#maybe if you weren’t so narrow minded in your view of what art is/should be you would be able to appreciate the beauty and creativity in it

[moonagedaydreamsofrhiannon]

every time someone calls contemporary art “not real art” an angel loses its wings (a creative and unique new artist gives up on their passion and the world becomes slightly less interesting where it could have become slightly more)

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

not okay, m | jjk, myg

full title: I'm Not Okay (I Promise)

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, ft. jungkook

summary: Jeon Jungkook fucked up. He talked shit about emo girls. Min Yoongi decides he's going to make him take back what he said, make him beg and plead and cry to be touched by the sexiest woman he knows. Never mind that you were a goth in high school and not an emo.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship (Yoongi/you); definitely a scheme to seduce a clueless JK; threesome smut (fem reader, D/s dynamics, m-masturbation + daydreaming, edging / orgasm denial, inappropriate (but wanted) touching in public, a lot of begging, hair-pulling, scratching / marking, thigh-riding, handjob, choking, ball squeezing, restraints, cowgirl, nipple play, handcuff and anal vibrator usage, doggy, little bit of m-receiving oral, finger sucking); tbh Jungkook is a mess, is forced to make messes, and likes it; fluff; shifts from all three POVs; black-haired, sub!JK x noona, dom!reader x blue-haired, dom!Yoongi

yes, there are My Chemical Romance references, I'm aware MCR don't like being considered emo, we know labels =/= how someone truly is; yes, it's PTD (emo for a hot second) JK and Yoongi

--

"Is that what you think?"

Jeon Jungkook flicked the long black bangs over his left eye, laughing. "Yeah, these are just extensions. I thought it would be funny. I don't actually think this kind of style looks good on me."

A sharp click of the tongue. "No, the other part. About women."

Jungkook blinked, bewildered. Then he slowly remembered, recalling his words. "Oh... I just meant I wouldn't be attracted to a girl with a more emo, edgy style."

The deep voice was sharp and accusatory. "You said it was cringey."

"Ah... well... a little?"

Those pointed, cat-like eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Uh... hyung?"

Min Yoongi frowned and stood up.

"We will see about that, Jungkook."

Jungkook watched him go, even more confused than before.

"Why did that sound like a threat...?"

-

Because it was.

The next time they went out to eat together, Min Yoongi brought his girlfriend with him. She didn't often tag along. When his friends asked Yoongi about it, he just laughed.

"It's because you guys are too fucking loud."

The few times she did come with him, she was relatively quiet. She had an unapproachable air about her, intimidating in the way that a single eye shift and locked-on attention could cause heart palpitations. Everything about her image seemed far too sleek and refined for everyday life. Her gestures, her walk, her style. Minimalist outfits, mostly white and black. It was obvious that she had a nice body, but none of her clothes implied that she was advertising it, at least when she was hanging out with her boyfriend's friends.

There was one exception.

She always smelled delicious.

Noticeable, addictive, gourmand, always making you turn your head just to smell it again. A hint of ginger to startle, followed by the warmth of marshmallow and the earthly scent of green tea. It blended with her skin, turning warmer and muskier as the evening went on, making you wish that you could smell the bedsheets that laid against that sweet-smelling body later that night.

Very troubling for Yoongi's friends for his girlfriend to smell like pure sex and then gaze at them with such intensity when spoken to, startlingly similar to Yoongi himself.

"Hello, Jungkook. Surprising that you're the only one here."

Jeon Jungkook was so stunned that his brain seemed to cease all functions. He was completely frozen, eyes and mouth wide open, not believing the sight in front of him.

Yoongi?

His hyung was dressed normally. Black cardigan, white shirt, black jeans. His hair was light blue now, a cool-toned, steel azure. The color made his fair skin glow and his dark brown eyes stand out.

His girlfriend?

Her hair was loose and wild, partially covering the left side of her face. Dark eye makeup and dark crimson lips. Large, loose black shirt hanging off one shoulder, with a black leather choker and silver chain that clipped to the button placket of her shirt with a clasp. Her bra strap was obvious, meant to be seen, the delicate lace pattern molding around the top of the cup that was barely visible. The shirt was long enough to cover her ass, belted at the waist with a black leather belt adorned by a silver moon-shaped buckle. Sheer black stockings with seemingly intentional rips and sleek black velvet heels.

"Yoongi said you think emo girls are cringey," she chuckled, looking down at him, smirk on her plump, defined lips.

Jungkook sputtered, feeling his face burn. "N-No, noona, that's not what I meant, I–" He was attempting to restore brain function, but he was rapidly losing blood up top and it was gushing down below.

This had to be the hardest part of living.

"I had to remind him that I was a goth in high school, not an emo. They're slightly different."

She bent at the waist and adjusted the chair before sitting down next to him, giving Jungkook half a second to view her perky tits encased in black lace, her chest smelling so fucking good that he nearly passed out. He jerked his head away, glancing at Yoongi in sheer panic.

The older man gave him a completely blank expression.

Their previous conversation echoed in Jungkook’s head. We will see about that.

"The rest of them aren't coming today. I'm treating Jungkook," Yoongi was explaining.

His girlfriend tilted her head. "I thought you said Hoseok was coming."

"He was, but then something came up."

"Hmm..." She raised an eyebrow at Yoongi. He straightened his cardigan, noticing her discerning gaze, and raised one back.

It was only then that Jungkook realized they weren't sitting next to each other, but on either side of him, boxing him against the wall. Now Jungkook could smell Yoongi too, wearing a spicy, woodsy cologne that mixed with his skin to become warmer and more comforting, except right now it was scaring the shit out of him because he didn't understand why they weren't sitting next to each other.

"Ah..."

He simply pointed to the empty chair in front of him, unable to finish his sentence.

Yoongi looked over to see what he was pointing at. "Hm?"

"You're right, I should move it so the server has easier access to our table."

And she dragged the chair to the side.

"Very considerate of you, Jungkook."

She smiled at him and he swore the proximity was causing his sanity to crumble to dust. He saw her tuck her black purse behind her perky, round ass. It had a small pin on it of a devil reading a book titled, Guide to Eternal Torture.

A cutesy yet ominous image.

At this point, Jungkook realized he was staring at her ass and the raised hem of the shirtdress, revealing the fact that the stockings were thigh-highs. The black garter straps were straining against her juicy thighs as she adjusted her long legs under the table.

Fuck.

He bolted out of his seat, mumbling and stumbling past her, the alluring scent of her perfume enticing him as he squeezed past.

"B-Bathroom, be right back!"

-

You watched Jungkook run off, clamping his hands below his stomach, raising your eyebrows as he and his tight black jeans sprinted to the bathroom.

"Hm."

You turned back to your boyfriend who was looking at the menu like it was the most intriguing piece of art he had ever laid his eyes on. You stuck your tongue in your cheek and breathed out, waiting for him to continue. Yoongi didn't look up. You didn’t really expect him to. You waited out of politeness.

"How long am I torturing him for?" you finally asked.

"Until he takes back what he said about you," your boyfriend responded dryly.

You laughed, shaking your head. "I don't think it was directed at me specifically. Does he even know that this is what I usually dress like? Or why you always tell me to dress simpler when I come with you to eat with all of them?"

Those dark brown eyes flickered up.

Yoongi's perfect lips curved into a small smirk.

You rolled your eyes. "Of course, he doesn't."

He lowered the menu, raising his chin defiantly as he spoke. "My reason is still valid. You saw how Jungkook acted. He a mess around you."

"I don't ooze sex, Yoongi. You're exaggerating."

He cocked a brow. "I beg to differ. I would wager he's jacking off in the bathroom right now."

He drummed the table with his fingertips, challenging you to bet on it. You waved a hand, dismissing the challenge. Wasn't like you could miss that tent. You circumvented back to the matter at hand.

"Did Jungkook actually say that? About emo girls being cringey?"

Yoongi shrugged. "Something like that."

You frowned. "Really? With his eyebrow piercing and tattoos? And his black hoodie and jeans?"

Your boyfriend went back to the menu. "Projecting, I think you called it?"

-

Yes, Jungkook washed his hands before throwing himself into a stall and touching his dick.

He wasn't gross.

Would be really great if his dick had calmed down on his own, but her perfume lingered on Jungkook's hoodie sleeve, just the faintest trace on his left arm, and he pressed it against his nose, inhaling.

Fuck, why does she smell so good?

His right hand was undoing his pants, his eyes and fingers closing in, focusing on his throbbing erection fighting his underwear. Maybe if he just touched it on the outside, it would be fine...

Her face popped into his head, complete with the little quirk of her eyebrow.

Nope.

Jungkook shoved his hand into his boxer briefs and pushed them down, teeth biting his hoodie sleeve so he could smell her perfume as he stroked his cock, feeling somewhat dirty about it, but mostly violently horny. It wasn't like he could stop his brain. He couldn't go out there with a massive boner either, so he had to do what he had to do. It was only a few thoughts anyway, thinking about her thighs under the table and wondering how they would feel wrapped around him, wondering if she would let him rip those stockings off and bite those delicious legs, wondering if he could undo that belt and unwrap that body and press his nose against that sweet-smelling skin and taste it with his tongue, planting kisses over those beautiful breasts with her hand around his cock instead of his own, pumping him to her unforgiving pace, forcing him to moan into her skin, abusing his stiff length with her tight grip and expansive strokes, his hands gripping her soft thighs and his whines saturating the air, pleading, begging her to let him cum.

Would she edge me?

His hand abruptly stopped.

Jungkook used every ounce of willpower to avoid whimpering into his own sleeve.

His whole body was achingly tense, screaming at him to finish, but he refused, shoving his whole face into the thick fabric and breathing hard, clenching his jaw and his twitching cock, imagining her pretty face with a smug, sadistic smirk, those dark lips teasingly telling him he could finish inside her.

-

"What are you doing?"

The pale hand dance in the air, beckoning the waitress over.

"Ordering."

You tilted your head. "Jungkook isn't back yet. You should wait for him."

Yoongi shrugged. "I know what he likes." His gaze flickered to you. "Meat."

You narrowed your eyes. Yoongi gazed back, unfazed. You knew that look. You knew how to read between the lines. To everyone else, Yoongi was a 3D puzzle with a million pieces, but to you, he might as well have been a children's picture book.

The side of his lips quirked upward, so faint you would have missed it if you weren’t looking for it.

He did have very nice pictures in his book. You'll give him that.

You ticked your right eyebrow so subtly that no one caught it but him. He, too, knew that to look for. His smirk grew, pleased at your wordless communication.

You were dating a real troublemaker.

You smirked back as the waitress arrived at your table, apologizing for keeping you waiting. One look from both Yoongi and you, and she nearly dropped her notepad, fumbling with the pen, cheeks flushing pink.

Trouble did tend to find trouble.

-

Jungkook had determined he hadn't done anything wrong. He didn't actually orgasm in the bathroom stall thinking about Yoongi's girlfriend while smelling her remaining perfume on his clothes as the said couple sat in the restaurant, awaiting his return.

Well.

Now that he mentally described it like that, it did sound kind of fucked.

Crap.

He saw a blob of black in his peripheral vision and looked up to see Yoongi's girlfriend stride past him, fragrant-smelling hair drifting behind her, his head turning automatically to follow the sight, entranced by the movement of her hips and hair, only to find her glancing back at him, foxy smile dancing on those dark lips.

He swore she mouthed his name.

Maybe even said it?

Jungkook blinked and she was no longer looking in his direction, heading to the women’s bathroom and rolling up her sleeves, clearly going to wash her hands.

He was seeing things.

Yes.

Just horny and delusional.

"I ordered the beef plate for you. If you don't like it, we can order something else."

Jungkook looked down at the streaming, sizzling platter of seared beef and vegetables, feeling his stomach growl as he sat down.

"No, hyung, this is great. Thank you."

"Hm, that's good. You can start eating, I'm going to wash my hands."

Yoongi began to stand up, brushing off his pants. Jungkook jerked his head up, seeing the older male push his chair back, light blue hair falling over his forehead.

"Um, h-hyung?"

"Mmm?"

Those dark brown orbs flickered to him.

"Er..."

Yoongi tilted his head.

"Erm... why is noona here? I thought you said… you were just treating me to a meal...?"

Yoongi tilted his head the other way, slowly, unreadable expression in those cat-like eyes.

"I am. I'm paying today."

He raised his head and smiled. Jungkook tore his eyes away from Yoongi to see her weaving through the crowd to make her way back to the table, silver chain hanging from her black choker glittering in the overhead restaurant lights, exposed shoulder and collarbone a stark contrast to her all-black outfit, body shape so exquisite that it wasn't only Yoongi and Jungkook watching her walk. Many pairs of eyes followed her wake, some shy, some unabashed and brazen.

"Besides, she is a treat, isn't she?" Yoongi purred.

She had made eye contact with Jungkook and her lips curved into a small, amused smile.

Any response he had to Yoongi’s words died in his throat.

"Too bad you think that style is cringey, otherwise you might have had a shot, Jungkook."

-

You sat back down as Yoongi waltzed off, gesturing to his hands, leaving you with the Korean equivalent of Steve Rogers from 1943 to 2011, complete with what you presumed to be a very nice ass if the rest of Jeon Jungkook was anything to go by. Ah, well, you trusted genetics. Surely nature would have blessed Jungkook with a good booty. You looked over to him. He wasn’t moving.

Wasn’t even blinking.

You snapped your fingers in front of his face and Jungkook started, jumping in his seat, his wide brown orbs shakily shifting to you. You made eye contact and he quickly looked away, swallowing hard.

Come on, surely, it's not that serious.

Jungkook ran a hand through his short black hair and snuck a glance at you. Or, more specifically, your chest. Ah. Was that it?

"Something wrong?" you asked, picking up your chopsticks.

"N... No...?"

You had to smile. Jungkook didn't even sound like he believed himself. You pointed to your collarbone.

"Too much?"

His brown orbs shot up. Silence. You locked eyes with him, keeping him in place. You witnessed his inner struggle now, trying to decide between what he thought was the right answer and what his instincts were telling him.

"Aren't you... uncomfortable, noona?"

You chuckled, picking up a piece from your pork belly dish and blowing off the steam. "Me? Of course not. People stare at me all the time. Might as well dress how I want." You dabbed the extra oil off on the side of the plate and brought it to your lips. Your eyes flickered to the younger man. He was still watching you, his own lips parted, wispy black strands over his forehead, accenting his dark brows and the silver bar piercing on the right side. Poor guy. Jungkook really picked the wrong man to project to, the one whose girlfriend never grew out of her goth phase.

You brought the meat close to your mouth.

Let your tongue snake out for a millisecond between your open lips.

His eyeballs nearly fell out of his head.

This is too easy.

You placed the hot meat into your tongue and closed your lips around it, chewing slowly, maintaining eye contact.

Not speaking.

Yoongi was surely overreacting to something Jungkook probably didn't think too much about before saying it, but that was fine with you because Yoongi told you to cause some trouble. You liked causing trouble. That's how you got Yoongi. Trouble attracted trouble. Still, he had something planned. You could tell. Maybe even guess.

You smiled at Jungkook and he gulped so loudly you could hear it over the sizzling meat.

-

Otherwise you might have had a shot, Jungkook.

What did that mean?

Jungkook was having a mild panic attack throughout the entire meal, even when Yoongi suggested they get beers. His girlfriend was driving, so only he and his hyung drank as they ate. They barely talked. Jungkook’s brain was too busy trying to break down the meaning of the mysterious phrase, replaying Yoongi’s words over and over.

You might have had a shot.

A shot at what?

What, exactly?!

Jungkook snuck a glance at Yoongi’s girlfriend and she was looking back, cocking an eyebrow when they made eye contact. He flinched and peeked at Yoongi's expression. His hyung was chewing his beef slowly, staring into space.

Have had a shot.

Maybe Jungkook needed to do shots to be a normal human being at this point.

"You're pretty quiet today, Jungkook."

His dick twitched in his pants.

Jungkook threw one thigh over the other and mashed his dick between them.

"Ah... sorry..." he mumbled, fixated on his beer glass.

Yoongi rapped his forearm with the end of his chopsticks. "Look at people when you talk to them."

Jungkook swallowed and looked up at her. "S-Sorry, noona."

She tipped her head and frowned slightly. "Is there something wrong? Did I say something to make you upset?" She looked apologetic. "I'm sorry if my presence is ruining your time with your hyung."

He jerked his head to said hyung. Yoongi prodded at something in between his teeth with the end of his chopstick and gave Jungkook a confused look, as if to say, what are you looking at me for?

"Um... no," Jungkook finally said, shaking his head and turning back to her. "No, noona. I'm glad you're here. It's really nice to see you."

"You're barely looking at her."

His ears burned at Yoongi's dry remark.

She perked up, pointing to her collarbones. "Is this bothering you? It's too much, isn't it?" she chuckled, jingling the chain on the choker and making his dick jolt between his clasped, jean-covered thighs. "You really don't like this style, huh?"

Jungkook darted his eyes to Yoongi, who pointedly stared back, giving him zero context clues except for reminding him of what he said before the meal.

A shot.

“Uh, that isn’t it, noona. Ah, actually…”

Jungkook chewed on his lip nervously, focusing on her instead of Yoongi. She turned her body, giving her full attention to him. He couldn’t tell if that was better or worse. The guilt ate away at him. Minutes passed by. So many, in fact, that it was getting awkward. His neck was on fire, his ears were red-hot, he was pretty sure his cheeks were flushed, and not from alcohol, yet he still he couldn’t say shit to those dark eyes and crimson lips, trapped by the gaze of the woman in black, feeling like he just booked himself a room in the Hotel Bella Muerte.

“Are you okay, Jungkook?” she asked, shadows of an amused open-mouthed smirk on those lips.

Was he?

“Er, yeah… I’m okay,” he croaked, coughing to clear his throat.

Yoongi snorted.

Jungkook shook his head quickly, letting out a small growl of frustration. “Actually, no, noona, I’m not okay.” He rubbed his forehead and exhaled hard, biting his lip as he faced her questioning expression. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said the style you’re wearing is cringey, because it’s not. It’s really not. You look amazing. You always have, but you look extra cool and sexy today and I feel really bad saying something like that because I should have thought about how other people could look and pull off that style, but I didn’t, I was only thinking about how stupid I looked when I was fifteen and I assumed–”

Her hand shot out and she pressed two fingers to his lips, silencing him.

“Shh,” she hummed, fully smirking now. “You assumed and thus you got yourself in trouble, didn’t you?”

She’s touching me!

Jungkook jerked his eyes to Yoongi, who was nibbling on his last piece of steak and ignoring Jungkook’s panic. He added a bit of the sauce and popped the meat in his mouth, chewing slowly. It was like she and Jungkook weren’t talking at all or, rather, Yoongi wasn’t concerning himself with it.

Her fingers slid down, pressing into Jungkook’s lower lip.

He very nearly made a noise, quickly darting his gaze back to Yoongi’s girlfriend.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

Why was she saying his name like that? Like… like she was sexing it with her tongue or something? Oh, shit, he was going crazy. He had to be. It was all in his head. She must be saying his name normally. Had to be. Yoongi’s girlfriend? Flirting with him? No, no, absolutely not. And certainly not in front of Yoongi. Even if his hyung was pretending to be deaf, he was definitely not deaf. Yoongi was the kind of guy who would smack a stranger looking at his woman funny.

This?

It was all in his head.

Her fingertips slid to the side of his lips, tracing the shape.

R… Right?

“You think I look extra cool and sexy today?” she mused, licking her lips.

Jungkook could smell her perfume off her wrist. Sweet, musky, seductive. His thighs were so tightly clasped together that Jungkook was pretty sure his dick was pointing straight down with how erect it was at the moment.

“Ah… w-well… a b-bit…?”

Clink!

Jungkook yelped as cold water flew into his lap, immediately spreading his legs as the glass tumbled onto the tabletop. Yoongi swiftly stopped it, sighing exaggeratedly.

“Ah, my bad, that was quite clumsy of me…”

“Shit, Jungkook, are you okay?”

Her fingertips left his lip and he could finally breathe, only to squeak sharply as hands planted firmly onto his thighs and crotch, bunched-up napkins dabbing the excess water away, quickly soaking it up with the paper.

“You should be more careful Yoongi, sheesh…”

“Sorry, Jungkook, here, take these.”

Jungkook vaguely registered Yoongi saying her name apologetically as well, but at the moment he was not okay, very not okay, he promised this was the most not okay he had ever been in his entire life as Yoongi’s girlfriend mopped up water from his inner thighs and crotch, molding her hands around his dick, yes, his actual straining hard-on was being touched by her hands and it was getting harder by the fucking second, her hurriedly wiping the water off, acting like this was completely normal and not like his cock was trying to rip out of his pants.

“Ack, noona, w-wait…!”

He tried to sit up and Yoongi’s hand came down on his shoulder, holding him in place.

“Good idea, get under his ass just in case.”

Jungkook nearly blacked out as her napkin-covered hands slid under him and cupped the inside of his legs and bottom half of his ass, patting around. Her palms cupped his balls for a hot second.

He was fucked.

Utterly fucked.

Jungkook whimpered in his throat.

Her hands immediately stopped.

She looked up at him, very serious. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Jungkook shook his head from side to side so quickly that his vision blurred. “Yes.”

She shared a glance with Yoongi. The older man sighed and stood up, squeezing his shoulder as he leaned down to Jungkook’s ear.

“You want her to keep touching you or not?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, jerking his head to Yoongi. Those dark brown orbs looked back at him, demanding the truth.

“I didn’t spill that water for nothing.”

It was only then that it dawned onto Jungkook.

This was a set up. He was being set up. His hyung had set him up.

This whole fucking thing was a set up.

We will see about that, Jungkook.

She was cleaning his seat off and gently tapped his thigh. “It’s dry now. I think you’re okay.”

Jungkook decided that he really did not care about being set up. He did not give a single shit that he fell for it wholly and completely like a gullible idiot. He whipped his head back to Yoongi’s girlfriend, who was sighing ruefully, giving Yoongi the side-eye, muttering under her breath so only they could hear.

“What do you think he’s gonna do, Yoongi, ask to fuck me?” she hissed, placing the wad of wet napkins onto the table.

Too bad you think that style is cringey, otherwise you might have had a shot.

Jungkook’s hand shot out and squeezed her thigh.

“Can I fuck you, noona?” he breathed, chest tight.

He dug his nails into the sheer stocking, ripping new holes.

“If hyung lets me?”

-

"Yoongi, what are you thinking?"

Your boyfriend smiled. Very nonchalant. Nearly innocent. You knew better. This was Min Yoongi after all. His cardigan was off now. His broad shoulders in the white t-shirt were very distracting. Actually, so were his arms, now toned and more defined. Yoongi had recently taken an interest in working out.

His smile turned into a smirk. "What?"

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. You noticed movement under you and smacked Jeon Jungkook's hand down so he was no longer picking at the peach fuzz in his face. He gasped in surprise, but you ignored him, completely focused on your rather troublesome boyfriend.

"You can't be serious."

You felt fingers brushing against the hem of your shirtdress, playing with the edge of the fabric. Yoongi was kneeling behind Jungkook, who was sitting on your bed, and the younger man was now messing with your outfit as you and Yoongi continued your conversation about him.

Your boyfriend leaned down and placed his hands on Jungkook's jaw, laying down his deft fingers one by one, lifting that chiseled chin up, those wide brown eyes now looking at your face, paired with the amused, cat-like ones.

"I am serious," Yoongi murmured. "You should teach him a lesson."

You pursed your lips. "He already apologized. That's enough."

Yoongi tilted his head, clicking his tongue.

"No, it's not."

Your eyes flickered down and you raised an eyebrow at Jungkook's interruption. "What was that?"

He gulped under your stern gaze. "Um..."

Yoongi smiled pleasantly, removing his hands from Jungkook's face. "See? He wants it."

"He's your friend, Yoongi. We're going to have to see him in person later. You want him to be horny every second he's around me?"

Yoongi placed his palm on the crown of Jungkook's head, drumming his fingers slowly. Light blue strands curled around his dark brows and eyes, playful smirk on his shapely pink lips. His deep voice was a low, alluring drawl.

"He already is."

Jungkook nodded very fast to agree. He was trying to hide the keen excitement in his eyes by not speaking, but his eager expression was giving him away as Yoongi slowly chipped away at common sense. You grabbed Jungkook's chin and squeezed, holding him in place. His breathing hitched in your hand, small whimper of your name leaving his lips.

"Don't look at me like that," you scolded.

"Like what?" Jungkook asked with shaking eyes and a small pout.

You kept switching from Jungkook's to Yoongi's eyes because if you looked too long into those pleading brown orbs, you might actually crack. You spoke slowly, emphasizing each word.

"Like you're desperate for it."

A low, dangerous chuckle.

Your gaze fixated on Yoongi. He was about to do something.

His long fingers worked into that short black hair and yanked back, making Jungkook gasp and shiver as he was pulled from your hand, your name falling from his lips in a breathy moan as his eyes continued to watch you, waiting, needing, begging.

"P... Please, noona..."

Yoongi's grip tightened in those black locks, Jungkook whimpering at the roughness, his own hands clutching your shirtdress, tugging at it.

"I'm telling you to do it," Yoongi purred, smokey and dark, staring into your eyes.

Jungkook was pulling your shirt now, pulling you to him, getting you to straddle his lap, you glaring at Yoongi's smirking face the entire time, annoyed that he put you in this position, and yet you knew something of this nature was coming the second he pulled you aside earlier today and asked you to dress the way you normally did because he was going to take you out to eat with Jungkook and Hoseok. Jung Hoseok already knew about your eccentric fashion sense and, while it did spook him a little the first time, he often sent you links of clothes that reminded him of you. You didn't think much of Jungkook being there. He was the youngest and Yoongi often treated him to a nice meal, although usually without you.

"Unbutton the top more."

Yoongi had adjusted the exposed shoulder himself and handed you the leather choker.

"Wear this one."

You had given him a skeptical look. "You suiting me up for some kind of mission?"

Yoongi had smiled mysteriously.

"We're going to make Jungkookie's life a living hell and he's going to like it."

Apparently, Yoongi's mission was to tempt and torture Jungkook until he was mildly insane and then subsequently draw out the younger man’s ravenous desperation so that Jungkook was now clawing at your thighs and whimpering under you, trying to get you to fuck him, shuddering every time he attempted to raise his hands and Yoongi punished him by yanking at his hair in warning.

"She hasn't said yes yet. No higher until she says yes," Yoongi snapped, not taking his eyes off you and your body.

"B-But..."

You slapped a hand down on Jungkook's mouth and squeezed harshly, digging your nails into his cheekbones.

"Shh. I'm thinking."

You closed your eyes.

Breathed out.

-

"You know the only hope for me is you, right?"

"That's a little dramatic, Yoongi."

Those dark brown, cat-like eyes glittered, full of mischief.

"You always play along with my ideas."

"They're all very good. You are a genius."

You loved the way Yoongi smiled at you, endearing and sweet with a hint of cunning cleverness. He liked to invent new ways to keep your life interesting. Being with Min Yoongi was never boring.

"I doubt you'll be able to shock me though. I've seen it all." You, too, enjoyed challenging him and being challenged. That was part of the fun.

That's why you carried on with his black parade.

Yoongi chuckled. "Mmm, famous last words."

-

“Don’t let him move.”

His veins were on fire, chest shuddering as his head was pulled back, back, his spine arching to an almost uncomfortable position, but he didn’t care, only feeling pleasure as she leaned down, hovering over his body, her hand on his mouth, gasps trapped on his tongue while her own extended from those dark lips, down, down, her other hand grabbing a fistful of his hoodie and yanking down the neckline.

The tip of her tongue touched the space right between his collarbones.

She removed her hand.

Jeon Jungkook moaned, hot and wanton, sinfully right in front of Min Yoongi’s face as Yoongi’s girlfriend licked up his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple and scraping her teeth against it, before sliding up to his chin, stopping right before his lips.

Exactly where the mole under his lower lip was, tip of the wet muscle unmoving.

Those sharp eyes shrouded in black eyeshadow and dark eyeliner looked down on him.

“Please, n-noona…”

He didn’t care if he was being pathetic, tearing at her stockings with his fingernails, unashamedly imploring for more.

She didn’t speak. Yoongi spoke for her.

“Please what?” his hyung murmured, massaging his scalp slowly.

His cock was so hard that it physically hurt being trapped in his jeans like this. Any sanity he had left was being obliterated into pure, unadulterated lust. Jungkook didn’t care anymore about right or wrong. Whatever they let him have, he would take. He would beg and plead and cry if he had to. Whatever it took.

He whimpered, his thighs tensing with need.

“P-Please fuck me…”

I want it.

I need it.

I crave it.

She raised her tongue and flickered it over his lips. He moaned, shaking, his hands dropping from her thighs, reaching between his own legs and rubbing his painful erection through the zipper of his jeans, nearly sobbing as Yoongi’s fingers tightened, nails raking at his scalp.

“I can’t t-take it anymore… please… whatever you want to do, just do it, please, please touch me, I can’t s-stand it, I’m so h-hard…”

She pressed her knee down onto the back of his hands and Jungkook whimpered, so aroused that even that felt good, simply knowing she was applying the pressure, his balls suffocating a little against the center seam because of how thick and stiff he had become.

