#one of the several fics I have planned in dedication to the game which ended so soon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ladyartemesia · 4 years ago

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All I Want For Christmas is You

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader

Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other, and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist...

Genre: Comedy • Fluff • Smut

Tropes: Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers

Collab: This work is part of the Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes Collab featuring original holiday themed works by @ppersonna • @xjoonchildx • @underthejoon • @yeojaa • @untaemedqueen • and @snackhobi

Word Count: 17K (I know—I am shocked too honestly)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: suggestive photographs • mention of accidentally being hit with a baseball • hints of jealousy and possessiveness • light tit slapping • explicit sexual content • m/f oral sex • consensual unprotected sex (shield it before you yield it y’all) • Viola’s mirror kink makes yet another appearance •

Acknowledgements:

To @ppersonna (Lindy) @underthejoon (Fal) and @xjoonchildx (Ana) you guys are my heart. Your support, willingness to read (and re-read) and give honest feedback made this fic special. Your friendship is my daily dose of awesome. Truly, I love you.

To @untaemedqueen (D) all of the above applies to you, but I owe you a little something extra for the LITERAL HOURS you spent in the doc with me. This fic would not be here without you. You kept me moving. You inspired me. You were amazing. Thank you so very much. This story is lovingly dedicated to you.

To @hobi-gif for being the most thorough and incredible beta reader and for having all the important girl chats with me. I think you learned more about my past than you wanted... Either way you made this story better and I am profoundly grateful for the hours of time you spent. I have removed all the Hope-No-No words in your honor.

To @lemonjoonah as always, you knew EXACTLY what I needed to tweak to make this story work. (Gotta pass that Lemon Litmus Test or no dice lol.) My lovely soul twin. You’re a bloomin’ rockstar.

Please Picture This Taehyung:

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”

“Then send me a bill, not your unmanageable harpy of a sister.”

Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow.

“Kim Taehyung. It was exactly five years ago today that I carried your drunken naked ass two miles in the rain after you set your clothes on fire and sprained your ankle at that Beta Phi party.” He paused dramatically. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? After I deleted several pictures off phones and paid off half the party to keep it out of the papers?”

The man in question shifted uncomfortably.

“That incident is a bit hazy in my memory. I’m not sure I recall—”

“Jiminie—you’re the best and I—I owe… you. I owe you the most, Jiminie. I do—I owe you a favor—one BIG favor—anything you ask… Even though... I actually like being naked. I don’t think we need clothes. We should all be naked. Everyone. Then there would be world peace.”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped.

“You RECORDED IT?!”

Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Naturally. And I had it all ready to go—just in case you needed extra convincing.” He crossed his arms and fixed his best friend of nearly fifteen years with a triumphant smirk. “I’m calling in that favor today, Taehyung. Now are you a man of your word or not?”

“He did WHAT?!”

Your mother winced.

“Jimin was... uncomfortable leaving you alone for the holiday season. He normally accompanies you to the galas but this year—”

“This year I was going to go alone and finally build my reputation as an asset to this family!”

Park Soomin sighed as she watched her daughter pace fiercely around the living room of their luxury suite.

“No one doubts that you’re an asset, but… in light of recent events...”

Rage and embarrassment flared up in your chest before you could stop them.

“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”

The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough.

“Are you ever going to trust me again?” you whispered.

“Oh sweetheart... it isn’t you we don’t trust...”

Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you ruthlessly blinked them back.

You would play along with their humiliating schemes.

For now.

“So which one of Jimin’s Ivy League brat pack did he blackmail into babysitting me?

For the first time in the entirety of the conversation, your mother looked truly nervous.

“Kim Taehyung.”

You tripped over your own feet and face-planted into the sofa.

“Jungkook, I need to look into faking my own death. Nothing too over the top. Just a tasteful disappearance—”

The man in question could barely restrain his grin.

“You don’t pay me nearly enough to deal with your mother in the event of your tragic demise and miraculous resurrection.”

“I could pay you more.”

“Or,” Jungkook replied with a heavy dose of judgment coloring his tone, “you could put on this ridiculous tie and stop trying to weasel out of it.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I pay you at all,” Taehyung growled, yanking the tie from the younger man’s grasp. “Clearly I’m not the one in charge.”

“Your words, sir, not mine. Now shall we go over the details and itinerary?”

If Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best executive aide in the city (and one of his closest friends) Tae would have drop-kicked him right then and there.

