasha says speaking up, “can’t a girl cuddle with her girlfriend in peace?” Steve immediately apologizes, ushering everyone out of the room and closing the door.

You raise your eyebrow. “Girlfriends?”

“I assumed so, if you want.” She responds.

“I like the sound of that...girlfriend.” You both smile at each other. You definitely did not complete your goal of getting over Natasha and instead fell further in love but you were totally ok with that.

#marvel #natasha #romanoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #x reader #fanfiction #fic #marvel fanfiction #tony stark #wanda maximoff #clint barton #orignial character

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starilicious · 3 years ago

Text

der lagi lekin (hunter x force-user!gn! reader + ep. 8 fix-it)

》 summary: tbb episode 8 fix-it featuring a force-user reader who used to be a jedi. reader is a part of tbb and in a relationship with hunter, but the squad–nor hunter–knows that reader is a force-user. (disclaimer: all of this was written before episode 9 was released! see a/n for an explanation ^_^) (another disclaimer: if you want just the hunter x reader comfort, please let me know and i'll finish it up and post it!)

》 word count: ~8k (yeah, it's a lot LOL)

click here to read on AO3

》 warnings: in-universe swearing, mental breakdown, some slight sensory overloads, pretty mild panic attack, light canon-typical violence, angst + some comfort, survivor's guilt from surviving order 66, no use of y/n, slightly plot heavy because i got way too carried away in writing (whoops?) [if i should add more warnings, please let me know!]

》 spoilers: major ones for tbb episode 8 "reunion"

》 a/n: okay look, i gotta confess: this wasn’t supposed to be an episode 8 fix-it. really. i’m actually glad cad bane won because we get to see that the clones don’t always win every fight... i think it makes for a better and more complex story. anyway, i started out writing just reader and hunter comfort after episode 8 ended. but i’m weak for omega because she reminds me so much of my younger siblings and i ended up writing a wholeass fix-it to save her (even tho cad bane is a downright badass). i kind of liked what i did with building up the plot so much that i might continue this story of force-user!reader with tbb. but that’s a tangent we can deal with later. if you would like a part two with the hunter x reader comfort this was originally intended to be, let me know!

as i said in the summary, i wrote all of this before episode 9 came out–just be aware of that. because it’s so long, it took me a while to edit, which is why i’m posting after ep. 9 was released. but without further ado, i hope you like it! <33

》 misc. notes:

• title of the fic is from the hindi song "der lagi lekin" from the film zindagi na milegi dobara. i linked the song in blue and linked the english translations in green in case you're curious! it's not necessary to listen or understand the song, but i thought it went well with the fic :)

“Everybody get down!” Wrecker yells. You and the squad immediately do as he instructs, diving towards the ground and covering your head. Stars, I hope this works.

The charges the six of you placed around the gigantic cone that surrounds the core cylinder explodes in a deafening blast. You curl into the tightest ball you can manage, breathing so hard that the HUD inside your helmet temporarily fogs up. Metal shards of the explosion rain down on you hard.

For a moment, it seems like nothing happened. But then you hear the telltale, ear-grinding creak of the durasteel and the squad is roughly catapulted forward from the force of the cone beginning to fall down.

You struggle to stand up as you lurch this way and that, trying to regain your balance and stabilize as Tech calls out, “Hold on!”

You quickly glance at the rest of the Bad Batch, trying to see if any of them were hurt. Other than the absolutely terrified look on Omega’s face, all is well considering the circumstances. The metal groans and begins its descent, taking your feeling of being grounded with it. The weightlessness is uncomfortably familiar to say the least, but you ignore it as the six of you scramble to hold on to the side of the cone. You certainly did your fair share of acrobatics back in the war, but feeling it hum around you...it’s too much. It’s too much. You elect to push it back into the depths of your brain. But it doesn’t leave.

It never really does.

Omega’s anxious whimpers come in faintly through your thick helmet and you whip around, frantically trying to find where she is. But before you can find her, the cone lands vertically on its head and the force is so violent that your stable hold on the durasteel is broken. Panicked, you quickly fire a grappling hook towards the ledge where you were previously hanging on. The hook catches and you stop abruptly, the jerky movement almost wrenching your arm out of its socket.

You look down to see Omega falling from someone’s grip and into Hunter’s arms. You can barely tell where anyone is thanks to the lack of light and the incessant motion.

The cone begins to topple onto its side and suddenly, your wire snaps from the tension. You let out a scream of surprise as you plummet downwards, wind rushing past your helmet. ForceIdon’twanttodieohmyMakerohno–

But you never hit the ground, instead being flung sideways as the cone tears into two. On trained instinct, you tuck yourself into a ball to try and roll in order to break your fall instead of using it. That time is long gone.

You land with a sickening thud and hiss in pain as your back hits the metal hard. You hear something crack, but whether it is your armor or something internal, you have absolutely no idea, and don’t have time to check before you black out.

✧✦✧

You jolt awake, a sound making its way into your consciousness. Finally, the damn place stopped moving. You take a few minutes to try and relieve the painful pressure in your chest, reaching up to rip your helmet off because you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe.

You tilt your head back as you struggle to take in air and let the adrenaline subside. You hear voices in the distance and you strain your ears to pick up on the sound as you quickly check yourself over. As far as you can tell, nothing major is broken, and at this point, that is all that matters. Though, your head is pounding, and for more reasons than one

“–nter.. port side... what… status?”

You can’t tell who is speaking, the message too far away for you to hear. But the bits and pieces are enough for you to know that it’s someone from the Bad Batch and that you weren’t unconscious for long. You stand up and dust yourself off before slowly walking to where you believe the origin of the sound is.

“–engine… got company.” A blaster sound and then an explosion rings through the quiet.

Your eyes widen and you quickly pick up the pace, getting your blaster ready as you pick your way through the sharp metal that is jutting out from the ground.

You click on your wrist comm. “Echo, you there?” A faint crackle before his voice comes through, but the signal is scratchy. You frown in frustration.

“–are you? Hunter is... port side,” Echo says and you smack your commlink to try and get the electronics to work, but it’s no use. The device is broken, most likely from the fall, you deduce.

“Meet… Marauder.”

You don’t bother to answer, knowing Echo would probably not even be able to hear what you had to say anyway. Without a signal booster or repeater, there’s no way you can get your transmission across the channel frequency.

It takes a few minutes, but you eventually find the night sky of Bracca blinking down at you at the end of the ripped off cone. You run out to find that you’re in the middle of where the cone broke in half. Okay, new plan. I need to find Hunter. Hunter will know what to do.

You scan your surroundings. The HUD isn’t picking up on any lifeforms near you, and you realize with sinking dread that you have no more options. Whichever piece you climbed through to get to your squadmates, it would take too long for you to search for them since you don’t know their coordinates and your comm isn’t working. Frankly, the Empire–Crosshair–would find you first. You have to use it.

You have to use the Force.

A wave of nausea overcomes you at the mere thought of it and you sway. In an attempt to ground yourself, you tear off your helmet to breathe some fresh air and end up keeling over as the bile rises in your throat. Nothing comes out. You can’t tell if that’s a positive or not.

You could have saved them. Someone. Anyone.

It itches at you in the back of your head, wishing to be let out of its cage. But you can’t. You can’t do it. What’s the use anyway? All you would be doing is saving yourself. The choice of surviving it all has haunted you ever since. Your head pounds in agony.

You saw it happen. You could have helped them. And you ran like a coward. Only ever concerned about yourself.

You inhale sharply as the scene flashes before your eyes, clones shooting at you and the other Jedi. The blaster fire. The confusion. The screams.

How pathetic.

The last statement, an echo of Crosshair’s words, bounces around in your brain. You clutch your head as you let out a heartbroken sob, knee deep in the dirt and metal and grief. Tears create clean tracks down your face as you finally break down, the flood of emotions bursting the dam open. At this point, you don’t know if the emotions are yours or the ones you previously felt through the Force, all of them swirling and blending into one. The bottled up anguish merged together when you attempted to cut yourself off from the Force after the clones–your friends–attacked.

The pain of their death is perhaps the worst of all. Horror courses through you as you finally process your friends and mentors dying around the galaxy, their deaths, their distress, their fear reverberating heavily throughout the Force. Each one cripples you further as you once again struggle to breathe.

It feels like light years pass when you finally calm down to a practically numb state of being. The scenes stop replaying behind your closed eyelids and the echoing shrieks die down to a faint, hollow whisper. You’re suddenly exhausted, limbs heavy and energy sapped. It was almost relieving to finally let the Force once again flow through your body, your nerves lightly tingling with potential despite how tired you feel. You collapse onto the ground and try to recenter yourself.

But despite finally acknowledging the loss, it doesn’t feel right. You didn’t get to say goodbye. You hadn’t been able to even think about them, much less honor them, too focused on going on the run to concentrate on anything beyond the next day’s survival. Even once you joined the Bad Batch, you were paranoid about their chips, about your friends turning on you at any moment. You were always extremely reluctant to engage in the Force, even at the worst of times.

With a start, you realize that you don’t need to worry about your squadmates. Their inhibitor chips are now gone. You… you are safe.

You let out a shocked laugh as it sinks in. A glimmer of hope, of peace. I’m safe.

You sit up then, criss-crossing your legs as you survey the broken landscape of Bracca. Despite the planet being a graveyard, you feel lucidly alive. Perhaps something died in you, that wretched day. But something else, slowly but surely, began growing in its place. It’s meek, but it’s there.

You let out a breath and close your eyes, reaching for the Force like it’s an old friend. It accepts your invitation with hesitation, joining hands with you as if you did not try beating it to death for days on end. You sink into the gentle lapping waves of the Force, extending into it and widening your scope.

There’s something that lurks beneath the surface, in the deep. Dark and sinister and so utterly painful. It calls to you, quiet and low. Enticing. Tempting. And something in you knows that it’s the reason for your previous life’s demise.

But you can feel Hunter’s–and Omega’s, you realize–presence near you in the Force. Even with your relatively damaged connection to the Force after Order 66, the Bad Batch’s Force auras were something you could always hone in on. You let yourself direct your focus to the duo, letting their emotions be your beacon to the acceptance of the Light side of the Force.

In a split second, you decide to not dive deeper into the Force. This isn’t the place nor the time to discover what is prowling in the endless yawning of the Force, to discover why everything happened. So you direct your concentration to the beings on the planet, feeling and breathing your way through the Life Force.

You freeze. There’s something here. No… someone. Your eyebrows furrow as you divert your attention away from your friends and other organisms to the peculiar source. Something about this person strikes you as familiar.

Your eyes snap open and you gasp. I’m not alone. A Force-sensitive. Someone survived. Giddy beyond belief, you snatch up your helmet and begin trekking your way across the wreckage in the opposite direction of Hunter and Omega before pausing. Whoever this person is doesn’t know about your presence on the planet.

And despite the fear you felt emanating off of them in the Force, you somehow knew they were safe, at least for now. And they would remain so if you have anything to say about it. Maker forbid anything that jeopardizes this person’s fragile safety. After all, you know best what it’s like to constantly flee scene after scene.

Staying away is the best thing to do. I’ll come back for you, whoever you are.

You double back and make quick work of getting across the debris as you focus your concentration on Hunter’s and Omega’s Force signatures. As you get closer to the port side, you hear Omega’s high voice. Through your HUD, you can see her small form. You grin. She disappears then, and on closer inspection, you figure she jumped through some broken cargo doors.

The entrance she and Hunter took is too high for you to jump up to, even with the aid of the Force. Combined with your wariness of probe droids, you decide to take a different route from the right side, climbing up the broken ship. The slick oil mixed with the water still present on the metal makes for a difficult trek, and you slip more times than you would like to admit.

Hunter’s gruff voice floats up towards you and you scramble the last few meters to the edge of a hole in the ceiling before pausing. The Force is itching at the back of your head. Something’s wrong.

You peek over the edge of the giant slab of durasteel that created the hole to see bodies in white armor littered everywhere–clones, you realize. Your heart pangs in sadness at the sight.

Slightly to your right, a blue figure and a techno-service droid stand in front of a ship and a frightened Omega stands behind a defensive Hunter. Your mouth drops open. Kriff.

Cad Bane.

A memory from near the beginning of the war hits you in full force. You and Anakin had taken some time on Coruscant to catch up with each other after you passed your trials and were promoted to Jedi Knight. He told you about a mission where he had to stop a bounty hunter who successfully stole a Jedi holocron. You remember how surprised you were when you heard the bitter disgust in Anakin’s voice. The ruthlessly cunning bounty hunter not only threatened to kill Ahsoka, but he murdered Master Ropal.

Judging by the looks of it, Hunter doesn’t know who he is. If the Anakin Skywalker had a difficult time with Cad Bane, there is no way in sithhell Hunter can take him on, even with his enhanced senses. Frankly, you seriously doubt you can either, especially with how rusty your Force skills are now. And that means this isn’t going to end well.

You watch carefully as you tune into the conversation.

“Ain’t you smart?” Bane smirks. “The kid’s got it all figured it out.”

“You’re in trouble now!” the droid exclaims, pointing at Hunter and Omega. You grit your teeth in annoyance.

“Who hired you?” Hunter asks. Stalling. Not a bad move, Hunter.

“Son,” Bane sighs, already done with the brief conversation. “That’s confidential information. Now hand her over.”

Omega stays behind Hunter, taking a knee as Hunter walks forward protectively. You bristle. How am I supposed to help from up here?

“She’s not going anywhere.”

Your eyes drift over the scene in a panic and you take in the fallen clones again. An idea pops into your head. It is desperate, but at this point, you don’t have much of a choice.

Bane mimics Hunter’s movement, walking forward and putting a hand near his belt. The tension is as thick as duracrete.

“That’s unfortunate… for you.”

You grab the long barrel piece from your belt, fitting it over your blaster hurriedly as the showdown begins. Out of the corner of your eye, you see them staring each other down and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Men.

During the war, Crosshair helped you re-engineer your weapon so you could put together various pieces in the field to make a blaster gun that loosely resembled his own sniper. Seeing the clones reminded you of him. A wave of sadness washes over you, but you shake your head. Now is not the time.

You screw on the telescopic sight and set up your makeshift sniper. You peer through the viewfinder and find Bane’s chest. Your finger tenses over the trigger.

You let yourself sink deep into the Force, let it guide your actions. Inhale. Exhale. I can do this. As you relax, the mellow warmth you missed so dearly washes over you, gently eroding the torment in your mind and heart, guiding your focus to the here and now. Trust in the Force.

Wait.

Now.

You fire two bolts straight into your target the same exact moment Bane and Hunter shoot each other. Hunter’s shot hits the droid, breaking off its leg. Bane’s shot hits directly in Hunter’s chest, as yours did Bane. Both men immediately fall backwards and slam into the ground.

“My booster!” Oh. So not a leg. Got it.

“Hunter!”

Kriff kriff kriff. You jump down nimbly from your hiding spot in the ceiling and immediately sprint towards the duo. Is he dead? You would unapologetically release sithhell on Bane if he killed the man you love.

Omega panics as she tries to wake Hunter up, continuously calling his name before taking a glimpse of her surroundings. Before you can react, she grabs her bow and pulls it taut, aiming at you. She looks petrified.