“Are you a little bit of a masochist, Jungkook?” she whispered, licking his lower lip gently.

Instead of answering right away, he pulled his hands out from under her knee and pressed it down onto his aching cock, his eyes rolling back and moaning deeply, forcefully raising his hips up, slightly pulling on his own hair in the process.

“Hyung, noona, please…”

The friction was almost painful, but the leaking pre-cum had soaked into his underwear, the slickness rubbing against the head, the added pressure of her knee slightly crushing his erection being his own self-inflicted pain that only added to the pleasure.

Jungkook gazed at her with half-lidded eyes, shuddering.

“Destroy me more.”

-

Min Yoongi liked to watch his woman work.

She was the best, she knew she was the best, and she only got better the longer she was with him. Of course, he loved her working him most. But Yoongi also enjoyed keeping things interesting. Being an assistant to the master was just as fun. And besides, they had a much more equal power dynamic and that’s what they liked.

But Jeon Jungkook.

He pulled Jungkook’s hoodie off, taking the shirt underneath with it, bare chest exposed to sharp black nails that immediately sent Jungkook into a spiraling mess of moans, falling back as those dark lips attacked the tanned skin, leaving marks all over that muscular body. Yoongi placed a hand under that sharp chin and pressed the younger male’s head to his chest.

He liked this too, this power.

Yoongi pressed his fingertips into Jungkook’s chin and raked his nails over that quivering throat.

He didn’t expect anyone to understand how or why he operated the way he did. He only needed one person to understand and she was currently yanking off Jungkook’s jeans and black boxer briefs with vicious vigor, throwing them aside before climbing off his lap.

Yoongi placed his hand over Jungkook’s eyes and wordlessly took his sight.

He liked the sounds Jungkook made. Needy, desperate, and strikingly beautiful. He had a wonderful quality to his voice, pouring all of his emotion into it. Nice cock too. Very hard, very red, a good length and girth. Yoongi chuckled, amused at the younger man’s eagerness. He lowered his head, whispering into that ear with three quivering silver hoops.

“So cringey, isn’t it?” he taunted.

Jungkook whined in his hands, trembling tone saturated with apology. “I’m sorry, hyung, I’m so sorry, I take it back, I didn’t mean it, p-please believe me...”

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw his woman remove her panties and step out of them. Stockings and garter belt stayed on though. She had style. He smirked, humming softly to mask her movement.

“You don’t have to say sorry to me.”

He removed his hand and she dropped her bare pussy onto Jungkook’s naked thigh.

-

Wet, hot, and sweet.

“Oooh, fuck…”

He lifted his head, eyes hazy and unfocused, greeted by the sight of Yoongi’s girlfriend straddling his thigh and rubbing her pussy all over him, the scent of her perfume mixing with the scent of her sex, thick and delicious and intoxicating, her soaked opening flexing against his hard muscle, driving him insane, disappointed that she was still mostly dressed.

“Noona…”

Jungkook reached for the belt at her waist, expecting Yoongi to stop him, but he didn’t, letting Jungkook unbuckle it, his hands shaking badly from the pleasure of her pussy touching his naked skin. The gentle slap of her thigh against his balls and cock not enough. He wanted to be touched, but those scrutinizing eyes indicated that she would touch him when she wanted and no sooner. It was making him lose his mind, but he loved it, moaning her name deep from his chest as he struggled to undo the small buttons, flinching and shuddering with her movements.

“I’m sorry, noona…” he gasped, staring into those sultry dark eyes.

She reached up and touched his lips, tracing the shape with her nail, sending shivers all over his body.

“You gonna watch your mouth from now on, Jungkook?” she murmured, trapping him with her gaze, turning the shivers into brimming electricity.

“Y-Yes, noona…”

He undid the last button and she swiftly removed her hand from his mouth and smacked his away, shrugging out of the shirtdress and tossing it to the floor before reaching down to her ass. She opened her mouth and her tongue snaked out, shiny with saliva, using her hands to spread her ass and pussy, squelching down on his hard, tense muscle.

“A-Ah, so good…”

And now he could feel more, the inner lips of her pussy now rubbing on his skin with her clit, slick and slippery, muscles of her opening constricting and relaxing on his thigh, an indescribable feeling, sensual and dirty and raw, the control so precise that her smug expression and upper body remained relaxed, hips still moving at the same rough pace.

Yoongi’s fingers tangled in his hair again, husky voice at his ear.

“Put the fingers of your right hand in her mouth.”

Jungkook obeyed as if spellbound, raising his hand and dipping his fingers into that waiting mouth, her warm tongue wrapping around them and coating them with her saliva, pink muscle gliding between his joints and dancing around his tattoos, spit dribbling down his palm and dropping in fat plops onto his crotch, his body flinching at the contact, unashamedly whimpering his want, Yoongi’s dark chuckle filling his ear.

It must have looked so dirty.

So wrong.

“Take them out.”

Jungkook removed his fingers with a sniffle, the coil in his core so tight he thought he was going to explode.

“Touch yourself.”

His cheeks burned at the thought of his own hand wrapping around his cock in front of two people, adrenaline and thrill burning his veins.

“B… But, hyung…”

“You touched yourself in the bathroom at the restaurant earlier, didn’t you?” that deep purr accused, pulling at his hair, prickling pain shocking his scalp.

“I…” His hand lowered. “I h-had to… noona is just so…” Staring into those heavily shadowed eyes, tongue licking those dark-stained lips, his saliva-coated fingers wrapping around his aching, taut cock, so close to sobbing at the relief of being touched that his voice cracked a little. “So sexy… and she smells s-so goooooood…”

Eyelids fluttering, Yoongi rapping his shoulder, telling him to look at her, telling him to appreciate that hair cascading over her left eye, those breasts cupped perfectly in that black lace bra, that garter and stockings barely encasing those juicy legs and her pussy sliding up and down his thigh, her hands spreading her ass wide so he could feel it as he punishingly and roughly pumped his cock, trembling all over, struggling to get his words out, cheeks burning with embarrassment as he explained but, for some reason, he wanted to explain and became even more aroused by it, relishing in knowing that she was listening intently to his confession.

“You always smell so, so good, noona… I t-touched myself w-while smelling your perfume on my clothes… T-Thinking about you and my hands all over your perfect body and your hands t-touching me…”

Fucking his hand harder, tighter, faster, slipping down, down, knowing what he was going to say next, driving himself to that point, the coil inside causing every muscle to tense, staring right into her eyes, knowing his pupils were blown-out and unfocused.

“T-Touching me like I am right now, abusing my c-cock and… s-stopping right before I c-cum…”

So close, so close, so close, please, please, please…

Her hand shot out and gripped his wrist painfully, forcing him to let go of his cock.

Jungkook cried out in vain, jerking his head forward and bringing tears to his eyes from the pain of Yoongi’s unmoving grip, tugging at his own hair, the sudden denial causing his cock to twitch and slap against her thigh, smearing pre-cum and saliva onto her soft skin, knowing that he wanted it, sinfully satisfied in how perfectly frustrated she made him, reading his signals and torturing him just right.

A merciful, skilled devil in disguise.

The hand left his hair.

Her hips slowed, sitting onto his thigh, an almost unbearable weight that he welcomed.

“Jungkook.”

His head lolled, scalp stinging, staring into her eyes and loving the way she said his name, like her tongue was wrapping around it and caressing it, each syllable drenched with curated possessiveness that was meant just for him.

Yoongi’s fingers snaked around his neck, four fingers fitting under his left ear, thumb pressing onto the pulse just under his right ear.

“You want to finish inside me?” she exhaled, hot and heavy and addictive.

The grip on his neck tightened, pressing on the blood vessels leading to his head.

One of her hands was still on his wrist. The other reached in between his thighs, past his stiff, purple-red cock. Fingers wrapped elegantly around his balls, joints locking, keeping him in a vise-like grip of pure power without adding any unnecessary pressure.

“Y… Yes, please…” he gasped weakly.

The grip of his wrist vanished. He was getting lightheaded, fighting to keep his eyes on her, and her free hand was now finally encircling his cock, finger by finger, making him wait, squeezing his balls a little harder, fuck, her touch, a distinctly different hand and different power, gently stroking his throbbing length as Yoongi choked him and she pulsed her grip around his balls, his breath leaving in shallow gasps and not only from the thinning circulation, but the flashes of pain and the constant pleasure of her hands and her wet pussy flush against his thigh.

“What if I make you cum like this?” she murmured, leaning in, Yoongi pressing in between his shoulder blades and pushing him to her beautiful face, dark and sultry and captivating, her lips now close to his.

“O… Okay…”

It took all of his willpower to hold himself up with his hands.

“You can do whatever you want to me, noona,” Jungkook whispered thinly. “I mean it.”

Yoongi pet his sweaty hair, pushing it away from his forehead, squeezing his neck tighter.

Jungkook choked out her name, desire so potent that he saw something in her eyes flicker. She liked it. She liked him and what she was doing to him and his reaction to it. It gave Jungkook a special kind of high, the kind of arousal that transcended past the sex.

Jungkook couldn’t get out anymore.

He knew he would crave this feeling, the feeling of power in powerlessness.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

Jungkook’s first kiss with Yoongi’s girlfriend was her forcefully jacking him off as she squeezed his balls and Yoongi choked him, his tongue sloppy and lips quivering, her sucking on it and making him moan with his tongue trapped in her dark lips, his hips twitching and shooting thick strings of cum all over her thigh, his thigh, and the sheets, suddenly slingshot into oxygen when Yoongi let go, adding to the high, his eyes rolling back, shivers racking his body, pleasure so intense that he felt nothing else, absolutely nothing but her touch, her hand leaving his balls and wrapping around his waist, pulling him to her body, her kiss stealing his breath, her cum-covered hand sliding up and down his abused cock.

Jungkook inhaled.

Her perfume invaded his nose, marshmallow sweetness, warmth of green tea, spark of ginger, and he was drunk, drunk on submission, sex, and their power over him.

-

Yoongi loved everything she did.

The way she looked at him.

The way her body moved.

The way she leaned over and kissed him as he pinned Jungkook’s wrists over his head while she was riding the younger man’s cock with a bruising, intense pace, her tongue curling around his, moaning softly into his mouth, lover to lover. With every moment, Yoongi fell more and more in love, addicted to orchestrating the perfect scenarios for his woman to completely ruin someone else.

She broke the kiss.

What a brilliant, satisfied, killer smile.

“O-oh, fuck, so good, fuck, your pussy is s-so good…”

Yoongi sat back and watched her hands slide over Jungkook’s chest, gripping his shoulders and fucking him hard, watching her pretty pussy clench around that cock that was begging for that tightness and that torture, the younger man rolling his hips up with every descent, destroying himself further.

The squelch and slap of skin to skin was audible, loud, and so, so sexy.

Her fingertip flicked the bottom of Jungkook’s chin, smirk on those plush lips now smeared with dark lipstick. There was something erotic about the mess though, her wild hair bouncing with every thrust, faint dark smudges now on his lips and Jungkook’s panting mouth.

“Aren’t you the perfect little fucktoy?” she teased.

There was a tension in her jaw, indicating that she was clenching around the younger man’s cock.

“A-Ah, just f-for you, noona…”

She frowned playfully, cocking a disbelieving eyebrow. “Hmm, I don’t know, sweet boys always have sweet tongues and you’ve already proven yours sometimes says misleading things…”

Jungkook whimpered. “P-Please, I s-said I was sorry… I m-mean it…”

Yoongi liked this begging, this desperate tremble vibrating from that silvery voice.

“I would n-never do something l-like this…”

Jungkook had such a handsome face, even with his cheeks flushed red and his composure falling apart.

“Unless it was y-you… and Yoongi-hyung, oooh, God…”

He raised his eyebrows, making eye contact with her.

She smirked back, dangerous and perfect.

-

“I-I can’t...”

“Yes, you can, Jungkook,” you murmured, arms around his neck, his arms shaking as he held himself up, moaning as you stroked his back, Yoongi behind you, still fully dressed, kneading your breasts, your nipples poking out between his long fingers and giving Jungkook the visual of your cleavage and the hard nubs poking straight out at him.

He groaned, hazy brown orbs returning to your face.

“Please, wanna make you cum with my cock so b-bad…”

You began to rock your hips again, the brief intermission stalling his orgasm over, and now he was moaning again, squirming at the oversensitivity and strained by the denial, your pulsing pussy keeping him hard until you built the pace up again, pushing him to the edge once more.

“Look at you,” you murmured, caressing his neck and back, fingers splayed over his hot skin. “You dream about this, Jungkook? Dream about hyung letting you be noona’s fuck slave?”

His teeth sunk into his lower lip, whining in his chest.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Shh…”

Your fingers slid up into his hair, cradling his head, smacking your ass down onto his thighs, tightening around his cock. Jungkook moaned into your face helplessly, shuddering at your sensual gesture contrasted by your fierce thrusts.

“I wanted you too,” you whispered hotly, breathing in his clean scent. “You always looked so innocent. Made me want to mess you up every time I saw that handsome, nervous face of yours.”

Your grip tensed around his head, lower half really giving it to him now, bouncing on his cock, letting his thickness and his hardness fill you up over and over again, Yoongi pinching your nipples and rolling them between his fingers, following your rhythm.

“It’s not going to be enough for him, you know,” Yoongi chuckled darkly behind you. “He’s going to come crawling back, begging for more.”

Jungkook bit his lip again, looking from you to Yoongi, already guilty.

You leaned forehead, placing a light kiss on that mole below his lower lip.

“I love it when you beg for me, Jungkook,” you purred.

You could feel it, arousal flaring at your own words, already close and getting closer, pussy pulsating around that satisfying girth.

“Are you going to be patient?” you teased, tugging at his hair, savoring the strained moans from Jungkook’s throat. “Are you going to wait on your knees and watch Yoongi fuck me until he’s satisfied and then come to take his place and show me that you can be good for me too?”

You felt Jungkook’s cock twitch inside you, already enthralled with the idea.

“Y-Yes, noona, p-please…”

Fuck.

You dug your nails into his scalp and moaned deeply, staring into those glazed-over brown orbs, drugged on his lust for you.

“You’re so obedient, fuck, makes me want to cum on this pretty cock of yours and reward you.”

Yoongi pinched your nipples and tugged on them.

The spark collided through you, gasping as your orgasm seized your senses and took over, your eyes rolling back as the powerful jolts made your walls spasm, tension so high that it felt as if your nerves were vibrating, Jungkook’s name tumbling from your lips with a hiss that turned into a groan in unison with his, his overstimulated cock jerking and twitching from the brutal massage of your orgasm, the condom swelling inside you from spurts of his own.

The scent of sex was so strong that even Yoongi moaned, squeezing your breasts roughly.

“F-Fuck…”

You inhaled sharply, feeling Yoongi’s arms wrap around you, nuzzling your neck.

“Don’t I have such good ideas?”

You grinned, seeing Jungkook’s euphoric expression before he pitched forward and leaned his forehead against your other shoulder, panting for breath. His exhale was warm, drifting over your racing heart and heating your heated skin.

“Yes, Yoongi,” you chuckled, stroking his soft blue hair and Jungkook’s sweaty black hair. “You’re a genius.”

-

"Jungkook-ah!"

"Sorry, Jimin-ssi, I can't–" He clenched his jaw, stifling the noise threatening to escape from his throat. "I can't hang out today. I have a deadline for work."

"Aw, that's okay Jungkookie. Do you want hyung to bring you some dinner? I can stop by!"

"I already ate, ah, just now. Thanks anyway."

"Okay, okay, I'll leave you alone. Don't forget your hyungs! You work too much."

Jeon Jungkook made an affirmative grumble. "Talk to you later."

An elegant finger reached over and hung up the call. The same hand lifted his phone from his ear and placed it back on the nightstand. Jungkook wasn't able to hold the phone himself.

He was handcuffed to the headboard.

"A-Ah, noona, fuck!"

Now that he was off the phone, she turned the toy back on, making him yelp and squirm. He whimpered, thighs shaking as his prostrate was assaulted with harsh vibrations, the connected silicone ring choking his cock and balls, flush against the base of both.

He moaned her name helplessly, looking down to see her laying between his legs, jerking forward with every smack of Min Yoongi's hips. His hard, dark red cock was sticking straight up right in front of her face. She heated it with her calm exhale, smiling at his shuddering whine.

"P-Please, touch me, o-o-oh, fuuuuuuuck..."

Yoongi smacked her ass with his open palm, making Jungkook moan at the sight of her ass bouncing from his hyung's dick.

"F-Fuck, please, noona, hyung, please, I wanna c-cum so b-bad..."

She increased the vibration setting and patted his thigh, returning to casually fucking Yoongi as he lost his mind from the jarring, rough pleasure, flexing his core and ass to make his cock jerk and swing in the air, unable to touch himself because of the handcuffs.

He loved it.

Jungkook loved every second of the torture crafted just for him.

-

"What a good boy for his noona."

Jungkook could only moan and whimper in response.

"Mm? Are you a good boy for her? Lying to Jimin so you can spend more time with my lovely woman?"

The younger man whimpered, biting his lip.

“H-Hyung…”

Yoongi smirked as Jungkook’s eyes rolled back, mouth open, gasping wail falling from his mouth as her tongue circled the head of his cock, lapping gently at the sensitive skin. The handcuffs rattled, Jungkook’s hands gripping the chain, tattoos standing out on his arm from his tense muscles. Yoongi watched her hands side up those toned thighs, up shaking hips, up to that slim waist, then drag back down, nails pricking at that skin, creating indents and red lines, visible, wet, glistening tongue toying with the throbbing cock in front of her.

He felt his own twitch inside her. Her muscles clenched around him tightly in response.

She lifted her head, gripping Jungkook’s hips and forcing him down on the bed, him whining and pleading for her to do more, but all three of them knew the way this was going to go and the one in the handcuffs wasn’t calling the shots.

“You keep coming back, Jungkook, and it’s gonna ruin sex for you.”

Her hand slid up his abused cock and balls, playing with them and rubbing the overstimulated skin as Yoongi increased his pace in power and speed, fingers spread out on her hips and sinking in, mirrored by the way she removed her hand from Jungkook’s length and grabbed his hips again, cocking her head, looking down at Jungkook.

“You keep flying high and you’re not going to want to come down.”

Jungkook’s black hair was all over his forehead, messy and sweaty, shudders leaving his swollen lips. The light caught the glint of the silver metal piercing on his trembling eyebrow.

She leaned down, hands crawling up his body, digging her nails in, scratching him up, and Yoongi hissed at the shifted angle, deeper now and more intense, her hair cascading down her shoulders, the sweet scent wafting up, sweet, warm, spicy, his favorite scents in the world melding together.

Sex.

Perfume.

And his woman, a curator of the little, beautiful death.

She chuckled, taunting and playful, placing her forearms on Jungkook’s chest, pushing back against Yoongi and using the other male’s body as leverage, poised in front of Jungkook’s fallen composure, one hand lifting and tracing his lips, enticing that pink tongue to sneak out, begging for a taste.

She shoved her fingers into his mouth, humming approvingly as Jungkook began to suck on them noisily, moaning around her fingers as the rhythm escalated, louder and louder, squeezing his length tighter so Yoongi had to thrust harder, growling in his chest, firmly gripping her ass, faster, rougher, her fingers sliding in further, the wet sounds of tongue and lips adding to the symphony.

Her words the crescendo.

“The jetset life is gonna kill you, Jungkook.”

The fire flared to an unbearable tension and Yoongi hissed her name, clenching his jaw and scratching her back hard, causing her to let out a long, drawn-out moan, clenching around his entire length and he came, cock jerking against her punishing walls, shooting his orgasm into the condom, his fingers sliding down her back, groaning satisfyingly when she matched him, her cum gushing out and sticking to his crotch and thighs, sweet purr of his name drifting out of her lips, her fingers slipping from Jungkook’s mouth, shiny with saliva and wiping it all over his chin.

“O-o-oh, fuuuuuuuck, please…”

And she didn’t forget, not even in her ecstasy, her hand wrapping around Jungkook’s neck, choking him strongly, driving him to the edge.

-

It took seconds.

Your lips curved into a smirk, Jungkook’s shaking, half-lidded brown orbs saturated with lust, vibrations and visuals and now the loss of blood leaving him breathless, lightheaded, and at your mercy.

Open mouth, gasping out your name.

Then he threw his head back, airlessly screaming, handcuffs rattling, muscles standing out all over his body from the searing tension, tattoos glistening with sweat, eyes rolling back, hips jolting up and shooting cum all over your stomach and his, orgasm so intense that he arched his back and jammed his cock between your bodies, your hand releasing him, Jungkook sobbing at the relief of his aching length still flinching and twitching, the hot head of his cock throbbing against your skin, still dribbling out hot cum in between your bodies, thick and slick.

You slithered on top of him, smearing it everywhere.

“Oh, God, n… noona…”

-

“Asleep already?”

You petted Jungkook’s head, smoothing his hair. “He had an eventful night.”

Yoongi chuckled. “He asked for it.”

Jungkook scooted closer to your heat, burying his nose in your chest, inhaling deeply.

Yoongi kissed the top of your head affectionately and you reached for his hand, running your fingertips over his knuckles. He placed it on your bare hip, tracing his marks on you.

“So, next time…”

“You’re already planning next time, huh?” You turned your head to look at those mischievous, cat-like eyes shrouded by strands of wispy light blue.

Yoongi ticked a brow. “Do you think he’s going to stop? I made him wait a whole month from the first time to this time and he gave me puppy eyes every chance he got.”

You shook your head with a smile, turning back to run your fingers through Jungkook’s black hair. “I wonder how you survived.”

“I looked away.”

You snickered and lifted Yoongi’s hand, pressing his fingertips to your lips.

“I would make him look away from me,” you murmured, low and dangerous.

“Hmm, then I’ll let you decide when next time will be.”

“Not counting tomorrow morning, right?”

“Of course.”

You felt Jungkook’s lips press onto your skin, a soft kiss inviting you and Yoongi to destroy him more.

--

masterpost

[hansolmates]

busted in busan 

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

if you loved this icy couple, please consider giving it a like n’share!⛄⛄⛄

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will the weather let up?” A frown. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nah, been booked since last month.” 

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

He pats his luggage as a response. 

“That’s not fair!” 

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.” 

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

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

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

“You want my ticket,” he states. 

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

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

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

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

“Who said I was offering?” 

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty. 

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

You huff, and shift in your seat. 

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

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply. 

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

“Why, I’m engaged!” 

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

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

“Holy fuck, have you two not—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you drive around a lot?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, you have a crush on me?” 

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

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

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

That singular statement hits you, hard. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk. 

There’s no drugs. 

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

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

Jungkook’s an artist. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s been a day. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I mean, I think I’m in love.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Impossible!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” you smile. 

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

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

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

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

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you rile me up now?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[harryspet]

welcome to eden | steve rogers

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, stepford wives au, wife!reader, marriage au, institutional misogyny, wealthy!steve, housewives au, stepfordization, mind control/brainwashing, forced gender roles, breeding kink, oral sex (male recieving), vaginal sex (wear a condom, kids!), bad editing :)

A/N: i just love the concept of this! i was told this was done before but I hope you all like my interpretation!

THIS STORY CONTAINS TRIGGERING CONTENT

In which the neighborhood you and your husband Steve move into isn’t like anywhere else on earth. The women are flawless and the men are way too happy. 

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taglist: @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @marvelslut-musicalnerd @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @cherienymphe @peterztinglez @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @charmed-asylum @fishwaterr @marvelsswansong​ @nsfwsebbie​

word count: 4.8k

“Now that we actually own this place it feels different. You still don’t think this is all a little much?” 

Steve lifted the cardboard box you were holding from your hands, starting to make his way into the house, “It’s perfect, pumpkin.”

Eden. 

You were now homeowners in the most luxurious and exclusive neighborhood in upstate New York. Howard Stark created this safe haven in the sixties and people now knew it as “heaven on earth”. 

You followed him inside the fortress of a house, knowing he was smiling wide. Even in your wildest dreams you never imagined that you would live in a place like this. There were so many rooms that you’d run out of ideas for what to do with them. The massive foyer was twice as big as the home you grew up in. 

Perfect marble floors, a winding staircase that reminded you of a castle, and a ginormous chandelier that was no doubt made of real diamonds. You followed Steve as he made his way into the kitchen which was, again, made for the Gods. You’d never been good at cooking but now you felt you had to start giving it a try just because of how nice it was. 

It had three ovens! Who in the world needs three ovens? “I don’t think we even have enough stuff to fill the house, Steve.”

He set the box onto the counter and you were reminded of the small number of things inside compared to the amount of cabinet space, “We’ll buy more things. Lots of things! You have my card, you can order whatever you want online,” You took a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed even by the thought of decorating this place, “Hey now, c’ mere. This is supposed to be a happy day.”

You walked into his embrace, letting his strong arms wrap around you as you leaned your head against his hard chest, “I am happy,” You made sure to say though you weren’t convinced this house would ever feel normal, “And I’m grateful. I really am, Steve.”

Steve’s big promotion in security at Stark Industries was unexpected but of course, you were happy for him. You just didn’t expect he’d suddenly be making millions and, since the two of you were married now, that you’d have to make the move with him and start looking for new jobs in the city. He’d do the same for you so you felt it was your duty to suck it up and try to make things work. 

You looked up at him and a soft smile was on his kind face. He leaned down to press a comforting kiss to your forehead. You tilted up to kiss him. He deepened it and, like you always liked, the passion you’d felt with him escalated the situation. 

Suddenly, Steven lifted you onto the kitchen counter, his hands on your waist and started to explore beneath your shirt, “This is going to be so good for us,” He spoke huskily against your lips, “What do you say we christen the new place?”

You nodded eagerly as he began to kiss your neck, “One good thing is we’ll probably never run out of places to have sex in a house this big,” Steve chuckled at your words. For a moment, his kisses took away the anxiety you were feeling. Change is only a part of life and it was something you’d just have to get used to. Luckily, you had Steve by your side to get through it all. 

“Plenty of space for kids as well,” He said and you assumed it was an attempt to turn you on. You gripped his muscular arms tightly as he 

“Mhm, put a baby in me, Steve,” You played along, knowing that you were on birth control and that was unlikely to happen anytime soon. Steve was dying to be a father but you agreed before you got married that you would enjoy your marriage to each other before you considered having kids, “Please, Steve.”

You knew that would send him over the edge and only seconds later he was pulling down your bottoms and pushing himself between your legs. Before you two could get really hot and heavy, the doorbell rang and left you both frozen. 

Steve helped you off the counter and you were quickly trying to pull up your yoga pants as Steve zipped up his jeans, “Edith, who’s at the door?” Steve asked which caught you off guard. The mansion was also a smart house, equipped with artificial intelligence that Mr. Stark had developed. 

“James and Natasha Barnes, sir. Would you like me to let them in?” There were small monitors throughout the house including the kitchen. It lit up when the door rang with a picture of the couple standing at the front door. 

“Yes, Edith. Thank you,” Steve turned back to you, not with frustration that their moment had been interrupted, but with a mischievous smile, “We’ll finish what we started later.”

You nodded, forcing a smile as he grabbed your hand. The two of you walked to the foyer which was a trip within itself due to the size of the house. 

Bucky was one of Steve’s friends that you were never quite sure of. He’d known Steve for way longer than you so you never thought it was your place to ask questions about their relationship. Bucky just seemed to bring out Steve’s impulsive side and you preferred Steve when he was cool and level headed. 

Nat, on the other hand, you loved her. 

“Welcome to Eden, Rogers family,” Bucky announced, his voice booming through the foyer as they came into view. Already, something was off and it wasn’t because of the new environment. Bucky was clad in his suburban husband get-up, like he’d been golfing all day and Natasha looked like she was preparing to go to some old-fashioned garden party. You’d never seen her wear a sundress and never seen her smile so wide. 

“Thanks, Buck,” You heard Steve say, going to hug his best friend. 

As you walked up to embrace Natasha, she even felt different. As you pulled back, you searched her face for something missing, “Wow, your eyes are beautiful,” She said, still beaming. Her red hair was now blonde and reached down past her shoulders. Her skin was bright and her makeup, which she didn’t normally wear, was done to perfection. 

“Thank you,” You spoke, unsure of why she was just now noticing. Besides that, you didn’t think they were anything special, “You look great … so new.” You laughed awkwardly as you took a step back. Bucky placed a hand on the small of her back and she gazed back at him lovingly. 

“Honey, you act like you haven’t met Y/N a million times,” Bucky grinned towards you, trying to ease the awkwardness. 

“Of course,” Natasha agreed immediately. You couldn’t help but think her tone was lacking a certain emotion, “I love spending time with Y/N. It’s so nice to have girl friends, isn’t it?”

Suddenly, appearing from basically nowhere, she pulled out a dish. It was a pound cake and she presented it to you with a smile that was now starting to make you uncomfortable, “A house warming gift,” Bucky added as you accepted it, “Natasha has been taking up baking.”

“That’s very sweet,” You said and Steve added a thanks.

“You two should stay. Let us give you a tour!” Steve clapped his hands together in excitement.

“Sure,” You agreed, “Stay for dinner. We can order pizza.”

“Order? Pizza?” Natasha was smiling but her head cocked to the side in confusion. Bucky responded by grabbing her hand and, again, she looked up at him with loving eyes. 