“Could you at least try to look like you’re not enjoying this?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was insensitive of me to ignore your suffering in this delicate time. The trauma of escorting a beautiful woman to a series of glorified buffets weighs heavily upon you.”

Taehyung tightened the tie so aggressively, he almost strangled himself.

“Beautiful woman?!” he wheezed. “We’re talking about the girl who showed up to our formal graduation party looking like she just escaped from Azkaban.”

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.

“Tae… how long has it been since you’ve actually seen Ms. Park?”

“Seen? Maybe three—four years.”

The heir-apparent of Kim Holdings avoided the public end of corporate culture like the plague, preferring to leave the requisite schmoozing to his personable cousin, Kim Seokjin.

However, he had crossed paths with his adolescent nemesis in... other ways.

Taehyung was romancing a lovely young socialite who suddenly ghosted him after someone told her that he wanted at least eight naturally-birthed children.

Soon after, your favorite charity received an anonymous 30,000 dollar donation requesting that you be featured in the dunk tank for an upcoming benefit carnival and then the same anonymous patron paid for at least fifteen little league teams to attend.

In retaliation, someone petitioned the National Aviary Society (chaired by a very influential senator’s wife that no one ever refused if they wanted their permits to go through) to make Taehyung the MC at their annual awards ceremony—knowing full well he was allergic to birds (not dangerously allergic—just enough to be miserable).

Taehyung had sniffled and sneezed through approximately one hundred parrots, parakeets, and other assorted fowl until he was ready to commit murder.

The last several years had been littered with similar incidents of the two of you taking thinly veiled potshots at one another.

“I can’t imagine she’s changed very much,” Taehyung bit off absently. His mind was abruptly consumed by how he could get revenge for those demonic birds.

He didn’t notice the smile creeping over Jungkook’s face.

“No, sir. I’m sure she hasn’t changed at all.”

Taehyung had only ever had the wind knocked out of him once before.

He was Dionysia High School’s star pitcher for three seasons and during one particularly tense game against JY Prep, Lim Jaebeom whacked a line drive right into his solar plexus.

That’s how it felt to look up and see you at the top of the stairs.

In his head, you were still the mischievous imp from his childhood. Every prank he played was directed at the fierce little fiend with braids and braces who’d knocked him and his date into the university fountain while experimenting with her friend’s skateboard.

But she was gone… and in her place was something far more dangerous.

A woman.

Silken fabric wrapped tightly over curves you definitely didn’t have four years ago. That wild hair had been tamed into shining waves and pinned elegantly at the nape of your neck. The wicked slit that traveled all the way up your thigh teased a smooth shapely leg that all but demanded the viewer fantasize about running their hand up the length of it.

Suddenly it was very clear why Park Jimin wouldn’t let his sister venture into the corporate cesspool alone.

Because the sight of you could make a man desperate.

Betrayal—of all things—slowly crept over Taehyung as you descended toward him like some sort of angel floating down from the heavens.

His mind went blank. Just watching the seductive shift of your hips as you swayed ever closer felt like a violation of his friendship with Jimin. He could feel the judgmental stares of an imaginary Bro-Code Council boring into him from on high.

“I see you’ve recovered from your memorable tenure as the Aviary Society’s Master of Ceremonies.”

And just like that the brat was back.

Taehyung breathed a hefty sigh of relief, secretly thrilled to be in familiar territory with you.

“Naturally I was delighted to help Senator Mitchell’s wife. In fact, Mitchell’s office just fast tracked all my pending permit requests for the new year.” He tilted forward, coming into your space a bit. “I should really send you a thank you card.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you scowled, breezing past him like an indignant queen.

Tae could practically see the steam pouring out of your ears.

“Of course not,” he chuckled.

The first gala of the holiday season was an extravagant annual affair hosted by Min Corp., a Seoul based investment firm that commanded billions in assets. This year, the theme of the event was the Joseon Dynasty and the entire ballroom had been gloriously transformed into a stunning celebration of the Min family’s royal heritage.

Attendees were gifted their own traditional fan, each uniquely crafted by artisans from Damyang. Taehyung’s was all black with bold silver calligraphy while yours was a beautiful bamboo and silk piece decorated with pomegranate trees.

You had already whacked three people with it by the time dinner was served.

“It really is a pity these fell out of fashion,” you lamented. “They’re quite useful.”

“You are deranged,” Taehyung mumbled, massaging his temples in exasperation.

“Nonsense. I only fanned those who deserved it.”