“Whoa! Omega, it’s me!” you exclaim, holding your hands up in surrender. She takes a moment to actually look at you before sagging in relief. Suddenly, the droid comes speeding out of nowhere and Omega shoots, the energy bolt whizzing past your waist and straight into the droid before it can attack you from behind.

The shot rings true and the grumpy robot falls. You turn around to grab at its exposed parts under its head and yank them out to make sure it can’t power on again.

“Thanks, Omega. I owe you one,” you say and Omega gives you a proud smile.

You place a comforting hand on her shoulder before kneeling down to shake Hunter awake, but it doesn’t work. You take a moment to analyse Hunter’s Life Force. It’s a bit dimmer, but it’s constant, meaning he’s out cold and doesn’t have the life draining out of him. You let out a sigh of relief. He’s alive. You glance back to see Bane still not moving. Good.

“What’re we gonna do?” Omega whispers as you both peer down at Hunter. His armor is smoking from Bane’s blaster shot and you exhale through your teeth, trying to come up with a plan. You slip off a glove to check Hunter’s pulse–it’s strong. You don’t want to leave Omega alone, even if Bane is unconscious, but you aren’t sure you have a choice.

“Well we can’t carry him to safety, neither of us are strong enough for that,” you think aloud, gears churning in your head. You would have to wait for help, even if you were sitting ducks.

Briefly, you entertain the thought of taking Bane’s ship. The only problem is you don’t know what trackers or other gadgets are in there–it’s too costly of a risk and a price you weren’t willing to pay. You sigh, resigned.

“Omega, you try to comm the others and see if you can wake Hunter up. I’m going to go inside this guy’s ship and see if I can find something that can help us. We have to get out of here before the bounty hunter wakes up,” you instruct and Omega nods, youthful determination flooding back into her eyes.

You leave her to it, walking cautiously towards Bane’s ship. You look down at him. His armor is smoking in two places from the shots you fired. Based on what you see, he’s still unconscious, and his Life Force reflects the same conclusion. How long that would remain, you don’t know. Which means you need to work fast.

You board the ship while you remove the sniper attachments from your blaster and clip them back onto your belt. You keep your guard up as you look around. No droids. Guess that techno-service droid is his one and only.

In an effort to slowly re-familiarize yourself with the Force, you send out a quick pulse through it to see if there are any lifeforms aboard the ship, relaxing when you find none. You rummage through all the cabinets that you discover, looking high and low as you try to locate something of use. The secret compartment in the cockpit proves to be the fruitful reward to your search. With a wave of your hand, you unlock it with ease. Bingo.

Credits. Bags of them. And they’re unmarked creds, which make your score even better. Hopefully, it would be enough to pay off your debt to Cid and give the Havoc Marauder some much-needed upgrades.

Usually, you would feel bad about stealing from someone, but considering this was a bounty hunter – Cad Bane, no less – you figure you can risk treading the grey area of your moral code.

You grab as many bags as you’re able, stuffing them inside your backpack and clipping the rest onto your belt. At this moment, you’re incredibly grateful to Tech and Echo for designing a sturdy utility belt that fits you well. The standard ones were for clones and you definitely were not a clone.

You exit the cockpit and head to the second level of the ship to see if there’s anything else you can find. A stack of crates sits in the corner across from what you assume to be a prison. You scrunch your nose in disgust as you open one to find medical supplies. Bacta patches and gel, vitapaste, rations, water, gloves, sanitary napkins–it was all there. Delighted, you close the crate and click the repulsor to make it levitate. Oh how you love technology.

You turn around and walk back up the stairs to leave the ship. You freeze at the exit ramp. You have got to be karking kidding me.

“Sorry lil’ lady.”

Cad Bane stuns Omega in front of your eyes before rounding on you and immediately fires. In a desperate attempt to save yourself, you throw your hands up and the honeyed power of the Force rushes through every fibre of your being. The blaster bolts slow down to a snail-like crawl and your eyes widen. How did I…?

Never mind how you argue with yourself. Time to get out of here!

You tiptoe around each bolt, the effort of keeping them in stasis becoming more difficult with each passing moment. You grit your teeth as your arms shake, but you keep going until you are finally off the ramp. You lower your arms and the energy hits the inside of the ship, spazzing out the blinking controls inside.

Bane turns to you in surprise, astonished at how you’re suddenly in front of him. You don’t give him the luxury of processing the event and immediately punch him in the face with as much strength as you can muster. Bane pitches backwards and collapses onto the ground, just as he did the first time. You grab your stun blaster and shoot him as extra assurance. You really did not want this to repeat again. Hopefully he never wakes up with a memory of what I just did...

“Now stay down,” you mutter to a knocked out Bane, cradling your now injured hand. You have no idea how Wrecker ever does this because wow your hand is killing you.

You have to say, you’re pretty proud of yourself for being able to render him unconscious not once, but two times. You wish you could tell Anakin–the thought saddens you. He’s probably dead too.

With that vividly cheery thought, you stagger back from the ramp in exhaustion, weary from the sudden surge of the Force still ebbing and coursing through your body.

None of the Bad Batch knew you used to be a Jedi–not even Hunter. It was something only a few of your closest Jedi friends and the Jedi Council knew about.

But after what happened today, with Rex helping your squadmates get their inhibitor chips out, with you finally letting the Force in… maybe it is time to tell them. The secrecy wouldn’t be needed anymore now that you were sure you were safe around your friends. But clearly, the universe wanted to throw a nasty vibroblade in your plans by knocking Hunter and Omega unconscious and having the best kriffing bounty hunter in the galaxy be hot on your heels.

You take a few seconds to get your breath back and regain your mental energy. You aren’t out of the woods yet. You run inside Bane’s ship to grab the crate of medical supplies before sprinting back out towards Hunter and Omega.

You lean down and pat Omega’s cheek gently, trying to wake her up, but she’s out cold. Why is everyone around me unconscious? Frankly, you’re equally amused and terrified by the situation laid out in front of you.

You sigh, looking around to see if you can find some cover. There’s a giant sheet of durasteel to your left, big enough to act as a barrier in case trouble comes knocking. You bend down and pick Omega up before placing her down cautiously, leaning her small body against the metal. You repeat the action with the crate you found.

The third time proves to be much more difficult. Hunter certainly isn’t as muscular as Wrecker, but he sure as sithhell isn’t as light as Omega. You tap your foot nervously, trying to figure out a way for you to lift him. Yes, you could use the Force, but you don’t want to alert the other Force-sensitive on the planet. If they knew about your existence, it could put them in danger, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Giving up, you place your hands underneath Hunter’s armpits and effectively drag him all the way over, propping him up as you did Omega. You cringe at the sound of his armor grating the floor. There are sure to be dirty scuff marks on it now. Sorry Hunter.

Just as you’re about to sit down next to him, heaving deep breaths from the exertion, you pause. A warning is practically blaring in the Force and you tense, urgently trying to figure out the cause.

“Not again,” you mumble under your breath. You can’t handle any more action today. With Hunter and Omega both down, and your extreme fatigue from engaging in the Force, you don’t know how much of a fight you can put up. Not to mention you never trained as a soldier. There was a reason why you left the military planning strategies to the Bad Batch.

You hold your blaster close to your chest as you scan the environment. Bane is immobile and so is the dismantled techno-service droid. So what’s wrong?

Ten nerve-wracking seconds pass before you get your answer. Clone voices waft up to your hiding spot and you bite your cheek in frustration as your head continues to pound. Your headache still hasn’t stopped.

There is no way you can fight them all off, especially if Crosshair is with them. They are too far away for you to get a read on how many there are, and frankly, you’re much too scared to even peek around the durasteel to count.

One of Tech’s previous statements floats through your mind. About three attack shuttles worth.

You can feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest, blood rushing through your ears as anxiety ties your stomach into knots. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, Ican’tdothis.

You take deep breaths, doing your best to clear your mind and focus. You had to do this. There is no other option other than surrendering or dying. No, damnit, you would go down fighting until the Life Force left you.

You peer just past the edge of the metal to see at least twenty clones heading your way. Certainly not ideal, but you bide your time. If you started shooting now, you couldn’t use the element of surprise to your advantage and they would easily overwhelm you. But once they’re close enough, you hope you can at least take a couple out before having to resort to using the Force. It isn’t ideal, but it’s all you have.

Honestly, you don’t know if you could get out of this one alive, much less protect Hunter and Omega too. Maker help me.

It throws you off when they finally come into sight–you see how plain the clones’ armor looked without paint. You never really noticed it before since you were always running for your life in those circumstances. But now that you think about it, you are so used to seeing bright blue or green or yellow that the alabaster white just seems so… odd.

“Looks like a big fight happened here.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. All these men are dead.”

Now.

You whip your body around the metal and immediately begin shooting as fast as you can pull the trigger, trying to make every shot count. The troopers hesitate for just a moment, most likely due to their surprise of you being there. But that second is all you need.

You take out the three men closest to you before jumping back behind the metal as their barrage of fire rains down on you. You do your best to shoot back and manage to take out one more clone, but they’re beginning to gain too much ground too fast. I can do this. I have to do this.

As far as you can tell, Crosshair isn’t with the clones attacking you, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t set up shop somewhere nearby, waiting to shoot you.

You shudder. It’s a chilling thought.

You grab one of your last detonators from your belt and hurl it as far as you can. The rapid beeping rises quickly in pitch before the charge explodes. Anguished cries reverberate throughout the area, and you briefly feel sorry for having to take such drastic measures as you feel their Force signatures dim swiftly. But you don’t have a choice.

Peeking around the corner, you count around eight to ten clones down. Not bad considering the circumstances.

You continue shooting as much as you can but now the troopers are much too close for comfort and you’re feeling overwhelmed. The durasteel you are using for cover isn’t meant to take this kind of damage, and the integrity of your shield is quickly waning as told by the constant creaks and groans. You don’t know what to do. Will we make it?

In your haste of shooting first and panicking later, you don’t notice Hunter groaning, finally waking up. And before you have time to even glance at him, the familiar hum of the Havoc Marauder and its lights shine down on you. Your sag in relief. Looks like Omega was able to comm them after all. Never before have you been so glad to see the beat-up hunk of junk. (You would never say that to Tech though–the Marauder is his baby, his pride and joy.)

Echo, Wrecker, and Tech all race off the ship, guns ablazing. Wrecker and Tech stand guard, serving as cover fire while Echo bends down to help you out.

“Hunter, wake up!” Echo hisses and smacks his helmet lightly. Hunter mumbles in pain as he starts to move, trying to look around as his HUD boots back up. Seriously? Now you wake up? you think sarcastically. But you’re much more relieved at the fact that he has actually woken up.

“What happened? Where’s Omega?” Wrecker bellows, worried.

“She’s right here, I’ve got her!” you shout back at the same time Echo says, “He was shot in the chest plate.”

You pocket your blaster and gather the young girl in your arms with every last bit of strength you have left. You aren’t strong enough to hold her in one arm and shoot with the other. That is much more up Wrecker’s alley.

“We have to get him on board!” Tech exclaims as he helps Echo support Hunter. You pick Omega up in both arms and bolt for the ship as fast as you can while yelling at Tech to grab the crate of supplies.

“Incoming!” Wrecker calls out as a fresh wave of troopers advance towards the six of you. You grunt as you deposit Omega in a chair near the controls before pulling out your blaster and helping Wrecker shoot down the men racing towards you.

“Got him. Tech, fly us out of here!” Echo commands while Wrecker makes a gesture for them to get on the ship faster. Hunter stumbles as he does his best to upright himself.

“Go go go!” Wrecker exclaims. Tech shoves the crate next to Omega’s seat and makes a beeline for the cockpit as you continue shooting, moving to the side to make space for Echo and Hunter to come on board. Wrecker quickly climbs in right after them and the ramp closes shut.

Tech immediately pilots the Havoc Marauder up and away from the scene. You vaguely hear the sound of blaster fire hitting the bottom of the ship while you drop your blaster on the ground and wrench Hunter’s helmet off in a panic. You take his face in your hands as you scan him quickly, trying to figure out if he’s hurt or not.

Hunter bats your hands away. “He... he took Omega,” he says and you shake your head. Wrecker pipes up from behind you to respond.

“Who? Crosshair?”

“The bounty hunter,” Hunter mutters as he rubs a hand over his face. Before Wrecker can answer again, you step in.

“No, he didn’t. I took him down. And no, he’s not dead,” you tack on quickly when you see Echo open his mouth. Echo shakes his head fondly and you just grin at him.

“She’s right here,” Echo says instead, pointing to Omega’s sleeping figure. Hunter turns in surprise to see that his brother is indeed telling the truth.

“How...?” Hunter’s voice trails off. Echo and Wrecker look at you expectantly, and Hunter follows suit. You sigh and take off your helmet, setting it down on the ledge next to the controls. You don’t look at them.

“It’s a long story.”

You don’t have a chance to elaborate any further because Tech walks in, interrupting the conversation.

“I’ve made the jump to hyperspace. There was a cruiser in the atmosphere, but I was able to quietly go past them by disguising our ship as a bounty hunter’s. They didn’t interfere. I put in the coordinates for Ord Mantell. I estimate our time of arrival to be five hours and thirty two minutes,” Tech reports and Hunter nods while you voice your thanks.

“Looks like we got time!” Wrecker says cheerily, pulling out an extra chair. Tech looks to you in confusion.

“Did I miss something significant?” Tech asks, concerned about the information he did not receive as he adjusts his goggles. You shake your head but now, all eyes are back on you.

“She was just about to tell us how she saved Omega,” Hunter supplies helpfully and Tech nods in understanding. He grabs a chair as well and sits down, interested in hearing what you have to say.

You look around the room, realizing you can’t get out of it. You are exhausted and just want to sleep but based on the looks you are getting from the boys, there is no way you can leave without giving a sufficient answer.

You sit down on a chair in between Omega and Echo and begin explaining.

“When the cone fell, it separated. I got knocked out when I hit the ground, but I don’t think I broke anything,” you quickly reassure as Tech grabs a datapad to scan your vitals.

“After I came to, I tried comming Echo, but my commlink was broken – I could only hear bits and pieces of what he said. There were some voices near me so I just followed them and–” you pause, not sure if you should tell them what happened. What you experienced, what you found out. “–I saw Hunter and Omega. The ledge I found was way too high for me to jump to, so I climbed up the side of the wreckage to see them and the bounty hunter facing off,” you say, choosing to leave the detail out. It was too personal. You still needed time.

All of them are listening intently, hanging on to every word you’re saying. Hunter’s gaze on you is heavy and loaded with questions. Tech is still tapping away on the datapad, but you know you have his full attention. Multitasking may not be possible for regular humans, but it definitely was for Tech.

“When I saw the bounty hunter, I knew Hunter wasn’t going to win,” you mumble sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. Hunter winces at your statement and you rush to explain why.

“Hunter, you have to trust that I genuinely don’t doubt your abilities. You are much more of a soldier than I will ever be. But this bounty hunter is one of the best, if not the best in the entire galaxy. He’s gone against the Jedi, and won. Based on what Anakin told me at the beginning of the war, Cad Bane is ruthless. He tortured Master Ropal and killed him. Believe it or not, I think he tried to abduct Chancellor Palpatine. Even Anakin had a difficult time fighting him.”