“That sounds delicious, Y/N,” Bucky said, ignoring his wife. 

+

You rubbed moisturizer on your face as you looked back into your bathroom mirror. The room was the size of a regular room and the closet was basically an apartment within itself. Steve came from behind you, his hands on your waist as he pressed himself into you. 

“Should we continue where we left off?” He asked as you grabbed a hold of your toothbrush. 

His hands were still roaming over your body as you began to brush your teeth before bed. You didn’t answer his question, your mind far away, “You don’t think Nat was acting super off today?” You asked after spitting toothpaste into the sink, “I mean, quitting her job. Suddenly wanting to be a stay at home Mom? She just got a promotion a few months ago.”

Through the mirror, Steve gave you a look that told you he was about to play devil’s advocate, “She didn’t seem that different to me. I think she realized what she actually wanted after the move.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as you rinsed off your toothbrush, “Are you being serious, Steve?”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me,” Realizing he was not getting anything tonight, he stepped back with his hands in the air, “You never know about these things. People change. Who knows, maybe our priorities will change too.”

You scoffed, turning off the water, “My only priority right now is landing the Cosmopolitan contract. I can think about priorities once I’m working again,” You walked past Steve, standing on the tip of your toes to kiss his cheek, but he still had a defeated look on his face, “Let’s go to bed, it’s been a long day.” 

+

You barely had time to enjoy your bowl of cereal milk before there was another ring at the doorbell. Without looking up from his bowl, Steve explained that he made plans for you and Natasha to spend the day together. You knew he was working on convincing you that this entire move was a great idea. Of course, you didn’t have time to protest because the new blonde was now impatiently honking the horn of the golf cart in your driveway. 

As soon as you stepped out of the house, you realized you were underdressed once again. Her attire today was a sundress full of blue flowers and beautiful pearls to go around her neck, “Good morning, sunshine!” She beamed as you climbed into the passenger seat. She looked over your regular t-shirt and jeans with a smile but you could tell she didn’t understand the way you were dressing, “It’s such a lovely day, isn’t it?”

“Yeah-”

“I know! I love gardening on days like this,” She suddenly pressed the gas and you were on your way. You were still figuring out what exactly happened to your friend since the last time she saw you but she could only seem to talk about gardening, “Bucky loves the flowers I plant. I put them in this gorgeous vase so he can look at them while he’s eating his favorite breakfast. It’s nice to have nice things to look at.”

Natasha showed you every house in the neighborhood, explaining what nuclear family lived in each house, “How come you know everyone who lives here? You never seemed like the type to ... “

“Oh, we all know each other in Eden. It’s like a family! Isn’t that sweet?”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to nod this time. You were starting to notice that every person we passed seemed … flawless. All the wives were perfectly dressed, wearing heels, and had neatly pinned hair. All the husbands looked way too happy. 

You passed a golf course and soon arrived at the clubhouse where you’d be attending a book club meeting. You were a reader yourself so the idea of that gave you some hope that you wouldn’t feel totally out of place today. 

That hope dissipated quickly when you stepped into the room. On a landing overlooking a pool, a group of flawless looking women sat in a circle like they were having a tea party rather than a book club meeting. 

They were all happy to meet you and Natash introduced you to everyone. Instead of their names, she started with their husband’s. There was Sam’s wife Sharon, Vision’s wife Wanda, Thor’s wife Val, Clint’s wife Laura and most importantly-

“Pepper!” The group of women erupted with cheers as the matriarch entered the room. You’d recognize Tony Wife’s anywhere just from the tabloids. She was pretty much America’s favorite wife, writing self-help books, and posing on the cover of home decor magazines. 

“Good morning, ladies,” She moved like a cloud, floating through the room as she commanded everyone’s attention. She took a second look at you as she made her way to her chair, “Steve’s wife Y/N, it’s lovely to meet you and, wow, you have such beautiful eyes. Welcome to the book club!”

The room erupted in giggles and clapping once again. You felt you were in some sort of simulation, like a social prank and you were waiting for some tv show host to come out and reveal that all these people were paid actors. 

Pepper continued, crossing her ankles as she flattened out the skirt of her purple colored dress, “I hope you are all feeling like I am. My husband is happy, the kids are happy, my friends are happy and that. Makes. Me. Overjoyed,” Her words put them in a trance and they seemed even more robot-like than they already were, “I only want to add to that feeling so today we are discussing a highly anticipated book.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting but you clearly weren’t on the same page as everyone else. Natasha nudged your side, giddy as ever, “I present to you ladies, Melanie Winkle’s Christmas Baking Book!” Now you were positive that you were in a simulation, “Christmas is a few months away but the season is so busy that I think we should get an early start this year. Who knows how many dance recitals, charity fundraisers, and Christmas parties we will all attend this winter? Too many to count! This book is going to change all of our lives.”

Natasha leaned into your ear, “I love Christmas, don’t you?”

“Nat?” Her eyes widened with curiosity, “Blink twice if someone is holding you hostage.”

She didn’t blink at all, “You’re silly, Y/N. You always make me laugh, don’t you?”

+

The next week passed in a blur. You had no idea how many brain dead women you had met or how many times Steve had told you that you were crazy for stressing over the Natasha situation. Tomorrow, you had an interview and you could finally leave the neighborhood and be around people who didn’t only care about knitting and Christmas decorations. 

Before you could have your sweet escape, your limit was met. 

You were attending a yoga class led by Pepper that Natasha had brought you to. It was an otherwise normal experience despite Pepper chanting about how true peace is reached when your “home is happy”. 

The class was in a cat’s pose when Wanda suddenly fell down to her stomach. The class froze and you rushed to her side. Your heart racing, you placed a hand on her back to check to see what was wrong. You brushed her hair from her facing, seeing that her eyes were wide open and she was saying, “I love my husband. I love my family. I love my husband. I love my family,” She kept repeating those two phrases over and over, her gaze completely empty. 

You felt Natasha’s hand on your arm, trying to guide you away.

“She’s going to be just fine, girls,” Pepper said calmly like the woman wasn’t having a nervous breakdown, “Us women are so delicate, with the yoga and the hot weather outside, she must be overheating. Natasha, will you lead the girls into the other room?”

“I think she needs medical attention,” You interjected, staring around the room to find a like mind. 

“Tony can help her,” Pepper smiled.

“She needs a doctor!” The room went silent before the wives began to whisper. 

“I love my husband. I love my husband. I love- I love- It’s a lovely day outside, isn’t it? Isn’t it?” 

“We will get her the help she needs, do not worry,” Piper continued, folding her arms in front of her. 

Natasha pulled your arm harder this time, “Y/N, let me walk you home. It’s a lovely day for a walk.”

You left the room with a feeling of complete uncertainty and as soon as Natasha was out of your site, you stormed up the spiral stairs to find Steve’s office, “Steve!” You shouted his name as you speedily walked through the long hallway. You pushed open the two, large, oak doors that led into the study and stormed inside, “Steve Rogers, I am done!”

Steve looked up from his desk and Tony turned to face you from his place in the chair in front of his desk. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Steve stood from his chair, concerned. 

You stared at Tony Stark, not with awe because he was the most famous engineer in the world, but with anger, “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you, Y/N,” Tony stood next, fixing the buttons on his suit jacket, “Steve tells me you’re a photographer. Quite a talented one.”

You eyed him carefully, somehow knowing that he was the source of all that was wrong here, “I need to talk to my husband, alone, if you don’t mind.”

Steve’s eyes darkened as he looked at you, “Y/N,” He said with a warning, trying to tell you not to be rude, “This is my boss-” “It’s quite alright, I know an angry wife when I see one. I enjoyed our conversation, Mr. Rogers, and I think we’re on the same page now,” Tony approached you, a smug look on his face, “I hope to see you around, sweetheart. Oh, and again, welcome to Eden.”

As he left the room, you became even more frustrated, “You can’t talk to me like that in front of my boss, Y/N.”

“Steve,” You walked closer to his desk, “Listen to me. It’s only been a week and I am losing my mind. The people here are … are robots! They’re old-fashioned and daft, especially the wives. Nat used to be smart and cunning and now all she can talk about are gardening magazines!”

“Gardening is a very relaxing hobby-”

“Oh, please,” You crossed your arms, “That woman was on her way to being a CEO and now she’s … she’s a shell.”

Steve walked around the desk to you, grabbing your hands while they shook with anger. The look in his eyes was sincere, loving, and brought you back to a simpler time. When you were first dating, living in a tiny apartment in the city, the two of you were so in love. 

“I know this move has been hard on you and I don’t want you to see this all as a mistake. I’m trying hard, I really am,” You nodded, trying to let his words soothe you. You pressed your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, “Everything here is new to me too. They do things here differently than any other place I’ve been.”

“Yeah, it’s like a cult,” You felt his chest rumble as he chuckled. 

“I’m not sure about that. I do know that things are simpler here,” You felt his heartbeat quicken, “I always wanted the white picket fence, the two kids, a boy and girl, and a doting wife. She wouldn’t be bogged down by the stresses of modern life, I would take care of her … we’d be happy-”

You pushed away from him, tears pricking your eyes, “Steve, you can’t be serious,” You took a few more steps back. 

Steve sighed, “I wasn’t sure before. Bucky made it sound like a crazy fantasy but now that I’ve seen Nat and … now that I’ve talked to Tony…” 

You kept walking backward, your heart was now racing, “You kept saying she and her. Not me … I’m not the wife you want, am I?”

Steve stepped forward now. There was pain in his eyes like he didn’t want to hurt me but he had to keep pushing himself further, “You could be, pumpkin,” He tried to be endearing but his voice was weak. 

As soon as your back touched the door, you turned and yanked it open. You took off down the hallway and you cursed the fact that you let Steve by this crazy house. You looked back to see Steve standing at the top of the stairs as you hurried down them, “Y/N, please don’t make this hard!” Steve tried to plead. 

“Fuck you, Steve!” You shouted back, practically throwing yourself at the door. As you turned the lock, it didn’t budge, “Edith, open the door!”

“Only Mr. Rogers has command of my controls, Mrs. Rogers.”

Your face fell completely as tears streamed down your cheeks.

You felt him behind as you continued to pull at the doorknob, “Steve, I’m begging you …” He placed his hands on your hips, leaning down to whisper into your ear. 

“I promise it won’t hurt one bit, pumpkin.”

+

When Steve awoke a week later, he was dreading the day. It had been a week since Tony started working on you and Steve was nervous to see the final product of the reprogramming. He’d spent the week emailing your friends, family, and associates, making excuses about your whereabouts and your new change of career. 

Whatever problems he ran into, there was nothing that money couldn’t solve. 

As he made his way down the stairs that morning, he smelt something unusual. Steve had never woken to the smell of bacon and he had certainly never heard you humming sweet songs before. He saw the back of you first as he walked into the kitchen, knowing you were whisking away at some mixture in a bowl. 

Steve moved cautiously but you easily picked up on his movements. Part of Steve was surprised to see that you were still you. He hadn’t seen such a happy look on your face since the two of you had been engaged, “Hey, honey bear,” You greeted him and Steve could now see you were whisking pancakes, “Did you sleep well?”

Steve moved closer and you heard yourself say, “Don’t be shy, I’m making those pancakes you like from our favorite brunch spot.” 

“I didn’t think … how did you …”

You guessed what he was thinking easily, “I did a bunch of research and I found the recipe online. I hope I can make them just like you like them,” You set down the bowl, walking over to peck his lips. Your lips still felt the same which comforted Steve, “Why don’t you sit down at the table? I’ll bring them to you!”

“Oh,” Steve perked up, “I can help you. Where’s the recipe?”

“No need. Let me take care of you, please,” You searched his eyes for permission, “It’s the first day of our new life together and I just want to show you how much I love you.”

Steve nodded and you pecked his lips again. You smiled, knowing how much telling him that you loved him had please him. 

In the little breakfast nook, there was already a table full of food, the sunlight streaming in from the tall windows and illuminating the feast. Steve estimated that you had probably been cooking for hours at that point. A glass of orange juice as well, a cup of hot coffee was and today’s newspaper was waiting for him at the head of the table. 

You were completely focused on following the recipe, having measured everything precisely and you were now making perfect circles of batter in the frying pan. 

Steve watched your dress swing from side to side as you moved your hips, humming to some classical song. He had just realized that you’d chosen a blue dress, his favorite color, and you were wearing your hair just like he preferred. When you brought the tray of pancakes over to the table, you had an excited but expectant look on your face. You were probably as nervous as Steve was earlier. 

As you placed them in front of Steve, you stepped back and folded your hands over your apron, 

“You aren’t going to sit down?” Steve asked, grabbing his fork. 

“Would you like me to sit down?” You asked, a pleasant look on your face. 

“Yes, please,” Steve emphasized the seat beside him. He had a look of surprise on his face as if he hadn’t expected you to ask that. You maneuvered into the seat, neatly flattening your dress as you made yourself comfortable. 

You looked back at Steve, still expectant, “You don’t want to eat?”

“Of course, if that’s what you’d like, my love,” You started to fill your plate with scrambled eggs and pieces of fruit from the bowl you prepared. Even as you spooned the food into your mouth, the taste not registering in your mouth, you watched him. You made sure to push the syrup closer to him as you waited. 

When his fork finally picked up the food, your eyes were wide. 

“It takes just like the pancakes at Orla’s,” Steve complimented and you felt your heart race. You touched your chest, your cheeks feeling warm, as happiness flooded you, “They’re delicious, Y/N.”

“I’m so glad,” You beamed, “Eat more, please. Would you like a muffin? Sausage? I can blend you up a fresh smoothie.”

Steve placed a hand over yours, trying to stop you from ranting, “No, everything is perfect.”

And Steve meant it. 

When Steve finished his plate, you brought it to the sink despite his wishes to help you with dishes. When you came back to the table, you leaned in for what Steve thought was another peck on the lips. He was surprised when you deepened the kiss, resting your hands on the armrest as you leaned into him. 

When you pulled away, you weren’t even breathless, “You look very handsome this morning, Steve,” You told him, adoration in your eyes as you memorized every feature of his strong face, “Would you let me have the honor of pleasing you?”

“I’m already feeling pleased,” Steve grinned not expecting your hand to run down his chest and then over his boxers, “.... oh.”

“Please?” You pouted, feeling him through the fabric. He grew harder against your grasp and, by his pupils, you could tell he liked it, “Just let me touch it. Please, Steve?”

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly, nodding as he was left speechless. You reached into his boxers, grabbing his member which made Steve melt back into his chair. You freed it from its confinement, leaning down to let a trail of your spit coat the sensitive tip, “Just like that, Y/N,” You up and down his shaft, twisting and rubbing your thumb over the tip. 

You moved down to kneel in front of him, “I wanna taste it, Steve. I wanna taste you so bad,” You moaned, moving your mouth closer to him. 

“Put my cock in your mouth, baby,” You smiled before tasting the tip with your tongue, “Good girl. Oh, you’re an angel.”

You took him all the way into his mouth, your tongue trailing down his shaft as you went deeper. You bobbed your head up and down, your tongue creating a swirling motion. Despite your eyes watering, you kept perfect eye contact, trying to show him how much you were enjoying the privilege. 

When your mouth tired, you used your hand to continue the work though Steve didn’t seem to mind at all. When you felt he was close, you slowed your motions, “Steve, please cum inside of me?” You begged, your hand still stroking his cock.

He nodded eagerly, knowing you hadn’t taken your birth control for an entire week. You got up from the ground, lifting your dress skirt as you climbed on top of him. Your eyes were locked on each other as you slid your panties to the side, sliding down on his cock. He was already close, you knew that, and you were desperate to feel his warmth. 

“You want me to put a baby in you?” Steve grunted as you began to ride him. He grabbed a hold of the back of your neck, pulling you further into him. Your forehead pressed to his, your moans and pants began to mold together. 

“Please!” You moaned. 

“You want me to make you a Mommy, huh?”

“Please! Yes, please! I want you to make me a Mommy, Steve,” You smiled, the idea only filling your virtually empty mind with happiness. You'd try your best to be a wonderful mother and wife. “Oh, thank you-”

As you felt his warmth fill your insides, it was confirmation that you had pleased your husband properly. He slowly let you go so you could feel every inch that you just took.

“Jesus Christ,” He swore, panting as he leaned back in the chair, “This was the heaven on earth they were talking about.”

Steve could only imagine what came with lunch and dinner.

Suddenly the sun outside caught your attention, “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

+

hope you enjoyed! 

[starlingflight]

@thisismegz as requested, the missing scenes from Everything I Wanted of Ginny dealing with her guilt over how things went between her and Dean. 

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

The sun felt especially bright contrasted as it was by nearly a full day in the dungeons with no one but Snape for company. Harry savoured the way the light summer breeze tickled his uncovered arms and the way Ginny’s hand felt in his as they made their way out into the grounds. 

It seemed the majority of Hogwarts’ population had decided to take advantage of the good weather, for the lawn beside the lake was crowded with huddles of students. Their usual tree was already taken by a noisy group of fourth-year girls and so Ginny led him to a free patch of grass not far from the lake's stony shore. She sat cross-legged on the ground, pulling Harry with her. 

He went to position himself beside her but Ginny clearly had other ideas, she shuffled slightly, placing her hands on his shoulders and smoothly guided Harry’s head into her lap so that he was lying on the soft grass with Ginny above him, her fingers tracing lightly across his forehead. 

“If your brother sees this he’s going to lose his mind,” Harry warned, though in truth he was finding it difficult to care. The headache that had been building behind his eyes, caused by a long day in the dark, stuffy dungeon was receding with every stroke of Ginny’s fingers over his skin.

Unsurprisingly, Ginny seemed to care even less about Ron’s reaction than Harry did. Her only response to his warning was to gently slide his glasses off and place them carefully on the grass beside them, making it easier for her fingers to trace the features of his face without obstruction. 

Neither of them said anything for a while, Ginny was now little more than a blur of creamy skin and striking red hair above him. Eventually, Harry let his eyes slowly drift closed, revelling in the feel of her fingers on his face and the sweet, floral smell of her shampoo drifting to him on the summer breeze. 

Snape became nought but a distant memory under Ginny’s careful attention and Harry was vaguely considering that there was a strong chance he was going to fall asleep, warm and content as he was, when Ginny broke the silence between them. 

“I think I'm going to apologise to Dean," She declared. 

It took Harry a moment to register what she’d said, his brain felt fuzzy from the heat. When his wits finally caught up with him, Harry almost asked her why but he immediately realised he didn’t need to. 

He’d seen the guilt on Ginny’s face last night and he’d felt the same thing himself. They’d both admitted they’d been in denial about their feelings for each other for a while and maybe that was no one’s fault but it didn’t change the fact that Dean had been caught up in it. 

“If I tell you I think it’s a bad idea are you going to think it’s because I’m jealous or threatened or something?” 

Ginny's fingers were still stroking lightly across his cheeks, over the bridge of his nose, across his forehead and Harry found that it was almost impossible to feel jealous given his current situation. 

“No,” She said mildly. “I’m going to ask you why you think that, though.” 

He’d rather she didn’t but if Harry was being honest with himself, he knew her better than to expect Ginny to blindly accept what he was saying. “I’ve been in his position. I watched you with him for months, and I didn’t expect you to break up or begrudge either of you your happiness or anything but…” 

Harry trailed off, still not used to telling anyone his deepest feelings and still not entirely comfortable with it. 

"But?" Ginny prompted, one of her hands working its way up into Harry's hair, massaging his scalp. He felt himself relax immediately. 

"But there isn't anything you could have said to me to make me feel better about the situation, to make me not want you." 

Ginny's hands didn't stop their slow exploration of his hair for even a second. "It's not the same thing," She said without missing a beat. 

"How isn't it?" 

"It was never like this with Dean," Ginny unwound one of her hands from his hair in order to gesture between the two of them before quickly returning it, much to Harry's delight. "I was never this happy, not even at the start. The thing that you were waiting for is so much better than what Dean lost." 

Secretly, Harry wholeheartedly disagreed with this. The thing that he'd been waiting for, the thing that Dean lost, was Ginny and there were no words on the planet that could ease the devastating blow that Harry already knew would come from ever losing her. 

"You really want to talk to him?" Harry asked, knowing it was pointless to argue with her when she'd already made her mind up. 

“I really do,” Ginny responded and Harry knew the matter was settled. 

“Okay,” He agreed. “Did you want to go now?” He added reluctantly, he could quite happily stay in this spot for the rest of his life. 

“No,” Ginny said quickly, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss to Harry’s lips. “I’ve been waiting all day for you to get out of detention, you’re staying right where you are.” 

**

Ginny and Dean did not cross paths for the rest of the weekend. Nor was he anywhere to be seen at breakfast or lunch on Monday. Ginny was beginning to strongly suspect that he was avoiding her when she quite literally walked into him on her way out of Ancient Runes on Monday afternoon. 

“Sorry - oh!” Dean’s apologetic smile faltered as he took Ginny in. 

“I’ve been looking for you!” Ginny said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, though Dean still didn’t look cheered at her pronouncement. 

“Er, have you?” 

“Yeah, do you mind if we go somewhere and talk?” 

Dean’s eyes narrowed suspiciously in a way that made Ginny’s heart sink. They’d been friends for years, they’d been close since the first D.A. meeting and now the two of them had reached a point where the prospect of holding a conversation was enough to set Dean on edge. 

“It’ll be really quick, I promise.” Ginny tried again, hoping her face held as much sincerity as she currently felt. 

“Alright,” Dean said reluctantly, gesturing for Ginny to lead the way. 

There was a low wooden bench halfway down the corridor, under a row of mullioned windows which revealed the sweeping vistas of the Hogwarts grounds and the lake. If nothing else, at least the view would be pleasant. 

Ginny took a seat on the bench and Dean followed her lead; she couldn’t help but note he was sitting as far away from her as physically possible. One good shove and he’d topple over onto the castle’s stone floor. 

“How have you been?” She began cautiously. 

“Fine,” Dean responded. Ginny raised a sceptical eyebrow. Dean had always been forthcoming with his feelings, one-word answers weren’t his style at all. “I’ve been good, Ginny. I’ve been working on my art - I’ve had a lot of emotion to channel into my drawings, I think I’ve got some really good ones for my portfolio.” 

Ginny nodded, trying not to think too hard about what emotions Dean may have been using to fuel his creative pursuits. “You were always very talented.” 

It was Dean’s turn to raise a dubious eyebrow at Ginny now. “Is that what you wanted to say to me? You like my drawings?”

“No, I wanted to apologise,” She said slowly, half-expecting Dean to shut her down before she’d explained herself. When he said nothing, but continued to look at her expectantly Ginny took a deep breath before continuing. “I should have ended things between us long before I did. I knew your feelings were stronger than mine and I shouldn’t have kept stringing you along.” 

Dean listened patiently as Ginny spoke, but he began to shake his head in disagreement as she finished. “That wasn’t what bothered me. It was that I could clearly see where things were going between the two of you, but you were so adamant that I was seeing things that weren’t there. It was frustrating.” 

Ginny began to fiddle nervously with the ends of her hair, slipping the long strands between the ends of her fingers. “You’re right,” She said quietly, looking not at Dean but out of the window where she could just make out the Giant Squid’s tentacles rising out of the water in the distance. “I know it probably doesn’t help, but I hope you know I wasn’t lying to you on purpose - I really believed our banter and joking was innocent, it was unbelievable to me that Harry might actually have liked me.” 

Dean made a noise halfway between a snort and a chuckle; Ginny looked back from the window to find that he was smiling at her. “Of course he liked you, have you seen you?” 

“Stop it!” Ginny exclaimed, reaching out and shoving Dean lightly enough that he didn’t fall off the bench as she’d been worried he might earlier. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you!” 

“You stop it!” Dean argued through a laugh. “Serious conversations don’t suit you at all!” 

Ginny grinned, it had been so long since they’d joked with one another. Even in the weeks before they’d broken up all they’d done was argue. “Does that mean we can be friends?” 

“Honestly, I think friends will suit us better than a relationship ever did,” Dean said sincerely. “No offence, but I didn’t find the constant fighting particularly enjoyable and I don’t think you did either.” 

Ginny chose not to answer, there was no point in going over their old fights now. When she looked back on her time with Dean it was as though she was remembering something from a different lifetime. Instead, she pushed herself up from the bench and waited for Dean to join her. “Come on, let’s go and set the Hogwarts rumour mill alight by walking into dinner together.” 

Dean fell into step beside Ginny without protest, the cautious, guarded look that had been upon his face at the beginning of the conversation was no longer in sight. 

[veorlian]

sacred rituals

for @kanejweek day 5: love (atypical affection & domesticity)

pairing: Kaz Brekker x Inej Ghafa

rating: T (they're talking about murder)

set a few weeks pre-canon so only minimal spoilers!

read it on ao3 here

Kaz rarely spent time on the main floor of the Slat unless he had to. He didn’t want the Dregs getting the wrong idea; he wasn’t their friend. Kaz Brekker wasn’t anyone’s friend.

Instead, he spent most of the time in his office, when he wasn’t walking the uneven streets of the Barrel. It was quiet, far removed from the raucous laughter and fighting and close quarters that generally filled the Slat. It was mostly warm, and mostly dry. Generally, everyone left him alone, and that was the way he preferred it.

Almost everyone.

The fact of the matter was this: Kaz preferred solitude, but he always kept his window open. Even on cold nights, when the wind chilled to the bone. Nights like this one. It was a kind of standing invitation, although he would never admit that. It was an invitation that was nearly always accepted.

He glanced down at the papers on his desk, and he felt the air shift almost imperceptibly.

“Hello Inej,” Kaz said, not looking up from his ledgers. The Wraith moved silently into the room, tugging down her hood.

“How do you do that?” she asked, not for the first time. His eyes flicked to hers before looking away.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he said. “Now, what did you find?”

She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she shrugged off her cloak and moved closer to the fire, stoking it from where it had burned down. Kaz pointedly did not pay attention to the way the firelight danced along her hair, the graceful movements of her hands as she warmed them.

“I checked every inch of the washroom, and I don’t have the faintest idea how they pulled it off,” Inej said. “It’s more secure than most mercher safes, from what I’ve seen. No trick tiles, no removable mirror, no vents. The only way in or out is the drain pipes, and I doubt anyone’s managed to train rat assassins.”

“If it was possible, I’d have done it by now,” Kaz replied. Inej snorted, and Kaz’s heart stuttered briefly.

“So that rules out rodent killers, then,” she said wryly. “Floor plan?”

“No trap doors, no secret entrances. No way in or out other than the front door.”

“The locked front door,” Inej finished. “You’d have to walk through walls to get in there. Maybe we’re looking for something otherworldly. Ketterdam’s got no shortage of ghosts.”

“None of whom can hold a knife,” he pointed out. “Present company excepted, of course.”

“Got any theories?” she asked.

He shrugged. “A thousand. None likely.”

“Tell me,” she said. She settled down next to the fire and took out her knives, one by one. There were three new ones, he noted. Soon enough he wouldn’t have to worry about her being injured at all — she was effectively wearing chainmail. Not that he spent time worrying that she’d be injured.

Kaz unfurled the floor plan on his desk and motioned for her to come look. Inej only raised a dark eyebrow.

“I’m half-frozen, Kaz. I’m not getting up until I thaw out,” she said.

“I don’t pay you to relax,” he replied, but he moved over to the fire and set the blueprints down between them. Inej leaned forward, tugging the paper towards her. Her eyebrows knitted together as she looked more closely.

“Where were the guards positioned?” she asked.

“Here, and here.” Kaz used a pencil to mark down the locations. “The main event was taking place here, and there were people with a view of the door here, here, and over there.” He sketched out the lines of sight, and made a note of the guard rotation.

“Whoever it was, they certainly didn’t make it easy for us,” she murmured.

"I doubt they had us in mind when they made the plan," he said dryly.

"Do you share your rapier wit with everyone, or am I the only one that has to suffer it?" she asked, not looking up from the blueprints.

“I notice you haven't offered any suggestions," he said. "Giving up already, Wraith?”

Her eyes met his, holding his gaze for a moment. “If I figure it out first, I expect waffles.”

He couldn’t help the wry smile that flickered across his face. “Dream on, Inej.”

She had perfected the art of silence, and she didn’t make a sound as she looked over the blueprints. The only sounds Kaz could hear were the gentle crackle of the fire and muffled fighting in the distance, filtering in through the open window. He looked everywhere in the room except at her.

“Alright,” she said at last. “Venomous snakes.”

He must have heard her wrong. “Venomous snakes?”

“Trained venomous snakes. Send them up through the drain pipes, they bite the victim, and then they’re well on their way before anyone’s the wiser.”

“There were no bites reported by my source,” Kaz said.

“That doesn’t mean there weren’t any. You know the coroners of Ketterdam aren’t renowned for their attention to detail. And if someone paid them to look the other way…” she let the sentence hang in the air a moment.

“Corruption and bribery? Awfully cynical of you,” he drawled. “What ever would your Saints say?”

She scoffed. “Moral posturing? From you?”

“Me? I’m a pillar of the community. Never set a foot wrong in my life,” he said, entirely deadpan. The look on her face was something that he might well treasure for years.