“Harkins?”

“He was staring at my rack for a solid minute.”

Taehyung could hardly blame the man, it was a battle he himself was losing after all, but Harkins was twice your age and married—therefore his ogling was in especially poor taste.

“Okay... What about Kang?”

“He was verbally abusing one of the waitstaff.”

“Alright, fair enough, but why on earth would you go after sweet old Mrs. O’Malley?”

“She was about to grab your ass.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open.

“She’s eighty-five!”

“And still kickin’ apparently.” You shook your head in disgust. “As if I’d whack an eighty-five year-old woman for anything less than non-consensual touching.”

“I- I- mean—surely you must be mistaken,” he coughed.

“Oh, there’s no mistake. That nasty old crone is a serial offender. She likes to play it off as dementia, but she’s as sharp as a tack. Last year she got a whole handful of Jimin. Honestly, I’d call the police on her, but the commissioner is her grandson so I doubt I’d get very far.”

Taehyung turned to the woman in question just in time to see her totter lecherously toward Jung Hoseok, fingers already twitching in anticipation.

“Is nothing sacred?” he mused hollowly.

You shrugged.

“Many people who accumulate as much as our families have start believing that they are entitled to whatever strikes their fancy.” Your eyes met his with a hint of bemusement. “Surely you should be used to this sort of thing by now?”

“Yes, but I was hardly expecting it from little old ladies!”

The remainder of dinner was a terse affair where you pretended he didn’t exist for the entire meal and he in turn pretended that the spunky young heiress seated to his right was the most darling creature to ever walk the earth. By dessert she was ready to get married and you were ready to vomit.

Afterward, Taehyung found himself quickly converted to your views on fan usefulness as you began strolling through the crowd intent on strengthening your family’s corporate ties.

“Kim Taehyung,” you ground out through clenched teeth, “how am I supposed to do business if you keep stabbing everyone I speak to!”

“I don’t know what you’re implying. I’m simply not used to carrying one of these. I may have accidentally grazed a few overzealous individuals—”

“My last three conversations have been rudely disrupted by the blunt end of that accused fan.”

Taehyung crossed his arms smugly.

“And what of it? Jimin sent me along to keep an eye on you and the gentlemen in question were hardly behaving themselves. No one has to put their hand in my back or lean that close to me when they’re talking business.”

“That’s because no one wants to get that close to you,” you replied sweetly. “You’re gross.”

A devastating grin slid slowly over his features as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

“I can think of several women who might disagree.”

He just barely caught the hitch in your breath before-

“Like who? Miss Blushes-and-Giggles from dinner?”

“Jealous?” Taehyung drawled cockily.

“Only in your dreams, Kim.” Then, with a deliberate flick of your fan, you turned your back to him. “I’m headed for the ladies room. Do yourself a favor and don’t follow me in.”

It was twenty minutes before Taehyung realized that you slipped out the back entrance of the restroom.

It took another ten for him to locate you on the balcony flirting outrageously with Min Yoongi.

The young heir of Min Corp. was just leaning closer to whisper sweet nothings in your ear when a black fan slid right in between the two of you.

“Lovely weather we’re having,” Taehyung observed cheerfully. His eyes bounced between you and Yoongi with barely concealed fury and you let out a miserable groan.

“Mr. Kim,” Yoongi cleared his throat significantly. “What an… unexpected surprise.”

Frustration clawed at your chest as your overbearing guardian nodded smugly in response.

It was time to teach him—and Jimin—a lesson.

“Yoongi,” you sighed, sliding your hand pointedly through the crook of his arm, “I’m not feeling at all well. Would you perhaps… escort me home?”

Taehyung suddenly looked as if he’d swallowed a live octopus.

Yoongi grinned, clearly thrilled with the prospect of simultaneously spending more time with you and irritating Taehyung.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Jimin is gonna kill me,” Taehyung grumbled as he watched Min Yoongi help you into the passenger seat of his Aston Martin.

An ugly green feeling he refused to identify twisted sharply in his gut when you smiled coyly at the other man.

“This is ridiculous,” he snarled to no one in particular before yanking his phone out of his pocket.

Jungkook picked up on the second ring.

“Sir?”

“I need you to drive to Ms. Park’s apartment and tell me if she goes in alone or if Min Yoongi goes in with her.”

“You want me to what?!”

“Just do it!” he snapped, downing an entire glass of champagne before signaling his own driver.