A tense quiet settles over you all as you mentally revisit your conversation with Anakin, and later with Ahsoka. She told you how it was one of the first times she was genuinely afraid that she was going to die, or at least get hurt very severely.

Echo’s rough voice shakes you out of your reverie. “How do–did you know General Skywalker?” he asks, clearly confused at how you referred to him on a first-name basis. You mentally facepalm yourself. How did I forget he served as part of the 501st? You feel incredibly stupid.

You could make up a lie, of course, but it wouldn’t be worth it. Hunter’s enhanced senses and Tech’s vitals scan could probably pick up on your biological signs, not to mention you would feel terribly guilty about not being honest. I promised myself I would tell them…

You blow out a nervous breath, deciding to at least give them something. They deserved that much.

“I’m–well, I was a Jedi,” you admit, staring down at your feet. You can’t bring yourself to look at them, feeling almost… ashamed.

The boys are shocked into silence and you cringe. There was probably a much better way for you to say that, but now it was out there. Yet the pressure that had been weighing down on you since you let the Force back in didn’t lessen.

“What?” Wrecker questions, thrown completely for a loop. “You’re a Jedi?”

Before you can answer, Tech pipes up. “When I reviewed your medical data, there was no note about an elevated midi-chlorian count or any sort of connection to the Force. Additionally, there is no documentation of you serving as a General or a Commander during the war in the Republic military records. How were you a Jedi? And why aren’t you one now? You used past tense in your sentence,” Tech adjusts his goggles as he attempts to register this new information that conflicted with his previous knowledge.

You sigh, drumming your fingers on your thigh. “I left the Jedi Order before the war ended. I promise I’ll explain everything in detail later, but for now, you have to understand that I’m just a Force-user. I trained as a Jedi, but I’m not a Jedi, not anymore,” you clarify, lifting your head up to make eye contact with each of them.

“Aw man, that’s so cool. You have to show us your cool mind tricks sometime!” Wrecker smiles and you agree to his request. It warms your heart to see him so excited.

“It makes sense. You must have seen the regs turn on the Jedi but didn’t know why. When you started traveling with us, you didn’t know if we would turn on you too, even though we’re not regs,” Hunter realizes, and you nod in affirmation. You’re secretly relieved by the fact that he doesn’t seem angry, just… just thoughtful.

“And then when I saw what happened to Crosshair, I knew I couldn’t risk ever telling any of you. But when Rex told us about the chips…” you trail off.

Echo picks up your sentence quickly. “You figured out you would be safe with us if we got our chips removed. No wonder you were so insistent on following what Rex said.”

You smile at the last part, a bit embarrassed. He wasn’t wrong. You were probably even more insistent than Rex was on telling them to get their inhibitor chips out. Better to be safe than sorry you told them. Though at the time, you hadn’t even thought about how removing their chips would impact you and your abilities. You were too focused on keeping the Force out of your body to entertain that thought.

Wrecker suddenly gets up and gathers you in a bone-crushing hug. “Well you don’t have to worry now! We got those stupid chips out of our heads, which means I promise we won’t kill you!” he says cheerfully and you can’t help but laugh as you hug him back, the knot in your chest beginning to unravel. You could always count on Wrecker’s wonderfully big heart to raise your spirits.

“You’re right, big guy. It’s honestly a relief. One less thing I have to worry about.”

Wrecker lets go of you and you pick up where you left off. “As I was saying, Cad Bane isn’t a bounty hunter we can take lightly. Crosshair helped me re-engineer my blaster to turn it into a pseudo sniper with attachable parts during the war. Because I was so high up, I could get a clear shot of Bane. From that vantage point, I shot him at the same time Hunter and Bane shot each other.”

Echo’s mouth drops open. “Damn.”

“What I didn’t expect was for Hunter to be rendered completely unconscious. So I told Omega to try to comm you guys while I went on Bane’s ship to see if I could find anything. And I did.” You pull off your backpack and dump out the contents. Bags of credits come tumbling out. You unhook the few bags on your belt and toss them into the pile.

“Bane had a secret compartment with a lot of credits. So I took them and that crate I yelled at Tech to get,” you explain as you reach into the bag to show off the Imperial credits.

Tech’s eyes widen as he lifts up a bag to inspect it. “I will have to calculate how much you took and mark it in the inventory, but based on my initial deduction, this may be enough for us to upgrade the Marauder and provide sustenance for at least a few months.”

“Nice one!” Wrecker compliments and you grin in response. “What’s in the crate?” he asks, walking over to lift up the top.

“Medical supplies. We barely had any left so I figured I might as well take that too,” you shrug as Hunter gets up to join Wrecker to peer at the contents.

“What happened after that? You said you told Omega to comm the others, which means she was awake. Did she get hurt while I was out? Is that why you look so exhausted?” Hunter inquires, astute as ever.

You bite your lower lip. “When I was getting off his ship with the goods, he had woken up again. Before I could do anything, he stunned Omega and then immediately shot at me,” you pause, wondering if you should elaborate on how you got out of the situation. You decide to come clean on this part.

“I… I don’t know how, but I was able to stop the blaster bolts and keep them – and Bane – in stasis with the Force. The problem was that it took a lot out of me. After not really using the Force for so long, my energy reserves were pretty much gone,” you sigh, absentmindedly rubbing your arms. Your muscles are still sore from the event.

“After that, I punched him and knocked him out again. I dragged you and Omega away from the ship so that I could protect you, and I ended up using that giant piece of durasteel as cover to fight off those clones. Then you guys came and rescued us and that’s that,” you finish, suddenly fatigued from the conversation. You slump back into your chair, perfect posture be damned.

“Wow,” is all Echo says, surprised by your strength. It took some serious stamina to be able to withstand so much for so long. Echo remembered seeing Commander Tano and General Skywalker be exhausted after some especially intense missions where they constantly had to use the Force.

“Yeah,” you mutter, massaging your dominant hand. It is still throbbing from the mean hook you threw at Bane. You don’t have any regrets. You glance at Omega’s sleeping figure and soften. The things I would do for this girl.

“Looks like I taught you well!” Wrecker laughs and you smile. When you first met the Bad Batch, Wrecker took it upon himself to teach you basic self-defense and how to overtake an opponent intelligently. Even though you already learned how to fight as part of your Jedi and military training, you couldn’t say no to him when he looked so excited. But it paid off because he’s right. Wrecker did teach you well.

“You did. You basically saved my ass out there with your amazing teaching skills,” you chuckle, glancing down at your hand. You think you’ll probably have to cover it in bacta gel to speed up the healing process before having yet another realization. (You seem to be having a lot of those today.)

I can just Force-heal. Before, you couldn’t Force-heal because it would look suspicious if something healed too fast. But now that they know, you don’t have to solely depend on medical supplies anymore.

Tech, as always, is right on cue. “Is your hand alright? For you to render Bane unconscious must have been no easy feat. Not to mention that according to the medscan I just took, you have a mild concussion, most likely due to your fall. I can run a medical diagnostic test to start and then run more specific tests to combat your pain...” Tech mutters the last part to himself, brain running light years faster than his mouth as his fingers fly over the datapad.

You debate it for a moment before nodding. “That would be great, Tech–thanks. But right now, I’m exhausted, so I’m going to go and crash in my bunk. Wake me up if I need to punch someone again,” you joke before shuffling away from your squadmates. You ruffle Omega’s hair affectionately as you pass by her and pick up your blaster from the ground before climbing down the ladder. You don’t notice Hunter’s troubled gaze or how his Force signature sours a bit as you leave.

You quickly clean up and throw on some bacta patches on a few nasty bruises. You sit down on your bed and pull the privacy curtain before deciding to open up your secret compartment next to your mattress. You stare down at the objects, the only things you have left as a reminder of the past. You reach down for one of them, about to touch it when you stop.

You shake your head and shut the drawer. Deciding to finally, finally hit the hay, you’re out like a light as soon as your head hits the pillow. Dealing with the Force and healing yourself could be done later. Not even your constant pain and crippling worry about your family friends could keep you up any longer.

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

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winterscaptain · 4 years ago

Text

balancing out.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: thank you all for your patience this week! i hope you enjoy this one - a few of you have been asking for mom’s route 66 moment. here it is! i’ve got some really fun graphics comin out this weekend, so keep an eye out!

words: 3k warnings: canon typical mentions of injury and death, language

summary: “accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart.” ― marcus aurelius, meditations. au!january 2021

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

Haley’s sitting next to you when you snap to, sitting on a bench in a park. The same park, in fact, down the block from the apartment where you first lived with Aaron and Jack in 2012.

This is the park where Jack learned to play soccer…

You have a feeling that something terrible has happened, that something isn’t right.

“Don’t worry about that, right now,” Haley says, startling you a little. “You’re safe.”

You look at her, finding her surprisingly aged in the time since you last saw her. “Haley? It really is you, isn’t it?”

She smiles at you. “Glad you can still recognize an angel when you see one.” There’s something behind her voice, the glints of her offbeat sense of humor you love so much.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you snort. “You’re not an angel.”

She shrugs with a wry smile. “Maybe not, but then again, maybe none of us are.”

You take a moment to look around, finding the park exactly the same as you left it. Except, you note, you’re the only people there. The playground rests empty of children, curious dogs are absent from the grounds, couples lounging in the grass are nowhere to be found.

Why here? Why now?

All at once, the memory rushes over you.

“Aaron,” you say, struggling for breath. You cough, and something wet crawls up your throat, making you cough again. Something dark lands in spatters across Aaron’s face and the collar of his shirt. You feel the compulsion to brush it away, but one of your arms feels leaden, trapped.

He’s crying. And talking.

“Hang on, baby. Hang on. I’m here.”

All you can say is his name, over and over, as you reach for him with the arm . There’s blood on your hands and part of you realizes you’re dying, probably.

“What happened?” You hear yourself sputter.

Aaron shushes you, brushing a shaky hand over your forehead. “It’s okay. You’re fine. You’re going to be okay. I love you. I’m here. You’re gonna be just fine.”

It sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself rather than you. You don’t mind.

Everything goes dark.

“Haley…” You look over at her again and she grabs your arm, stemming your panic.

She shushes you once, short. “You’re fine.”

Tears pool in your eyes before falling down your cheeks. “I don’t want to die. I’m not ready to go. Aaron, the kids, they - ”

“You’re not going to die,” she assures you, standing and holding her hand out to you. “You’re just spending some time with me for a little while. Is that okay?”

Her small, concerned frown warms you, and you know she’s actually asking. There’s a kind of understanding that she’ll just go away and you’ll be left in the darkness if that’s what you want.

It’s not.

“Yeah,” you reply. “That’s okay.”

“Good.” Her face brightens and you stand. She tucks your hand into the crook of her arm and the two of you begin to walk, the landscape transforming around you.

It doesn't make a lot of sense. You seem to walk through the park, then the apartment where you lived when Isaac was a baby, then the new house in Woodbridge with the twins, then the bullpen, all the way down the block to a house you recognize as Aaron and Haley’s - the big house they bought when they moved to D.C. in ‘98.

The house where she died.

“I have a couple people who really want to see you,” she says, by way of explanation. “I figured it would be easiest to meet here.”

You step up to the porch and into the house, removing your shoes out of habit. There’s no trace of the blood or broken glass from the Foyet altercation. Everything seems in place, right down to Jack’s army men neatly arranged on the living room coffee table.

It even smells the same - the light, floral smell of Haley’s perfume and something you can only describe as Aaron winds through the house, making it feel more lived-in than any time you’d been inside it after the divorce.

“Momma!” A little girl with dark hair streaks across the room and throws herself into your arms.

You catch her and bring her close. She’s probably six years old, maybe a little younger. When she leans back to look at you, you’re met with Aaron’s eyes.

The recognition is immediate and you grin at her. “Hi, baby girl.”

She smiles back at you, a mirror image. “Auntie Haley told me you’d come to visit.”

“Did she?” You look over at Haley, whose fondness for your daughter is open and obvious.

It’s only fair - my fondness for her son knows no bounds.

“Yep. Gramma’s here, too.”

You look around, your baby girl tucking into your chest as best she can given her size. Evelyn steps in from the back porch, closes the sliding door behind her, a glass of wine in her hand just like it would be in life, and smiles at you.

“Good afternoon, sweetheart,” she says, crossing the room to embrace you and press a kiss to your cheek. She and Haley look about the same age, maybe forty or forty-five. Her resemblance to Sean is more obvious in her youth, but Aaron’s still her own personal carbon copy.

You relax into her arms, your daughter squished between your bodies. “Hi, Mom.” On the first inhale, the smell of her detergent washes over you and tears spring into your eyes again. “I miss you.”

She laughs, leaning back to place one hand on your cheek and the other on your daughter’s shoulder. “I miss you, too. How are those girls? And my sweet boys?”

The thought of your family makes you smile and you attempt to push away the fear of leaving them…

Of leaving Aaron a widower again…

Stop.

“They’re perfect.”

Haley huffs from beside you. “Ev, can you please tell someone stubborn that dying isn’t an option here? At least, not right now?”

Evelyn smiles at you. “You’re not going to die, sweetheart. This is just a stopover point so you’re not alone. Aaron had one too, when he was in surgery a few years ago.”

“He told me,” you say, feeling a little more confident. “He told me he talked to Haley.”

“Yeah and I reminded him it’s a good idea to pull his head out of his ass every once in a while.”

You look over at her. “Thanks for that.”

She snorts. “I thought he’d never ask you. It was the least I could do.”

+++

Eventually, you end up on the back porch, sitting in the lawn chairs with the other Hotchner women. Time seems to move differently here, the golden light of the evening hours stretches far beyond what you’re used to, but it's nice. It’s not cold, not too warm, just comfortable.

You hear the gate open and a familiar voice calls, “I thought I might find you here.”

Standing, still keeping your little girl on your hip, you embrace Jenny with your free arm.

Her smile is just as bright and warm as the first day you met her. Your daughter wiggles out of your grip and latches onto Jenny’s slacks.

“Auntie Jenny, did you bring Aunt Shannon with you?”

She shakes her head. “Not today, sweetie. Today is for your momma.”

You take a seat on the arm of Haley’s chair and she snags her finger into your belt loop and says, “It’s almost time to go back.”

You look back at her, a kind of forlorn feeling creeping up in your chest. “Can you come with me?”

With a rueful little smile, she shakes her head. “No. But, I can show you something.”

A screen sort of comes from nowhere, propped like a drive-in movie on the other side of the yard. Foyet’s there, manning the projector. You squint at him and he shoots you a salute and blows Haley a kiss. She catches it with a smile and a fond shake of her head.

By way of explanation, Haley says, “Things are a little different here. If they weren’t different here, they’d be different there.” She points at the screen and you redirect your attention.

Time moves a little differently, but you learn that you’re watching your life unfold as if Haley hadn’t died, as if the most pivotal moment in your life with Aaron hadn’t happened at all.

You see years pass by on the screen - Foyet is eventually caught and killed (by Derek - a surprise). Haley and Jack come home.

Aaron and Haley come to an understanding, and you make up the tripod in their odd little fitful family unit. Aaron moves back into the big house on the river - he’s never there anyways and he sleeps in the room that used to be his office when he is home.

Emily actually dies. That one is another, rather more unpleasant, surprise.

When you look at Haley, she tells you, “Where there is death, there will always be death, eventually. It balances out, one way or another.”