“Do you think I’m right or not?” she asked exasperatedly. Kaz shook his head, running a hand through his uneven hair to hide the small smile on his face. He realized with a jolt that he was having fun. It wasn’t a feeling he was familiar with.

“All the pressure coming down from the top brass on this one, I doubt that kind of detail would be left out,” he said.

“And what’s your brilliant suggestion, Kaz?” she shot back. Good question, he thought.

“Easy. They bribed the guards and re-locked the door on the way out.” As he said it, he knew that it was weak. A rookie tactic, not something you’d pull to assassinate a high-ranking politician.

“Too risky,” Inej said, confirming his own thoughts. “Too many people there, and there’s no guarantee the guards wouldn’t sell them out. Like you said, too much pressure from the top brass.”

“I’m open to other ideas,” he replied, crossing his arms. Inej shrugged.

“Maybe he killed himself?”

“No weapons found. It’s like you’re not taking this seriously.”

“Still better than ‘they bribed all the guards and re-locked the door at a crowded political event,’” she said, in a passable impersonation of his voice.

They tossed ideas back and forth, each more unlikely than the last. Inej cleaned her knives, quietly setting each down next to her. The fire slowly burned down, casting long shadows across his office. At some point, Inej went to grab some food from the kitchen downstairs. She brought a mug of hot, bitter coffee and set it down next to him.

“Why, thank you, Inej,” she said, in that same rough impersonation of his voice. “How considerate of you to enable my caffeine addiction. So thoughtful and kind of you, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Why would I bother thanking you when you do it for me?” Kaz asked dryly. Inej flashed a rude gesture in his direction before tucking into her dinner.

“It has to have been a Grisha,” Kaz said thoughtfully.

“I’m eating, Kaz, wait a minute,” Inej said around a mouthful of food. She looked pointedly at the second plate she’d brought up. “And it wouldn’t do you any harm to eat something other than coffee.”

Kaz narrowed his eyes at her, but he picked up the food all the same. They were quiet for a few minutes. When she’d finished, Inej shut her eyes and leaned back against the wall. There was a pause, long enough that Kaz began to wonder if she’d fallen asleep.

“That’s not how Grisha work,” she said at last.

“We’ve ruled out every other option,” Kaz argued.

“If Nina or Jesper could pull off something like this, we’d know about it,” she replied.

“And they’re the experts?”

“Certainly more than you are.”

“...I suppose.”

Inej raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Is Kaz Brekker admitting that I’m right?”

“Don’t push your luck, Wraith,” he warned. Her smile widened, and Kaz felt dizzy looking at her. He focused on his too-bitter coffee instead. He heard her let out a sigh.

“I don’t like this, Kaz,” she murmured. “If there’s someone this dangerous out there, I want to know who they are and what they're after.”

He risked a glance at her. The candlelight haloed her face in a way that bordered on angelic. He wondered — not for the first time — if her hair was as soft as it looked.

“I'm sure we'll find out. Someone with this kind of power won’t stop at one hit. I know I wouldn’t.” His voice was calm, but she was right. Anyone that could walk through walls was a very real threat, if only because they were competition.

“Should I go back to have a second look?” she asked. Kaz shook his head.

“If there was a way to crack this, we would’ve figured it out. The truth will come out sooner or later. This city leaks information like a sieve.”

They wouldn’t learn how it had been done for a few weeks. But by then, of course, they had other things to worry about.

[fndmxreader]

fandom: harry potter. pairing:  remus lupin x reader | the reader simps for lupin because isn’t that all what we do daily ?  summary:   connected to the self indulgent series where the reader is a slytherin muggle born witch working alongside the teachers at hogwarts.   note: this series will bounce around a lot involving timelines, but a lot of them don’t really have a coherent story line anyway.  movie setting:  prisoner of askaban.  pov:   she/her pronouns.

you were looking off into the distance in a daze, end of pen in mouth as your writings came to a halt and instead getting caught up in thoughts.  your summer hadn’t been great,  if you were being completely honest :  your muggle friends were getting on your case regarding being missing for a year,  you knew at some point you had to pick : the wizarding world or the muggle one,   living two lives was absolutely exhausting,  living them meant being two types of people - like one example,  you had accidentally used a levitating spell to put a cup back and last minute your friend walked in, smashing on the floor as your hand flinched down to your side.

“ what was that crash ? “  “ i put the mug too close to the counter, “ you had laughed nervously, quickly walking towards the glass to pick it up “ it fell off as a result ”  “you’re clumsiness is going to be the death of you “    

that was only one of the close calls,  there were far too many to keep track of,  including dropping hints to the wizarding world in conversation, only to stutter and try and say you were referencing a bizarre indie movie from overseas. at this point you were trying to pick would it be even possible to choose a side ?  it seemed impossible just to pick one over the other,  especially knowing that no matter what route you take it would result in an empty, hollow feeling left inside of chest.    you’re not sure who you could go to for guidance,  you weren’t familiar with any muggle borns your own age,  and talking to a pureblood or half blood would go in vein,  the latter would understand to some degree,  but ultimately it’s not the same and with it being so complicated,  listening to people who barely got it would be a waste of time and only twist the knife in gut. 

 “ everyone,  i would like to introduce you to remus jo - “     that was all you really heard dumbledore say before ears blocked out the world like static,  everything beyond the screaming in your head made everything else seem like a distant hum with no tune,  a crackle of a tv that can’t quite catch signal.  your pen tapped against your bottom lip,  perching against it as you eyebrows knitted together in deep thought.   

maybe professor dumbledore could help,  he wouldn’t get it but maybe he could shred some light on the situation ? he was always good at that. 

“ miss l/n - “

perhaps it’s all just being blown out of proportion,  work leave would surely be something the muggles would understand that.  even if they are after photos, work gossip and other details - 

“ y/n “  between the firmness and the sudden block of your view as the men stepped into eyesight causes you to flinch,  reeling away from nothing in panic as you try and grasped your surroundings once more,   blinking up in a rapid succession that causes concern to flash on the two men’s faces.  it takes a moment to register where you were,  the surroundings,  what the hell was going on in general... 

“ huh ? “  your tongue pokes out to roll against your bottom lip,  eyes wide as you stared up at dumbledore,  only for sight to break away from the one your most familiar with to the new guy...    you won’t lie to yourself,  you weren’t ready for seeing someone like him,  especially in your state.  his eyes were beaming with life,  amusement dancing behind dark hues as a faint smile tugged at lips,  hands pushed far into pockets as eye contact seemed to lock,  your lips part to say something,  anything but much like before your brain seemed to short circuit,  this time for an entirely and much more embarrassing reason,  “ huh ? “ you repeated again,  cheeks coming to life with colour as you kept looking at the new guy.

“ this is professor lupin, y/n.   the new defence against the dark arts teacher - “  speaking slower now,  and you’re rather grateful for the approach because you really needed things to stop going by so quickly,  the whole world seemed to flash in front of you at lightening speed.

“ oh “ a pause,  then it really began to register “ OH ! “  it was the most beautiful example of a pin drop ever to grace hogwarts’ walls  (  yes,  dumbledore will be thinking about it years to come  )   -  you jump up rather clumsily and hold your hand out to the man  “ hi,  sorry  -  i was just ... never mind,  hi  ! “ you repeated again,  the embarrassment settling deep within bones,  making itself at home in the creases of mind that would take weeks to weave out.  but regardless of the mocking in head, you do your best to not feed it and give it anymore attention... at least for the time being.   lupins much bigger hand wraps around yours,  a firm but gentle grasp as he finally takes the moment to speak himself. 

“ that’s quite alright,  i can tell that we disturbed you.  in fact i believe we should be the ones apologising, however professor dumbledore here insisted on the introduction - “ it came easily,  between tone of his voice and the warmth of his hand, you’ve never felt safer, it was like being in a warm hug beside the fire on the night of winter;   you mentally slap yourself for acting like a teenager towards a complete stranger.   your eyes however, narrow towards dumbledore,  in a way blaming you own pathetic display on him.  a faint smile on his lips as he made up some excuse to leave the pair of you alone,  not at all hiding the way his eyes twinkled with amusement at the scene that played out. 

your hand flexed around remus’,  far too busy sending daggers at dumbledore walking away than the fact you were still holding the older man hostage,  not helping the murmured   “ ugh,  he can be such an arse sometimes - “ 

“ i believe that’s apart of the charm “ remus chimed,  your eyes moving back to his as you smiled up at him once more,  less tense than what your face was previously  “ um,   miss l/n ?  your hand - “ 

“ oh, fuck, sorry - “   instantly your arms folded across your chest,  the blush only darkening your cheeks “ i promise i’m not this socially inept,  well,  at least to this extent - “ 

“ oh,  don’t fret.  i’ve met much worse people,  i myself tend to panic in social situations.  they’re not my forte “   you shoulders relax,  though you can’t help but note that he seemed surprisingly at ease even with the confession. your eyes dance around the staff room,  much to your own relief they seemed to be back to focusing on their own work. 

“ well,  you’re doing much better than me if that’s any help.  so,  you’re teaching dark arts -  ? “ then the conversation seemed to spark to life without much spluttering after that,  eventually both sitting on the couch and bonding over lessons;  including how you got your position in the first place,   your arm rested on the back of the furniture as your body turned fully to him,  the longer the pair of you were sat there,  the more they progressed beyond work and more into personal ones, about experiences outside of hogwarts and within the walls, not helping the fits of giggles that bubbled in your chest. 

“ being a slytherin comes with the natural title of ‘dark pranks,’  most of us tend to live up to the name.  people demonise us,  so we give them a reason to continue it.  that certainly doesn’t end at our humour, i think it shows more than ever in that aspect - “ you giggled again, head shaking  “ i remember my friends putting a real snake in one of the gryffindors bed covered in animals blood, the girl panicked for weeks  -  but they started it  ! “   

“ i must say being a gryffindor myself,  i feel like i should be offended on behalf of them.  then again,  my friends here were trouble makers as well.  their pranks could... “  wrist rolled in the air,  and while there’s a hint of pain twisting in features and a haunted look that seemed to cover bright eyes,  there was still a fondness in how he spoke  “ extremely, well and truly out of hand ? “

“ ahah  ! “  it’s like a triumph,  finger pointing at the others face   “ you can hide behind the fancy wording all you want, professor.  but you gryffindors can be just as over the top as the rest of us,  if not more so ! “  he knocks your hand away from his face playfully,  grin widening as mock offence does its best to take over features.

“ firstly,  you may call me remus,  second of all,  i will agree with nothing you say,  i would never stoop so low. “ 

your heart skipped a beat at the notion. 

“ you may call me y/n, only when you admit i’m right - “ 

a nice joke to push down the giddiness of calling him by his first name the short hours of knowing him. 

“ how very slytherin of you - “ 

“ how very gryffindor of you to point that out, remus “ 

the back and forth banter eventually came to a halt, as minutes ticked by it was time to go to the great hall for food and to sort out the new years. you and remus walked in a comfortable silence,  a lightness surrounding you both as it showed in your steps, and showed in the way his lips remained locked in a subtle smile.  you were left with one feeling...  finally, dumbledore hired someone worthwhile. you would also give him a hard time for that awkward bow that he did at dinner. 

[bnhayyy]

The Call (8)

Chapter Title: Catalyst

Wordcount: 3.2k

Fic Tag: Click

Ao3 Link: Click

Chapter Summary: Ymir and Historia make a dangerous discovery.

Notes: I'm one day late in posting, but this is my response to day three of @mikannieweek ! The prompt was fight, so you best believe you're getting a fight. I know that neither Annie nor Mikasa actually appear in this chapter, but since it's very plot-relevant to the fic as a whole, which is very much a Mikannie fic, I say it counts. 

 Celadon is on vacation this week, so thank you to Rinky for betaing for me! Also, if you haven't already, you may want to read Caution and the Inverse before reading this chapter. It's a Yumihisu one-shot taking place in the same universe as The Call, and while it isn't necessary to understand this chapter, it does add some extra context.

Sleep was a tenuous thing for Historia. Sometimes she could get through the night just fine. Sometimes she would toss and turn, barely dozing off during the night and waking up to another morning where she'd have to put on a pleasant face and pretend that everything was fine.

The worst nights were the ones where she woke up screaming.

Sleeping with Ymir's arms wrapped around her helped keep the nightmares at bay. However, even she could not ward them off completely. There were still times when Historia woke up in the middle of the night with visions of Frieda screaming and snarling demons and shattered church windows flashing behind her eyes. In those horrible moments, the lie that was Krista Lenz felt like it was wrapped around her with the intent to suffocate rather than protect.

Ymir helped. But not even Ymir was truly invulnerable, for all that her strength and bravado tried to lull her into thinking she was. Historia had taken steps to protect her girlfriend after the encounter in the club. She had told the college that she was sick and holed up with Ymir in her apartment, where they had set up hidden cameras around the apartment building and made umpteen plans on what to do if the slayers broke in. Or if they forced them out. Or if they ambushed Ymir when she eventually went outside, because for all that Historia would be happy to make daily visits to the butcher's for the rest of her life if it meant keeping Ymir by her side, she knew that couldn't happen.

She couldn't even manage to keep her inside for two weeks.

Ten days. She only managed to remain inside for ten days, Ymir gradually growing more stir-crazy and Historia more anxious, before they broke. And it was all Historia's fault.

With the threat of the slayers breathing down their necks, the nightmares had increased. She had woken up screaming for seven of the past nine nights. When, on that tenth night, she woke up thrashing in Ymir's arms, concerned eyes staring down at her and the alarm clock on the nightstand reading three A.M., she finally gave in.

It was a short distance from her apartment to the river, and one of the few things that could reliably calm her nerves after an episode like that was going for a walk by the water. That evening, when Ymir caressed her hair and gently suggested that they go for a walk, Historia didn't have it in her to turn her down.

It was risky. There was a chance that one or both of the slayers would have found a reason to be by the river. However, Ymir swore up and down that Mikasa was almost always at the graveyard at three A.M. on weekdays and, Annie, who had been following her around like a cat with a mouse, would likely be there as well.

Historia still made Ymir check the cameras to make sure that the slayers weren't waiting for them outside the apartment. When she couldn't catch so much of as a glimpse of them, they set out.

Walking down the shoreline and breathing in the cool autumn night air, Historia couldn't say she regretted it.

Beside her, Ymir shoved her hands into pockets and glanced up at the sky. "So," she began, extending the word in a drawl. "Want to talk about it?"

Historia shrugged. "There isn't really much to talk about," she admitted. "I don't remember much of it. Just..." She swallowed down the lump in her throat and turned her head to look at the water. "Just that it was about Freida."

Nightmares about Freida weren't exactly uncommon. Most of them featured her in one way or another.

Silence hung over the pair for a long moment. It was broken by Ymir saying, "Well, if it helps at all, I think she'd be proud of you."

Historia glanced over at the vampire and raised an eyebrow. "You sound pretty confident for someone who never met her," she said.

There were many additional statements beyond that comment, things that she couldn't bear to delve into. Maybe someday she would. For now, however, she was content to act like they weren't even there.

Now it was Ymir's turn to shrug. "She sounds like she was the soft, sappy type," she said.

"As opposed to you," Historia countered.

" Exactly, " Ymir said. "You understand me so well, Historia! I really am going to need you to marry me one of these days." She shot her a wide, glowing grin and reached over to ruffle her hair. Historia ducked, but wasn't quick enough to avoid getting several locks of hair brushed out of place.

"Ymir," Historia groaned. Her girlfriend responded by lapsing into laughter, and a smile began to form on Historia's face in turn.

"What?" Ymir teased. "I can't help it if you're-"

Ymir froze, her grin faltering before fading away in place of pursed lips and narrowed eyes. She reached out and grabbed Historia's wrist not a second later.

"Ymir?" Historia whispered, her heart already beginning to quiver in her chest. She forced herself not to pay attention to it. If something was happening, then the last thing she needed to do was give in to panic and fear.

It was a good thing that she was already practiced at pushing those feelings down.

"There's someone up ahead," Ymir hissed.

"One of the slayers?" Historia asked.

She knew she was wrong even before Ymir responded. The gleam in her eyes, the tenseness in her muscles - neither of those things would be quite the same if it was the slayers. This was something that she thought might pose a threat to Historia. Then she slowly shook her head, and the confirmation came soon after.

"A vampire."

Historia nodded slowly. "Is it a stranger, or..."

Ymir took in a deep breath through her nose. She closed her eyes for a moment as she focused on the scent. When she opened them, there was a new fire blazing there. "You know him," she said. "I've caught his scent on your clothes before, when you come back from art class."

Art class? Historia didn't even have to stop and mentally run through the list of her classmates. Her mind immediately zeroed in on the immediate suspect, the vampire Ymir suspected of possessing the legendary gem of amara.

"Reiner," Historia breathed. 

Ymir stepped back and tugged on Historia's arm, gentle but insistent. "We should get out of here," she said.

Faintly, Historia realized that Ymir probably had the right idea. However, she could not deny the idea that was beginning to formulate within the depths of her mind... or the dull ache of anger behind the theory that fueled it.

"Wait," Historia said, voice pitching low. "I want to talk to him."

Ymir shot her a startled look. "Are you nuts?" she hissed. "Historia, I smell blood!"

"No," Historia said. "I have an idea."

Ymir hesitated. As she did so, Historia pulled her wrist out of her grasp, grabbed her hand, and looked into her eyes. "I trust you to protect me," she said. "Now trust me on this."

A long moment passed as Ymir stared at her. Finally, the vampire let out a long breath and nodded. "Alright," she said. "What's this plan of yours?"

Historia smiled. "Stay out of sight and follow my lead," she said. "I think it will become clear pretty quickly."

Ymir was once again reduced to staring at her in silence. For a moment, Historia worried that she might go back on her word. However, after a few heartbeats had passed, she nodded and gestured for her to go ahead.

Historia offered a smile that was meant to reassure her girlfriend rather than express any of her own emotions. Then she resumed walking down the shoreline while Ymir wandered off to the side, disappearing into the darkness.

It wasn't long before a figure came into view. Historia slowed her breathing and stepped more carefully, as if her attempts to be quiet would be any real help against a vampire worth their salt.

Except Reiner didn't react as Historia drew closer. Eventually, she drew close enough to make out the shape of a body in the sand beside him, but Reiner didn't move a muscle. He was just standing there, staring out at the ocean. Historia furrowed her eyebrows. There was a chance that he was just faking her out, but she suspected that wasn't the case. She supposed that it might be in part due to the fact that the wind was blowing away from him and toward her. However, she also couldn't help but note that he seemed rather distracted.

Fine. She could use that to her advantage.

Historia drew even closer, drawing forward and closer to the river with each step. The patchy grass beneath her sandals eventually gave way to sand, automatically making her steps fractionally louder. It didn't matter. Reiner still didn't notice, a fact which became a little less surprising when she got close enough to realize that he was talking to himself. She couldn't quite make out the words, but she could see his lips move and make out the low, soft cadence of his voice.

More importantly, she could make out the body beside him. 

It was a dark-haired, pale-skinned woman who looked like she was in her early to mid-thirties. Historia didn't recognize her. She stared blankly for a few seconds, feeling next to nothing. There was a faint sense of sorrow that someone had died at all, but no true distress or grief over a random stranger. Historia knew all too well that people died all the time. If she cried over everyone who met an undeserving fate, she would never be able to stop.

Frieda would have cried. But Historia was no Frieda, no matter how hard she tried. 

So she stood there and stared for a few seconds. Then, steady and inevitable as the tide, her existing, tepid anger began to rise and grow into ice-cold fury. It probably wasn't fury for the right reason, but if the alternative was no strong feelings at all, she would take it. Especially considering what was at stake. 

Another person was dead. That would be another death that the slayers blamed Ymir for. Another reason for them to want her girlfriend dead.

Historia didn't have anything against Reiner. It was horrible that he was killing people, but frankly, as long as he didn't hurt anyone she cared about, she wasn't sure that she'd do anything about it. Reiner was pleasant company, and while she wouldn't help him, she wasn't going to risk the few things she had come to love to bring him to justice. But if it was between him and Ymir...

There weren't many things left that Historia loved in the world, and it had taken her a while to find them. But now that she had them, she wasn't going to let them go for anything.

So Historia plastered a concerned, fearful expression on her face and stepped up to the vampire. "Reiner!" she called. "What are you doing?"

Reiner jolted , and when he turned around, there was genuine surprise in his expression. "Krista," he said. "You're..." His gaze wandered over to the dead body beside him. "I didn't expect you to be here," he finished.

Here. Where he was dumping the body, he meant. Now that she looked, she could see weights attached to the body's hands and ankles.

The river was deep in places. If he handled this right, there was a good chance that the body would never be found again. Which explained where all the other bodies went. And oh, how much easier it became to let someone else take the blame for your crimes when there was no body to tie it back to you.

Not that Krista was supposed to catch on to all of that so quickly. Instead, she looked up at Reiner with large, watering eyes, and asked, "What is 'here'? Reiner, that's a body. We need to do something! We need to call the police or... or..."

She trailed off. Reiner was looking off to the side and running his hand through his hair, his jaw gritted and tension in his shoulders. It was probably safe for her to "realize" now.

"Did you do this?" Historia whispered, coaching her expression into one of dawning horror.

"Shit," Reiner said. "I'm sorry Krista. I didn't want you to get pulled into this."

A warm flame of vindictive triumph flickered in Historia's stomach as she took a step back and held a shaking hand up to her mouth. "Reiner, are you the one behind the disappearances?" she asked.

"Yeah," Reiner said, his expression hardening. "And I'm sorry, but I can't-"

He was cut off by someone fast enough to very nearly be a drill running up and punching him in the chest, sending him flying down the shoreline. "Thanks for the confession," Ymir snarled.

Reiner managed to land on his feet and was back upright in seconds. He looked at Historia, hard eyes meeting her flinty ones, before looking over at Ymir. "Ymir, I'm guessing."

"I'm surprised you didn't catch on," Ymir said, placing her hands on her hips. "I thought the slayers would have told you about us."

Reiner smiled unhappily. "The consensus is that Krista's being manipulated," he said.

"I'm not," Historia said, voice stony.

"Yeah," Reiner replied. "I'm getting that sense."

As Reiner began drawing closer, Ymir took a nigh-unnoticeable half-step back toward Historia and tapped her wrist. A sign to back off. Historia frowned, but reluctantly began stepping back, only stopping when she was several yards away from the other two. 

"What I'm wondering," Reiner continued as he took a slow step forward, voice level and suspicious, "is how you knew about me."

"You don't recognize me?" Ymir asked. Her eyes were gleaming the way they did when she was about to do something dangerous, and her feet shifted into a more solid fighting stance. "I'm surprised, seeing as I killed your friend and all. Marvel, or something?"

Reiner froze. A shadow fell over his face for half a second, then melted away as his eyes flashed yellow and his face morphed into the snarled visage as a vampire. "You're lying," he spat.

"You seem awfully upset, if I'm just supposed to be a liar," Ymir remarked.

"Marcel was killed by the slayer."

"Sorry to disappoint." Ymir shrugged. "But hey, he's gone and you're here, so I'd say it worked out pre-"

Reiner charged at her. Ymir lunged to the side but was unable to avoid his blow completely. She let out a hiss and staggered, knocked off-balance as his fist grazed her shoulder. Reiner swung around to aim a blow to her head, but Ymir quickly ducked, raising her arms and aiming a kick at his stomach.

But Reiner pulled his punch and grabbed Ymir's leg before she could make contact. Historia’s stomach wrenched at the sharp crack as Reiner pulled Ymir's leg in two directions. At the same time, Ymir twisted around to grab Reiner's shoulders and flipped herself up and out of his grasp. As she twisted, Historia noticed her grab a stake out of her back pocket.

Historia barely even had a moment to wonder at the fact that her vampire girlfriend was carrying around a stake before Ymir plunged the offending object into Reiner's back, right over his heart.

Reiner gasped and jerked forward.

Ymir pulled the stake out and took a step back.

He should have turned to dust. Instead, Historia watched as the hole in his back instantly closed, leaving only a hole in the back of his shirt.

Reiner took a few steps away from Ymir before turning around. There, the pair stared at each other for a long moment, Reiner's hand hovering over his heart and Ymir leaning heavily on one leg. Finally, Ymir's gaze flickered down to Reiner's hand. "Nice ring," she said. "Wonder how you'd fare against me without it."

"I don't plan on finding out," Reiner said, smiling grimly.

Reiner charged at Ymir, but she lunged forward and grappled him, pivoting on her uninjured leg and using his own momentum to fling him into the river. He hit the waves with a splash and sank like a rock, although Historia knew that it wouldn't keep him down for too long.

Ymir knew it too. She raced over to Historia, or at least, moved as fast as she could in her condition, and moved to pick her up.

Historia wriggled out of her girlfriend's grip and hissed, "Ymir, your leg!"

"Will heal no matter how badly I fuck it up," Ymir said. Historia might have even bought it if her gritted teeth didn't give away how much pain she was actually in. "But you-"

"-Can move faster than you right now," Historia interrupted. "Let's be smart about this." With that, she manhandled Ymir’s arm over her shoulders and all but dragged her girlfriend back up to the path. Once they were on even cement, she picked up the pace and began walking as fast as possible while aiding Ymir. 

For her part, Ymir was forced to slump and clearly reluctant to actually lean on her. However, once Historia started speeding up, she gave in and allowed her to bear some of her weight. Historia might have smiled if it weren't for the dire situation.

"Is he following us?" Historia asked.

"No,” Ymir said. "He isn't gonna. He still has to take care of the body. He's gone this long without a corpse being found, it'd mean a lot of trouble if one shows up now. Besides..." Ymir let out a pained laugh. "I staked him. He knows he’d be dead without that ring. He'd be an idiot not to let us get away."

Historia nodded and tried to swallow down her unease. She wasn't about to slow down and gamble on Reiner's willingness to let them escape, but it was good to know that she probably didn't have to worry about a furious vampire attacking them from behind. Even if there were what felt like a million other things that she did have to contend with. Such as...

"I'm sorry I got you hurt," Historia murmured. Since her car was now in sight, she allowed her gaze to drop for a moment before fixing it dead ahead once more.

Ymir laughed again, this time a little less pained and a lot more triumphant. "Hey, don't worry about it," she said. "What you got us is a lot more useful than an uninjured leg. Speaking of which... do you think you could get me a few phone numbers?"

Historia didn't even need to think about it. Being Krista Lenz, warm, kind, and so very involved with her school, came with a lot of benefits. However, she did pause as she led Ymir over to the passenger side door. Once her girlfriend was secure, she walked around to the driver's seat and climbed in. As she buckled her seatbelt and put the key in the ignition, she said, "Of course."

"Good," Ymir replied. A grim smile spread across her lips. "It's about time Ackerman and her friends found out who they're dealing with."

[writing-gifts]

datura (moth!bruno x butterfly!reader)

—–

A/N: !!!Please read this part!!! I want to list some warnings for blood and description of injuries 

if you want better details or want to skip over it you can DM or send me an ask and i can set up an edited version of the fic without it and just quick summary of what happened

this chapters rlly long compared to the others and also i made art!

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Reader is gender neutral!

—–

[Mid Fall]

Tightening the blanket closer to your body, you slowly make your way towards the daybed. It was another overcast day and the lack of sun made even the inside of your home feel dull. You place your cup on the table before laying down.

The weather was still tolerable but you couldn't always bring yourself to go out when you could easily stay warm in your home. But you still did your best to keep up with your gathering overall. You had a decent supply so far and as long as you didn’t go overboard with drinking, you wouldn’t be eating grain at Abilene's house for the last couple weeks of Winter. Again.

Even though lately you wanted to sleep most of the day it didn't exactly feel great or refreshing and with Bruno showing up less and less, the days seemed to be blurring together. You try to stay productive working on the moth’s sweater or gathering, but the last couple days you really couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

You sigh and force yourself to get up. Perhaps you should try going out for a walk today, just to change things up.

You go to your room and find a sweater to slip into. While wrapping a scarf around your neck, you see one of your canisters laying next to bed and decide to take it with you just in case you run into a flower you like.

You weren't exactly sure where you wanted to go so you let your legs lead you where they please.

At first you walk past your neighbors home, greeting the ones you saw along the way. Then you take a detour and venture somewhere more quiet. The pathways aren’t as clean so you have to navigate over the giant dead leaves that have accumulated all season.

While flying over the leaves you end up in the orchard. All types of fruit grew here but only apples, pears, pomegranates and surprisingly strawberries were currently available. A good amount lay scattered around at various rotting stages so this was a perfect time for a break.

You find fruit that is mostly fresh but just decomposed enough that you can easily get to the inside. Managing to find free fruit so easily available and uneaten was a good thing about Fall you suppose.

After getting tired of sitting around, munching on fruit and staring at the cloudy sky, you continue your stroll. The farther you go the more leaves there are. Soon the occasional mushroom turns to many, some of them ridiculously huge or strangely colored. At one point you pass a log covered in them.

You weren't too keen on the fungi but for some reason you always get the urge to take a bite when you see them. Of course you don't though. You can't tell the safe ones from the dangerous ones.

From there, the stroll is overall uneventful and the sites familiar but eventually you find yourself in an area that was completely new to you. The path you’re on begins to narrow, the grass gets taller and the trees get denser around you. Once it’s too thick for you to see well, you fly out of the thicket and up above so you can better scope where you're going.