Fifteen minutes later his phone vibrated from the car seat next to him.

1 New Message from: Jungkook

Her building has four separate entrances. Which one do I watch?

Taehyung could practically feel the vein pulsing in his forehead as he scrolled through his contacts.

You picked up on the fourth ring.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Oh it’s you… Wait—how did you get this number?”

“Jimin. Obviously. Now please answer the question.”

“Oh a ‘please.’ Who knew you had manners?”

“Answer the question, Park. I’m tired.”

The distinct sound of a zipper unzipping carried through the speaker.

“I’m at home, of course. Where else would I be? I just got here like a minute ago.”

He had a sudden vision of Min Yoongi helping you out of your dress. His grip on the phone tightened.

“Are you alone?”

You snorted.

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

Taehyung saw red.

“I’m coming over.”

There was a loud crash and several colorful words in at least three different languages.

“Wha- No! I’m trying to go to bed!”

“With who?!”

“With myself, you idiot!”

“Prove it!”

“Fine! I will!”

The line disconnected and Taehyung swore loudly. He was just about to direct the driver to your building when his phone went off again.

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin

He almost choked on his tongue.

You were clearly in the middle of undressing and—in your irritation—probably hadn’t looked too carefully at the picture you sent.

At first glance it was simply a shot of your empty room (presumably “proof” that you were alone) but you neglected to consider the floor-length mirror hanging in the far corner…

A mirror that showed you angrily holding up your phone with your gown pooled deliciously around your waist and the soft round swells of your breasts strapped into lacy red lingerie.

You were exquisite.

A fierce, hot sensation gripped him ruthlessly, and this time there was no mistaking it.

Desire.

Your phone lit up on the bed where you tossed it after snapping a photo for your tightly-wound man nanny.

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

I didn’t know you liked Van Gogh.

Your head tilted in confusion.

There was a Van Gogh print in your room, but he couldn’t have seen it because it was behind you when-

Oh NO.

You gasped, scrolling back up to confirm what deep down you already knew to be true.

… You just sent Kim Taehyung a topless mirror selfie.

Several miles away, smiling smugly in the backseat of his town car, Taehyung was sure he could almost hear you screaming.

“Good morning, sir. Which would you like first; the bad news or the worse news?”

Taehyung groaned from underneath his covers.

“Don’t you ever knock? I could have a woman up here.”

“You’ve never brought a woman up here.”

“Is that the bad news?” Taehyung yawned.

“No,” Jungkook tossed a small stack of newspapers and printed digital articles into his lap, “this is the bad news.”

Pictures of you, Min Yoongi, and even himself were splashed over the front pages of all of them.

PARK ANGEL TRADES ONE CORPORATE HEIR FOR ANOTHER AT MIN GALA

WHO WILL WIN THE PARK ANGEL’S HEART? KIM TAEHYUNG OR MIN YOONGI? LET US KNOW IN THE COMMENTS

NEW ROMANCE ALERT? PARK ANGEL LEAVES JOSEON BALL WITH MIN SCION

“The Park Angel?”

“That’s what the media calls her... The public is rather fascinated with her actually.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Taehyung mumbled.

“Of course not, sir. It’s a great mystery.”

As usual, Taehyung chose to ignore his aide’s lethal snark and pressed on to the matter at hand.

“This is a flaming disaster.”

“Oh I don’t know. I really appreciated the picture of you staring on forlornly while she and Yoongi climbed into the Aston Martin. Takes a real gift to capture all that drama in a single frame.”

“Which one was that?!”

“It’s right under the MAN DOWN: PARK ANGEL LEAVES KIM TAEHYUNG HEARTBROKEN headline.”

Tae ran his hand down over his face in exasperation.

“I’m surprised my mother hasn’t called.”

“She has. Twice.”

“I don’t suppose that’s the ‘worse news’ is it?”

“No.”

“Of course it isn’t. I’m never that lucky.” He collapsed backwards into his pillows with a beleaguered huff. “Go ahead then. Tell me.”

“Park Jimin is on the line for you right now.”

After a small eternity on the phone with Jimin (assuring him that NO Min Yoongi had not despoiled his precious sister and YES he would definitely do better next time), Taehyung was forced to attend an impromptu brunch with his mother. It took considerable effort, but he was eventually able to convince her that you were neither breaking his heart nor expecting his child.

By the time he arrived to collect you for this evening’s event, Taehyung was already sick of hearing your name (he’d spoken it no less than three hundred times since Jungkook woke him this morning).