With Haley in the picture, Aaron isn’t as fearless in love as he learned to be with you, doesn’t have as much perspective. He’s riddled with self-doubt and addled with fears of disappointing her, of disappointing you.

You and Aaron dance around each other for years and years and years - it’s almost 2015 before he kisses you for the first time, almost another two years before he finally asks you out, another one before you get married, another one before you have your first child.

Upon seeing him, you can tell he’s not Isaac. He’s a different boy, one that looks more like Aaron than you, who’s remarkably neurotypical, loud, and much scrappier than Isaac.

Jack doesn’t call you ‘Mom’ and you’re not as close.

Things are...wrong.

Well, maybe not wrong, but they aren’t the same. Even with the added joy of having Haley in your lives after the fear and uncertainty, you’re acutely aware that this is the timeline that was warped in some way or another. Everything feels delayed or just off.

You never have the twins or move into the Woodbridge house. Aaron doesn’t close the gap with Sean, who overdoses after a tumultuous battle with his addictions and demons.

There’s a kind of smallness to that life that you don’t have in yours.

The images fade, leaving the blank screen, after what seems like an eternity spent experiencing an alternate reality that you might have wished for if you didn’t know any better.

Haley tugs on your belt loop. “See? Couldn’t stay, can’t go back. The life you have is the best one that exists. And,” she adds with another little wry smile, “the only one you’ve got.”

Jenny places her hand on your shoulder, your daughter still stuck to her leg like glue. “You’re not done yet.”

“And,” Haley adds, “you have another surprise coming next year - around August.”

At your squint, she continues with a little smile.

“I’m not going to tell you, so you’ll have to stick around and find out.” She winks. “Thank me later.”

When she stands, you follow Haley to the front porch. The rest follow behind you like a little band of ducklings. Even Foyet, who could be an unwelcome interloper, seems like a member of the family. Evelyn passes him a glass of iced tea when she settles in the doorway.

It’s kind of funny, if you’re honest.

“Aaron and Jack will be there when you wake up. Jessica has the little ones at home.” Haley holds your hands as she speaks, swinging them back and forth a little. “You’re…” She sighs, “really hurt. Like, really really hurt. You’re gonna be out of work for a little while, and your lung capacity will be pretty fucked...forever. You’ll be able to do everything, but you’ll need to take more breaks than you’re used to.”

Your lower lip disappears into your mouth. “How’s Aaron?”

“Terrified.”

+++

Aaron sits by your bedside holding your hand, watches the way your chest mechanically rises and falls with the ventilator. They intubated you right away to give your lung the space it needed to heal, but all he wanted was to hear your voice before they put you under, just one more time.

It’s been a wretched three days. Your surgery seemed to stretch on forever, digging the bullet out of your chest, repairing the gunshot wound that shattered four ribs and perforated your left lung in six places.

After surgery, you coded after your lung collapsed again due to a pulmonary embolism. That little incident sent you right back to surgery and Aaron’s blood pressure to the stratosphere.

Since then, you’ve been stable, quiet, and, in the doctor’s words, “lucky to be alive.”

He can still feel the blood you coughed up running over his fingers and landing on his face, the shallow heaving of your breath under his hands.

Images of Haley and Kate and Emily flashed before his eyes as he tried to hold you together - horrible, horrible reminders.

Would he lose you in the field, like Emily?

Would he lose you in surgery, like Kate?

Would he be too late, like Haley?

Selfishly, the thought of playing the part of a single parent to four young children scared the hell out of him. The twins were hardly two and a half, Isaac almost five. Jack…

He really hoped he wouldn’t have to hold Jack’s hand as he delivered another eulogy for another person he called ‘Mom.’

If he was a single parent again, he would be tasked with raising three more children who wouldn’t know their mother - wouldn’t remember you after some time.

Just like Jack with Haley.

He was terrified of becoming a shell of a man without you, leaving his children practically orphaned overnight.

Sitting in the waiting room during your first surgery, he decided that he’d quit. He’d take whatever the bureau offered and quit for the sake of his children, for the sake of Jack and Isaac and Caroline and Sophia. He wouldn’t let them lose another parent to the field, to the relentless pursuit of evil.

Now, beside you, he holds your hand and talks to you as much as he can, knowing all the while you can’t hear him.

+++

“I love him, Haley.”

She grins at you while Foyet rolls his eyes. “I know you do.” Pausing as if to think for a moment, she adds, “When you wake up, don’t panic. You’re intubated. It’s...” Her head wavers back and forth a little as she searches for words. “...Unnerving. And uncomfortable. But you’re tough.”

She kisses your cheek, Evelyn and Jenny give you a hug, and Foyet kisses your hand.

“Say hi to big man Aaron for me, will ya?” He asks.

You snort and shake your head. “Gimme a break.”

He shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

+++

Your eyes snap open and you see the ceiling before anything else. Remembering what Haley said, you try to ignore the deeply uncomfortable pressure in your throat, chest, and mouth as you squeeze Aaron’s hand. Jack’s asleep, his long legs curled up like a little spider in the little corner chair.

Aaron meets your eyes and immediately reaches for the call button, assuring you, “You’re alright. You’re intubated, honey. Don’t try to talk. Just a second, I promise.”

The nurse arrives and takes care of your ventilator. You take it like a champ, mostly to avoid scaring Aaron any further. Your voice is raspy and worn when you speak.

“Hey.”

He takes a shaky breath. “You scared the hell out of me.”

A little chuckle leaves you and you cough once. It hurts. “Did you think you could get rid of me that easily?”

“That easily,” he scoffs, reaching for a lidded cup of water with a straw. “Your left lung practically exploded. You think that’s easy?”

You take the cup of water, pulling small sips. It instantly soothes your throat and you latently realize you have a feeding tube winding its way up your nose and down your throat.

That’s a problem for another time.

“Easy enough. You were stabbed multiple times - I hardly think one-upmanship is useful here.”

Your humor has the intended effect. His shoulders relax and he leans over, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Before you ask,” you tell him, “I feel like hell.”

“Yeah I bet.” There’s a little laugh in it.

“I saw Haley, though. And our little girl. She’s almost six now.”

Aaron perches on the edge of your bed, still holding your hand. “Tell me about her.”

You do, as best you can remember. Things are disappearing from your memory, but you cling to the important bits. You tell him what you saw, how life would be different if Haley had lived, the way you two talked about him, the way his daughter fits seamlessly into the lives of those they’ve lost.

“So she’s alright.”

You nod. “She’s perfect. Haley’s taking excellent care of her, of course.”

“Only fair,” he says.

“My thoughts exactly.”

+++

You’re in and out of sleep, but eventually, they remove the feeding tube and let you sit up to eat some bland pasta with some juice. It’s the best meal you’ve had in what feels like years.

Jack sits on your good side, tucked under your arm and drinking all your cranberry juice and showing you the new games Dave got him on his Nintendo DS. The girls sit at your feet, playing with some blocks Aaron brought them. They’re attempting to stack them on your shins to no avail.

Isaac’s sleeping against your chest. It hurts to breathe with him there, but you don’t want him anywhere else.

It’s Aaron’s turn to sleep. He’s got untouched files on the little table beside the chair, just as he usually does. Maybe one day he’ll give up trying to pretend to do work with one of the team hospitalized.

Haley’s right. This is the life you’re supposed to have.

+++

tagging: @quillvine @stxrryspencer @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @jdougl-love @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @jeor @roses-and-grasses @word-scribbless @bwbatta @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @joanofarkansass @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @ssahotchnerr @this-broken-band-girl @winqhster @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @the-falling-in-the-danger @crazyshannonigans @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @kerrswriting @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @baumarvel @kerrswriting @messyhairday-me @ssworldofsw @deagibs @moonshinerbynight @jhiddles03 @teamhappyme @mendesmelodies @starsandasteroids @unicorn-bitch @ambicaos

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years ago

Note

Heyo, reporting back to request a continuation of a continuation of a continuation, if you wouldn't mind! Aka, please more 3rd Life Villainpulse angst, I'm so invested (and very curious as to whether his latest murder attempt was an actual success, or if he really should have stuck around to verify the death...)

i genuinely rly love this! i’ve got such plans for it now that i think i’ll make it into an actual proper fic.

i’ve also now posted it on AO3, titled Stand For Nothing! link here

…

Impulse is getting concerned. It’s been over five minutes and no death message in chat. It should’ve happened by now. He had been worried about being found near the scene of a death — it’d already been about five minutes since the meeting and someone would’ve gone to find Skizz, so his items would almost certainly be found — but now he’s starting to think he should have stuck around anyway and made sure the job was finished.

He had been intending to stay here at his villager trading centre until the death notification came up and then he would run back to Dogwarts and play the distressed best friend.

But no death message. So his plan has to change.

When he makes it back to Dogwarts, he finds Ren standing outside the Renchanting building, his face pale. When he spots Impulse, he quickly beckons him. “Impulse! For the love of god, where’ve you been?!”

Impulse blinks. With no death message in chat, what can Ren be so worked up about? “W-What? What’s happened…?”

“Skizzle’s been attacked! We heard an explosion outside our walls and when we went to check, we found him out there, passed out. He’s in a critical condition but Martyn’s with him now and hopefully he’ll recover.”

Impulse can only stare at Ren with an open mouth and a pit in his stomach. Somehow, in all the possible outcomes he pictured for this scenario, he never imagined Dogwarts would actually find Skizz alive. After three perfect murders, it seems he got careless.

“O-Oh my god,” he manages to choke out. “C-Can I see him?”

“Not yet, but Martyn will tell us when we can.”

Ren takes him down into the living area under Renchanting. There, Etho is pacing back and forth in front of a closed door, clearly deep in thought, but he glances up as Ren comes in. “Ren, you found him.”

Ren nods, even though it wasn’t really a question. “Any word?”

“Not yet. Martyn has three healing potions in there with him though, so I’d say Skizz’s chances are really good.”

Impulse has to strain to keep his expression steady at that. “G-Good. That’s good.”

Something changes almost imperceptibly in Etho’s expression, but Ren, clearly not noticing, rubs Impulse’s back reassuringly. “He’ll be okay, Impulse. Don’t worry.”

All Impulse can do is nod, not trusting himself to speak.

Finally, after what feels like hours, the door opens and Martyn appears, his body blocking the view inside the room. “He’s awake,” he reports, a very serious look on his face. “Ren.”

Ren quickly ducks into the room, but when Impulse starts to follow, Martyn blocks him. “Not you,” he says coldly. “Etho, stay with him, please.”

Impulse’s heart freezes. There’s only one reason Martyn would stop him from seeing his injured best friend.

Skizz has told him everything.

He takes a step back and bumps into something behind him, causing him to jump.

“What’s going on, Impulse?” asks Etho casually, an only-just-discernible undertone of danger in his voice. “You seem a little tense.”

“My best friend almost died,” Impulse replies coldly, but even he can tell his words are unconvincing.

“Indeed. I wonder how that happened?”

“I don’t like what you’re implying, Etho. Why would you have any reason to suspect me?”

Etho just folds his arms and says nothing, infuriating Impulse. “You said I was the only person on this server you really trust!”

“That was before I joined these guys. I’ve had a weird feeling in my stomach about you for a while, Impulse. Something hasn’t felt right since this whole thing started, but I assumed it was just me trying to apply rationality to this irrational world. But one thing never changes, Impulse. No matter how much you try to change it.”

Impulse falls silent, scowling at the ground. He’s already given away too much in his tone and expression.

He glances sideways at Etho, who has his eyes fixed on the door Ren and Martyn went through. Realisation dawns on him: Etho isn’t expecting him to put up a fight. Etho thinks he has nowhere to go.

Now is the time, then. He can’t afford to wait any longer; when Ren and Martyn come back out here, it’s over. Impulse knows he can’t take on three people at once. This is his last chance to escape alive.

So when Etho shifts position a few seconds later, Impulse strikes. Before he can react, Impulse sweeps Etho’s legs out from under him and shoves him into the wall as he’s falling. Without waiting around to see the result of his attack, Impulse takes off running.

He makes it out of Renchanting and is just about to run down the hill towards the crastle when an arrow whizzes by him, nicking the sleeve of his t-shirt and causing him to lose his balance. Suppressing a scream, Impulse topples down the hill and lands in the shallow river at the bottom. He tries to continue onward but has to stop as he puts weight on his left foot and realises he must have twisted his ankle during his fall.

Gritting his teeth through the throbbing pain, he looks up in time to be able to dodge another arrow fired at him by the figure on top of Dogwarts’s wall.

He has to keep going.

Every step on his left foot is agony but he pushes himself on, half-galloping down the hill on the other side, the crastle in his sights.

“Bdubs!” he shrieks as he draws near, his heart racing. The Red Army is likely right behind him. “BDUBS!”

The person he’s calling rushes out of the castle over the drawbridge just in time to catch Impulse as he finally loses his balance and pitches forward.

“Impulse! You’re soaking wet!? What the-?!”

“Th- They’re coming for me,” he croaks. His eyes flicker up and he spots two faces in the windows on the second floor. It’s time for the performance of his life. “Dogwarts turned on me! They think I killed Tango and Cleo a-a-and made you kill Joel!”

“What?!” gasps Bdubs. “That’s ridiculous! Why would they think that?!”

“I-I don’t know but th- They’re gonna kill me, Bdubs…!”

“Not on my watch!”

Bdubs quickly ushers Impulse inside the crastle and into the waiting arms of Jimmy. Together, the two guide Impulse upstairs and lay him down in the bed Grian has placed in a position safely away from the slit windows.

“What happened, Impulse?” Bdubs asks softly. “How did they turn on you?”

Impulse takes a shaky breath. “Something happened to Skizz. He… He got attacked. Then he told everyone it was me and that I’d killed Tango and Cleo and manipulated you into killing Joel.”

“First of all, that’s utterly ridiculous,” Bdubs snaps. “I killed Joel because he was about to kill you. And second, why on earth would you want to kill Tango or Cleo?”

“I-I think you might’ve been right, Bdubs. I th-think Etho was responsible for Cleo’s death. And now he’s got Dogwarts trying to make me a scapegoat.”

Bdubs’s gaze darkens. “Despicable little-.”

“BDOUBLEO!”

“Stay there,” says Bdubs.

He strides to the window, flanked by Grian and Scott, armed with his crossbow. “What do you want, Ren?”

Down on the ground, having left Skizz in the care of BigB, stand Ren, Martyn, and Etho, staring up at the castle. The latter two hold bows, while Ren is armed with a sword and shield.

“We know Impulse is hiding out in there,” Ren announces, with the regal but dangerous air of a king. “Hand him over to us, Bdubs.”

“No way in hell,” Bdubs snaps back. “He told me everything!”

“We can guarantee you he did not,” responds Martyn steadily. “Not the truth, anyway. He’s using you, Bdubs.”

“YOU’re the ones using HIM! As a scapegoat!”

“Impulse isn’t the angel you think he is, Bdubs,” Etho says darkly. “You’re protecting the person who killed Cleo.”

“No, YOU killed Cleo,” snarls Bdubs. “And I bet you killed Tango too and tried to blame it on me! You’re just trying to frame anyone you can so you can get away with it!”

Despite the pain and stress he’s experiencing, Impulse can’t help feeling proud of himself. The seeds of doubt and suspicion he’s sown between Bdubs and Etho are paying off now.