It takes a while of flying, but the trees begin to disperse and the grass isn’t so overwhelming. In fact you start passing spots that lacked any. Other than the occasional dandelion and bush It was pretty bear compared to where you just emerged.

You decide to continue forward, curious about the area you've happened upon, and it doesn't take long before a wooden structure in the distance comes into view. It looked like some sort of home, and even from where you were you could tell that it was giant.

Whatever lives there must be huge….

Your self preserving side warns you to stay away since you never seen anything like it before. But your curiosity reasons that it should be okay. There were no large bodies of water in sight, and it was definitely the safest this time of year for insects as most cold-blooded predators would be much less active due to the cold. So in the end, you meet yourself in the middle and decide to go forward but keep your exploration a good distance away from the house like structure.

Once you're close enough, you find a wide dirt path and follow it, admiring some of the different flowers that were growing alongside it and in between the bushes.

Other than the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind, it was quiet and you couldn't find any other insects. You readjust your scarf.

After some time, you find something even stranger than the structure. They were all various sizes and shapes with different flowers sitting on top. You fly up to better observe the flowers and see that the things were some type of giant containers filled with dirt, and the flowers weren’t necessarily sitting on them but actually growing out.

It was definitely peculiar, but the delicious scent coming from a certain cluster of flowers quickly distracts you and beacons you closer to their white petals. It doesn’t take long for you to place the flowers’ name--Tuberose--and a certain moth immediately pops into your mind when you do. You quickly push the thoughts away though, ignoring the heat forming in your face.

You frown, noticing the plant's condition. The petals look slightly frail, some of them are even missing, so you cautiously place your weight when you land on one of the flowers. It didn't look like it was due to the weather so you couldn't tell why they looked so pitiful.

You couldn't exactly do anything about it, so instead you grab your canister where it's hanging from your hip since you hadn’t drank from this particular flower in a while.

After filling and shutting the canister, you land on the dirt in the container and everything slightly wobbles. You gasp and immediately remove your feet off to keep yourself from falling. You then fly back down in front of the containers to steady ground.

Who managed to set this up? Perhaps a swarm of insects or something huge? It had to be the latter if the house was anything to go by. You're sure you’ve heard about something related to this and you rack your brain trying to remember but can't seem to recall anything.

While thinking, you notice the container holding the Tuberoses looked quite lopsided next to the others, which caused the flowers in it to lean more to one side. You walk around the container and find long, giant cracks forming up it. Some of the dirt within it had even spilt through. You still admire the colors and patterns on the container. Even though it was damaged, it was the one that caught your eye the most.

While you trace your finger along the rough and chalky surface, the sound of rustling leaves prick your ears. You turn and look behind you and realize that you had gotten a bit too close to a giant fernbush.

You freeze, anxiety filling your whole being as you stare intently into the dark spaces within the fern. You wait thinking maybe you haven't been spotted or even better, there wasn't any danger.

The moment you see something shift in the darkness, you immediately try to take flight. Unfortunately, the creature is quicker and manages to climb part way up the container to catch you by your right leg. It tries to pull you down but you use your upper body to latch on to the edge of the container the best you can.

You scream out from the multiple sharp teeth pressing harshly into your calf but keep fluttering your wings in hopes that it will give up. Unfortunately the gecko isn’t one to give up on potential prey so easily. It continues to pull knowing that you’ll eventually tire.

But before that can happen, the container starts to lean and you yelp when you lose your grip. Your breath is knocked out of you once your head and back hit the dirt. You feel the lizard let go momentarily to bite further up your leg. Gritting your teeth, you try to kick at it but that does nothing to deter it.

Before the predator can try to take more of your body into its jaws, the container completely loses its balance and falls heavily on the gecko's body, pinning it to the ground. However, this isn’t enough for the creature to release you.

You clutch the back of your head and push your upper body off the ground. Looking at the gecko holding your leg hostage, your body begins shaking when your eyes focus on the blood seeping out of the side of its mouth. It was hard to assess the damage properly but your stomach twists seeing the multiple sharp teeth embedded into your thigh.

You swallow thickly and kick at its face with your left leg once more hoping it will give up but it just makes it bite down harder. Grimacing, you try moving your trapped leg within it but only agitates the reptile and makes it shake its head causing the rest of your body to be moved around harshly. You scream from the pain before it goes still once more. Tears begin welling in your eyes once you realize you can't escape without causing more damage.

“L-Let go.”

The gecko’s head twitches and it stares at you with a slitted pupil not processing a thing you said.

You look around trying to see if there was a way you could get out of this. But there was nothing and no one nearby. You feel at your hip and realize that your canister is also gone.

You whimper unsure what to do next. You try to think but your mind can barely form a coherent thought other than escaping.

Shit.

While you stare blankly at the gecko as it struggles to get from under the container and spiltdirt, you hear steps approaching. You look around hoping that someone that could help had wandered by, but instead your eyes land on an albino wasp instead.

Your body stiffens in fear. If the gecko didn't finish you off first, the wasp definitely would.

He approaches you completely ignoring your meek warning to stay back.

To think you were actually happy that you had forced yourself to go outside today.

You squeeze your eyes shut and wait for everything to go dark or whatever happens when an insect dies but instead you just hear a deep voice speak.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

You reluctantly open an eye and see the wasp standing near you. If you could you would have jumped back. The gecko had seemed to take notice of him too, not trying as hard to escape so it can focus its attention on the wasp. It still made it clear that it wouldn’t let you get away when you try to move your leg again and it applies force to its bite.

You grit your teeth not wanting the wasp to see you in pain.

“Stop moving before it manages to break your leg,” he warns.

You feel your blood run cold from the thought.

The gecko’s pupil follows him as he moves closer to its head.

“I'm going to get the gecko to open its mouth, then you need to move away quickly once it does."

“H-Huh?” Was the moth helping you?

He glares at you. “Just be ready to move your damn leg after I sting it.”

You tense and immediately nod your head from his harsh tone.

Right after you agree, he climbs up on top of the lizard's head. Before it can try to shake him off, the wasp presses his stinger into the crown of its head and his clawed fingers into the sides of its mouth.

The reptile resists for a moment before releasing its grip on your leg and trashing its head around to get to the wasp instead.

You quickly flitter backwards out of reach and the wasp jumps off before it can grab onto him next.

You immediately look down at your leg. Now that the teeth were out, more trials of blood pooled out of the wounds and down the sides of your thigh and onto the ground. Your calf was also in a similar condition.

Your breathing becomes labored and you barely register the wasp talking to you.

“--Let me help you back.”

He tries to get closer but you shake your head and try to scooch backwards. “No! Stay away! I--” you choke on your own words.

He watches you with furrowed brows as you try to stand up. You accidently press weight onto your wounded leg and pain shoots up the limb causing you to fall onto your side.

"Wait--"

You ignore the wasp and prop yourself up. You then quickly fly away from the area leaving him behind.

Shudders rack your body so badly you can barely fly straight. You feel the blood dripping down your leg and you yank off your scarf to press it to your thigh hoping that it would help even a little.

You fly faster not thinking about where you were heading, you just needed to get away from that place. Fortunately, you find yourself in front of Abilene’s home.

You weakly knock. Dark spots were forming in your vision but you try not to lean against the door. And it feels like forever before it finally opens.

When Abilene sees the state you're in, the amount of worry and fear that flash in their eyes is the greatest you’ve ever experienced. But that doesn’t stop them from jumping into action. They lead you inside and direct you to the couch before running into a different room.

At this point, the blood has seeped through your scarf and onto your bottom pair of hands. You try to lift your leg to avoid dirtying the couch even more but you only last a couple of seconds before you have to drop it. leaning back into the couch, you try to keep the exhaustion from putting you to sleep.

Your friend quickly comes back with cotton, water and strips of cloth.

After they place the bowl of water onto the table next to the couch, they crouch in front of you.

“I'm going to try to help stop the bleeding and then go get the medic.”

You weakly reach out for their arm. “N-No don't leave me.”

“You're safe here ____. I need to get a doctor to check out your leg and I’ll be right back, okay?”

They gently remove your hand after you nod but don't let go.

Abilene does their best to deal with your leg without causing you too much pain. But even a light graze was enough to make you flinch, so they were constantly whispering apologies throughout the whole process. You can see they were distressed and disturbed by the giant bite wounds on your leg but they don’t stop until they manage to get the bleeding to slow. They do a quick clean and hastily wrap a piece of cloth around your thigh and calf before they go out to find someone to help.

Once they leave, you feel much more tense even if your eyes were desperately trying to shut. In an attempt to keep yourself from panicking, you think about the random wasp that helped you. At least you're pretty sure that's what happened. You didn’t intend to stick around to figure it out, but now you partially feel guilty for the way you acted towards him.

Either way, if it weren't for him you’d probably be dead by now. Or one limb short.

You squeeze your eyes shut, as pain throbs behind your head. It had been hurting for a while but you were only really taking notice of it now. Your stomach turns, and all that fruit you ate before was starting to seem like a mistake.

Abilene doesn't take long at all so you luckily don't have to sit in your regrets for too long. The ladybug medic that they brought back immediately gets to work. She asks what happened and you explain vaguely while she carefully unwraps the bloodied cloth to inspect your thigh and calf.

After finishing cleaning the multiple wounds for you, the doctor applies a weird smelling cream that completely stops the bleeding and neatly rewrapps your leg with new bandages. She then leaves a jar of the cream, and a few rolls of cloth with you and tells you to change the bandages daily.

After the doctor’s gone you're still in pain but it feels much more controlled. Abilene approaches you.

“I'm going to set you up in my room for the next couple days so I can keep an eye on you.”

You nod. You didn't want to be left alone in your home anyways so this saved you the trouble of asking. “I can sleep on the couch--”

“Sorry, I’m not leaving you to sleep on this thing when you're injured,” Abilene says.

You were too tired to be stubborn so you decide to take a different course. “Let's compromise and share the bed.”

They sigh. “Okay but if I start getting restless at night I'm moving to the couch.”

The grasshopper helps you into their room and makes sure you're completely comfortable. They don’t show any worry on their face as they most likely wanted to keep the mood positive, but the way they fret over you is loud and clear so you do your best to assure them that you're doing okay even if that isn’t exactly the case.

You spend most of the day drifting in and out of sleep--your upsetting dreams being the main cause of waking you up. When you aren’t sleeping, Abilene keeps you company. Even though it had made you feel safer and made it easier to relax, part of you is dreading explaining how you even got in this situation. Not only did you not want to upset your friend but you also felt like it would be admitting to doing something wrong. Maybe you didn’t make the best choice but you weren’t sure if it was necessarily an incorrect one.

You try not to think about it, but later in the day these worries are proven to be valid.

“____?”

You turn towards Abilene sitting next to you on the bed. “Yea?”

“What--What exactly happened? “

Your shoulders tense and you bite your lip. You were hoping they would never ask but that was definitely foolish to expect.

“You know there was a gecko…”

“But there’s more right? How did you manage to escape?”

You hesitantly nod but struggle to speak.

“You know what it’s okay you don't need to tell me. I shouldn’t have asked so suddenly.”

“W-Wait, it’s okay. You asked cause you're worried. I just don’t really want to think too much about it is all." You fiddle with your fingers but continue. "I was taking a stroll around and found myself in an unfamiliar place. I was exploring and got...distracted.”

Abilene looks disappointed but you're not sure if it’s even directed at you.

“And an insect managed to help me. A wasp.”

Their expression goes from disappointment to shock. “A wasp?”

You nod in affirmation. “I was shocked too, and I’m actually still confused.”

Abilene looks like they're trying to process the information and you look off to the side not knowing what else to say.

“Well it’s a good thing they helped you. I’m r-really glad!” They smile to try to ease you but it isn’t a full one and their eyes look wet.

They completely change the subject. “What do you want to eat or drink? I’m sure you're hungry”

You decide not to point it out, lest your friend burst into tears, and simply smile back instead. “Actually, for once, I'm not.”

“Well let's still try to find something that's easy to get down, even if it’s just water.”

You nod. “As long as it isn’t wheat.”

They stick their tongue out at you. “Yea, yea no wheat.”

They get off the bed. “I'm going to go wash your scarf for you before it completely stains, then we can figure out what to do.”

-----

Unlike Abilene, you can't sleep. You stare at the ceiling watching the random shapes form in the dark while listening to your friend’s soft snores.

It was your second night at Abilene’s home and you were struggling with falling asleep again. And it wasn’t due to your friend’s snoring, and other than their arm accidentally smacking you in the face last night, you were fine sleeping next to them.

You reasoned the lack of sleep the first night was fair considering what had happened. But now you think it might be a mix of other reasons. Your body was already exhausted but it wouldn't go to sleep, like it wasn’t ready. But you were almost desperate to since sitting in the dark wasn’t exactly appealing.

You turn on your side. You at least wish you had someone to talk to to pass the time.

You spend a good chunk of the night staring at nothing in particular. By the time you finally fall asleep, dawn light is seeping into the bedroom.

Abilene shuffling around their home quickly wakes you up and you realize that you definitely need more rest but you also don’t want to spend anymore time trying to go back to sleep. You sigh and get from under the covers.

You rub at your eyes while you slowly fly into the main room.

“Morning…” you mumble.

“Morning!”

You almost grimace from their energy. Abilene was always a morning insect. Well most diurnal insects were. You were just becoming an anomaly apparently.

“You don't look too hot. Are you okay?”

You land on the couch. “...I’m struggling to go to sleep and the dark’s not helping.”

Abilene hums, thinking for a moment. “Didn't you say Bruno gifted you a glowing lantern?”

“Yea?”

They nod. “Okay I’m going to go pick it up for you later today, and hopefully it should help.”

You stutter not expecting that. “Thank you…”

“No problem. Now let's get some food in ya!”

Later in the day, Abilene places the glowing lantern on the small table next to the bed.

“Thank you for getting the lantern for me.”

“You’re welcome. I also picked up some other stuff for you too.”

They place your satchel they were carrying with them in your hands. You unbutton the bag and find your knitting supplies along with the sweater you had started for Bruno.

Your grin and Abilene returns it. “Oh my god, you're too good to me.”

“Oh please, I just saw your stuff sitting in the main room. It was nothing.”

“But still!”

You pull out the uncomplete sweater carefully unfolding it so you dont cause any of the knits to come loose.

“Is that for Bruno?” Abilene asks.

“How did you even manage to guess that?”

They shrug. “I haven't seen you knitting for awhile so...”

That was true, the last time you really did it was for a scarf that you gifted to Abilene and that was probably over a year ago.

“He walks around topless even in Winter! I had to do this.”

Abilene laughs, “I’d do the same if I had a body like that.”

You groan loudly, “STOP!”

Abilene laughs even harder.

You spend the rest of the day knitting on your own while Abilene continues preparing for winter. You tried to help but floating for long periods of time was tiring so your friend forces you back into their room.

The sweater was coming along. Bruno didn't seem like the type to wear loud colors to you so you decide to use an off white wool. You predict the most difficult thing would probably be the sleeves for you since you wanted to make the forearm parts removable, but a couple of buttons should suffice.

When it starts to get dark your lantern begins glowing allowing you to continue working. By the time Abilene comes to check on you the front and back are completely done. You’d do the sleeves when you went back home.

“Woah you worked on the sweater the whole time?”

“Yep!” You fold up the sweater and put it on the table next to your lantern. “It's really easy for the day to get away from you doing repetitive motions.”

“Well it looks like it will be nice and comfy.”

“I sure hope so. I want Bruno to never want to take it off. Also don’t worry, I’ll make you one next!”

“You already made me one though?”

“That was a long time ago though. I can make a better one.”

“Well, okay if you want,” they say. “Lets get your bandages changed.”

You carefully move your legs off the side of the bed so you can unwrap the cloth. It honestly looked gross but it was healing. And as long as you didn’t move it too much, press on it or bump it into anything, there wasn't too much pain.

After applying the cream and rebandaging up your thigh and calf, you leave the room to find something to drink and move around a bit before it’s time for what you were somewhat dreading--bed.

Abilene gets comfortable next to you. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

They yawn. “If anything’s wrong just wake me up.”

You nod but you definitely weren't doing that. You were already taking up half their bed, so you really didn't want to disturb their sleep anymore.

They pull the cover over their head to block out the glow of the lantern and you move from your sitting position on the bed to lay down. It doesn't take long for you to hear their snores. They had to be the fastest being in existence at falling asleep.

As you stare into the mesmerizing glow your worries of the day seem to drift away, but inevitably your mind drifts to the one who gave you the lantern.

Were you going to explain this to him? No part of you wanted to but you weren’t sure if hiding it was the best idea or if you even could. You didn’t want him to be upset, but you mostly feared disappointment. All of this made you feel like you lied to him when reassuring him that you weren’t doing anything dangerous.

I was just exploring...

You force the thoughts away or you would start going in circles. You’d just have to cross that bridge when you got there.

You spend the next several days at Abilene’s. They keep you company while helping you tend to your wounds.

It was pretty nice and the routine was comforting. And slowly your sleep schedule transitions back to something more reminiscent to what you had before you met Bruno.

Sitting on the couch bundled in thick covers, you work on a new item you were knitting. It was another typical day. Another chilly day actually. Probably the coldest so far. Abilene sits at the other end of the couch, bundled in a collection of their own covers, reading one of their supernatural books.

It was pleasing hanging quietly together like this so often, but you were already trying to figure out when it would be best to leave. You couldn't keep encroaching on your friend like this even if they didn't think you were.

You hear knocking on the front door and Abilene complains before untangling themselves from their covers and leaving the room to go answer it. They come back pretty quickly but you continue your knitting without looking up.

“Um ____.”

“Yea?”

“Bruno’s outside.”

Your heart almost jumps out of your chest. “Wha--Don’t let him in here!”

“But--”

“No buts! I just--just tell him I'm okay!”

Abilene looks unsure. You can tell they don't want to turn away the moth but they nod reluctantly.

You breathe a sigh of relief. You weren't ready to cross the bridge yet!

The longer it takes the grasshopper to return the more you want to run into their room and hide.

Finally they return with a concerned expression.

“Bruno’s definitely not happy ____.”

You frown. “I-I’ll deal with it later…”

You didn't know exactly when ‘later’ would be though.

-----

“Are you sure you're okay by yourself?”

You try to give a reassuring smile. “Yea. Thank you for everything you've done for me, but I cant stay at your place forever.”

Abilene places down your satchel on your daybed for you while you find somewhere to put your lantern. “I mean you could,” they joke. “Well you know what to do if you need anything. And no wandering please!”

They give you a very stern look which you return with a nod. You definitely wouldn't be leaving your home much for a while.

They start to walk towards your door and you fly after them.

"Also don't forget your bandages!"

"I won't."

"And make sure you drink," they add.

"Now you're just stalling."

“Okay, okay...”

Abilene pulls you in for a hug which you gladly return. You do your best not to hold on too long though.

But you didn't want them to leave.

"See ya!"

"Bye Abby."

You shut the door behind them and let out a long sigh.

You do your best to keep yourself busy the whole day. With working on the sleeves of Bruno’s sweater and on your own top, you don't have much of a problem accomplishing that. But that leaves your mind open to wandering to various things and it usually ends up back on the wasp.

You couldn't stop thinking about him. As much as you preferred remembering as little about that day as possible, the wasp just stook out as weird. The way he acted, the way he even looked.

Along with him being albino, you had never seen a wasp with hair as long as that, or least not tied up in some way. There was also something else strange about him but you were struggling to place it. It bothers you so much that you have to stop what you're doing to dwell on it. When you finally place what was off you almost drop your sewing needle.

His wings. They were missing. You gulp considering the implications of this. Feeling more and more worse about how you acted towards him by the minute.

You continue sewing, but the thoughts won’t disperse. You have no idea how you're going to get through the night.

-----

After changing your bandages you lay down on your daybed and stare at the lantern. Maybe you'd sleep here instead of your bedroom.

You don't know how long you've been laying there, your mind completely blank, before you're brought back to reality by knocking on the door.

You sit there for a moment. There was only one person who would be here at this time. Maybe if you were quiet he’d go away.

You hear muffled speaking through the door. “___ I know you're in there I can see the light through your window.”

You almost facepalm yourself.

Sighing, you get up and go open the door.

Even though you had been avoiding him you couldn't help the relief you felt from seeing the moth. You missed him way more than you had realized. It hadn’t been that long right? Was this normal?

You hide your body partly behind the door so you can keep your weight off your right leg.

"Hello," you say but you can't hold eye contact.

"Hi."

Bruno doesnt say anything more and just stares at you like he's trying to read your mind, leaving you nervous and awkward.

"Um….do you need something?"

"It’s been awhile since we’ve seen each other and I was wondering if you want to go back to the forest clearing with me.” He gestures towards his bag. "We can even gather.”

"….I don't want to go outside right now."

Bruno’s expression slightly softens and he holds out his hand to you. “I know. It’s okay I won't let anything touch a single scale on your wings.”

You know that's supposed to reassure you but it almost does the complete opposite. Bruno definitely knew more about what happened than you would like, but for some reason you try to convince yourself otherwise.

You swallow your discomfort and nod. “O-Okay, let me just get my stuff."

"Need help?"

"No just wait here…"

Bruno tries to say more but you gently close the door. You didn't want him to get suspicious of you constantly flying to do anything.

Once you have your bag and canisters you take a deep breath and meet the moth outside once more. You ignore the pain in your leg as you walk towards him. Bruno insists on taking your bag so you hand it over since you really want to get off your feet as soon as possible.

"Oh wait, let me get my lantern!"

After you go back to get your lantern, Bruno grabs your hands and pulls you up to immediately start flying and he looks like he wants to say something.

"What's wrong?" you ask.

"I know what happened."

You almost feel a cold sweat form on your back. "...What do you mean?"

Bruno's frown deepens. "With the gecko."

You accidently clench your hands in Bruno's. There was no point denying anymore. "H-How? Did Abby tell you?"

"Abbacchio told me."

You squint trying to figure out how that worked, but realization dawns on you in a matter of seconds. The wasp you saw--that saved you.

"Shit."

Bruno suddenly drops your hands. "Lets go."

That catches you off guard but you follow after him. He's very quiet the whole flight and you think he might be mad but it’s somewhat hard to tell.

When you both reach the forest clearing it's even more beautiful than the last time since it was more visible with the moon out. The two of you land on one of the Daturas and the moth immediately starts gathering, but you just watch him for a while.

The tension in the air was too hard to ignore.

"….Bruno?"

He quietly turns towards you waiting for you to speak.

"Er…Are you mad?"

He raises a brow at you before sighing. "I was worried when you weren't at your home for a few days. So I asked around and came to Abilene's house--” His brows furrow. “--but they wouldn't let me see you--you didn’t want to see me.”

You grimace from your behavior. In your attempt to not have to explain and upset Bruno you just made things worse. You already knew this would happen but you decided to keep going.

And for what?

You look down, unable to look the moth in the eye.

"That was definitely not my smartest moment. I-I'm sorry. I caused you all this stress."

His hum sounds unconvinced.

"I'm really super sorry, I swear!"

His frown deepens and he looks hurt. “Why’d you try to pretend with me?"

You feel the familiar burning behind your eyes but you try to keep calm, you didn't want to do that. You wanted to keep this as a coherent conversation.

"I didn't want you to worry or be disappointed in me but I definitely made it worse."

"You did." He pats the spot next to him "Come here.”

You fly over and sit next to the moth, glad to stop flying.

He’s quiet for a moment before speaking. “Sorry I'm not trying to upset you, I’m just a little frustrated. Even if I’m “disappointed” I care more about your well being.”

You nod. “I shouldn't have done that to you...I guess I still need to work on the ‘being forward’ thing.” And you had been doing pretty well too.

“We’re both working on that. I’m not exactly an open book.”

The moth leans back on a hand and looks down at your leg. “How’s your leg?”

You guess he was done talking about this. At least you know the air was clear now. You're kind of surprised that it didn't take that long to resolve and it makes you internally sigh at you hiding your injury so adamantly in the first place.

“Well..it's healing. The doctor gave me some strange smelling cream. It hurts when I walk on it though but it’s getting better.”

“Yea I could tell from how you were grimacing before.”

You awkwardly smile. Guess your acting could use some work.

“But that’s good...I hope you're being safe.”

“I definitely won't be wandering again anytime soon.”

The moth squints his eyes, skeptical. “So you're going to do it again?”

“Well definitely not by myself that's for sure.”

“____, you're going to give me a heart attack.“ Bruno says. You can hear the warning tone seeping into his words though.

“Kidding! I'll stick to places that aren't abandoned.”

“That sounds better….Oh by the way--” Bruno digs out a very familiar canister from his own bag and hands it to you.

“Ah! I thought this was gone for good! Did Abbacchio get it?”

It even had the Tuberose liquid still in it.

Bruno nods. “Once we pieced together that it was you he ran into he gave it to me.”

“Oh. Uh can you tell him thank you. Like really thank you, he saved my life and I’m sorry for yelling at him. I was really afraid…”

“He already figured that, but I’ll give him your thanks and that you're okay. I'm sure that will make him happy.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” He smirks, “He loves praise, even if he tries to act like it doesn't matter to him.”

You laugh a little. “I'm really glad he happened to be in that area, when I was there too!”

“With all the pots right?”

“Pots? Do you mean those colorful containers with the flowers in them?”

The moth nods. “Abbacchio likes to hang out there during the Autumn, because it’s quiet.”

“I’m not trying to tell him what he should and shouldn’t do, but maybe he should pick a better place…”

“That's what I said but he won’t listen.” The moths slightly frowns, “And If he wants to go, I can't stop him.”

“B-But he doesn't have--he can't fly.”

“I know. At least I know he can defend himself.”

You nod thinking how he managed to force the gecko to let go, but still there's only so much someone could do if they're actually grabbed. And it was much harder to get away for insects who couldn’t fly. You were sure Bruno already knew this though. But at the same time you could kind of see why the wasp went over there though. If it weren't for all that happened you’d have visit the place several times by now.

“I think, maybe one day I should meet him, properly. I mean if he wants to...”

Bruno’s eyes widen, “Really?”

You nod.

“Oh...okay.” Bruno gives you a bit of a goofy smile, and if there were any feelings to back out, they're completely gone now.

The moth gets to his feet.

“Are we leaving already?”

“No I’m going to fill our canisters.”

You move to stand too.

“You can sit there, it won't take long--And no point trying to argue.”

You close your mouth and exhale. You were tired anyways.

“Fine...and thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

----

----

A/N: I’m sorry, I had planned that for a really long time!

[stachmousworld]

Avenge me tomorrow (Ch.6)

Pairing: polyavengers x Black!reader 

Previously: The team couldn’t find Thea.

Tag: @thedarkplume​

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 -  Part 7 - Part 8  - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11

The journey to the compound went faster than she thought. Thea had made sure to block every call from the Tower and thanks to JARVIS, they wouldn’t be able to find her before she would be long gone.

She watched the forest surrounding the compound and relaxed a bit. She still checked in the rear-view mirror if no one was following her on the road or in the sky. It wouldn’t be surprising if they sent Thor or any Stark Drones after her.

Thea sighed. It was getting ridiculous. She wasn’t a kid, and she could do whatever she wanted. Leaving the Tower should have not felt as if she was doing something wrong. They were not bounded to each other. They weren’t even together to begin with. So why did she feel guilty?

She parked in front of the large building, almost expecting someone from the Tower to come out and…and…but there was no one. She looked around for the last time, enjoying the birds chirping, the wind in the leaves whistling some mysterious tunes.

Thea waved at a few young teenagers eating on the grass. Interns, maybe? They looked at her quizzically but reciprocated with a joyful smile. Why did she wave? She cringed, accelerating her pace and keeping her head down until she was inside the building.

The first thing she noticed was the lack of security. There were no security guards in the building and seemingly no cameras. She squinted her eyes looking above her. Did they really believe that no one would try to attack them from the inside? They were isolated but the barrier would be no obstacle against intruders. And what about the airways? Anyone could land a jet in the middle of the “park”. It was – a blue streak passed in front of her. Thea froze. Was that?

“Hello!” a soft chirpy voice said behind her.

She spun around quickly, heart beating fast. The blue strike disappeared in a pop.

“Are you Thea?” 

She slowly turned around and faced…Diablo. Excitation and happiness rushed through her veins. She bit her lips hard enough to stop herself from jumping on him. Diablo. She was in front of…She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t want to surprise you,” he apologized in a chirpy voice.

A few unintelligible words escaped her mouth and she flushed, embarrassed. Get a grip, she admonished herself. He is going to think you are a groupie. Her Diablo plushie and posters would prove otherwise.

 Before she became an Avenger fan, she has been totally invested in the X-Men. How many times had she played as Diablo, Hank, Storm or Wolverine…his name alone made her blush. Let’s just say that Wolverine has been the main actor of her fantasies for a long time. He is also the main reason why she never clicked with people her age. They all felt bland and childish compared to her heroes. They didn’t understand her, or her struggle and would change subject whenever she’d talk about deep subjects.

During high school and college, she had been isolated. No one wanted to be seen with her. And it didn’t help that she was pansexual. She may have gone to a prestigious university, but they had been pretty close minded. Fortunately, her family has supported her. At least the members that counted. Her mom, her siblings and her godfather, Rhodey.