You were in much the same boat as Taehyung, having spent most of the afternoon pacifying Jimin and clearing up your own mother’s romantic delusions regarding the Min and Kim heirs respectively.

Tonight’s gala was a Victorian Christmas Ball thrown by the National Literary Fund and the entire venue had been transformed into a Charles Dickens fever dream.

Unlike the Min Gala (whose theme was guarded like a state secret every year) the Literary Fund’s tribute to A Christmas Carol was tradition and you were dressed accordingly in a custom corset gown with gorgeous detailing.

Every second of effort it took to lace yourself into the monstrosity was worth the look on Taehyung’s face the moment you slipped off your cape.

“Something wrong, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung was desperately trying to look literally anywhere but your chest, where said corset was serving up your breasts like a debauched buffet.

Jimin. Think of Jimin. Think of what Jimin will do to you. Think of how much trouble she’s caused-

He peeked again.

I would pay a million dollars to suck those tits.

“Nothing at all,” his voice cracked.

The itinerary for the evening included performances by a local children’s choir, a traditional waltz, and—of course—dinner.

You both managed to get along without snapping at each other during the choral performance, but as two of the largest donors to the Children’s Literacy Initiative, neither of you could escape being drawn into the waltz.

The energetic socialite who Taehyung flirted with over dinner the previous night eventually lured him onto the floor while you graciously accepted an invitation from a lovely older gentleman who chaired the Fund’s event committee.

For the first few movements, you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. Mr. Lee was charming, respectful, and still an excellent dancer despite his advanced age. It wasn’t until a familiar sound caught your attention that the lightness in your chest suddenly felt heavy...

Taehyung was laughing.

You heard him do so many times over the years, and in each instance, the carefree magic of it never failed to make your heart flutter.

But now he was smiling down at the pretty little heiress and laughing for her… and the flutter in your chest was accompanied by something else.

Something that felt an awful lot like longing.

“Does he know you look at him like that?” Mr. Lee asked quietly.

Your eyes flew guiltily to his, but it was too late. The old man had caught a glimpse of the secret you buried deeply for more than a decade; so deeply, in fact, there were times you almost forgot it yourself...

Almost.

“No,” you whispered, “he has no idea.”

Disaster struck at dinner.

Taehyung quite liked dancing with the lovely Miss Something-or-Other. She was sweet and funny and (unlike with you) he wasn’t constantly torn between agitation and raging inappropriate lust in her presence.

The cold shoulder you offered him when he took his seat seemed even more frigid than usual and he spent half the meal wondering what he’d done to earn your amplified disdain when suddenly—

Your hand smacked down on his wrist, seizing it in a vise-like grip.

Taehyung nearly choked on his steak and was about to give you a searing set-down over your spontaneous grabby-ness when he noticed your expression.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, leaning forward in concern.

“I-I need—”

It looked as if you were in some sort of physical pain and Taehyung was rapidly becoming worried.

“I need your help,” you finally managed to whimper and the next thing he knew, you were dragging him away from the table and into one of the secluded alcoves near the main entrance hall.

“Is there anyone around? Can anyone see us?” The look on your face bordered on unhinged.

“No. There’s no one. Park, are you okay? What’s going on I—”

“I need you to unlace my dress,” you hissed frantically.

At that moment, a bomb could have gone off and Taehyung wouldn’t have blinked.

You, however, were completely preoccupied with your own distress and therefore oblivious to his.

“My earring broke during dinner and fell down there and now it’s stabbing me—”

Your eyes were beginning to tear. Taehyung remained frozen, still trying to figure out whether or not this was a lucid dream.

“—it’s definitely pierced the skin and there’s a possibility I’m gonna start bleeding through the fabric—”

The mention of blood snapped him out of his daze somewhat.

“A-Alright. Just turn around—brace yourself on that wall.”

You quickly did as you were told and Taehyung began to tug fruitlessly at the ties cross-crossing your back.

“Why won’t this—”

His fingers fumbled over the knots, desperately trying to loosen them, but they simply wouldn’t budge.

“I can’t—I can’t get it. Whoever helped you into this thing made sure you weren’t getting out of it.”

You whined in frustration and the earring shifted a bit in response.

There was only one other way to fix this (and you would almost rather be in pain).

“Taehyung I—” you turned to face him again, forcing your eyes shut before reluctantly doing what had to be done “... I need you to reach down the front of my dress and get it.”

He blinked. Twice.