“Bdubs.” Ren’s voice drops slightly as emotion creeps into his tone. “He attacked his best friend and left him to die. If we hadn’t found him in time, Skizz would have succumbed to his injuries alone and terrified in the middle of nowhere, murdered by his own best friend.”

“What exactly is Impulse’s motive supposed to be, here?” Scott asks suddenly. “You say he killed Tango and Cleo, orchestrated Joel’s death, and tried to murder Skizzle. Why exactly would he want to do that?”

“Skizz claims Impulse said it was because Tango “knew too much” about something,” Martyn says. “Some kind of secret that Impulse is keeping. And that Cleo’s and Joel’s deaths were “necessary to push the war forward”. That’s his motive, Scott. Impulse wants war, and he doesn’t care who he hurts to get it.”

“We ARE talking about the same Impulse, right?” demands Bdubs. “Our Impulse? The sweetheart who wouldn’t hurt a fly? Are we sure Skizz didn’t just misremember? He's a little unreliable like that. Maybe he said it was someone else who-.”

“Don’t you dare!” Martyn bursts out suddenly, his voice filled with the most venom anyone had ever heard it. “Don’t you DARE say that! You weren’t there, Bdubs! You didn’t have to fix his broken ribs and his fractured neck and his shattered arm! You weren’t there when he finally woke up after several minutes of crying out and panicked breathing like he was having a nightmare! You didn’t hear the way he cried, how terrified he was when he told me what happened, the raw agony in his voice! That’s not the demeanor of someone who MISREMEMBERED! Skizz has gone through hell today and it’s all Impulse’s fault! So I’m not leaving here without his head, in one form or another!”

“YEAH!” Ren yells in agreement, hitting his sword against his shield. “No more arguments. No more wasting time. If you don’t give us Impulse right NOW, we will declare war on you and take him by force.”

Inside the crastle, Impulse’s heart skips a beat. This is it: the moment of truth. Either everything he’s been working towards will finally come to fruition… or Bdubs will hand him over and he will die.

Bdubs straightens up, a steely look of determination appearing in his eyes.

“Then consider us at war.”

#3rdlifesmp #3rd life smp #impulsesv #bdubs #rendog #skizzleman #etho #vaunna’s requests

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lvlyhao · 4 years ago

Text

『127′s ideal type』

headcanons, NCT 127

A/N: je suis back~ in these headcanons i talk about the type of person i imagine each member with, along with some of the traits i think they wouldn’t be too fond of. i did NOT include physical traits (ex: “would like a short/tall/blonde s/o”) because i really don’t know them??? lmao also that kind of thing could be a bit damaging to someone’s self esteem, and i want yall to know ur perfect & beautiful so

mark and hyuck will be included in dream’s version of this, and sicheng will be in wayv’s :)

today’s gif theme is just random gifs i like bc idc, there’s no aesthetic

as always, this is gender-neutral

IF YOU LIKE MY WORK PLEASE REBLOG IT AS WELL AS LIKING IT T^T

𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮𝓼: fluff (♡) and if you squint really hard angst (❆) bc of some REALLY small things that for me are not actual angst but oh well

𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: i think none?? if you read this and find something you think should be here let me know please!!!

word count: 1.5K

pairing: nct 127 members x reader (includes taeil, taeyong, johnny, yuta, doyoung, jaehyun, jungwoo)

disclaimer: the characters in the story below do not reflect real people or present real facts. this is purely fictional, and you may not copy, change, translate or repost my work in any way. all rights reserved © cherry-hyejin 2021.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Taeil

I see Taeil getting with someone who’s not only mature (personality-wise, actual age doesn’t matter) but also very determined and decisive. He’d like a person that doesn’t change their mind about things too often, learns well from their mistakes and is just all-around balanced. Other traits that I think he’d look for: politeness, a MUST; grounded; good at giving advice. Pretty much a twin-flame of his.

I think he’d find it cute if they think in a detail-oriented way and appreciate the small things in life. A positive, grateful mentality would be SO attractive to him, I swear.

One of his deal breakers would most likely be excessive jealousy and possessiveness. He trusts you and your love for him, and I think he’d feel distraught if you were constantly questioning the relationships he has with other people (friends, co-workers, fans, etc.)

Last important thing: needs a person that can take a hit. He’s probably looking for someone he can spend the rest of his days with, so a quitter just isn’t good for that. There will be difficult moments in the future and he needs to know they won’t give up on him and on the life he chose.

Taeyong

I think Taeyong would like a calm person that knows how to take control of the relationship. He probably feels tired sometimes from leading a group of 23 people, so I can imagine he’d be thrilled if he was able to not worry at all when he’s around his partner. He trusts they’re capable of dealing with any problems that may arise and keep their feet on the ground. Bonus points if they have a good relationship with themselves.

By that I mean: you know how people say you can’t truly love others until you love yourself? Yeah, that. He’s a person like any other, and there are times when he struggles with self-love, but he needs someone that doesn’t hate themselves, or he’ll simply go crazy. With his career come so many rumours and moments that tear at his confidence… he just doesn’t need a person that has to be convinced every single day that they’re worthy of the good things in life.

I’d say, in general, all he asks for is someone that can watch out for themselves. He’d take care of them too, but he’d like it SO much if just for once in his life he’s the one being cared for. Would just melt on the spot if you have that caring, almost parental instinct in you. Gods, yes. That’s all I can say.

Johnny

I can see him being with a very bright, smart person. He’d like someone that comes from a different background so he could learn more about their life—whether that means the country they were born in or their field of work. I think he would appreciate a very laid back person that doesn’t get stressed too often and won’t make fun of him for his bad jokes. Also, doesn’t like people that try to play him. Honesty above all.

He’d like it if they are super curious and creative, too. Picking up new hobbies and interests is something he’d be up to anytime, and it doesn’t matter what it is either. He’d give anything a try—from knitting to marine biology, no questions asked.

Something he’d dislike is if the person is too materialistic. It’s not like he’s a completely spiritual being and lives with 0 detachments to objects but he’s a firm believer in what Antoine de Saint-Exupéry said: what is essential is invisible to the eye. And, you know, what you truly find essential is up to you; it can mean family, friends, love, hope, all of that… he just wants you to love life itself as much as he does.

Yuta

He’d probably like one of the two drastic variants: a very gentle, sweet person or someone who’s on his level of flirtatiousness and boldness. Wouldn’t mind any, but he needs a strong personality, either way, you know? No blandness here.

Something very attractive to him is being involved in social issues and caring for the world around you. Very sexc, yes, and also likes people that make others smile.

Something that would make him quite literally give up on someone is the excessive fear of change, or just the will to remain in their comfort zone at all costs. He earns for a person that wants to live life to its fullest. If not they’re not ride-or-die to that level, then he hopes they at least accompany and support him in all of the things he wants to do.

One thing that is very tied to that is his dislike for know-it-alls. He lives in such a diverse scenario that it’s just dumb for him to think someone would ever be capable of knowing every piece of information on everything that’s out there. He’s fine with people making mistakes, but if they can’t admit to that or admit they don’t know something he just gets pissed off. So, yeah, he’d avoid stuck-ups.

Doyoung

He’d like someone very loyal and fair, who treats people with respect but calls them out if they ever have to. I think he’d prefer a person that is naturally a deep thinker and wouldn’t lose their mind over small disagreements.

Much like Johnny, he likes that intellectual side of yours, and when I say that I don’t mean like “ah, he’d want to date a math genius” or something. No, no. I’m referring to all types of intellectuality and intelligence. The thing for him is simply using your brain and being proud of it. He would just dislike a person that kind of lives life on autopilot, you know?

He’d like it if they’re interested or professionally involved with music somehow and would consider their opinions in his career. He wouldn’t mind if their taste is hugely different from his, though. It’s alright if pop music is not your favourite or if you have no idea who EXO is (lol). All he wants is to see the world through your eyes too, in all aspects of life including this one.

Will also love you forever if you side with him when he’s being teased by the others, because, c’mon, it’s always 22 people against poor, defenceless Doyoung. Please don’t join them, he’s begging you—

Jaehyun

This is very, very clear to me but he needs to be with an independent person. He’s quite sentimental and he has his more romantic moments, sure, but he wants someone that can give him the space he needs when he needs it. A person that’s constantly begging him for attention would be way more of a burden than anything else.

Also, he’s 100% alright with someone that has a very explicit and loud love language (like saying “I love you” 300 times a day) but he’s not like that, and he needs them to see that. Jaehyun could NOT be with a person that doesn’t appreciate the love he shows in the little things, like making coffee in the morning, and if they ever question the way he feels… yeah, not good. He’d feel misunderstood and that’s a big no-no.

He’d find it cute if they’re bubbly or just very youthful but is also capable of falling for an old soul that shares his interests in things like classical music and vinyls. I don’t think he’d ever get with someone that's kind of a tech addict, though, idk why but that’s quite clear to me. Always being on your phone or caring too much about social media would probably make him feel like you’re not grateful for the things you have around you, in real life. So, yeah, not attractive, bestie.

Jungwoo

Jungwoo is a very, very, very sweet person and he needs someone who’s also like that. He wouldn’t care if that’s there for everyone to see, in the sense that they’re not shy about it, or if it’s a part of them that only a couple of close people know. As long as it’s there, he’s happy.

Aside from that, I think he’s fully capable of falling in love with quite literally anyone. He can see the beauty in all types of people, from all places, backgrounds, races, and just—anyone. He’s just so full of love for people, ah I can’t even. He’s too good for this world.

Some things that could, however, push him away from getting to know someone: a negative way of thinking, being too traditionalistic, and too much scepticism. He’s fine with people that like to honour the past and their roots but like, you’ve gotta keep up with the world you live in and accept that things change. I think that’s very tied to how much he likes defying masculine standards, too.

The scepticism thing is quite simple: he can handle teasing just fine but if they’re constantly making fun of him for wearing his heart on his sleeve or being a bit goofy, he’d feel kind of betrayed.

---

final notes: this is the 3rd nct work i’m posting here and i’m already writing more, so i think it’s time i set up a masterlist, a fic rec blog and a tag list. if you want to be tagged in my future fics, let me know (dm, comments, anything) :)

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bang-fantansies · 4 years ago

Text

Yandere! God Profile - Taehyung

Human Amongst Gods [TEASER] - upcoming fic

Warnings: Suicidal! Taehyung, suicide attempt, mentions of anxiety, mentions of emotional numbness, mentions of death, mentions of afterlife, extreme isolation and loneliness, mythical creatures (imps).

I did my best to include any triggering topics mentioned in this post, but if you see any more potentially sensitive topics I may have missed, please let me know!

This does not represent Bangtan as people or a business, nor does it represent anyone/anything associated with them. This is purely fictional and was made for entertainment purposes only; not to slander anyone or any company.

Name: Kim Taehyung Occupation: God of Death

Taehyung had never had a life, so to speak.

On the contrary, he’d only ever known the fringes of it - the last whisper it would emit before being snuffed out. By him.

So was his purpose as he was hailed as the God of Death.

A title that comes with great power, Taehyung would soon discover.

But with such great power comes an even greater loneliness.

After all, most other gods from galaxies over knew of his reputation, and how to stay away from him if they wished to avoid an untimely death at the simple touch of his hands.

The same for mortals, he’d found.

Day in and day out, he’d sit at the sides of thousands of mortals, watching their soul drain from their body and take his arm as he guided them to their destination.

And every time he did so, he’d feel a sense of malice spike in the back of his mind.

He knew that mortals were released from their duty to wander the Universe a lost soul.

So why not him?

Or, at least, a companion to travel without him: to smile at him without fear in their eyes, to touch him without their body trembling.

But such a fantasy had never come to pass.

Not yet, at least.

And after being exiled from most areas of the Universe for all his life, Taehyung had accepted his fate as a dealer of death. The responsibility of cataloguing and distributing death throughout the Universe was a mighty job, after all.

So much so that he’d employed underlings - impish little beings - to bear the brunt of the work for him.

To release and record all the souls they’d freed that day.

And when all was said and done and his office imps went home for the day, he realised something.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

Even his subordinates had families and homes to go to, but he had nothing.

He just existed for the convenience of the Universe - to maintain the balance that allowed it to live on.

And so here he stood - before a window of a wall overlooking an empty planet he inhabited and used for his work.

The land was filled with office buildings identical to his own, stretching as far as the eye could see; a field of concrete.

Each building housed a thousand or so imps, all working to keep up with the ever-increasing demand of death records that required filing and uploading to the System.

And Taehyung looked upon them as he would his own children.

They were the only company he had. And even then his workers had never actually seen him, for he spent his days cooped up in his office or out harvesting lives.

This was for their benefit, of course. Hellish creatures like them were not immune to Taehyung’s touch.

No-one was.

Taehyung’s reflection gazed back at him, the buildings taking a backseat as it came to focus on the stranger before him.

With so little experience and so little identity, would the Universe really collapse without his effort?

Would anything change if he were to...disappear?

Taehyung oftentimes found himself wondering such a concept in the few spare minutes the day held for him, but before a decision could come to fruition, he was called say to a far-off galaxy to harvest the lives of the ready-to-depart.

Taehyung bit his lip and glanced back into the confines of his office.

Red carpet, four walls of sheer darkness, all glass yet revealing nothing but darkness.

There were no achievements to be held on shelves or written in history books.

The only thing to be written in books about Taehyung were the deaths he’d orchestrated and recorded himself.

He literally had nothing to show for his life, despite having existed for many thousands of years.

Taehyung stuck one hand in a pocket of his suit, raising his other before the glass and making a swiping motion before it.

The glass vanished, simply fading from existence, allowing the frozen winds of Taehyung’s planet to invade the office.

Eyes half-lidded, taehyung peered over the edge.

Nothing but a straight drop for miles.

Taehyung knew what death entailed for mortals, but for gods, he had no idea.

No god had ever shown signs of having reached another place after death, which was a good incentive for other gods to avoid Taehyung.

The fear of the unknown bound them to their current existence, making them claw at any chance of survival they could reach when faced with dire circumstances.

With this in mind, Taehyung continued to lean over the ledge, gazing down into the pits of the desolate city.

The promises of the cycle of isolation his life had been urged him further.

He took a step forward, tips of his shoes peaking over the ledge.

He could feel the cold intensely, for it pierced his jacket, almost as if trying to push him back into his office.

“You had your chance. Now I get to decide who lives and who dies.”

His voice was carried by the wind, the high altitude ensuring that the message would reach no-one, to become a mere footnote in the grand scheme of things.

A final word to those that had pushed him away - forced him into his own corner and expected him to survive.

A particularly harsh blast of wind made him wobble, though he made an effort to try and keep his balance.

The numbness that came with his profession was lightly pierced by doubt, a flash of anxiety.

The most primal part of him knew this wasn’t the answer to his problems. With any luck, he’d simply become part of the darkness from which he had been plucked to begin with if he actually went through with this.

But even that had to be better than a lifetime of isolation, right?

On shaky legs, Taehyung inched over the edge, keeping his heels firmly planted in the carpet of his office.

He willed his eyes shut, the combination of the iced winds and the anticipation of falling made them flicker - fight - to stay open.

“It’s all over now,” he promised. “No need to fear.”

His own assurances eased his nerves, giving him the last push he’d need to right the wrongs his existence had brought.