“Hello?” Diablo said, waving his hand in front of her face. “Are you alright?”

She nodded not yet trusting her voice. Diablo tilted his head and started signing. Thea’s eyes grew wide.

“I don’t know how to sign,” she replied quickly, grabbing his hands.

“Oh.” He looked down to their hands. She jerked away, suddenly conscious of what she’d done. Really, could this day be worse?

“I’m sorry, I…I should have never touched you without your permission.”

Diablo was still staring intensely at his hands. He turned them upwards and caressed where her hands touched his. He then raised his eyes. She opened her mouth but quickly closed it. His eyes were unreadable. His chirpiness has tone done down. Diablo didn’t seem mad at her. Maybe?

“I’m sorry?” she repeated, unsure.

“You are not afraid of me?” he asked slowly.

The question took her by surprise. What? “No.”

“Really?” He asked, his voice full of hope.

“Yeah, you are not scary.”

Diablo took a few steps forward stepping into her comfort zone. Thea noticed the dark blue tattoos on his skin. She hadn’t been aware of that. She frowned. Even the pictures she had didn’t show any tattoos and they spread everywhere, on his face, arms and to rest of his body, she presumed.

“I’m not scary”, he repeated slowly as if the words were foreign.

“You should see my mom,” Thea pretended to tremble from fear. “She’d make your worst nightmare seems like a dream.”

Her tentative to joke fell flat. Diablo kept examining her. His eyes roamed her face for an answer she wasn’t sure to have. He may have found it because he smiled a little and finally stepped back. He wasn’t back to his bubbly self. Or was that a façade? Something to help people relate to him and see him as less of a threat. His tail swayed slowly behind him. Thea looked at it, entranced. It looked bigger than in pictures and more agile.

She was so concentrated on the appendage that she didn’t notice the quick movement. She blinked once and the next moment, the tail was in front of her face. The triangular tip brushed softly the tip of her nose. She twitched her nose refraining her sneeze.

“And now, are you scared?”

Thea shook her head and wiped her nose to erase the sensation of his tail. Chill ran down her spine making her shiver. She froze. The shiver turned to trembles. The snake appeared in front of her and hissed a warning. Someone is coming.

The rumble of a storm buzzed in her ears.

“We need to go now,” she urged Diablo, who stopped rambling. He stared quizzically at her. “One of the Avengers is coming for me. We have to go.”

Diablo quickly gripped her arms and transported them.

 The ship was way bigger than the Quinjet. It looked more spacious and colorful. It didn’t look like a jet, at all. She followed Diablo through a corridor. He walked quickly and glanced sometimes behind to make sure she was following. Her eyes tracked the paintings on the walls. Who’d put paintings in a jet? What purpose did they serve? She wasn’t well versed in arts, but these looked expensive.

“Why are they –”

Wolverine. Wolverine was in front of her. She squealed and jumped round him. Oh my God, Oh my God, this is Wolverine. She fumbled with her bag to get her phone and barely got it out without dropping it.

“Kid, you’re going to have stroke. Calm down,” he said, in a deep rumbly voice. It sounded like a growl. She barely had the time to register that he talked – actually talked to her, that she babbled.

“Why did you choose Wolverine as a nickname? Is it because wolves are “supposed” to be solitary animals? Although they do live in a pack so that’s ridiculous…”

“Kid,” he cut her off. “Calm down.”

She gulped some much-needed air and exhaled. Wolverine nodded silently and encouraged her to breath some more. As she let herself relax, she couldn’t miss the overall beauty of the man. His beard, the muscles rolling under his shirts and jeans. His stance seemed normal, but with her godfather in the military she was able to notice many things. Wolverine was favoring his left. He was consciously bracing himself for any attack. His muscles seemed tensed and ready. He thought she was a threat. Despite his soothing tone, he didn’t trust her at all. Good. Because she didn’t know what she was capable of. She felt somewhat reassured that he took the situation seriously.

“Come sit down and you’ll tell me why Xavier made us pick you up.”

They entered a room behind the cockpit. A blue hand appeared briefly.

“Is that Mister Hank?” She whispered.

“Kid,” Wolverine warned her.

She made a step in the direction of the cockpit. Wolverine stopped her.

“Don’t,” he growled.

Thea narrowed her eyes and moved, only to be stopped by adamantium claws. She couldn’t believe it. She…it…she was touched by his claws. Her squeal came back full force. She brushed her fingers against the claws. The metal was warm and deadly sharp.

Wolverine sighed but didn’t move.

“So, you have a fan, finally,” Diablo joked.

“Fuck you, Blue Devil.”

Diablo hissed in disapproval, Wolverine growled and Thea, well, she was now holding on dear life onto his callous hand.

“Kid, if you go sit down and buckle yourself, I’ll show you what I can do with these.” He raised his right arm and retracted his claws.

She yelped and ran to her seat. Her legs bounced nervously. Wolverine shook his head and raised his eyes to the sky.

“Last time I trust you, Xavier, last time,” he grumbled.

 If Logan had not really expected Thea to stay silent during the trip, he certainly regretted his wish.

She suddenly stopped chatting. Her head snapped to the right and she stared at the wall. Logan glanced at Diablo who shrugged, as uncertain as he was.

“Kid? Are you okay?”

“He is coming,” she mumbled, still out of it.

Hank who had been making his way out of the toilets stopped a few steps from them.

“Who is coming?” He mouthed at them.

They both shrugged. Hank rolled his eyes and came in front of Thea. She still didn’t react. Her eyes were unfocused and her shoulders high. The more they looked at her the more she seemed tense.

“Thea, who is coming?” Hank asked in his soft voice.

She finally drew her eyes away from the wall and looked at him in the eyes.

“The God of lightning.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. Xavier hadn’t told them they’d have to encounter some obstacles. He felt his claws breaking his skin. He didn’t know if he was strong enough to fight a God, but he’d try.

“Who is –”

“Drop it Hank.” Logan stood up and went to the cockpit. He looked at the board looking for the radar. Besides the normal interferences, he noticed something small coming in their direction at full speed. He snapped his fingers a few times to call Hank, who grumbled (“I’m not a dog.”)

“What?”

Hank dropped his eyes to the screen.

“Oh. The God of lightning, huh? Just that,” he sighed.

Logan’s frown was still firmly attached to his face. He stared at the clouds expecting at any moment to see Thor. The seconds turned into minutes. Then, nothing. Loga checked the screen again.

“Wolverine! She is down!” Diablo screamed from the other room.

Logan reacted quickly and ran to them. He almost broke the door of the cockpit and cut Hank’s hand in his urgency.

Thea’s body was bent in two. The only thing that prevented her fall was the chest belt. Wolverine assessed the situation quickly. Could Thor have an impact on her? Had he cursed her? Or was her “unknown” power weakening her?

He pushed Diablo away into Hank’s arms and kneeled in front of Thea.

“I can teleport her. I can do. I know I can. Let me do it,” Diablo babbled, panicked.

“Calm down, Diablo, everything is going to be ok. Xavier told me she was a bit on edge when she called him. She may have fainted from all the stress.”

Hank pushed Diablo to the side and forced him to sit.

“If we need you wi –”

The jet trembled and tilted on the right. Logan rolled on the floor, claws grazing the metallic floor. He bounced on the right wall, then ran to the cockpit. Hank followed him quickly. The cockpit was pure cacophony. All the screens were blinking, and the alarm was blazing. Logan quickly looked for the anomaly. Was it one of the reactors? Had they been attacked by something?

“Do you see the problem?” Hank screamed, as he looked for a way to turn the alarm off.

Logan shook his head, eyebrows frowned. Thea’s words about a certain God echoed in his mind.

As he was to voice his thoughts, the alarm stopped. The jet stop swaying. After a few minutes of this hell, the silence was as deafening.

“What the fuck,” Hank sighed, flopping on the seat. He took of his glasses, swiping his eyes and forehead.

“What? So, I thought you loved Norse mythology?” Logan joked, half-serious. He unclenched his fist retracting by the same his claws. His heart beat fast and loud. It was ringing in his ears. What the fuck, really.

The adrenaline slowly seeped out of his body, leaving him raw and drained. He took a big breath and sagged.

“You think it was him?” Hank asked genuinely.

Logan stayed silent. He looked behind him where the prostrated body of Thea was. Xavier, are you sure to know what you are doing?

 Thea took a few more minutes before waking up. Logan sat next to her and watched over her. Hank was back in the cockpit with Diablo. He hadn’t wanted to go. Hank had to physically restrain him. Logan had been surprised that Diablo hadn’t even think of teleporting himself back. They were all used to his personal level of anxiety but today he has reached his peak.

Logan played with his claws cleaning them with a wet tissue. A few movements on his left attracted his attention. He narrowed his eyes. Thea slowly rolled her spin out and groaned. She massaged her neck with shaky moves. Logan observed silently. His hands were clenched. If he wasn’t on high alert before he was now. He should have known what Xavier had in mind. Sending Hank, Diablo and him… The only time he did that was when he wasn’t sure of how powerful the new addition was and how dangerous their power could be.

“What happened?” He asked, serious.

“What?” Thea replied, still stretching her body. “I’m the one who should ask you that? Have I sle—”

“Don’t lie. I know you remember what happened.” A brief flash of fear appeared in her brown orbs. “You talked about the ‘God of Lightning.’”

She opened her mouth, then shut it in a click. “What about it?”

Logan counted to three. Why did Xavier thought he was patient enough to deal with this kind of bullshit?

“The jet almost crashed because something – someone flew past by with such a velocity that we almost lost control of the engine.” He sharpened his claws against each other, eyes still on her. She swallowed with difficulty. Good. That’s where he wanted her. “Now, spill it.”

 The rest of the journey went uneventful. After telling her story to Logan, Thea has been chatting with Diablo. Logan didn’t know what kind of story Diablo was telling her, but she looked beyond shocked.

“So…” Hank said, next to him.

Logan barely acknowledged his presence.

“What do you think of her?” The scientist kept going.

“What am I, a fortuneteller? If you wanted someone to read people, I’m not the right one,” Logan replied, with enough sarcasm to surprise him. He didn’t know why he felt like that. Worried and anxious. He was still on the edge from the near encounter with a God, but it didn’t explain the deep roots of his anxiety.

Something bad was going to happen. And for once in his life, Logan felt powerless.

Next chapter

[wolf08]

The Art of Seduction

A/N: Surprise! I couldn’t resist taking a break from my other work to participate in SasuSaku Month 2020. I missed fic writing so much and had a blast with this. Hope you enjoy. :) 

Prompt: Let’s play pretend (Sorry, I know I’m like 5 days late lol)

Summary: Kakashi Hatake, Sixth Hokage and the mastermind behind the infamous bell test, had just the trick for igniting the inevitable romantic spark between his beloved students: assign Sakura a seduction mission. Blank period. SasuSaku. Available on fanfiction.net and AO3. 

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction using characters from the NarutoTM world, which is trademarked by Masashi Kishimoto. The story I tell here is created for entertainment only and is not part of the official NarutoTM storyline. I do not profit financially from this story.

Tags: Humour, fluff and humour, mutual pining, attempted seduction, awkwardness

Words: 3463

***

The Art of Seduction

***

“Hey – what’s that?”

“What’s what?”

One sunny afternoon, amidst Sasuke and Sakura’s private travels, while Sakura was rinsing her tired feet and Sasuke was sharpening their weapons after weeks of climbing mountains and hiking through forests, the duo was unexpectedly interrupted.

“That! Flying straight at us!” Sakura shouted and leaping clear out of the rushing brook, over the rocky shore, and onto the surrounding grass.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow and glanced in the direction of the disturbance.

“A bird,” he said simply without budging from his shady spot at the foot of a large oak tree.

Sakura rolled her eyes before breaking out into a grin. “Not just any bird – it’s the Hokage’s messenger hawk!”

This piqued Sasuke’s interest. It had been months since the pair had heard a peep from their home village, after all.

As it happened, the bird was carrying a scroll addressed to Sakura.

“What does Kakashi want?” Sasuke asked, while hopping to his feet and joining his companion by the brook. Sakura was crouched by the rocky shore, eagerly unravelling the scroll.

Sasuke watched her closely– taking in the emotion brimming behind her emerald eyes and her trembling fingers.

She misses home, Sasuke thought, his chest tightening. Though he didn’t blame her, Sasuke just hoped she didn’t miss home too much.

He didn’t express it much, but Sasuke thoroughly enjoyed his lively travelling companion’s company. And he really didn’t want her to leave.

Then, as quickly as it appeared, the hopefulness drained from Sakura’s face as she scanned the letter. She pouted and scrunched her eyebrows together (a rather adorable expression, in Sasuke’s opinion, all things considered).

“What, Sakura?” he asked and drawing closer, crouching beside her, and hoping beyond hope this wasn’t bad news.

“It’s… a mission assignment.”

There was confusion written all over her features. Sasuke didn’t blame her.

“But you’re with me. We’re already on a mission,” he mused while reaching for the scroll to have a look himself, but, to his surprise, Sakura tugged the scroll out of his reach, colour rising in her face.

Sasuke blinked. “Sakura..?”

She twisted away from him, her face buried in the scroll and her cheeks a similar hue as her pale, pink hair. “It’s assigned just to me. And it’s a… weird one,” she said quietly, like she couldn’t believe what she was reading.

“What’s the mission?” Sasuke asked, dread pooling in his stomach.

“A seduction mission.”

***

Sakura paced back and forth through the grassy clearing in bare feet, hands clasped behind her back, and feeling stressed out of her mind. Sakura had never been assigned a seduction mission before. She had most certainly fantasized about doing one, back in her early teenage days, as most young kunoichi did. Because there had been a certain thrill in using her sex appeal as a weapon against an unsuspecting opponent. It was the perfect blindside.

But these times were different.

Nowadays, Sakura would much rather spend her time exploring the land with her beloved travelling partner than seduce strangers. And, to boot, Sakura had never been particularly confident in her ability to sway someone romantically (with her ever-so-distant object of affection compounding her self-doubts).

Sasuke’s reaction to her mission had been rather hard to read. He seemed puzzled as he read the letter over a couple of times himself. “Do you do these often?” he asked with raised eyebrows, his voice catching ever so slightly.

“No, never,” she groaned and crossing her arms.

This is going to be terrible, she thought. Failing to make a move on the love of her life even once during their months travelling alone together told her as much. Although she and Sasuke had undoubtedly grown closer and were teetering on the edge of being in a relationship – between their heated looks and gentle touches – nothing outwardly romantic had actually transpired between them.

And now Sakura was expected to leave to seduce someone else?

Some wing man you are, Kakashi-sensei.

“Then why’d he assign you?” Sasuke wondered with narrowed eyes while pocketing the scroll.

Sakura shrugged. “Well, we’re only a few miles away from the village that the… target is currently in. I bet Kakashi-sensei has been tracking our whereabouts and picked me because of proximity. Plus the target isn’t staying there much longer so I’ll need to set out first thing tomorrow.”

According to the mission assignment, the target in question was an important Wind Country delegate who (rumour had it) was involved in a human trafficking scheme. Apparently he was known as being a bit of a ladies man – thus, Sakura presumed, seduction tactics were a straight-forward means of extracting information from him.

“Hm,” Sasuke said.

“But I don’t know the first thing about seducing someone!” Sakura fumed, hands on her hips as she resumed her pacing. “Kakashi-sensei screwed up. It’s gonna be a total flop.”

Sasuke was quiet for a moment. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he said before returning to the shade of the tree and resuming his task of sharpening their weapons.

Sakura watched as he ran a hand through his black, mused hair and grabbed a kunai and ran the blade along the sharpening stone with determined, aggressive motions. His expression was impassive, with his dark eyes focused on the task and his mouth frowning in concentration.

Sakura turned away, as not to be caught ogling at her handsome companion.

But that was when she was struck with an idea. An embarrassing, yet intriguing idea.

“Hey, Sasuke-kun?” she asked, feeling her face warm in anticipation.

He glanced at her. “What?”

She returned his gaze. “How do you do it?” Sakura asked bravely. “You know, women practically faint in your presence. How do you get their attentions so easily?”

Sakura figured he was a neutral party on the matter, and she was willing to follow any advice she could get her hands on. After all, she could personally attest to the effect her travelling companion had on women, so surely he had some advice.

Sasuke redirected his stare to something on the ground. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sakura rolled her eyes and joined him beneath the tree. “Oh sure you don’t,” she teased. She plopped down right in front of him. Despite her embarrassment, she couldn’t help but smirk because Sasuke looked about as uneasy as she felt, his face tinted pink and his eyebrow twitching as he tried to avoid looking at her. “C’mon. What’s your secret?”

He looked up and there was something almost pleading in his dark eyes. “Sakura, believe me. I have no clue what I’m doing,” he said. He held her gaze and Sakura’s heart skipped a beat for some reason. But she ignored it.

She pouted. Maybe he’s right – he’s just so effortlessly attractive that he doesn’t even have to try.

Sakura felt a dip in her confidence as she was reminded that the two of them weren’t in the same leagues.

But she needed to try anyways.

“Fine,” she huffed. “But I need your help because I don’t know what I’m doing either and I need to complete this mission. And you’re the only person I have to consult.”

Sasuke eyed her apprehensively as she resumed her pacing.

Meanwhile, Sakura’s mind wandered. What on earth was she to wear for this mission? She only had training gear with her and she certainly didn’t have any make-up on hand. With such a tight schedule, a shopping trip was out of the question. Should she just wear her undergarments – her spandex shorts and black band around her chest?

I’ll feel uncomfortable wearing something that revealing, Sakura thought, her heartrate quickening. Did she really have to change her appearance that much, or was it more about her demeanor – how she moved and how her voice sounded, or whatever?

Ugh, I’m so confused!

Sakura gritted her teeth and stopped her pacing. Abruptly, she turned to face Sasuke square on. He was sipping from a water canteen, watching her curiously. “You’re a guy,” she pointed out. “Let’s pretend you’re my target. What would seduce you?”

Sasuke swallowed a mouthful of water with a profound gulp.

He blinked at her after that, eyebrow twitching again. He opened his mouth and closed it, faltering.

Sakura realized perhaps her question was too loaded. Let’s back it up, then. “How about – what are you attracted to in a woman? Let’s start with that.”

She watched him expectedly.

Sasuke seemed particularly fascinated by a knife he was sharpening when he said, “Um. Strength.”

“Strength,” Sakura repeated, a bit flatly. Really?

“And intelligence,” Sasuke added, his head tilted down and his eyes concealed from view behind his hair.

The knife he was sharpening really couldn’t get any sharper.

Sakura folded her arms and reflected on Sasuke’s comments. I wonder if he thinks I’m strong and smart enough to be attractive? Despite her generally low self-esteem, Sakura was fairly confident that she excelled in both of those areas, especially now.

She felt the tiniest tinge of hope. If that’s what he’s into, maybe I’ve got a shot?

But that was besides the point. She had a mission to focus on.

Did other men look for strength and intelligence in women? She wasn’t sure. Either way, it would be hard to show off those qualities to her target, unless she challenged him to an arm wrestling contest or a game of cards.

Sakura suspected there were more straight-forward ways to seduce a stranger.

She sighed. “This would be so much easier if I were talking to Naruto,” she groaned while leaning against a protruding rock between the brook and the tree. Sakura had a feeling that said Hokage-in-the-making had an arsenal of strategies for seducing men – given his experience using those very strategies in the guise of his Sexy Jutsu.

Sasuke turned to her, a trace of competitiveness in his eyes, before he seemed to remember what they were talking about and turned away.

It seemed he was willing to accept defeat from his rival on this particular matter.

“Okay, how about looks? You must have thoughts about looks, at least?” Sakura tried.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow. “What are you asking?”

She felt her heartrate quicken again, for some reason. “I mean, what do you find seductive about a woman’s appearance?” she clarified.

I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.

As anticipated, Sasuke looked dumbfounded by her question. But he at least seemed to be thinking about it, given his thoughtful stare into the distance with his eyebrows furrowed.

It was kind of him to play along and try to help – despite his clear discomfort. Sakura felt a stab of empathy and decided to ask what she felt was an easier question.

Thinking back to their Genin days, and Ino’s insistence that Sasuke preferred certain hairstyles on girls, Sakura asked, “For instance – should I change my hair?”

There wasn’t much she could do about its length or colour – unless she got her hands on a wig, somehow. But maybe she could style it differently, by tying it up or braiding it?  

“No,” Sasuke replied curtly.

“Okay… what about make-up?”

Sasuke shook his head before getting up with the water canteen in hand. “No. You’re fine,” he said, and making his way towards the brook.

Sakura looked up, her heart fluttering slightly because maybe that meant he liked the way she looked.

Or maybe he was just trying to end the conversation.

Sasuke crouched on the rocky shore of the brook, dipping the canteen beneath its surface for a top-up.

Sakura’s eyes roamed skyward to the tuffs of clouds, her mind running astray. She didn’t mean to torment Sasuke with this awkward conversation, but she really did need all the help she could get. She imagined herself entering a darkened pub to execute her mission. She just had to pull this off, somehow, because if her enemies caught onto her, it could turn into a dangerous situation – not for her personally, for surely she could pummel her enemy if she needed to, but there could be larger international strain if she was caught spying.

Sakura closed her eyes as she imagined approaching her target at the bar. She would introduce herself, start some small talk… and then…?

“Maybe I should touch him… suggestively. But not too inappropriately, you know?” she mused.

“No, I have no clue what you mean,” Sasuke chimed in. He was now sitting on the shore with his shoes discarded and pants rolled up, his feet resting in the cool, rushing stream as he replenished their supply of drinking water.

Sakura carried on. “You know – like running my fingers along his hands, caressing his face, or something. Maybe that would work?”

Once again, Sasuke seemed very fixated on his task. “Maybe,” he said.

But Sakura wasn’t really paying attention to him. She was in her own world now, talking through a scenario she was playing out in her head.

She imagined Tsunade or Ino – two of the most sought-after woman that Sakura knew – walking into a bar and harnessing the attention of most men they passed.

What was their secret?

“I know – maybe it’s just a confidence thing,” Sakura realized. “Maybe it’s more about how I say things.”

She stood up with vigour, facing the general direction of the tree, paced forward deliberately, swaying her hips and imagining that her target was before her. She ran a hand through her hair in a way she imagined must be at least somewhat attractive, and said, “Like what if I walk right up and whisper in his ear –” (Sakura cleared her throat and tried out a low and husky tone) “- I want you. You want me. Let’s get naked. And… And…”

Sakura faltered. I can’t do it, she thought while dropping to her knees.

Then she remembered her silent audience and peered in Sasuke’s direction nervously. To her horror, he was indeed watching her, his eyes wide and his lips pursed – like he was supressing a smirk.

He thinks I’m ridiculous. Sakura put her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. This is embarrassing. I’m so bad at this.”

Sasuke shook his head and stood up, capping the water canteen.

“I’m such a lost cause,” Sakura continued. “I don’t even have a nice outfit to wear.” She fiddled with the zipper at the front of her dress absent-mindedly. “But maybe if I just remove my training clothes slowly enough, it’ll distract him from the stupid things I’m saying. Then I’ll just have to hope that –”

Sakura was interrupted by Sasuke grabbing her wrist, squeezing just hard enough to force her to release the zipper.

She turned to him, startled. “Sasuke-kun?”

He looked a little conflicted – perhaps over being amused and angry – and there was a bit of colour on his face again. Upon closer inspection, it looked like a blood vessel was about to burst in his temple. “That might work,” he said. “Don’t do it.” He gave her a pointed look and stalked back towards the tree.

“Well, what am I supposed to do then?” Sakura asked his retreating figure, feeling more confused than ever.

“You’ll do fine, Sakura,” Sasuke mumbled with a dismissive air.

Sakura folded her arms and watched him pace away, not quite sure what to make of his comment.

She sighed again and muttered, “I wish I could just kick the guy’s ass.”

***

Sakura woke abruptly to the sounds of scuffling and snapping twigs.

Wasting no time, she grabbed a kunai from her weapon pouch and sprang to her feet in one fluid motion.

Damn it, Sakura thought. She was planning to set out for the seduction mission today – and how untimely it would be to get ambushed now.

That was when she realized that Sasuke, who had fallen asleep beside her under the looming oak tree, was missing.

Sakura felt a swell of panic as her eyes darted around. And then she heard more scuffling, and this time, a male voice yelling (though muffled slightly) from somewhere through the trees ahead.

Sakura inhaled sharply and raced through the trees, knife in hand, towards the source of the disturbance. And then, moments later, Sakura arrived on a perplexing scene.

“Sasuke-kun?” she asked and slowly lowering her knife.

Her travelling companion was standing there, wearing his usual black travelling cloak, with his back facing her. Evidently, he was just fine.

It was the man bound to the tree who didn’t look fine.

Sasuke turned towards her. He seemed a little surprised by her presence. “Good morning,” he said evenly.

“Good… what the heck is going on?!” Sakura exclaimed as she approached the pair of them, studying the bound man carefully. She didn’t recognize the guy whatsoever. But Sasuke wasn’t the type of person to capture strangers for no reason, so surely he had an explanation for this. “I’ve got a mission to complete today, so this had better be important!”

Sasuke turned to her, his expression calm. “There’s no need for you to go anywhere – this is your guy,” he said simply, and gesturing towards the bound man like he was presenting a gift.

Sakura’s jaw dropped. “So… you’re telling me that you abducted the man I was supposed to seduce?” Sakura asked and massaging her temples, the puzzle pieces coming together. She felt a tinge of relief come over her because normal interrogations were much more up her alley than seduction missions.

But something still didn’t add up. “Why?” she asked.

The man bound to the tree nodded stiffly and mumbled against his mouth restraints – apparently just as keen to find out what Sasuke was planning. He had a long, straight nose, grey streaks through his black hair, and expensive-looking pyjamas.

Yep, looks like an important delegate to me, Sakura thought.

Sasuke folded his arms, closed his eyes, and turned away slightly. “I knew you were stressed about the mission so I helped,” he explained. “I figure you can just ask him your questions here and I’ll wipe his memory with my Sharingan when you’re finished.”

He didn’t seem terribly concerned that the target could hear all of his.

Sakura frowned. Sure, it was nice of Sasuke to lend a hand, but Sakura found herself feeling angry. “So you didn’t think I was capable of doing the mission so you decided to intervene,” she snapped, rounding on him.

Sasuke turned to face her fully, eyes wide. “No, you’re capable..”

Sakura raised her eyebrows. “So you just didn’t want me to go on the mission.” Boldly, she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“No, I didn’t,” he finally admitted. And then, yet another surprise, Sasuke brought a hand to Sakura’s face, tracing her temple, cheek bone, and jaw with the tips of his fingers.

That’s a caress to the face if I ever saw one! she thought as a shiver raced down her spine. She was unable to look away. “Because you don’t want me seducing men,” she added with a smirk while she gazed at Sasuke’s face. Her heart was in her throat for being this close to him.  

Sasuke’s fingers paused around her chin. His face was very close to hers now. “Because I don’t want you seducing other men,” he corrected quietly.

Sakura stared at him, processing the implications of his words as her face grew hot, and he leaned in closer. His nose was mere inches from hers, his breath warm on her face. Sakura’s eyes fluttered closed.

It’s happening! It’s finally happening!

“Ahem.”

Sakura startled and jumped about ten feet away from Sasuke. Enraged, she whirled in the direction of the disturbance and found that their captive, still tied to the tree, had chewed through his mouth binds and was glaring at them.

“Not that this isn’t fun, but if it’s not too late to change plans, I much prefer the one where this girl seduces me.”

Sakura rolled her eyes, her face still burning, as she smoothed out her hair.

That’s when she heard a familiar chirping sound. A sideways glance confirmed the Chidori in Sasuke’s palm. But even more menacing was the glare he was directing at their target.

“Sasuke-kun – wait! Just let me interrogate him first, okay? Then we can get back to… where we left off?”

Sasuke shot her a calculating look, eyes narrowed. He swallowed. It seemed he was quite torn between doing as Sakura asked or immediately murdering the guy tied to the tree. But in the end he caved, sitting on the ground with a humph, waiting impatiently for Sakura to finish her questioning.

Sakura hoped Kakashi wouldn’t be too disappointed that she’d failed to follow the instructions for the mission.

Then again, another part of her wondered if maybe, just maybe, this was the outcome Kakashi planned for all along.

[padfootagain]

Girl Crush (III)

Chapter 3: Hydrangeas And Rain

 Here we go with a third chapter! As I've written ahead with this story (unbelievable coming form me, I know…) I'm gonna try to keep on posting every 48 or 72 hours :)

No warnings in this, except for tooth-rotting fluff!

Word Count: 2429

Harry and you had spent quite a lot of time together for the past few weeks, and over the course of the last couple of months you had grown to be good friends. He made you laugh like crazy, and the more time you spent with him, the more you were certain that your first impression had been right. He truly was a nice person.

And Harry found your kindness radiant, as well as your wits as hilarious as he had hoped for.