“I’m sorry—What did you just—”

“Please, Tae,” you whispered desperately, letting your lip tremble in a way he had never been able to resist, “it hurts…”

He gulped.

His eyes dropped to the matter at hand.

This is fine. Everything’s fine. She’s in pain, right? You’re basically a doctor right now. You’re just going slide your hand in between the most mouthwatering pair of breasts you’ve ever seen and then—

Taehyung’s manic inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of his own moan. He immediately faked a coughing fit to cover it and prayed you hadn’t noticed.

(You hadn’t. You were actively being stabbed.)

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” he muttered, curling his fingers over the scalloped edge of the bodice.

You bit your lip, desperately trying to hold back any reaction, but when his knuckle brushed the pebbled tip of your nipple, you gasped.

Oh.

His hand stuttered, lingering a moment too long over the tight little peak as his gaze suddenly shot up to meet yours. Both of you had been studiously avoiding eye contact, yet now it was as if neither of you could look away.

Taehyung wet his lips reflexively.

“It’s too tight,” he whispered, “I need more leverage.”

Then his arm wrapped over the curve of your lower back and he drew you tightly against him, anchoring your hips just enough to fully slip his hand between your body and the corset.

You were so warm.

So soft...

“I can feel it,” he grunted, “but I can’t get a good grip on it.”

His mouth pressed into a tight line as he leaned forward, bringing your back up against the wall. You let out a little squeak and his eyes darted briefly down to your mouth before he spoke again.

“Hold on to me.”

You nodded and wordlessly slid your arms around his waist.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could almost pretend that this wasn’t one of the most erotic moments of your life.

You could almost pretend that it meant nothing.

Your mind was spinning wildly, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he noticed how strangely you were breathing or how hard your heart was beating...

“I’ve got it,” he murmured. Shivers shot down your spine at the dark timbre of his voice.

He was so close. You could feel every word he spoke brushing softly against your skin.

“On ‘three’ I’m going to pull it out… Are you ready?”

You drew in a final steadying breath.

“Do it.”

He nodded.

“One… Two… Three—”

Taehyung yanked his hand back and several things happened at once.

Your breasts bounced almost entirely out of the corset.

The decorative clasps on the front of your gown tangled with the buttons on his shirt and when he pulled back, three of them went flying off like stray bullets.

And finally, the corset didn’t relinquish Taehyung’s hand quite quickly enough and, as a result, you toppled forward and crashed down on top of him, smashing your newly bare breasts to his newly bare chest.

It could have been ten seconds or ten hours that passed by while the two of you lay there, breathing heavily in a pile of confused arousal when—

“... Is… everything alright here?”

You both looked up to find a thoroughly scandalized member of the waitstaff standing over you.

Taehyung saw his life flash before his eyes—ending (of course) with Jimin murdering him for this.

He gulped again.

“I can explain.”

It was decided—for the sake of appearances—that you would both leave the venue (immediately) in separate vehicles.

Taehyung dropped a cool three hundred in crisp bills on the unfortunate waiter in order to help him ‘forget’ whatever he may or may not have seen.

Neither of you spoke another word to each other in the ten minutes it took to bribe all the appropriate parties, gather your coats, and call for two separate town cars.

Something had happened when he touched you; a subtle shift in the precarious balance of your relationship that you both felt keenly, but could not possibly begin to define.

Taehyung barely even remembered climbing into the back of a vehicle. His body was firing on auto-pilot after the sensory overload of the last half hour. It wasn’t until he was nearly home that he realized he was still holding onto your earring.

His mind began to wander as he examined the troublesome bauble in his palm. It was a striking piece; deceptively complex and unexpectedly beautiful.

Just like you.

He told himself that the heat pooling low in his belly was anger—that the strange anxiousness to be near you was simply a desire for retribution—that it was merely platonic curiosity that left his hands aching to explore the rest of your curves.

Lies.

… and pitifully transparent ones at that.

Still, he clung to them desperately out of self-preservation.

The gentle hum of his phone suddenly disturbed Taehyung’s silent contemplation.

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin

I made it home safely.

Taehyung’s fingers were typing a reply before he could properly consider the consequence of his actions.

To: Park Gremlin

I require proof… like last time.

He nearly threw the phone the moment he sent it, running his hands down over his face in disbelief.

You’re playing with fire, Kim Taehyung.