The world slowed, Taehyung forcing a leg forwards to hover over the edge.

The frost nipped at his exposed skin as the leg of his trousers could do little to battle the winds.

His balance loosened, causing him to sway back and forth with the grace of an antique rocking horse.

He was so close to freedom.

He could feel himself lighten as the weight of worlds dropped from his shoulders.

But solice was not meant for him.

Not like this.

Behind him, his phone chimed.

It was not the same sound he’d hear when he was notified of another death.

No, this was the unfamiliar tinkling of a bell: a stark contrast to the melancholy hum he’d installed when he was to be called to work.

His ears pricked, so finely tuned to the sound of a knell that this fresh noise frightened him, almost tipping him over the edge.

A quiet part of him begged him to check what it was - anything to get away from the ledge.

The much larger, number half barked at him to hold his ground, stick to his guns and just get this whole ordeal over with.

He knew who to listen to - he knew when he saw the notification he’d find a reason not to carry out his plan.

And despite knowing nothing of the notification or its nature, Taehyung hesitated.

It would be a shame to die a curious man, he thought.

Besides, it was probably nothing important. Then he could spend an eternity in peace without wondering what this sound could mean.

Taehyung brought his leg back in, stumbling away from the ledge.

The prick of anxiety he’d experienced before quietened yet stayed at his side, an accomplice to his survival.

He left the window open, however.

Sighing, he shuffled over to his desk - a deep and dark mahogany - and died his phone lying dead-centre.

With Taehyung’s presence near, thy e screen aprung to action, displaying a notification.

It was a message. Sent from an unknown number.

Taehyung arched an eyebrow and brought the phone close to his face, unlocking it and opening his messages.

His contact list was barren save for this mystery caller.

Aware of this, he had adopted the presumption that it was a nuisance caller.

Though who dared to play jokes on such a deadly force as himself, Taehyung had no idea who would have the balls to even come up with such an idea.

And he checked.

He wanted to know who had jested him before his demise.

The message was blunt, void of courtesy, yet held a string of salvation for Taehyung.

There is another way.

Taehyung glanced over his shoulder and out to the sea of buildings .

Had someone seen him?

It wouldn’t be a surprise considering some of the imps were bound to still be at work, though Taehyung’s office was so far above the clouds that he’d assumed no-one would have spotted him.

I can only hope that I’m not too late.

I can help you.

Attached to the second message was a picture of a woman, a halo hanging above her head like a target.

Taehyung’s eyes widened, his breath short.

Pale fingers fumbled for his tie, pulling it loose while he observed the picture further.

He knew that halo.

He’d seen only one other like it in his many thousands of years of life, and even then it wasn’t glowing with life.

It had been while he was visiting a museum dedicated to gods past, and such a relic had appeared in a heavily-guarded display case.

Without its owner to wear it, it was neither as vibrant nor as beautiful as it lay on a satin pillow, merely resembling a circle of bone rather than an ethereal object.

But it’s brilliance enraptured him all the same.

He’d believed it a fable - a legend created to keep him tame and willing to do his job.

A legend of a soul who could withstand Taehyung’s killing touch.

And here he was, seeing it for a second time, in action.

Interested?

Taehyung found himself pausing.

This could just be a trick, he told himself.

But...what if it wasn’t fake?

He requested proof that the image was real.

The response was clear cut and blunt.

I can take you to her.

Taehyung glanced over his shoulder again, paranoia projecting shadows in the corners of his vision.

Still, nothing but the open window.

He glanced back down at his phone.

What did he have to lose?

All right.

Take me to her.

I will. The stranger typed.

But first, I need you to do something for me.

I don’t own the pictures used in the moodboard, but I edited the moodboard myself.

#bts #bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #taehyung #taehyung x reader #yandere taehyung #yandere taehyung x reader #kth #kim taehyung

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ally22042000 · 4 years ago

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BTS Reaction: Someone breaking into your house

Hey. I hope you enjoy this one, it’s been in my drafts for a year 😊 It is my first fic/reaction. I am sorry for any spelling and grammer mistakes.

Fluff, Angst, Smut (Just a little)

Kim Seokjin

The both of you were on your way home from dinner. The past few weeks had been very stressful for the both of you. Jin had a comeback coming his way and you had multiple deadlines to reach. So, the both of you though it was time to give yourselves a break and go out for some couple quality time. It wasn’t until Jin had parked the car in front of your house, noticing the light that was shining trough the curtains, that you got that weird feeling in your stomach telling you something was wrong.

“Die we leave the lights on?” you questioned, interrupting him mid-sentence. Jin’s brows furrowed, trying to remember how the house looked when you left.

“Stay in the car” was all he said, before he opened his door and made his way to your front door. You watched has he climbed the three little steps in front of your door, before he pushed at it slightly, the wood instantly sliding back. It wasn’t locked. Shocked you follow Jin’s frame with your eyes, which was disappearing in your house. Holding your breath, you waited for what was going to happen next. Another light was flicked on, before a person came bolting outside, running down the little steps. Whoever that person was, definitely wasn’t smart. Slipping on the ice that covered the floor, he fell, hitting his head, knocking himself out. You opened the door, sliding out of you seat and running over to the man laying unconscious on the ground. Jin followed soon, standing in the door way with a frying pan in his hand, ready to swing.

“Is he dead?” was the first thing the idol asked. You threw a glare at him before descending your fingers to the pulse point of the man. Shaking your head as soon as you felt a pulse.

“I bet you’re happy now that I didn’t put salt on the steps this morning when you told me to.” If you weren’t still shocked form the events that just happened you would have thrown your shoe at him, wiping of that stupid smile of his. But you settled for another glare before calling the police.

Min Yoongi

It was 10:32 pm when Yoongi finished the last thing on his To-Do list for the day. Closing the file, he just worked on for the past two hours, he leaned back in his chair and stretched his muscles. A buzzing sound from beside him got his attention and he couldn’t help the lazy smile when he saw you picture appearing on the screen.

“Hey baby. I just finished. I’ll be home in forty, alright?” He was in the procced of shutting down his computer, when he heard you low and breathy voice.

“Yoongi, listen, there are two people in the house. I think they broke in. I can hear them in the living room. I don’t know what to do.” He could hear your voice quivering towards the end. He didn’t bother with the computer anymore, focus solely on you.

“Where are you?” he asked, while grabbing his keys and leaving the room. Door open for everybody, but that was the last of his concerns.

“In our bedroom” came the answer immediately.

“Lock the door and hid in the bathroom. Lock the door there two.” he commanded. You did as he told you. Hiding in the bathtub as soon as you made sure the last door was locked.

“Okay, I’m there. What now?” scared of the outcome of all this, tears started to gather in your eyes. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat and hear it in your head.

“Now, I’m going to hang up so I can call the police, okay baby? I’m still too far away to help you and maybe they are faster.” That was the first time he cursed himself for wanting to rent an apartment so far away from the studio. Without another word he hung up the phone, calling the police immediately and explaining the situation, while he was still driving down the empty roads. Trying not to kill anyone or get killed. They told him they would be there as fast as possible.

You heard the sirens coming closer and closer, feeling slightly safer. You heard them break in through the front door, the robbers still trying to grab as much as they can, not even realising that they were doomed until it was too late. The next thing you heard is what finally made you realise that you were save.

“Y/N? Y/N!” You heard Yoongi banging on the bedroom door. Quickly getting out of the bathtub, unlocking the two doors just as fast. Yoongi’s arms engulfed you the second he laid eyes on you. And that was the moment you couldn’t hold back any longer. Surrounded by his scent, mint and coffee, you couldn’t control your emotions any longer. Tears were rolling down your face, soaking the male’s sweats shirt. And Yoongi held you through it, pulling you closer and whispered over and over that you were save and had nothing to worry. And when you finally calmed down you opened your eyes and looked down to the ground. Not able to stop the little giggle escaping your mouth.

“Babe, where are you shoes?”

Jung Hoseok

There are no words to explain the fear that shot through Hobi’s body when he saw the red and blue lights shining in front of your shared apartment. There were police officers running around questioning people and pushing others out of the way. Slowly his feet moved one after the other walking through the little crowed that had gathered. He was about to pass them when a police woman pushed him back into the crowed.

“Sir, I’m sorry but you’re not allowed any closer. Please stay put.” She let a hand on his chest to make sure he got the message.

“No, you don’t understand, I life here. That’s my home. Where is Y/N?” he explained, constantly trying to get past the small woman.

“Sir, please, follow the instructions or I’ll have to use force.” A threating comment was about to leave Hoseok lips that he will be the one using force if she didn’t tell him were the love of his life was this instant. But before he could do any of that he heard the voice that could make everything better.

“Hobi, oh my god, Hobi. It’s okay, please let him through. He’s my boyfriend” you screamed as soon as you laid eyes on your dancer. The woman in front of him reluctantly moved out of the way but kept a watchful eye on the young man. But Hoseok’s attention was only on you. The second he could, he captures you in his arms. A hand on the back of your head, pressing you to him.

“Are you alright? What happened?” he asked.

“Someone broke into our home while I was in the shower. Hobi, everything is gone. TV, Laptops, my phone and wallet. Thankfully one of the neighbours saw what happened and called the police. I wouldn’t even know how I could have informed them.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He said, grabbing your hands, making him look at him. “I really don’t care that our TV is gone or any of the other stuff, okay? That’s renewable, but you aren’t. I’m so glad nothing happened to you.” And one more time you found yourself buried in his arms, a place you never want to leave.

Kim Namjoon

You and your husband where awoken by your child’s loud cries. Slowly you rose to your feet, sitting at the edge of the bed for a moment, trying to regain your balance and vision. Your phone on the nightstand told you it was 02:00 am. With a heavy sighing you got up from your place. Moving out of the room and down the hall to your four-month old’s bedroom. A freezing breeze greeted you in the hallway, forcing you to pull Namjoon’s shirt lower. Your pace picked up, having the strong feeling, that something wasn’t alright. Your baby’s screams grew louder as you walked into the room.

Namjoon’s name left your lips in the form of a scream, while you ran to the bed of your child. Lifting the crying baby up and moving away from the broken window. You heard you husbands feet banging against the wood floor, running as fast as possible. The both of you turned on every single light you owned. Or rather Namjoon turning on the lights and you walking behind him with your baby girl still in your arms. The little one followed her father with a curious look in her eyes. Not yet sure if she liked the new game.

After being sure nobody was in the house, you called the police, which arrived shortly after. They took a lot of picture form the crime scene and asked the both of you a lot of questions. Almost two hours later, the three of you lay down in you king sized bed. The broken window was covered with a blanked and tape. You would call someone to fix it in two hours, when you had to get up anyway.

You looked at your husband’s face, the worried stare he had when he entered the baby room had not left him.

“We could have lost her tonight. We, we-“,he couldn’t finish, before the tears were streaming down his face. The thought of what could have happened to you daughter making both your throats tighten.

Park Jimin

Tears were streaming down Jimin’s face as he held on to your pale hand. He couldn’t stop them and J-Hope’s hand on his shoulder did little to lessen the pain. For Jimin it was his fault.

The reason why you were laying in a hospital bed right now, machines breathing for you. That was all on him. He was the one who said you should go ahead and that he would follow with the grocery bags. You insisted that you’d help him, but he didn’t let you. Why didn’t he let you? If he would have, you wouldn’t have been the first in the house. You wouldn’t have been shot by the guy robbing your house of its belongings. And you most defiantly wouldn’t be laying in that hospital bed right now, fighting for your life.

So Jimin saw no other person that he could blame, but him. And the only person who could assure him and make him see that it was in fact not his mistake, not his wrong doing. That person was laying in a come right no. Fixed heart beating in your chest and broken boyfriend gripping your hand.

“Please, Y/N, please come back to me. I’m sorry, please. I need you.”

Kim Taehyung

Tae’s face was lit up by his significant smile, as soon as he saw your face appear on the screen. Hurrying to answer the call, not able to contain his happiness at the prospect of talking to you.

“Hey honey. How are you? I miss you so much, you can’t even imaging. Okay maybe you can because you miss me too, but- wait, are that police sirens in the back. Y/N what happened?” By now he was standing in his room, one hand was holding his phone, the other running through his hair, slipping of his hat in the process.

“Hey, babe. I need you to calm down. It’s nothing bad, alright? Just breath.” It’s interesting how your voice always managed to calm him down. Even hundreds of miles away, the melody of you words still had a huge influence on him. However, the second your next words left your mouth, all kind of calmness flew out the window and was replace by a stultifying wariness.

“I was watching TV in our bedroom, when I heard some noise form downstairs. Someone broke into the house and tried to steal our stuff.”

“Tried? Y/N, please don’t tell me you did anything stupid?”

“Okay, first things first, I never do anything thing stupid. Second things second, when I opened the door to our bedroom, to figure out where the noise was coming from, Yeanton ran past me and scared the invader. After that he left immediately. A few things are missing, but not as much as would’ve if Yeanton wouldn’t have been here.” After you finished your little story time, Tae’s heartrate had regulated itself back to a normal beat. A proud smile forming on his face.

“Oh my god, he did. I knew he would protect his mommy if it was necessary. Tell him he did well. We need to buy him lots of treats for his heroic action.”

After the initial shock was gone the both of you talked about the tour and planed what you would do when he came back. But the second Yeanton jumped into your lap, barking to get you attention, you were forgotten and had to listen to Tae talking through the phone to his dog. And Yeanton who stared at the phone confused, barking from time to time. And one more time you realised how happy you were with you little family. The boys always looking after you and vice versa.

Jeon Jungkook

Your back met the wall next to your door with a low thump. Jungkook’s body pressing you into the surface immediately. His lips were still connected to yours, tongues fighting for dominance. You could feel his arms flailing around, as he tried to find his keys. A frustrated sound left his throat, when he didn’t find the object. He released your lips, taking a step back and continuing his search. A whine left your lips at the loss of contact.

That’s when you took a lock at the door next to you, noticing, how it was slightly open. You stretched a hand out to the male in front of you, planting it against his chest, making him stop. Jungkook looked at you, confused, why you would stop him. Although it was hard for him to focus, with all the blood running southwards at the moment, he notices the unordinary scene in front of him. Without a second thought, he walked towards the door, pushing it open. You hooked your hand into one of the loops of his trousers, hiding behind him. Your apartment was covered in black, only the moon providing enough vision to make out your furniture. The both of you walked deeper into the apartment, trying to be as quiet as possible. A movement to right caught your attention, turning your head, a loud gasped escaped you. A man was standing in your kitchen, a knife in his hand. Jungkook was alarmed by your reaction, rotating the both of you, so he was standing like a shield before you.

“Please, take everything you want, but don’t hurt us.” Jungkook’s voice was strong, not letting the man know, how much his appearance and the weapon in his hand scared him. When the man took a step in your direction, the both of you took one back. Jungkook’s hand setting on your waist, pushing you farther behind him.

“Jungkook? Y/N?” You heard the voice from a sleeping Jimin, tumbling down the stairs. For a moment both of your attention were on the small feet that came into view. When you turned back around, the mystery man was gone. And you had never been so thankful for the older boy’s heart break, wich caused him to move in with you. Not wanting to know, what could have happened, if he didn’t come done stairs the moment he did.