It was easy for the two of you to become friends. The universes you evolved in were different, yet your views of the world were similar. You could spend hours listening to him telling you crazy stories about his tours across the world, and you told him about the stupidest questions your customers asked. He taught you about music, and you taught him about flowers. You had never thought to find curiosity towards this field, yet kept on asking Harry questions about notes and guitars and his favourite songs. Maybe you had underestimated the interest you would find in this art, perhaps it was also because Harry made it so interesting. And he asked about all the flowers you had in the shop, and remembered your favourite ones, and was eager to learn more about plants. If he were to be completely honest, he hadn't thought that he would ever want to learn so many details about plants, but maybe it was only because you were teaching him all these things that he was so curious.

It was Thursday, and for the last 4 weeks, some kind of tradition had settled between you and Harry, where he would pick you up at the end of your shift and you would spend the evening together, either going to the cinema or simply talking around a pizza or walking along the beach near L.A as you had planned on doing tonight.

You were running late though, and Harry was walking around the shop, smelling flowers and admiring vivid colours, his hands clasped behind his back, his sunglasses resting upon his head, and he was biting on a chewing-gum.

The sight of Harry in the shop was so normal by now that none of your colleagues asked him if he wanted to buy anything. They gave him a polite smile, and left him alone to patiently wait for you to be done with your day of work.

Your hand was mostly healed and your days had taken back their crazy pace. You found it refreshing to spend time with a new friend, someone who didn't make a living in selling flowers the way you did. Your determination to become a successful florist had left you with only one or two friends who didn't work in your field of expertise. But spending time with Harry made you realize that maybe you had been missing out for the past few years. Perhaps you had narrowed your life too much during your studies, closing your vision to only keep whatever was linked to your big dream. You were reminded these days though that there was a broader world out there to be listened to and experienced. Which was why, despite your busy schedule and demanding job, you still made time for Harry these days, and if you were honest, were eager to see him again once you parted.

"Just two minutes!" you told him for the fifth time since he had passed the door, rushing across the store to add a new bouquet to the bucket next to him.

He chuckled in response.

"Take your time. I don't mind."

"I just need three… four minutes… four minutes!"

"I love how time expands whenever I'm around you," he joked, making you laugh.

"Shut up! I'm feeling bad for making you wait already."

"Good. I do hope you're feeling terrible to let me with nothing to do but admire these hydrangeas."

You gave him a proud smile.

"Mr. Styles, we might make a florist out of you yet!"

He winked at you, a playful smile on his lips.

"Maybe my teacher is just very talented."

"Oh, I know it's all thanks to me!"

You disappeared to the other side of the counter again, your two laughs filling up the shop.

When you came back in your casual clothes again, Harry was taking a selfie with a perfect stranger, who seemed overexcited. He excused himself when he saw you though, but gave the three fans a little wave as he walked out of the shop with you.

It wasn't the first occurrence of fans spotting Harry and asking for a picture while the two of you were together, but you had to admit that you weren't used to it for now. Perhaps it was because you hadn't really grasped the whole concept of fame just yet.

You had listened to some of his songs by now, and recognized some of them, although you had no idea at first that he had been the one behind them. You liked his records, but you still hadn't fully realized how big his band had been.

He gave you a kind smile, while you headed for his car, a silent way for him to ask if everything was alright and to reassure you, if you needed. You nudged his arm in response, and all was fine.

It was the end of the afternoon, and some dark clouds hovered above the city, menacing and drenched in what promised to turn into heavy rain. You studied the sky, a frown forming on your face.

"It doesn't look so good."

"Should we give up on the beach idea?"

"Yeah… what about a boardgame?"

"Sounds nice to me! Your place or mine?"

"Your Scrabble is in much better shape than mine," you reminded him, and he nodded as you climbed in his car.

"Then mine it is."

You had been driving for no more than five minutes when the first large drops of rain started to explode on the windshield.

"Yep, no beach for today," Harry sighed.

"I like rainy afternoons though. They're meant to be spent in pyjamas drinking hot cocoa."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. Sometimes you spoke without thinking, just like this, and it was always to let out the most adorable thoughts.

"It's kind of true," he admitted.

"It's a tradition we had with my mom when I was little," you went on, a tender smile on your lips.

You turned to Harry, with a face that revealed that you had just had a brilliant idea. Or a particularly silly one, generally, the two were related.

"We should do that."

"Do what?" Harry frowned.

"Spend the afternoon in our pyjamas, and drink hot cocoa."

Harry exploded with laughter.

"While I beat the shit out of you at Scrabble, of course," you added.

"In your wildest dreams, I'm winning this time," he replied. "But sure, you know what? That could be fun. Let's drop by your flat and grab your pyjamas then."

It was a silly idea, but Harry humoured anyway. He drove to your flat first, let you grab a few things, and once at his house you both changed into more comfortable clothes.

But once you were both settled, sitting cross-legged on the floor around his Scrabble board, with two cups of hot cocoa, some chocolate chip cookies and the fall of rain pouring outside echoing through his large house, Harry decided that it wasn't a silly idea at all. He was wrapped in his favourite bathrobe and some oversized clothes, his hair a mess but he didn't care. And across from him, you were dressed in some adorable pink pjs with a unicorn on your t-shirt.

It felt nice. Relaxed. Despite the cold that he had imagined coming from the raindrops outside, he felt warm and happy. You reckoned that it was a reassuring thing indeed, to sit so comfortably with him.

"What about your music? Any news for that?" you asked before reaching for your third cookie, and Harry couldn't help but notice that you seemed to particularly love the biscuits.

"Yeah, I'm gonna go to London for a few weeks, get a band. See some friends who might help with that."

You nodded, and recognized the small change in his posture as his shoulder bent forwards just an inch or two.

You gave him the warmest and most reassuring smile he had ever seen.

"You're gonna be fine. I'm sure you'll find the right people, and make a great record."

"I trust your professional insight," he mocked, huffing in response.

"Don't be like that! You're gonna be fine. Just don't… put too much pressure on yourself. You're talented, if you find the right people to surround you, then nothing can stop you."

He narrowed his eyes at you.

"Have you been secretly listening to my music?"

You shrugged.

"I wouldn't say secretly. We're friends! I reckoned that I had to listen to your stuff. And I like it!"

"Thanks," he finally smiled, his dimples creasing his cheeks, and he lowered his eyes, blushing a little.

"I really do. Which is why I truly believe that… if you do what you love and don't try to go back to the past, but listen to your heart and to who you are instead, you're going to make some amazing songs."

His shoulders straightened once more, and when he looked up at you his smile made his eyes shine a little greener.

"That sounds like an awfully good advice."

"I know," you joked, letting out a chuckle. "When are you leaving?"

"In a couple of weeks."

"You… you'll call me while you're there, right?" you asked in a changed tone, that turned from warm to hesitant, doubtful even.

He looked at you as if you were being ridiculous.

"Of course, I will. And I count on you to call me too. We're friends, right?"

"Yeah, we're friends. And us being friends… does that mean that I get like… a first glance to your future masterpieces or something?"

Harry replied with a bright wave of laughter.

"Haa… I get it now! You just want the VIP seats, huh?"

You joined his own laughter.

"I mean… I'm now friend with a singer, it has to mean I get some privileges! You get the bouquets for your girlfriend, I get private concerts and first looks!"

"Private concerts too? What? You want me to start a show right now?"

"I wouldn't say no…"

"I'm dressed for the occasion, clearly," he answered while dramatically pulling up his hoodie, making you double with laughter.

You were laughing so hard your stomach was aching and your lungs burnt. It was far from a rare occurrence these days though. You guessed it was just an effect Harry had on you, or perhaps on everyone, you weren't sure of that part yet, it didn't matter though.

Harry too was holding his stomach, your laugh was too contagious for him to stop.

Once you had eventually calmed down, you guided the conversation towards a more serious tone again.

"How did Jessica take the news of you leaving though?" you asked, and Harry heaved a sigh.

"Probably as you expect her to."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah… I don't know, she's been giving me the silent treatment for the past two days."

"She's just sad, she's gonna be missing her boyfriend."

"Yeah, well, I'm getting a little tired of it all, to be honest."

"Of it all?" you repeated. "What do you mean?"

He didn't answer, and placed his letters on the board instead. You were used to it by now though. Harry was a rather quiet person in general, and he often fell silent when he felt uneasy or sad.

You had learnt not to push, learnt to simply wait for him to answer or choose to skip to another, completely different subject. You let silence fill the room, the clapping of the rain on the roof and against the windows playing a timeless melody.

He didn't dodge the question though. Simply took his time to think of his answer, weight his options: should he tell you or not?

"She doesn't like us spending so much time together. She's a bit jealous, I think."

Your head shot up from the board to his eyes, but Harry was writing his score on a piece of paper, and deliberately avoiding your gaze.

"Oh," you let out. "Would that help if I talked to her? Tell her she has nothing to worry about?"

He shook his head.

"No, no… I'm… I try to reassure her, she's not convinced. If I can understand jealousy to a certain extent, I can't seem to shake the thought off her head, and I'm getting a bit tired of it."

You nodded, your movement slow and reluctant.

"Would it be better if we spent less time together."

But Harry frowned hard.

"Why would we do that? You… you want to do that? You… think we're spending too much time together?"

"No, no! I… I don't want to, I'm glad to have you as a friend. But… maybe it could help you and Jessica…"

"I'm not going to be sorry for the friends I care about, and I'm not going to yield over some stupid nonsense and lose a friend."

"She's your girlfriend."

"Yeah, and she should trust me when I tell her that there's nothing between you and me, and we're just friends, and that I would never cheat on her, period," he went on, his voice getting angrier.

"What are you going to do about it then?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. "There isn't much I can do. She chooses not to believe me."

"And I'm guessing that you going away is not making things easier between the two of you…"

"Not exactly."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I hope you can pull it through with her."

"Yeah… I hope so too. But what about you?" he finally chose to change the topic and to redirect the conversation towards you. "Anything you? Anyone new?"

"Nothing new about me. And nobody new either," you answered with a chuckle. "I'm just thinking about what kind of treats I could ask my friend to send me from England as he goes away."

Harry's laugh was finally lighting up the room again, and it felt right. You reckoned that it was exactly how things ought to be: Harry laughing on a rainy afternoon in a room that smelled like cocoa. How could there be anything more reassuring and soothing in the world?

**************************************

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@madamrogers​ @cronias13​

[giasonesdream]

The Art TA, Tae...

Hi, so I was inspired by this gifset created by @95z​

Such a simple yet effective post, because this is what I came up with:

Your university wasn’t an art school by any means. With an expansive campus run rampant with prospective business people and research scientists, the last thing on the majority’s mind was the history of your personal favourite painter, Carravagio.

Not that it mattered to you...since you weren’t an Art Major, yourself.

But you hang with that crowd, somehow drawn to the open and relaxed spirits of those that spent their lectures with paint brushes in their aprons, or calloused fingertips from strumming the strings of some orchestral instrument. In summation, despite your academic plan leading you down the path of Foreign Communications, you always somehow found yourself in the Art Building during your spare time.

It was a rather cozy building, stacked with the same warm tone bricks used to make the goliaths just across the street, on the main campus. If the Science building wasn’t on it’s own separate street, as well, you could’ve sworn the School Board held some vendetta towards Art Majors.

So the trek is comfortable, jay-walking in the middle of the day as the streets are normally empty during this time of the day. Your friends are scattered throughout the small building. The halls are narrow and cozy, almost makes you feel like you’ve walked into a new world of secrets and mystery. Paintings, portraits, and mixed media line the cement walls.

Despite knowing that there are people in the rooms evidently from the various noises that come muffled from the wooden doors, it’s always so quiet and empty when you’re there. It’s a rarity to share the hall with another human, and it’s normally a treat when you do.

Like today. The both of you are walking from opposite ends of the hall, coming closer.

He doesn’t have a face you recognize, but some primal part of your brain wishes you did. Chocolate copper tresses veil his forehead, slipping under the thick framed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He’s adorned in black trousers that seem to fit his waist perfectly, but with suspenders that contrast the simple...ridiculously obvious shirt fitting to his shoulders. You can’t stop the grin that pulls at your lips upon reading the painter’s name written clearly on the maroon fabric: Van Gogh. 

The stranger is in the midst of rolling out his neck, his shoulder twitching up to adjust the leather strap of his messenger bag going across his body. When he seems satisfied with stretching his neck, his gaze falls to yours. It’s so sudden, you don’t have time to look away, to try and pretend like you hadn’t been checking him out just a second before. 

In order to save your dignity, you go for a smile, something you hope comes across as friendly and kind. But his gaze is piercing, even beyond the lenses of his glasses that catch the reflection of the light hanging above, you can see it. Brown eyes boring into yours, almost like a challenge, daring you to keep his stare or look away.

Maybe later on you’ll curse yourself, kick at your own ass for not wanting to be confrontational or even the slightest bit rebellious. For now, however, you drop your eyes to the floor, just as your paths cross. Christ, where had your confidence gone?

What’s more, that primal part of your brain doesn’t think, only reacts. Curious as to see the stranger from behind, you turn your head back, and there it is again: that stare, that stone gaze catching yours. This time, though, it’s coupled with a smirk, one side of his lips turned up into a smile. Of course, you only notice that you were caught in the act, and you snap your head back immediately, quickening your pace to get to the end of the hall as soon as possible.

With the Art Department being so small and intimate, it’s not hard to learn about the stranger, the man that has somehow made a name for himself with his eccentric fashion, someone who was able to stand out even to the Art Students literally is that even possible?

He’s a mid-level Art History Teacher’s Assistant named Kim Taehyung. Thankfully, one of your friends has a class that he assists, and he’s quite talkative in class. From what your friend has told you, he likes to converse with the students before class, try to read the room’s mood levels before the professor joins them. Your friend doesn’t remember if he’s in Graduate School working to be a professor himself or to open up an Art Gallery. Seems like two completely different career ventures-

“You’re not from here.”

The voice snatches you from your thoughts, bringing you back to the present. One of your friends is in his Music Theory lecture in the lower level of the building. It’s probably the creepiest, most eerie section of the building, and mainly your biggest piece of evidence that the Art Students get the short end of the stick.

Your stare had been a mile long into the wall opposite of you as you leaned against the cold, hard surface. And the last time you were aware of your surroundings, you’d been alone.

So to hear someone else talking-

“Oh my go-” you exclaim, quickly lowering your voice. You don’t want to disturb the lecture going on just on the other side of the wall. You finally follow the direction in which the voice had came, low and smooth enough to wrap around some inner part of yourself.

Speak his name, and he shall appear.

Standing to your side is the aforementioned Kim Taehyung, the TA you’d passed in the hallway just a couple days ago. Your heart is still pounding in your rib cage, but now it’s unclear as to what the cause of that is. 

He laughs, holding out his hands in front of him, like a sign of not being a threat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You give yourself a moment to calm down, taking the time to give a quick once-over the outfit for today. Students in the Fashion Department must have a field-day with how he styles clothing. Again, he’s wearing simple black pants, maybe a little less fitted than the pair he wore the other day. Today’s eclectic shirt is a button down with geometric shapes of all sizes, staying in the colour story of red, white, and gray. Again, simple, but bold.

“Um...what?” You ask on an exhale.

“I said ‘you’re not from here’,” Taehyung reiterates. “I’m pretty good at remembering faces of the staff and students that normally frequent this building. You’re a new one.”

You hum in agreement. “Right. No, my friends...I’m waiting on a friend that’s in this lecture. Most of my friends are Art Majors.”

Taehyung nods, pushing his glasses up his nose. “So, what major are you, then?”

It’s an easy conversation to have, especially on campus. Everyone wants to know what plan someone else has, especially if they have no idea what they’re working towards themselves. So you explain your major, your plan to work in foreign affairs for some big company.

“...or, atleast, that’s the goal,” you finish.

“Is that the dream, too?”

It takes a minute for the question to process. Even as it does, you still respond with a furrow of your brow in confusion.

The TA leans his shoulder against the wall, loosening his posture, and you have the desire to mirror his relaxed state.

“Well, what I mean is...you say that it’s your goal, but is that career move what you dream of doing?”

Being in your last year of university, this was already a talk you have had to have with yourself. When you slaved away over your French Oral Presentation, or going through the motions of General Accounting, you knew what you would have rather been doing with your time. Ledgers was far from it.

What makes you hesitate, though, is whether or not you should express this honesty to a virtual stranger. Attractive or not, were you willing to open up about something you’ve already lamented over?

Sighing, you sink into the wall. “Not even close.” His expression is patient, waiting for you to explain. “If I didn’t crave financial security, I’d spend my days and nights here, working on creative writing projects...maybe diving so deep into the world of Gentileschi that I could transport back in time to when she thrived. But alas...I graduate this Spring.”

When Taehyung nods, he looks thoughtful, mulling over your words. Much to your surprise, his silence doesn’t feel awkward, but you do have questions of your own.

“What about you? I heard you’re...either trying to open an Art Gallery or become a full time professor. Which is it?”

With a tilt of his head, a laugh threatens to stumble past his pursed lips. “Did you ask about me?”

At your slip-up, your mouth hangs open as you try to stumble for a response. You hadn’t even thought about that, about how it would sound for him to know you were already trying to figure out who he was after one encounter.

“Oh...I, uh...well- okay, yeah, you.” You breathe a nervous laugh. “Your shirt had caught my attention, and you-”

“I caught your attention,” guesses a rather smarmy Taehyung. He seems to find some entertainment in your slight panic, which actually helps to calm your nerves. When you finally settle, he continues. “I wanna do both, actually. Even when I graduate, I know there’s still more I can learn. Why not get paid while I continue the journey, right? Plus, I’d need to grow a savings so I could start off with some backing-”

“Man, you’d fit right in with the Business Department. Especially the Accounting Students. They go nuts for financial plans and forecasts.”

Taehyung shrugs. “Nothing wrong with having a plan in place. Just as much as there’s nothing wrong with not having a plan.”

His words, for some reason you couldn’t even explain to yourself, gave you reassurance and solidarity. Your future had been set since the moment you stepped foot onto the university’s campus. And though you would have nights where you longed to stray from the path laid out, you kept on course. And with only months left of your undergraduate schooling, the finish line was just over the horizon, already pooling into view. 

But everyone knows that with finishing one race, you only start another. Not a race, no. A marathon. A marathon that the man to your side was giving you comforting words would go well even if the lines in front of you blur or obstacles come.

Again, the silence is nice, filled with words not spoken but ease and welcome vibrations.

The lecture room door opens, and the noises from inside spill out into the small corridor. Jeongguk will be out soon.

“Welp.” You straighten up, pushing away from the wall. “It was nice to meet you, Taehyung. A rather interesting first conversation.”

“Wow, you know my name! And I never even learned yours.”

Right. You tell him your name, listen as he tries it out on his own tongue. It shouldn’t sound as intimidating as it does, given that he’d already seemingly jumped head-first with the deeper topics of discussion. 

“First conversation?”

“Huh?”

“You said it was an interesting first conversation. Does that mean you’d want to have a second? Maybe even a third?”

He feigns a scandalous look that makes you giggle. “Hell, we might even have a fourth.” He gasps deeply.

He nods towards the lecture hall. “Well...now you know where I am on Friday’s at this time of the day. The joys of only having one lecture hall in the building.”

You roll your eyes, your disdain seeping through. “Ugh, that’s so ridiculous. This building really should be a lot bigger.”

“Won’t argue with you, but what are the odds that we would’ve run into each other if that was the case?”

It’s a sweet sentiment that doesn’t match the wink he sends your way.

The hallway is busy now as the current of bodies flow. Taehyung starts walking toward the classroom. “I’ll see you around, yeah? Give me time to guess which Gentileschi painting is your favourite.”

With a grin, you nod, giving a small wave as he enters the classroom.

When Jeongguk finds you, you both make your way through the building. He’s already going into a ramble about his final project for his film class. You both have a habit of sliding your fingertips against the walls, tapping along the heavy surface.

Taehyung was right about that. You still believe the Art Department could have more, be more, but there’s a charm in how small it is...intimate.

[bush-viper-cutie]

“All Friends Again” || YEAR 3 – Ch.25 (HP au)

                              Chapter List

<-- Last Chapter                          Next Chapter -->

Day posted: 10/6/2020

Word count: 2, 841

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

Hey guys! Sorry I didn’t update last Friday! I’d been way too exhausted with a bad night’s sleep to write anything. I’m working on time management this month so I hope to have these chapters done before the morning I’m supposed to post them XD I miss being ahead by like ten chapters XD

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Heather and Hermione sat by their salamander log staring at Ron and Harry laughing obnoxiously about something. She rubbed her hands over the fire and fed the salamander more dried leaves.

“When will they get over it?” Heather said, trembling under her cloak. It was mid-January morning and Hagrid had thought it a great idea to have them all sit in the chilly air and frosted grass feeding the fire-loving creatures some leaves.

Hermione shrugged, pulling her eyes away and setting her jaw. “They can be mad for however long they please. I’m far too busy to worry about them.”

Hermione was right. She was far too busy. Her workload had started to affect her sleeping schedule and every day they were spending less and less time together. They only really talked now during the classes they shared together and a bit after before parting ways, which left her feeling alone.

During Defense Against the Dark Arts Heather overheard Harry asking Professor Lupin about the lessons he had promised them. They were scheduled to work on it Thursday after dinner in the History of Magic classroom. She wrote that down and decided she didn’t care if he was mad at her. She deserved to learn the same spells as him.

The bells rang and Hermione and her packed their bags quick and left the classroom before Harry and Ron. They were halfway down the hall when Hermione’s bag ripped.

“Do you HAVE to bring all your books at once?” Heather helped her gather her fallen textbooks.

Hermione sat at the feet of a suit of armor and sighed. “Yes. You never know when you’re going to need something.”

Heather heard Ron’s voice as they exited the classroom.

“Does he still look a bit ill to you?”

Harry nodded. They were walking their way.

“What d’you think’s the matter with him?”

“Tuh,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

Ron and Harry paused and turned around to look at them shoving books into Hermione’s ripped bag.

Ron frowned at them. “Why’re you tutting us?”

She didn’t want to make their fight worse and quickly spoke for Hermione. “We weren’t. It was nothing.”

“Yes you were. I said ‘What d’you think’s wrong with Lupin?’ and she – ”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hermione rolled her eyes again making Ron red with anger.

“Fine. Don’t tell us then,” Ron snapped. He pulled Harry with him and they both disappeared around the corner.

Heather looked at Hermione. “D’you… You know then?”

Hermione looked at her with narrowed eyes. “That he’s…”

Heather grinned. “The floating orb. And being sick every month.”

Hermione smiled. “Yes. The symptoms are practically the same as the text.”

That was their way of confirming to each other that the other knew as well, without giving it all away in case the other was only pretending to know. They finished repacking the bag and headed their separate ways. Hermione to wherever she normally went and Heather to the Slytherin common room to hang out with Pansy and her friends and Draco preferably if he was there.

Thursday came around and after dinner she made her way down to Professor Lupin’s office and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” he called back.

She opened the door and smiled. “Evening Professor.” He was finishing up grading some essays and smiled at her. “I was wondering if I could join Harry on his lessons? You did promise us both.”

He nodded, “Of course. I don’t see why not… er, I’ve noticed you two aren’t hanging out recently. Are you two alright?”

She gave her best smile. “Of course.”

He didn’t look too convinced but asked nothing more. Together they walked down to the History of Magic classroom. Harry was running late which was good, since he didn’t know she’d be joining him. She sat at a desk, looking at the carrying case Professor Lupin was heaving onto Professor Binns’ desk, when Harry entered.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked immediately.

Professor Lupin looked to her and she responded. “It’s both our lessons. We both asked for them.”

Harry rolled his eyes and made his way to a desk.

“Right then… I’ve found a boggart to work with – took some looking but I found it inside Mr. Filch’s filing cabinet. When we aren’t using it I’ll store him under my desk, I think he’ll like it in there. Are you two ready?”

Heather nodded and looked at Harry who tried his best not to grumble at her and nodded too.

Professor Lupin looked at them both. “Right... Harry why don’t you go first? Wands out.” He waited until their wands were out. “The spell we’ll practice is advanced magic – far beyond Ordinary Wizarding Levels. In fact it can be hard for even experienced wizards to get it right. It’s called the Patronus Charm. Heard of it?”

Heather nodded, “Yes. I have at least.”

Harry stuck his tongue out at her. “How’s it work?”

The question wasn’t aimed at her but she couldn’t help showing off. “It conjures a patronus. It’s like a shield that wards off dementors, among other uses.”

“Very good, Heather. A full patronus is a guardian, almost, and it doesn’t exactly ward them off… more so feeds them while you get away. It’s a projection of positive force that the dementors can feed upon – except the patronus doesn’t feel despair when being fed on.” He rested his wand in both hands and looked at each of them. “You two may not be able to conjure one, at least not first try. Keep that in mind.”

“What’ll it look like?” Harry asked curiously.

“It’s different for everyone, isn’t it? There’s no way of knowing until you conjure it.”

“Precisely. And to do that you must focus on a single, very happy memory.”

Heather frowned. A ‘very’ happy memory? Did she have any of those? She supposed arriving at Hogwarts every year is the happiest ones she has. Or maybe winning the house cup? That one was a good one.

“The incantation is as follows…” he cleared his throat and turned towards the case so they could copy his wand movements. “Expecto Patronum!”

“Expecto Patronum,” they repeated and pointed their wands like he was doing. Nothing came out of their wands.

Professor Lupin turned. “You’re both concentrating on your happy memories?”

They nodded and tried again. Heather focused on the feeling of seeing the castle for the first time after the summer holidays as the train neared Hogsmeade and it came into perfect view. “Expecto Patronum – Expecto Patronum – Expecto – ”

Something silvery swooshed out of Harry’s wand, like silvery gas. It was small, yet far more impressive than Heather’s nothing.

“Did you see that? Something came out! I almost had it!” Harry was smiling wide.

“Very good!” Professor Lupin nodded. “Heather why don’t you keep trying while Harry gives the boggart a go.”

She frowned and turned away, focusing on winning the house cup first year. Everyone was cheering and she’d earned enough points to keep them in the lead. She’d been so happy and proud then. “Expecto patronum!” She stared at the end of her wand but nothing came out. She thought of making it onto her Quidditch team. “Expecto Patronum!” Nothing.

She heard a thump and turned to see Harry fallen on the floor and Professor Lupin making the dementor turn into the moon and putting it back in its case.

“Harry, are you alright?” Professor Lupin knelt beside him, helping him sit up.

“Yeah.” Harry rubbed his head. Professor Lupin handed him a chocolate frog and Harry bit into it. “It’s getting worse… This time I could hear her clearer… And him – I heard Voldemort.”

Professor Lupin looked paler than normal.

Heather crossed her arms. “Maybe we should stop for today then.”

“No! We’ll keep going. I will. If dementors show up for the Ravenclaw match I need to keep them away.”

Professor Lupin nodded. “Heather… Have you gotten anything to happen? Are you ready to try?”

Heather looked at her wand and shook her head.

“I’ll go again. I’m fine.” Harry stood.

Professor Lupin walked over to the case again and gripped the lid. “Ready?”

Heather turned around again, huffing to herself. Why weren’t her memories making her happy enough? She was happy then… But none of them were making her feel happy now. There was too much going on in her head. How could she be happy about winning the house cup her first year when she’d lost it their second. And as much as thinking about Quidditch made her happy, she was still feeling very bitter towards Ron and Harry for not checking to see if she was alright when she fell.

She raised her arm and thought of being told they were wizards. “Expecto Patronum!” Nothing wooshed and nothing silvery came out. They were told together, walking into a whole new world together, they were all they had, and now Harry was mad at her over a broom? None of these memories were making her happy. Just angry.

THUMP. Harry was on the ground again.

Professor Lupin shook his shoulders. “Harry? Harry wake up. Harry.”

Harry mumbled something and fixed his glasses. “I heard my dad… I’ve never heard him before. He tried to – he took on Voldemort himself, trying to give my mum time to run for it... Giving her time to save us.”

Heather looked at Harry, and for the first time in several weeks, he looked at her without anger in his eyes. There were tears there, running down his cheek and he quickly wiped them away.

“You heard James?” Professor Lupin looked distant, eyes staring out at nothing.

“You knew him?” Heather asked.

Professor Lupin looked at her, nodding. “We were friends at Hogwarts… We should end for tonight. This spell might be too advanced.”

Harry stood, shaking his head. “No, no! I can do it. I’ll give it one last go. I’ll just think of a happier memory.”

Professor Lupin nodded but Heather didn’t want to stay there any longer. Every time Harry failed he talked about their parents. It exhausted her to push unwanted thoughts and feelings out of her head. She was tired and sad, and just wanted to go to bed.

“I’m going to go… Good luck Harry.” She walked out of the classroom and wiped a tear from her eye after the door had closed.

Deep down… she wanted to know what he sounded like too, but those were memories she knew she’d destroyed a long time ago. She stopped halfway down the dungeon stairs and sat. It was close to after hours and everyone was normally inside already, so she didn’t think anyone would bump into her on the stairs. She let a tear run down her cheek, and then another one, and another. She dropped her face into her hands and started crying, not knowing what she felt or why.

Why did she feel so… angry? Not just at Harry, but towards her parents as well. She couldn’t even bring herself to call them anything but her ‘mother’ and ‘father’, distancing them from her heart. But they gave up their lives for them, sacrificed themselves to keep them safe. Wasn’t the least she could do to show them love is call them ‘mum’ and ‘dad’?