And he was burning up already. He had no business sending you texts like that. Maybe you wouldn’t catch it. Maybe he could just-

The phone went off again and it was embarrassing how quickly he scrambled to open your response.

His heart stuttered in his chest. His breathing ceased entirely-

And he knew—he knew—there was no coming back from this.

At first glance the photo was nearly identical to the shot you sent him last night. Same room, same angle…

same mirror.

Yet this time, the reflection was quite different.

The temptress in the glass wore nothing but that sinfully delicious corset and a pair of silky lace thigh highs, each accented with a green satin bow.

He wanted to rip them off with his teeth.

“Oh Taehyung,” he whispered, as a dark wave primitive longing tore through him, “you are in so much trouble.”

Across town (buried beneath a pile of blankets) you were still struggling to process the boldness of your own actions when his response lit up your screen.

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

Green is my favorite color.

“WHERE IS HE—”

Taehyung awoke to a series of crashes and shouts echoing from the floor below him.

Jungkook was already seated in the corner of the room reading a newspaper.

“Good morning, sir,” he said without looking up. “Would you like the bad news or the worse news?”

Suddenly the french doors of his bedroom slammed open and one very irate Park Jimin stormed through.

“I swear I should have seen this coming. The two of you have always been obsessed with each other, but I never imagined—”

Taehyung’s eyes widened guiltily. He quickly schooled his features into a confused glare.

“Jimin, I’ve only been awake for fifteen seconds. What the hell are you talking about?!”

Another stack of newspapers hit his lap and this time the pictures were mostly of him with his shirt ripped halfway down his chest.

KIM HEIR AND PARK ANGEL CAUSE AN OLD-FASHIONED SCANDAL AT VICTORIAN BALL

FORGET MISTLETOE: KIM TAEHYUNG DISCOVERED UNDER THE PARK ANGEL AT CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION

NAUGHTY NOEL? PARK ANGEL’S STEAMY AFFAIR WITH CORPORATE PRINCE

PARK ANGEL TOPS KIM TAEHYUNG’S CHRISTMAS TREE

He winced a bit at that last one.

“You have ten seconds to explain before I start throwing things.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to do just that, but he was interrupted when his mother marched into the room waving the same articles that Jimin had just thrown at him.

“KIM TAEHYUNG I raised you better than this! How could you!? That poor girl!”

“Mother!” he squeaked, yanking his blanket up over his chest like a frightened debutante.

Jungkook began surreptitiously filming the whole debacle from the corner.

“Indeed,” Jimin added darkly, crossing his arms over his chest, “how could you?”

Taehyung sighed heavily.

“Is anyone else going to come charging into my bedroom?”

“Just answer me once and for all, is she pregnant?”

“WHAT?!”

“NO! Mother! Oh my—”

“Why does your mom think my little sister is pregnant?!”

Taehyung waved his arms wildly in exasperation.

“My mom thinks everyone is pregnant! You know this!”

Jungkook could no longer contain his hysterical cackling. He very nearly fell off the chair trying to hold it all in.

“Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung ground out irritably, “if it’s not too much trouble, could you please escort everyone out of my bedroom so I can get dressed!”

“So you see—I was basically like a doctor,” Taehyung finished emphatically.

He spent the past twenty minutes explaining to the entire table (which now included both you and your mother) why it was necessary to shove his hand down the front of your dress.

Park Soomin had shown up at his door looking for answers (and dragging you behind her like a sacrificial lamb) about three minutes after Jimin.

You had taken one look at Jimin’s murderous expression and insisted that the situation be evaluated over breakfast at the cafe down the street (where there were lots of witnesses).

Which was how you, Taehyung, Jimin, and both your mothers ended up discussing your cleavage over coffee in a public restaurant.

Jimin was the first to break. It was a few snorts at first, but he was basically in tears by the end of it, wheezing about how he never doubted Taehyung for a second and holding on to his sides from laughing too hard.

Taehyung’s gaze met yours for a brief, heated exchange. He conveniently forgot to mention your slightly-less-than-explainable ‘check-in’ texts, but their existence was palpable in the air between you.

“I think I’ll take a walk,” you muttered, excusing yourself from the complicated atmosphere at the table.

Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you a tad too long as you wandered away, a fact that wasn’t missed by either of your mothers.

“Just a few more events and you can go back to not seeing her at all,” Jimin chuckled, patting him on the back.

“Yeah,” Taehyung answered with a tight smile. “That’s… great.”