�

#bts #bts reactions #bts x reader #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts army #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut

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horanghaechan · 4 years ago

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Dream in a Dream (M)

pairing: Prince!Ten x Princess!You

word count: 6k

warnings: written in 3rd person, mature content, fluffy, ten being the love of my life

synopsis: The Four Great Kingdoms took turns to maintain the peace of a planet called Mahabhuta. However, when minor rebellions threaten its stability, two kingdoms seek an alliance. But, hearts could never be war weapons. What to do when one of them is already committed to another?

Inspired by indian/turkish stuff and Avatar lol

[a/n]: since he (and his smile) was the reason i started stanning nct back in march 2016 (lol) i decided to post this here, the original version is in portuguese and posted on my fic site. happy bday, phonphon, you deserve the world.

also, english is not my first language so any grammar/etc mistake please let me know!

First of all, a small glossary so you don’t get lost:

The cycle of the Great Kingdoms of Mahabhuta takes place by:

Kingdom of Prithvi (Kingdom of Earth)

Kingdom of Apas-Jal (Kingdom of Water)

Kingdom of Agni (Kingdom of Fire)

Kingdom of Vayu (Kingdom of Air)

However, there is Akasha (Heaven, "vacuum"), by which all other kingdoms are "subjected". Akasha’s laws override any other law, as they were enacted prior to the division of Mahābhūta.

The hierarchy in each kingdom consists of:

Samraat and Samrajni – emperor and empress;

Maharaja and Maharani – king and queen, used formally for the heirs of the throne;

Raja and Rani – king and queen, used informally with the heirs of the throne.

Some words used by the characters and their meanings:

Evet: an informal way of saying “yes”;

Nei: an informal way of saying “no”;

Shokran: “thanks” said from peasants to monarchs;

Shukriya: “thanks” said from monarchs to peasants;

Olum: interjection of astonishment, incredulity.

Om Shanti: good luck.

Findi: petname, which can mean both “love” and “sweetheart”, normally related to married couples.

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

Border between Vayu and Prithvi, Apas-Jal Era.

Some carriages and soldiers crossed the bridge across the border of the Kingdom of Prithvi. Everyone there was fully aware of what they were doing, but no one hesitated. Keeping Maharani of Vayu happy was the only thing they were looking for.

“Rani Y/N are you sure that Raja Chittaphon will be waiting for us?” Ipek, Y/N’s chaperone and personal maid, asked worriedly.

“Evet.” Y/N nodded. “It’s our only chance.”

“Samraat Bhima will be horrified when he notices that you are missing.”

“He will.” The princess smiled. “But he’ll eventually understand that I had to.”

“Everyone will be delighted when you get married to Raja Chittaphon, right?!” Ipek smiled when she noticed how the girl’s face lit up at her question.

“Hopefully so, Ipek. That’s what I’m aiming for.” Y/N sighed, biting another smile. Remembering Chittaphon always resulted in moments like that, where everything melted and she became a puddle of love.

She still shivered like a fool when she remembered when they met.

Flashback on

Jala, Kingdom of Apas-Jal, 3 years ago

The corridors of the Palace of Jala were huge and very confusing. There were no separated doors, let alone identification by floors or wings. Y/N walked blindly through them, because she couldn’t remember where they assigned her rooms earlier.

“Well, I’m sure it’s not here.” One of the doors opened and a boy came out of it, on his back, wearing a typical outfit of the monarchs she knew.

“Olum!” Y/N froze on her place.

“Oh, are you the owner of this room?” He turned to her, drawing her attention to the pair of amused chestnut eyes that stared at her.

“Nei, nei. I’m lost.” She confessed. “I thought the floor was empty.”

“They told me that the Kingdom of Agni would be on the third floor, according to the cycle, but I confess I’m having trouble counting. Is it the third excluding the ground floor, or the third from the ground?” The boy smiled and she felt her heart flutter.

She absolutely adored smiles.

And... Olum, that smile was out of this world!

“Well, guess I’m twice wrong, then.” she blushed.

“You’re not from Agni, I suppose.”

“Nei. I’m from Vayu.” She extended her hand, indicating the ring of the Compass Rose, which was the symbol of her kingdom. “I ended getting lost...”

“Ten, from Agni.” the boy showed his own ring too, a ruby sun adorning his hand. Only monarchs wore such rings. “Maybe if we go back where you came from, we’ll be able to find your chaperone.”

“Y/N, from Vayu.” She bowed, understanding now with whom she spoke. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Maharaja Chittaphon.”

“Olum, it can’t be!” Another lovely smile painted his thin lips. “Maharani Y/N Vatavaran?” Ten sounded excited. “I spent years trying to get to know you!”

“Really?” Y/N raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

“Indeed! Did you think that you could remain incognito forever? All kingdoms are curious about the Heiress of the Air.” he signalled for them to start walking. He couldn’t touch her until they were officially introduced. “I suppose you make your debut at tonight’s ball?”

“My parents decided that it’s time for me to seek popularity.” She nodded. “I’m a little afraid, you know? Balls have always seemed too formal.”

“And they are.” Ten agreed. “But as soon as we are introduced, I’ll ask for one dance, and I hope you’ll save me a page on your card.”

“As I don’t know anyone, you’ll have them all.” She laughed.

“Perfect! So I won’t have to keep company with the Apas.”

“Don’t you like water?”

“I don’t like anything that puts out fire.” Ten joked casually, and then realized that the princess was puzzled by his comment. “Don’t worry, the air tends to spread it. I really like the air.” The same amusement gleam flashed through those chestnut eyes.

Y/N also had made up her mind: she liked the fire a lot.

End of flashback

Closing her eyes, Y/N waited for the right time to relax. When the antelope’s hooves stopped, she knew it was near.

“Maharani Vatavaran, we have arrived.” One of the soldiers tapped the carriage window twice, breaking the silence. “Maharaja Bhumi is waiting for you.”

“I’ll go down. Shukriya.” Y/N smiled. “We’ll meet tomorrow, Ipek. Watch out for any strange movements, pay close attention to the air! As we are in Prithvi you may feel weaker, but just focus on the atmosphere.”

“Evet, evet. Now go, we have no time to waste!” Ipek rushed her.

“Off I go.” Y/N smiled. “Wish me luck.”

“Om Shanti.” Ipek raised her hands to her face, crossing them in the shape of a bird and touching her forehead between them, a gesture of undoubted respect to Her Highness.

Y/N got out of the carriage and came across Bhumi, Prithvi’s heir. They had become very close friends when they were in Jala, because Bhumi was Ten’s close cousin. Adding up to their escapade, Varaha, capital of Prithvi, was extremely close to Akasha – if all went well, they’d need just two days to arrive there.

“I’m glad you made it!” Bhumi hugged her. “Ten must be on his way.” He signalled for a carriage behind them. “If they saw Vayu’s carriage we might have had problems, so I thought it is better to use mine until we get to the house.”

“Thanks for helping.” She thanked him, getting into the car.

“You know my weaknesses are love stories, Y/N.” Bhumi laughed. “I asked some guards to take the road to Akasha and they reported that it is in perfect condition. I separated two stops, one in Urvarak and the other in Chattaan; if you manage to reach Chattaan tomorrow by the afternoon, Akasha is just an hour away, so you can rest and do everything at dawn. I estimate that by lunchtime you’ll be married.” Bhumi gave her hands a soft squeeze. “Om Shanti, cousin.”

“Thank you, dear. But can’t we go straight to Chattaan?”

“It’d be very risky and a tad tiring. If other guards notice a strange movement on the roads, it’ll be warned to my father and everything will go down the drain.”

“Then we will follow the pace of normal travelers.” Y/N nodded. “Ipek is following in a carriage with some of my guards, but there is nothing that indicates my presence or relation to me. Do you think they are in danger?”

“If there’s nothing of yours with her, then I don’t believe so.” Bhumi waved a hand, dispensing bad luck. “As soon as they reach Urvarak, if they wish, they can go up in the air and proceed directly to Akasha, without stopping by Chattaan, or just taking a short rest. But, in my point of view, it’d be a little risky, no? Since your father will notice your disappearance in a few hours...”

“I’ll talk to Ipek, then. It would be really good if we had someone waiting for us in Akasha.” Y/N stared at the road. “How long does it take for Urvarak?”

“If you leave this morning, you’ll be there before sunset. That, of course, if you stop to eat and everything.” Bhumi loosened a belt that held his royal attire. “We will be near Varaha in a few minutes, but I’ll drop you off at home and go to the palace. You need to be aware because only Ten knows where it is.”

“Do you think he hasn’t arrived yet?”

“I don’t know how it went with the guards at the border, even if I let them know he was coming.” Bhumi sighed. “In times of crisis, things get chaotic.’

“I hope we don’t make this a bigger problem.” Y/N sighed.

“Love inevitably creates problems, baby.” he laughed. “But, a Maharaja has always been able to choose his wife and vice versa. I don’t see your marriage as an affront to Mahabhuta’s balance, but exactly what Apas-Jal and Agni wanted to do: an alliance. So, if we are to have an alliance, let it be real and auspicious.”

“Ah Bhumi, dear, you’re so good with words.” Y/N laughed, trying to relax.

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

The house consisted of Prithvi’s standard architecture, with various stone details and spearhead adornments. After hugging and thanking Bhumi four more times, Y/N quietly entered the house, dressed as an ordinary Vahara citizen. It was very good that Bhumi had chosen a normal property instead of a more luxurious and aristocratic house.

She put her bag in the living room and walked to the bathroom, desperate to shower and do her hair. It could be the height of futility, but Y/N did not want Ten to see her sloppy and dirty. All those times they met when she was air bending were enough... They, in general, involved a lot of dust and dry leaves.

“Of course Bhumi would do that.” Y/N sweetly smiled when she found cinnamon essence in the bathroom. This was, in the best description, Vayu’s “official” smell.

While the water in the bathtub heated up, Y/N stretched out a lacy mid-length dress and a cloak. She had brought, in addition to that outfit, another white dress – which she would wear the day she arrived in Akasha – and a dark green dress.

Y/N smoothed the velvet piece and smiled a little. She was starting quite an adventure, but couldn’t find the slightest regret for what she was doing. For sure, if she had to choose, she would do everything again and again.

After washing up, Y/N was braiding her hair when she heard a noise coming from the kitchen. She felt chills down her spine, but because the house had only one floor, anyone who entered it would make enough noise for her to prepare before she could cross the room. Awareness spread through her and she held tight on her hairbrush and a small hand mirror – since there wasn’t enough time to look for any other weapon.

“Y/N?” Her name came out loud in a soft voice, almost like velvet.

“Ten!” dropping all objects, she ran to him.

The couple hugged each other, trying to make up for all the one-month longing in those few seconds. A never-ending month in which Ten had heard about the arranged marriage; he and Y/N did not have much chance of communicating; and in which each other’s world seemed to get off track with the possibility of not being able to be together as they wanted to.

“How are you? Did you arrive safely?” Ten caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, loving how Y/N’s eyes closed at the slightest touch.

“I got scared thinking the house was invaded, but now I’m fine. And yes, I arrived safely thanks to Bhumi’s assistance.” she smiled.

“Sorry, I heard the water and decided it’d be respectful to wait.”

“There’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” Y/N blinked, wickedly.

“I know.” Ten brought his face close to hers. “But I thought we had agreed not to do anything else until the wedding?!”

“To look doesn’t mean to touch.” She lifted her chin, voice dripping challenge.

“It turns out, little devil, I’m not so magnanimous.” He pressed his lips to hers, savouring the longing. The last time they saw each other they had to be quick, because it was at the reunion of the kingdoms, and although they could not participate actively, the heirs had an obligation to be present.

Ten circled her waist, breathing in the cinnamon and melting on Y/N’s tongue. Her whole body was on fire – almost not so figuratively – when they were together. Even though he knew they couldn’t waste time, he delighted himself with a few bites on her neck, fighting the urge to take the kiss further.

“I swear I can’t wait to be married.” She whispered. “Then I won’t need to count our minutes together.”

“Soon.” Ten winked. “We are leaving this morning, right?”

“I think it would be ideal. Bhumi said that we can get to Akasha in two days, or we can cut some time, but we would not have Ipek anticipating any problems. It’s up to you.” She shrugged.

“We’ll do what is best at the moment, findi.” Ten smiled. “This nickname gets better and better just because it reminds me that it should be used by married people.”

“You are very keen to remember that we will get married.”

“In Agni, marriage is one of the best things that could happen to anyone, you know?” He let Y/N get out of his arms. “You can’t blame me for this.”

“I don’t blame you, but your excitement is so evident that it makes me look disinterested… And you know I’m not.”

“It’ll show up as soon as we have tied our strings.”

Y/N smiled at the mention, because the wedding rite in Akasha had, as one of the main points, to use strings. Each kingdom had its specific ritual, and they should be performed according to the bride and groom’s wishes (and the place they were in, regardless of their nationalities). When Y/N was learning about kingdoms and their cultures, she never imagined that she’d marry in Akasha, let alone with their celebration. She couldn’t wait to put it into practice.

“How’s the situation in Agni?” Y/N asked as she folded her clothes.

“Kinda stable.” Ten sat on the bed and removed his boots. “Dad thinks it’s a matter of time before it spreads to other regions other than the capital”.

“I hope nobody gets seriously hurt until we get this solved.”

“For now there was nothing.” he nodded. “Just two fires in abandoned houses. The big problem is that this affects the population indirectly; after all, you never know when they will start attacking them. Psychological terror is the worst weapon.”

“Do you think we’re going to make it worse by getting married?” Y/N swallowed.

“I think...” Ten looked at her, a small smile adorning his beautiful face. “That love is a force far greater than greed and power. If two prosperous kingdoms tied by love, and nothing but love, fails to reach everyone’s heart, then no alliance between two other kingdoms will change reality.” He held out his hand, looking for hers over the velvet dress. “I didn’t lie when I said I would set the world on fire if something hurt you, findi. It only takes one word and we return to our kingdoms.”

“No!” she denied fervently. “I won’t give you up. I only worry about these rebellions...” She shrugged. “But I love you, Ten. You know that, right?”

“Always.” he nodded. “Why don’t we rest before leaving?!”

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

The two of them really tried to rest, but the growing tension and adrenaline from their escape were too much. Long before planned, they were already on the road, heading towards Urvarak.

“It’s amazing how, despite the night, everyone lives normally. Look at how crowded the road is!” Y/N commented, surprised. “The Kingdom that never sleeps, really.”

“We have a stop in forty minutes. If you’re cold, I can stop to get the blanket from the trunk.” Ten, the gentleman he was, offered.

“I’m fine, findi. If anything, I can hug you and I’ll be warm soon.”

“If you don’t want to be attacked by my kisses, I advise you to stay away.”

“What if I want?” She raised her eyebrow.

“Seriously Y/N, I don’t know what to do with you!” he laughed. “We’ll definitely take the air route and get married as soon as possible.”

“It’s amazing how shy I still am with your flirty banters.” Y/N sighed, because in spite of being bold, that was not quite how she felt.

Sometimes she managed to keep on her carefree persona, but her feelings for Ten always made her embarrass herself. It summed up in a fool, enchanted by any movement or word spoken by him... Especially when they were addressed to her. Olum, how difficult it was to remain serious at public parties! Both of them needed to behave as if they didn’t like each other more than the “necessary”, as if they had priorities and not wished to spend every second together. Thanks to Bhumi, they were able to get away often and make some time to ease their longing.