She sobbed. Did she even love them? She loved Harry, with all her heart… But did she love her parents? They were gone. And didn’t it hurt to love people that are gone? That you can never get back? If Harry died… would she stop loving him too?

She heard a door open – Professor Snape’s office – and quickly wiped her tears. She stood and continued down the stairs, meeting him at the bottom.

He stopped. “Potter. Is it so incredibly hard to remember that you are not to be outside the common room after hours?”

Heather avoided his eyes, knowing hers were red and puffy. “Sorry, Professor.”

He must have sensed he couldn’t break her further because he all he said was, “Get inside,” before continuing up the stairs.

Heather ducked into the common room. There were still people around so she went straight for the girl dormitories and decided to take a long bath. Right before bed Cindy offered her more berries, seeing she was looking a little sad, and Heather accepted. She fed them to her toad and watched the berry juice drip down his little toad chin and stomach.

The month of January went by slowly and February rolled in even slower. Hermione was now too busy with classes to talk after any lessons, saying she had no time. Harry had been continuing his lesson with Professor Lupin by himself and apparently was finally producing more than just a bit of silvery gas. Professor Lupin kept asking her if she’d join them but she always declined. Maybe if something very magnificent happened to her she’d join with a new ‘very’ happy memory, but currently, life was as it always was.

One February morning, on her way to meeting Hermione outside the Gryffindor common room, she saw Ron, Harry, and Hermione making their way down the stairs together. Heather stopped and looked at them as they came towards her.

“Oh.” She crossed her arms and stared at Harry. “We’ve made up then have we?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I got my firebolt back – ”

“Which was perfectly fine,” Ron interrupted.

“Well it might NOT have been,” Hermione snapped.

Heather stared at the obvious tension growing between Ron and Hermione.

“Scabbers is gone and Crookshanks might be to blame,” Harry filled her in.

The four of them made it to breakfast and sat together at the Gryffindor table. When she looked back at the Slytherin table she saw Pansy glaring at her. For several weeks they had been sitting together, mutually benefiting off each other’s popularity, but now Pansy was alone and unable to keep up any Quidditch talk by herself.

“Explain the blood then!” Ron was yelling with a mouth full of toast. “Blood on the sheets and ginger hairs all over! Explain!”

Hermione had a book up between her and Ron. “Well maybe you just aren’t looking hard enough.” Ron scoffed. “Have you checked under ALL the beds?”

“Oh, UNDER the beds. I’ve only been looking above them because of Scabbers ability to FLY!”

Harry looked at Heather and sighed. “Pass the jam?”

Their fighting got worse after Herbology. They were all studying in the library when Hermione suggested Ron was just prejudice against her cat ever since Crookshanks chased Scabbers out of the Magical Menagerie.

“Only a maniac would buy the cat that almost ate their friend’s rat!” Ron closed his book and left the library.

“Hermione – ”

Heather knew what Harry was about to do and shook her head at him. He ignored her.

“Ron did find blood where Scabbers normally sleeps and I don’t think those ginger hairs would have stayed there since Christmas. We’ve been walking around and sweeping the floor with our socks.”

Hermione shut her book. “Oh I knew you’d side with Ron! First you’re both mad at me about the firebolt and now you’re mad at me about something Crookshanks DIDN’T do – ”

“Where IS Crookshanks?” Heather regretted asking almost immediately.

Hermione’s face went red. “I’m very busy and I can’t work with everyone talking,” she said shrilly. She got up and left the library as well.

Harry and Heather stayed to work on their potions essay on Undetectable Poisons.

A day later and the Weasleys were trying to cheer Ron up, seeing he was thoroughly devastated about Scabbers. During breakfast all but Percy were sitting around him, patting his back and offering him candy.

“Think of his death this way, at least it was quick and painless. He’d been off-color for ages, losing hair and all that. One swallow and his misery was over.”

“Fred!” Ginny hissed.

“Oh come on. You always said he was very boring. All he did was sleep and barely eat and sleep some more. Now you can buy a new rat,” George shook Ron’s shoulders a bit.

Ron lifted his head from the table. “He bit Goyle for us! He put that disgusting sausage finger in his mouth for US, remember?”

Heather and Harry nodded.

“A true hero,” said Fred while biting his cheek to keep from laughing. “And now the scar on Goyle’s finger will stand as a lasting tribute to Scabbers’ memory.”

Surprising to no one, Fred and George couldn’t manage to cheer Ron up. Maybe Ron was doomed to remain sad for the rest of the year without Scabbers. He did say he’d never be happy again. Heather told him at least then the dementors would leave him alone and he did nod appreciative.

Mopey Ron was a new normal they’d have to get used to, but Heather was far happier now. She was back to being friends with Ron, she had Harry back, and Hermione was talking to them – except Ron – so everything was almost like normal.

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[sinning-on-a-sunday]

Could I ask for a smutty oneshot of yandere prince/king Taehyung x servant reader. Maybe he finds where y/n hides in the castle, or they're (he's more so) playing hide and go seek in the garden, or something about a punishment. Whatever you wanna do.💖 Thank you 💖

you should see me in a crown

- warnings: yandere behaviors, sexual content, obsessive behavior

- a/n: sorry this took so long, i am also sorry that is a whole 3.5k words

copyright © 2019-2020 under sinning-on-a-sunday. do not repost or translate my works without my explicit permission. this includes stealing my ideas/plot.

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The only way a person survives working for the Kim family is by being as inconspicuous as possible. Good servants were docile, diligent, dutiful. They worked harder than they were supposed to and never placed blame on anyone but themselves.

The only reason you’d lasted so long at this job was because you were an exceptionally hard worker. You’d served the Kim family ever since Taehyung was a prince. He’d always been a spoiled brat, cruel and narcissistic, born with a silver, jewel-encrusted spoon in his mouth. But when he became king, his ego only became that much more self-inflated.

Staff started getting fired left and right, fear engulfed the castle like a plague, and you quickly found yourself at the top of the metaphorical food chain. A servant had to bust their ass every single day just to keep up, but unlike the rest of them, you hardly ever made mistakes. It wasn’t beauty or wit that captured Taehyung’s eye, it was your tenacity.

You’d never wanted his attention, you’d never asked to become his favorite.

You memorized his schedule until you knew it like the back of your hand, you knew when he took his tea and how many sugars he liked, never messing up his order or forgetting to serve it in his favorite cup. You knew his morning, afternoon, and evening routines better than you knew your own.

One of Taehyung’s favorite things about you was that you solved problems before they became problems, like restocking his art supplies before he had a chance to run out, or ordering the latest fashion statements from his favorite luxury brands before he even requested them. He would ask you to do something only to find that it had already been done.

You never spoke unless spoken to, and whenever he needed something you were already by his side, ready and willing to do whatever it took to make him happy.      

You didn’t even know he was aware that you existed until that one rainy day in November. It was one of your few days off, and you were spending it in the castle library, curled up in the windowsill like a cat. However, it was cut short before you had a chance to enjoy it.

In the throne room, Taehyung sat in his golden, diamond-studded chair, eyes scanning the room lazily. He twirled his blue hair between his fingers as he grew more and more bored by the minute.

Movement at his side made him look up. He narrowed his eyes at the woman leaning over him, a steaming cup of tea in her hands.

“Who are you?” He snapped, making her tense.

“I-I’m…” The servant girl began before being cut off.

“Where’s Y/N?” Taehyung spat out, irritation sharpening his tone.

“I-It’s her day off. She’s not working today.” The servant stuttered out.

Taehyung just glared at her.

“Well, go get her then. At least she knows that I prefer Earl Grey over fucking Chamomile.”

She scurried away before he had a chance to fire her.

You had a book sprawled open on your lap when you heard the commotion in the hallway. When you opened the door, servants were running around like chickens with their heads cut off, shouting and chattering incoherently.

“What’s going on?” You called out to the nearest person.

She froze upon hearing your voice, turning to stare at you with eyes blown wide.

“Y/N! There you are!” She lurched forward to grab your arm.

“I found her!” She shouted, causing everyone in the hallway to whip around and crowd around you. Hands invaded your vision, pushing, pulling you forward, leading you down the hall faster then your feet could carry you.

“What the hell is going on?” You shouted, letting them drag you along.

“The king is demanding your presence. He’s on a rampage, he’s already fired three people.”

Your blood ran cold. This is bad, this is really bad. When Taehyung throws a tantrum, at least one person gets beheaded, and you were certain that person was about to be you.

But what did I do? Your mind scrambled to think of a reason justifying his behavior. You didn’t recall pissing him off recently. In fact, the last time you saw him, he was in a better mood than usual.

You reached the throne room before you could think of a logical explanation. The only thought you had in your mind was that you had done something wrong and were about to be sent to the guillotine because of it.

The thick oak doors were pushed open, and you were shoved inside.

You’d been in the throne room a million times, being Taehyung’s favorite servant required it, but for some reason it looked different this time. Maybe because you thought this was the last time you’d ever see it.

The light from the twinkling chandelier overhead was dimmer, casting shadows against the walls and across the polished marble floor. Your footsteps seemed to echo like gunshots in the silence, and your hands trembled as you approached your imminent doom.

Taehyung was dressed in rich blue jacket with gold embellishments, tigers embroidered on each lapel. He had one jeweled hand held up to his mouth, flashing the giant sapphire ring on his middle finger. His eye shadow-lined eyes flickered up to meet yours when he heard you coming.

“Ah, Y/N! Finally!”

You were startled by the tone of his voice. He sounded almost…happy to see you?

“Go and make me a cup of tea, will you? Since apparently you’re the only one who knows how to do it right.” He ordered.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. Wasn’t he going to yell at you? Wasn’t he going to fire you?

“Y-Yes, your Majesty.” You said after a pause, hurrying into the kitchen to fix him his tea.

You returned in record time, far quicker than any of the other servants, and offered him the teacup in shaking hands.

He raised it to his lips, closing his eyes in delight as the warmth cascaded down his throat.

“Perfect.” He whispered to himself.

Your face was furrowed in confusion, watching him, waiting for him to deliver your death sentence on a silver platter.

But he just sat there sipping his tea, humming a cheerful tune. Several minutes passed before he spoke again.

He raised one ringed finger in the air.

“Get me a—” He began, only to be cut off by you already at his side, offering him his favorite pastry.

“Yes, exactly.” He didn’t say thank you, he never did, but he flashed you a small smile. To say it took you by surprise would be an understatement.

You waited and waited for him to say something, anything, but he just licked his fingers clean of the flaky bits of dough, staring ahead blankly.

“Um, Your Majesty?” You said timidly, deathly afraid that he would punish you just for speaking.

“Yes?”

“Why am I here?” You asked, genuinely curious.

Taehyung looked at you, his brows knitted together.

“Don’t you know? You’re the best servant in the castle, everybody else just fucks things up. You belong by my side.”

~~~

Over the next few weeks, Taehyung and you grew closer. He promoted you to head of staff, and you became his official personal servant, fulfilling his every whim and need. There wasn’t a time when you weren’t right there by his side.

If you were telling the truth, it was exhausting. Taehyung would throw a fit if anyone besides you tried to serve him, which meant you were responsible for literally everything. His meals, his laundry, his meetings and royal duties, even his recreational activities, you had to take care of it all.

As time passed, Taehyung got to know you more as a person. He stopped seeing you simply as the help and thought of you as more of as his own little plaything. He derived a great amount of pleasure from teasing you and watching you erupt into a fit of stuttering and blushing.

He started to notice all your little quirks and habits, like how you always avoided eye contact when you were flustered, or how you became extremely embarrassed whenever someone complimented you.

It took a few months for him to start viewing you in a romantic light, but once he did, there was no turning back.

You were delivering his breakfast one morning when he made an advance for the first time.

“Come in.” Taehyung called after you knocked on the door. He sat up in his gigantic four poster bed, hair disheveled and sticking up at odd angles, watching as you walked towards him with a silver tray in your hands. You set it down on his bedside table, trying to ignore the way his eyes were following your every move.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Your Majesty?” You asked, hands clasped in front of you.

The corner of his mouth tugged up in a smirk as he scanned you up and down.

“Why don’t you join me?” He said, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

You nearly choked on your own spit.

“W-What?” You stuttered out. He only smiled wider at your taken aback state.

“I said, why don’t you join me, Y/N. You must be exhausted after all your hard work.” He reached out to take your hand, trying to pull you closer. The movement made the sheets rustle and shift, revealing his smooth chest as you realized he was shirtless.

“I-I, um…I need to-I should really get back to the kitchen.” You pulled your hand out of his grasp and hurried out of the room before he could get another word out.

Every day after that became your own personal nightmare. He made his affection for you painfully obvious, touching you at every opportunity, constantly complimenting you and making suggestive remarks. You tried to ignore it as best you could, but after a while, Taehyung grew impatient.

One day, Taehyung was taking a bath in his magnificent white marble tub, when he requested that you bring him more towels. When you entered the room, your cheeks immediately turned red.

It was dark, illuminated only by candles and the low light of the sconces on the walls. The tub, which was big enough to comfortably fit four people, was surrounded by stone columns and a ring of rose petals on the polished floor. Taehyung was sitting inside of it with his arms propped up on the edge, wearing nothing but a smirk, the rings on his slim fingers, and a sapphire around his neck the size of the Hope Diamond.

He gestured you over with a curl of his bejeweled fingers, and your body obeyed on instinct.

You came to a stop and stood there next to the tub, arms tightening around the bundle of towels in your arms. Thankfully, the water was cloudy, bubbles and cherry blossoms floating peacefully, and everything below his rib cage was hidden from view.

Taehyung looked up at you, tilting his head to the side in amusement.

“You got here quick. Was someone excited to see me?” He asked in a high, teasing voice.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and moved to set the towels down.

“Ah ah ah, hand me one.” Taehyung commanded.

You pursed your lips but did as he said, extending your arm towards him and offering the piece of fluffy material.

Instead of taking it, he grabbed your wrist, the metal of his rings biting into your skin, and yanked you forward.

You fell into the tub with a splash, scrambling to sit up, facing away from him.

“I’m sorry!” You immediately choked out. You tried to climb out, but Taehyung wrapped an arm around your waist from behind and pulled you closer so your back was flush against his chest.

He chuckled as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Shh shh, calm down.” He whispered in your ear. One of his hands was gripping your waist, and the other was wrapped tightly around one of your wrists, effectively keeping you in place.

You felt his fingers drift up to the back of your dress, plucking the buttons loose one by one.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“W-What are you doing?” You asked, dreading the answer.

Taehyung nuzzled into the side of your neck, planting a soft kiss to your earlobe.

“Take it off.” He ordered.

Your stomach dropped.

Now, you had two options. 1. Tell him to fuck off and storm out, which would undeniably end in termination, or 2. Give in and allow him to do whatever he wanted with you. You were understandably leaning towards option #1, but on the other hand, you had no idea what he would if you rejected him. Would he fire you? Would he blacklist you so you could never find work again? Would he send you to the dungeon? Would he have you killed for disobeying him?

The possibilities were too risky, too dangerous, so, with a heavy amount of reluctance, you reached down to pull your dress up over your head with shaking fingers. Tossing the wet fabric aside, you shivered as Taehyung’s fingertips brushed your bare shoulder.

“Good girl.” He murmured, quickly finding the latch of your bra and unclasping it. He helped you scoot out of your panties until you were sitting there completely naked.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you felt a stream of warm water fall over your head, looking back over your shoulder to see Taehyung holding a pitcher. After your hair was completely wet, he started to lather a handful of shampoo into your scalp.

“I knew you were the right one for me, look how well-behaved you’re being.” Taehyung praised as he washed your hair.

You sat there completely silent, frozen with fear. You weren’t exactly sure why you were being so willing, maybe you’d been a servant too long, your brain was practically hardwired to blindly follow orders.

You found it very strange that Taehyung was washing your hair for you. In all the time you’d known him, he’d never done a single thing for another person. Everything he did had a selfish reason, so why was he the one serving you when he was actual royalty?

After Taehyung had rinsed your hair clean, his arms came to snake around your torso once again.

A bowl of red grapes and a bottle of wine with two glasses was sitting on the edge of the tub, and Taehyung reached over to pluck a grape from the bunch and press it to your lips.

Your parted your clenched teeth, letting him slip it inside, but his fingers lingered in your mouth.

You knew what he wanted you to do.

Your lips wrapped around his digits, sucking obediently. Taehyung hummed in satisfaction.

“Look at you, you even obey the silent commands.”

The two of you sat there for what felt like hours. Taehyung didn’t try anything other than letting his hands roam all over your body, but you still felt irreversibly exposed by the end of it.

When Taehyung finally allowed you to escape from his grasp, you quickly hopped out of the tub, wrapped a towel around your body, and hurried out of the room.

His eyes followed you as you left, that smug smile never once leaving his face.

He wasn’t done with you yet.

~~~

You’d started hiding from him. The library was by far the best spot, since it was one of the only rooms Taehyung never entered. It worked for a while, avoiding him, that is, until he found your hiding spot.

You were scanning the shelves, devoting every ounce of your attention to the words printed on the leather-bound spines, so much so that you didn’t hear the door creak open. You didn’t notice the quiet sound of his footsteps as he tiptoed over to where you were standing against the wall. You didn’t even notice as he stood there watching you, smiling to himself as you read the summary on the inside of the book jacket.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.” Taehyung finally said, breaking the silence.

You audibly gasped and dropped the book you were holding.

Taehyung chuckled, bending down to pick it up and place it back on the shelf. He shook his head at you, clicking his tongue.

“I’m disappointed, Y/N. To think, you’ve been up there this whole time, denying your duties, when you should’ve been by my side where you belong.”

You felt your fists clench at their sides. How dare he, how dare he claim that I’m not doing my job. I’ve been working my fingers to the bone ever since he made me his personal servant and now he claims that I’m the one in the wrong?

“Feed your own ego, I’m busy.” You spat, turning back to the shelves and resuming your browsing.

Taehyung raised his eyebrows in surprise. Did he finally break you? Did he finally make you snap?

The king took a step forward and placed his hand on the beam of wood next to your head, caging you with his body. His face was inches from yours as he stared down at you with narrowed eyes.

“What did you just say to me?” He practically growled.

You turned to face him, blood boiling under your skin, and returned his glare with equal ferocity.

“You may have everyone else here bowing down to you, but not me. I see through your little facade. Everyone else may think you’re a king, but I know better. You’re just a spoiled little boy who thinks he owns everything and everyone. You may be able to get whatever you want, but you can’t have me. Not now, not ever.”

You waited for his reply, you waited for him to yell at you, fire you, grab you and throw you in the dungeon, but it never came. Instead, Taehyung only smirked. The gesture made goosebumps rise all along your skin.

“It seems to me that you’ve spent too much time by yourself, Y/N. I think you need to be punished.” He said.

You ground your teeth but stayed silent.

“Tell you what, sweetheart. Since you like hiding so much, we’re gonna play a little game.” Taehyung began, a smug edge to his deep voice.

“You are going to hide anywhere you want in the castle, and I’m going to try and find you.” He explained.

You narrowed your eyes, scanning him up and down.

“What do I get if I win?” You asked.

“If you win, I’ll leave you alone. You can continue to work here without any pestering on my part.”

“What do you get if you win?” You asked him suspiciously.

Taehyung’s expression darkened, and he leaned forward until his nose was almost touching yours.

“You.” He said. “If I win, you will give yourself to me completely. You will surrender to your king like any good servant would.”

It was risky, but Taehyung was an idiot if he believed that he knew the castle better than you. You’d lived and worked here for years, you knew every inch of this place.

You extended your hand for him to shake.

“Deal.”

~~~

The clock started at 2:35, and Taehyung had until 3:00 to find you.

You immediately ran towards the garden. The outside of the castle was almost as big as the inside, and with all the foliage and twists and turns in the path, you were confident that you could effectively stay out of sight.

You took off your shoes so you would leave less tracks and make less noise when walking, you tied up your skirt so you could run without it getting tangled, you even left a false trail for Taehyung to unwittingly follow.

There were plenty of lush trees and hedges to hide behind, and you jumped from spot to spot to keep Taehyung on his toes.

Your heart was pounding in your chest the entire time, ears straining and eyes searching for any sign of movement. As time passed, you were quite sure that you were going to win, but then you heard a rustle.

The sound of footsteps and snapping twigs assaulted your ears as you closed in on yourself, trying to make your body appear as small as possible.

“I know you’re out here, Y/N.” Taehyung’s voice called out over the silence.

Your heart nearly stopped.

“Come on out, sweetheart. I’ll go easier on you if you surrender now.”

You bent down even further, ducking your head down. You heard leaves crunching under his boots, the sound fading until it had disappeared completely.

You waited a solid few minutes before moving, pulse thundering. You figured it would be a good idea to switch spots again, after such a close call. Emerging from your hiding spot, you turned to hurry in the opposite direction, when you collided with something hard and warm.

A pair of hands gripped your wrists, yanking you towards them.

Your stomach dropped as you looked up at your captor.

Taehyung smirked at you.

“Gotcha.”

[fifielady]

Soulmates and Stairs? Disaster

Day 2 of @usukweek​ || Pining | Soulmate AU

Note/s: I always get lazy by the end of the story I’m writing  (シ_ _)シ

"Good job, arsehole."

"Arthur, I... I'm really sorry." Alfred kept his eyes on the bland gray-blue (he'd asked a nurse which colors were which while waiting for Arthur) tiled hospital floor, he couldn't seem to at least muster up the courage to look at the other person in the eye and apologize for what seemed like the eleventh time after he accompanied Arthur to the hospital. It was both embarrassing and disheartening that he left such a terrible impression on his soulmate. A terrible and utterly painful physical impression as well.

An hour and a half ago, before they could finally see the blindingly beautiful colors and were sitting in the hospital with Arthur Kirkland's left arm in a cast and Alfred F. Jones regretting and savoring the good and the bad of the consequences of his actions, they were both in the student park in front of the male dormitories spending time on their weekends. Separately, that is. Arthur was sitting on the narrow cobble stairs that lead to the old but sturdy dorms while Alfred was sitting under the canopy of a tree admiring the view.

Alfred was finishing up his essay outside his dorm room because he left his key on his desk when he rushed to his one and only 9 a.m. Saturday class. He was lucky his laptop was fully charged before he headed out, bringing his charger would've been useless since most of the outlets in the common room were always occupied. Besides, the weather was nice enough, for a cloudy day, to spend outside while he worked on his homework. But while he waited for his roommate to come back from buying comics and manga (or was Kiku visiting his Greek soulmate's apartment?), he glimpsed the one and only Arthur Kirkland sitting on the steps furiously working his pencil on a sketchbook.

He thought while unknowingly pressing on the letter 's' on the keyboard, Ah, wow, he looks lovely as always. Though Alfred could only see the light gray shade of Arthur's hair and the dark gray shine in his eyes and even an almost white complexion, there's no way colors would even matter to the sheer handsomeness of Arthur Kirkland. He was very much lucky he could see him almost every day.

Arthur's room was directly across his and Kiku's and though he'd never even talked to him before, except for that acknowledging nod he got when he picked up the guy's Calc textbook, Alfred had developed a crush on him that seemed to grow into something more whenever Alfred was able to catch sight of Arthur. He punched his pillow to exhaustion that night for missing the opportunity to at least brush the skin of their fingers together when Arthur took the book from him. Alfred was guilty, even right now actually, that he'd liked someone who might not turn out to be his intended. It was kinda silly that he'd felt he was cheating on his soulmate when he knew that Arthur probably didn't even know his name.

Alfred forced himself to stop staring because he'd look creepy like that one girl who was always stalking his Russian classmate and that he really should carry on with his essay and other homework, so he graced himself one last look of longing to Arthur for the day and face his open word document only to look down and see that there were two pages filled with "s"s. Nothing a ctrl+z can't handle. Bless technology and Arthur Kirkland's adorably grumpy face of concentration while drawing. Well, not just his looks, he'd seen the guy helping other people without them noticing and it was so 'noble' of him and it made Alfred want to hug him and happy-cry.

Hm. He really should start on finishing his work. But all his pining made him hungry. His stomach grumbled as if to agree. Alfred pursed his lips and thought for a moment. If he were to pass by his crush on the narrow staircase, maybe he could say hi and stuff and invite him out for a snack, and voila!, their first conversation and, maybe, a date. It's a good start, at least.

Like a man on the most super important mission of his life, he'd quickly gathered his things and was basically skipping over to Arthur who was ever so focused on his illustration. Alfred put on his Gonna-Get-Me-Some Smile™ and waved when he was a few feet near the base of the stairs where Arthur was, "Hey Art--WaaAH!"

Something caught his right foot and it was moments before his social death on the ground when he felt a warm body barreling against him and breaking his fall, two bodies tumbling down beside the foot of the stairs. Someone groaned, or maybe they both did, Alfred something felt warm and soft and a bit bony under him. Funny, when was the ground ever bony? Or soft? A whimper caught his attention, oh that definitely wasn't him. Alfred opened his eyes as he stood up to see Arthur on his back wincing.

"AAH- I'm so sorry, are you okay?!"

Arthur only whimpered in response, his eyes were closed tight and there were droplets on his lashes beginning to form. His left arm was positioned weirdly, too. Uh-oh. Arms weren't supposed to bend like that. "Arthur? Arthur, you gotta stay with me," Alfred frantically and lightly tapped on Arthur's cheek. The man's thick brows furrowed into a grimace so Alfred changed tactics. He carded his fingers to brush Arthur's bangs away to clear his face and continued the hair-stroking to soothe him a little bit.

"It-it hurtss... Aaarghh..."

Alfred felt his heart clench. "It's alright, buddy. I'm gonna shout for someone to call for a nurse and we'll go to the hospital, 'kay?"

Arthur only moaned back, tears slowly falling down his face. "Art, hey, can you open your eyes for me? You gotta stay awake. Please stay awake."

He was squinting, and blinking to adjust to the light behind Alfred. The other realized this and shifted slightly to shade Arthur's face. Slowly, and very slowly, just like the slow-motion in the movies, Arthur fluttered his eyelids and all Alfred could see was a color so deep he could in forever hidden behind the long, long the dark and bright lashes of his. And immeasurable pain! Right!

"I'm really sorry about this but you've gotta hold on, soulmate, I'm gonna take you to the hospital and get you patched up."

And that was how he'd given his soulmate a temporary painful physical impression. Talk about his strange luck. Alfred scratched the back of his neck, this was just so nerve-wracking! "Right, um, at least it wasn't your right hand...?"

Arthur also kept his eyes glued on his lap, refusing to even look at him. "I'm left-handed, you fool."

"But... you were drawing with your right hand earlier?" He asked albeit hesitantly and a lot quieter than he usually was.

"I was scribbling out my anger. I'm useless with my right hand. And thanks to you unexpectedly trampling down, I won't be able to use my dominant hand to do anything competently." Arthur shifted his head to the opposite of Alfred, his cheeks and the tips of his ears were tinting 'red'. Crap, Alfred really messed this up. Of course Arthur would be angry. "Even your maddeningly daunting presence makes it difficult to breathe."

That made Alfred wince but he took it. It hurt but Arthur's broken arm was a lot worse. He took a deep breath, "Look, man, if you really hate me being around you that much then I'll leave you alone, okay? You don't have to insult someone who's supposedly your soulmate."

Arthur snapped his head back to face his faster than a cheetah with his eyes comically wide, "Wha-- That's not what I-- "

"It's nice meeting ya, soulmate. I'll get out of your way now." Alfred rose up from his seat, eyes misting. He really messed it all up. Just when he finally attempted to start something, he'd trip and had his soulmate break his arm while breaking his fall. Alfred suck-- "Ack--! Are you trying to choke me?! Seriously, getting even by strangling me to death?"

His shirt collar loosened up a bit. Damn, Arthur was strong! Enough to asphyxiate someone like his only soulmate. Alfred pulled back on the front of his collar to even out Arthur's intense pulling on the back of his collar. 'Useless with his right hand', his ass! Arthur could still probably lift a coin jar with that hand. "Are you as thick as a jar of peanut butter?" Arthur's English accent got thicker and thicker as he slowly let go of his grip on Alfred's collar to just playing with the hem of Al's wrinkled shirt. "Just... just let me continue and actually listen to what I say."

Alfred immediately resisted from running away in tears and stood silent in the hall with Arthur behind him. He could feel the other pinching and rubbing the cloth of his shirt. Softly, as if fearing Alfred would take off if he made himself louder, Arthur muttered, "I'm left-handed and we are soulmates. I, erm, I need another hand to help me around."

"Eh?" Alfred turned around to face Arthur. The guy's eyes were still focused on the ground but the increasing 'red' tint of his cheeks was, in two words, adorably delectable.

"Just until the cast comes off! It's your duty you know..."

Eeehh? What the--? Really?! How was this guy so--!

"As my soulmate, that is."

Alfred couldn't help himself and put his arms around the smaller frame of his soulmate. "Oh my God!" Alfred exclaimed, glee and relief quickly taking over his mind and heart, "You're so freakin' adorable! I can't--!"

He swayed their bodies to and fro, never faltering the strength he'd put in their embrace. Yes! Yesyesyesyesyeees! Alfred was so lucky!

"This arrangement is only until the cast comes off! Oomph, mind my arm, my arm!"

Suffice to say, the arrangement lasted for the rest of their lives. With Arthur also reciprocating more than the help he needed, of course