“Ah, Rani Y/N,” he clicked his tongue. “why does this shyness never appear when it should?” His chestnut eyes flashed in a playful glow.

“Stop it, Ten!” She laughed, shyly. “but, I must confess, I don’t regret you being the first. In everything.”

“It would be a little too late to regret it, you know?” Ten pinned. “However, that does not diminish the pleasure of listening to your confession. I hope that, in addition to being your first, I’ll also be your last.”

“If we get to Akasha really fast...” She batted her well-trained lashes, like a she used to do when trying to manipulate her father into thinking she was sweet and innocent.

“It’s decided! At the next stop I’ll look for antelopes and tomorrow afternoon we’ll be married.” Ten shook his head like an indignant little boy.

“In my suitcase I have a Vayu scroll and I will make sure that it reaches Ipek as soon as possible.” Y/N winked at the groom.

“What a helpful wife I got!

“Olum, you can’t even imagine.” She grinned.

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

The innkeeper explained to them how to get to the antelopes in two stops. They had thirty minutes until there, and the horses were losing their pace along the way. Fear not, Y/N thought, since she already had everything worked out in her head!

Probably, her father would be finding out about her disappearance at that moment, and then he would start searching the palace and the gardens. Then, when he didn’t find her, he would request searches around the city. Then, the Royal Guard would issue a search warrant to all kingdoms, and perhaps Chittaphon’s parents would warn Vayu of his disappearance as well. Then they would finally come to conclusion of what happened to the two heirs, and if they were as smart as Y/N hoped, they would march to Akasha.

Only that it would be too late.

Because she’d be married!

Perfect.

The antelope route was really the best option.

“Maybe I can bend some air so the horses can rest. I can make sure no one notices that they’re floating...”

“You schemed.” Ten laughed. “I don’t know why I thought I wouldn’t do it.”

“Perhaps you’re so excited about the escape that you didn’t pay close attention.” She joked. Everyone knew how much Maharani Y/N loved to turn things into schemes. “Well, if my plan is right, we have about fifteen hours to get married and consummate it, avoiding, even if improbable, it to be nulled.” she laughed. “Therefore, we indeed have to take the air route.”

“Amazing, findi.” Ten winked.

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

Akasha was a wonderful city. Y/N visited there only twice: when she was born, and when she reached her adult age, so she had to seize her title of heiress. She remembered the big trees, especially the cherry ones, the colourful houses, the bright and clean streets, the undeniably blue sky... There never seemed to exist bad weather in Akasha! When they stopped in front of the temple where they would celebrate their wedding, Y/N’s heart raced. It was a large and flowery place, like a cottage, with symbols of the four kingdoms and their specific plants. Two carriages (one with her guards and the other with his) were waiting for them in the parking lot. Impatient, Ten grabbed her hand and they both entered the temple, drowning in emotion and adrenaline.

“Ready?”

“Always.” she smiled.

Ipek, who had been instructed to organize everything, was talking to two monks and the celebrator. As soon as she saw Her Highness, she ran to help her get ready. They couldn’t waste a second of the day!

The typical ceremonial dress Ipek got was cream coloured, adorned with gold accents, and a dark green – almost black – velvet cape that made the costume extremely elegant. From the bar to the knee, the lines formed spirals and points that resembled the starry sky or some forest/landscape seen from above. Her hair was braided with gold threads and cherry blossoms, because they were the symbol of Akasha. At her hands, in addition to the jewels she was supposed to wear, temporary ink tattooed the main crests of the four kingdoms extended from the wrist to the elbow, to indicate the union of these nations. On her feet, more drawings, up to the height of her shin. She should be barefoot, connecting to the nature and the land, as a sign of balance.

“Raja Chittaphon is ready.” Ipek returned to the salon where Y/N was dressed. “Now we just need the ornaments on the face and you can go!”

“I’m anxious.” Y/N exhaled. “Let’s get on with it soon!”

“I promise it will be very quick.”

After Ipek used powder from shiny stones and glued three diamonds above her left eyebrow, Y/N was ready.

Ipek and two guards accompanied her to the decorated courtyard, where those responsible for marrying her had started the blessing in Ten, preventing him from seeing her. Y/N watched, with her racing heart, the black and gold velvet suit he wore, a single cherry blossom attached to the left side of his chest.

“We’re ready.” The monk guided her to the entrance of the hall.

After a short speech in Akasha’s dialect, one of the monks began to play a harp, while Y/N crossed the room towards Ten, not knowing how to react to the prince’s brilliant and hypnotic gaze.

When they faced each other, the monk handed them a small vase with coloured sand. According to the ritual, the sand symbolized “the union of two different points in the name of something greater” in this case, love, and each one should pour a little of it on a plate, so that the mixture of colours creates a new one: their colour. Y/N watched wordlessly as a lilac originated from the mixture.

“Now hold hands.” The man responsible for the ceremony instructed. “This is the thread of companionship. For Akasha, you are one, but this does not mean that you should forget who you were before the wedding. One hand is tied to the partner’s, while the other is free to remind you that there is room for both to grow together and individually.” He tied the ribbon on their fist. “Still united, we will recite the vows and walk towards the end of the celebration.”

Y/N and Ten repeated each word very calmly, although their hearts were desperate for the end. After washing their feet in the water of the main river, Kundalini, to purify their bodies in this new phase, the couple still had to plant a tree as well, symbolizing their growth. And, to the sound of “Under the laws of Akasha, I declare you husband and wife”, several fireworks were lit. Ipek started the party by playing a soft melody over two lovers, and the people present continued with the dance. The newest couple stared at each other, laughing.

“I think this is our cue to escape... Findi.” The nickname now sounded a thousand times wicked in Ten’s voice. “Let’s go?”

“I was counting the seconds.” Y/N nodded, intertwining their fingers, as they still had one hand joined.

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

Ten undid the first tie of Y/N’s dress quite slowly. He had done it a few times, but at that moment, it was too special to ruin it in a hurry. They were finally married. He no longer needed to be quick with Y/N. Now they had all the time in the world to love each other as they deserved.

“Do you need help?” Y/N frowned.

“No, findi. I just want to... Take it slow.” The light entering the room made his eyes even brighter. “Because you deserve to be adored, from head to toe. Quietly. Every inch.” To demonstrate his words, he raised her fist and glued his mouth to it, running his tongue lightly over her soft skin.

“Ten...” She breathed weakly, it tickled.

“What?” He smiled. “‘Ah Ten’, ‘more Ten’, ‘please, Ten’?”

“Pretentious rake.” Y/N shook her head, feeling her heart explode with joy.

“Your pretentious rake. Your favourite rake. Yours, for eternity.”

She closed her eyes at those words. She was his, too, since the damn smile he gave her in the hall of Apas-Jal’s palace. Olum, how could one live with so much love inside them?! And how lucky had she been to feel that and be reciprocated?!

I’m staying up

I don’t wanna come down from your love

Ten pulled her close, melting his mouth on her neck, biting and sucking like he knew she liked. He wrapped his arms around her, throwing the damn tie to the floor. Y/N smelled extremely well, having washed and removed the tattoos she was supposed to use for the wedding ceremony. His fingers tangled in the fabric of her nightgown at the mere sound of her quiet moan, trying to go easy, to remain chill. He didn’t want to go fast. He had to stay calm.

“Let’s go to the bed, huh?” Y/N suggested, knees buckling from all those emotions.

“I tell you I want to take it easy and you urge me to go fast...” He shook his head, carefully guiding her to the huge mattress. “What should I do?”

“You can start by kissing me here.” She signalled from her collarbone to the valley between the breasts. Ten smiled. “Or, you can let me take off your clothes...”

It’s not that she didn’t want to be worshiped from head to toe, but if her calculations didn’t fail, someone from the Kingdom of Vayu would arrive in Akasha by the end of the afternoon... And if the wedding wasn’t consummated, they could be in trouble. She and Chittaphon never took more than thirty minutes with sex, because there were always too many people around and if they were five minutes late, someone would miss one of them. It was unfair that their first time since married had to be rushed too, but they would have a whole life together.

But, Y/N should be grateful. At least they were together.

“What are you thinking?”

“Schemes.” She joked.

“ Now, now, Rani Y/N, that was an unfortunate answer.” He started unbuttoning his shirt. “Guess I’ll need to be a little cruel this time. I don’t want you thinking about anything other than my mouth and my fingers on your body.”

“Or your dick.” Y/N smirked, satisfied with the provocation.

She closed her eyes and felt Ten’s lips come down over her shoulder, paiting small bites. With her legs spread, he found space to rest between her thighs while devouring each centimetre of the princess. Her calculations were forgotten as soon as his fingertips went up the hem of her dress, sliding down the inside of her thighs, making her shiver. He reached her underwear and touched her clothed womanhood.

“I want you to do that again.” Y/N moaned.

“Do what?”

“You know what.” She gasped when he brushed her swollen spot.

“I don’t know,” He commented wickedly. “But I have an idea of what it is… And for that, I will finally need to take your clothes off.” He couldn’t believe that after months he’d be able to see her completely naked again.

Rather than feeling shy, Y/N was more than willing to throw the sleeping dress away. They never had much time to get rid of all their clothes, so she was also counting on Ten naked. It had been a long time since she had had such a privilege to see him like that. And the view was always a spectacle!

She sat up suddenly, leaving him a little unbalanced, but grinning. Y/N started pulling on her nightgown anyway, not caring if she would tear it up. Ten could bent fire, but what burned inside her was pure lust. He would have a hard time controlling his wife, especially if he continued to look at her as if she were a work of art. But as soon as the fabric passed over her head, Y/N didn’t have time to absorb the intensity of his eyes. Ten pulled her by the hand, kissing her urgently.

With the princess in his lap, he got rid of his shirt and tried to open his trousers’ button. To give him enough space, Y/N stepped back a little, noting a new detail in his left arm: there were two lines near the elbow, one thick and the other a little thinner. Unlike the wedding tattoos, those lines seemed permanent.

“What is it?” She asked curiously.

“In Agni, every married man should have this tattoo. It is like a ring that we never take out or lose.” Ten looked at his arm. “Women should have these lines on their ankles, but since you are not from Agni, I thought it best not to ask you to tattoo it.”

“I want to!” She cut him off. “I’ll do it, if you want me to.”

“Really?” Ten smiled. He was always touched by Y/N’s loving manner. She was his best companion, in any situation. Even when they could get in trouble, Y/N would not leave him alone. She preferred that they’d get scolded together than to leave him. “Then, as soon as we wake up, I’ll ask the monk to arrange everything.”

“I think I will have a charming ankle.” She stretched out one leg, moving close to where Ten wanted her most. “Oh, oops...” Y/N smirked, faking a shy laugh.

“Findi, findi.” He shook his head, matching her smirk.

“Let me make up for the distraction.” Y/N moved away as she lowered her hands to his pants, finishing unbuttoning them.

“Your wish is my command, findi.”

We’ll get lost together

Let me flow

Ten swallowed hard as soon as he felt her mouth kissing his abdomen. Y/N was not ashamed of trying to please him. She was always receptive and creative, making each time something very unique and very special. Unlike what was expected of an Air Princess – known for being more reserved and a little cold. Y/N had fire inside her. She burned like him… Burned with him. For him.

With her delicate fingers, Y/N removed Ten’s pants, and began her exploration on his belly, playing with the fine line of hair up to the underwear he was wearing. It was unusual for her to dedicate themselves so much to foreplay, but she was loving seeing Ten so mesmerized by her movements. Very gently, Y/N took him with one hand, going on with a lazy back and forth motion, just to make him double hard and more desperate. Her eyes found the glowing chestnut globes and she smirked, causing a burst of pleasure to break inside Ten, who moaned loudly.

That was enough for him. Blast trying to prolong the moment! He needed Y/N and he needed her now. Pulling her by the chin, they came face to face.

“I miss you,” The distance between their mouths became even smaller. “around me.”

The kiss began sweet, slow, but charged with lust. Both were already familiar with the delicious sensations that any scarce touch between them provided, but nothing compared to the anxiety build during foreplay. It was very, very good. Their bodies were tickling and hot, their hearts beating fast and their minds remembering all those times when they were together.

How glorious it was when they met.

It was a different, more intense sensation. Y/N didn’t understand why she wanted to cry and laugh out loud, like a crazy girl. The tossed their underwear out, surrendering to the bubbling desire. Ten put her hands on his shoulders and smiled warmly, making the frenzy an act of zeal. He leaned down to kiss her again, and from there, it was automatic. Y/N’s hip followed its own will and moved, showing exactly what it was looking for. The kiss became wet and some moans escaped not so quietly. Ten’s husky voice was the turning point for the princess.

“Come here.” He asked in a whisper.

Ten turned her on the bed and stood over her, waist between her legs. He entered without warning, fast and strong. A louder than expected groan left her throat, earning a chuckle mixed with a grunt from the prince. Y/N brought her hands to his back, dividing her attention between his shoulder blades and his dark, silky hair. With a love bite at the junction of her neck and shoulder, Ten started to move. Slow and intense, but picking up as the seconds passed by. Y/N already knew what to do to please him, so she devoted herself to his neck, trying to occupy her mouth with something other than “Oh, Ten” or scandalous moans. He grabbed one of her thighs and wrapped it around her waist, managing to reach deeper. Then, he was thrusting hard and fast. Y/N rolled her eyes and arched her back, forgetting about the whole world.

This was perfect.

Her stomach churned with several knots of pleasure, the peak of her orgasm reaching its maximum when Ten grabbed her face and kissed her urgently. Y/N felt the spasms in every cell, not knowing if she was able to enjoy her climax and kiss Ten at the same time. The prince continued to dive deeper until he too reached his release, making her want to get there again. Y/N slipped a hand to her swollen spot and began to rub it, tightening her muscles even more and listening to Ten’s sexy growls. And it worked.

Don’t ever let me come down from your love

From your love, from your love

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

Ten examined his wife’s ankle, amused by the way she didn’t try to pretend that the tattoo was a “big deal”.

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t want to tell me that this was common in Agni.” She lowered her dress’ skirt. “It looks rather cute on my ankle, doesn’t it?”

“You look rather cute, indeed.”

“Not me, the tattoo you didn’t want to tell me about!” She grinned.

“Are we going to talk about this again?” He hugged her, placing a sweet kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, anyway, for accepting. I love you.”

“My pleasure.” Y/N waved her hand. “Love you more.”

Ten offered her a glass of water and a cookie, because she hadn’t eaten breakfast in her desperation to get the tattoo. The monk finished cleaning the room and excused himself, but as soon as he left, Ipek hurried in.

“Rani Y/N! Rani Y/N!”

“What is it, Ipek?” Y/N disengaged herself from Ten’s embrace and stood up.

“Samraat Bhima is here... And he didn’t come alone.” Ipek pointed to the window.

When she pulled the curtain, Y/N could see Vayu’s flags extending across a large part of the street, accompanied by some of Agni’s. She turned to Ten in a mixture of concern and joy. It was time to announce to the kingdoms what they had done. And to hope that love would be enough.

“Olum, findi, it looks like we have some nations to win back.” She grinned.

And hand in hand, they went out to face the nations of Air and Fire.

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