The cafe had a lovely little balcony area decorated with all sorts of comforting Christmas foliage. It was far more inviting than the awkward conversation and confusing stares you and Taehyung had been trading all morning.

For the first time in the nearly fifteen years of your relationship (such as it was) you didn’t know where you stood with him… and it bothered you more than you cared to admit.

Taehyung had always been important to you, whether you wanted him to be or not. He mattered—effortlessly—from the first moment you met him and continued to do so without regard for your sanity.

Whatever was building between you now would almost certainly bring change… though what kind of change was anyone’s guess.

It was hard to imagine the years ahead without the strange excitement he always brought to your life, but some things were simply out of your control…

“I never thought I’d see you here.”

A profoundly unpleasant feeling (something similar to falling through the ice on a frozen pond) overtook you.

“Milo.” Even saying his name felt gross. You sighed. “What is so strange about seeing me here?”

The man in question blushed in a way you once found irresistible.

“I looked for you everywhere. All your usual places—”

“I avoided them.”

I avoided you.

Milo nodded.

“I—I figured.”

He took a step closer and you instinctively moved back. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable, but you had long since become immune.

“What are you doing?” you hissed angrily. “I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke.”

“Yes, but—” his hand reached out to curl over your forearm and you recoiled, “you didn’t give me a chance to explain—”

“Excuse me.”

You both turned to see Kim Taehyung with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Milo like he was a roach that crawled across his dinner plate.

“Your mother sent me to come find you. She wants to leave.”

You nodded and moved to pull away, but Milo’s grip tightened on your arm.

“No—please if you just give me a minute—”

“That is enough,” Taehyung snarled, seizing the other man’s hand and forcibly removing it from your person. He angled his body between the two of you protectively. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

Milo’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re Kim Taehyung. I read all about you in the papers this morning.” His lips twisted into an ugly sneer as he addressed you. “You really think you’re better off with him if that’s the way he treats you?”

Taehyung tensed menacingly beside you, but you laid a gentle hand on his arm to calm him.

“None of that is any of your concern.” Your gaze rose to meet his defiantly. “Nothing about me is your concern anymore.”

Milo’s eyes fell to where your palm rested on the other man’s sleeve, noticing the way you both unconsciously leaned toward one another.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, storming off.

After he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

“Thank you,” you whispered (though you couldn’t resist adding), “I could have handled it myself of course…”

Taehyung laughed.

“Oh I know. I was at that party where you knocked out Tyler Jung for grabbing your ass.”

You grinned.

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“Well I’m sure Tyler hasn’t.”

(He neglected to mention that he split Tyler’s lip behind the library the next day, just to make sure it was extra memorable for him.)

“I wish I could forget about Milo.”

“... Are you still in love with him?”

The words tasted like ash in his mouth.

“No.” You smiled softly. “I’m not sure I was ever in love with him actually. It’s more—” you sighed, “—embarrassment… wounded pride.”

Taehyung tilted his head curiously and you found yourself continuing.

“In the beginning, he was very playful and charming—and obviously handsome. He reminded me so much of—”

you.

You cleared your throat.

“Anyway… I was quite taken with him at first. I didn’t suspect any ulterior motives.” You shrugged, trying to hold back the unpleasant emotions that always threatened to overrun you in moments like this. “I just thought he liked me.”

Taehyung’s eyes filled with sympathy and understanding as you spoke. It felt oddly natural to open up to him this way.

“Jimin is very protective of me—with good reason it turns out. He was suspicious of Milo and hired people to do some discreet digging.”

Your hands wrapped around your body for both warmth and comfort.

“Milo’s family owns several companies, just like ours, but they’re all struggling. His father sent him to me hoping that he would eventually get compromising information… a sex tape or photographs—something of that nature. They intended to blackmail Jimin into doing business with them.”

Taehyung felt his jaw clench painfully. Fury, hot and profound, rolled through him.

“I should kill him.”

You shook your head, amused in spite of yourself.

“That’s exactly what Jimin said.”

“He has good instincts.”

“Scum like Milo aren’t worth it,” you chuckled. “He never got what he wanted… but I was still mortified. I felt like such a fool for believing him.”

“No,” Taehyung’s hands slid up to cup your shoulders, “it’s not foolish to believe that someone cared for you.”

It would be so easy to care for you.

“Besides…” his eyes fell briefly to your lips as he searched for the right words, “I saw the way he looked at you and—even though he’s clearly a terrible person—I believe his feelings may have been genuine.”

You nodded.

“That’s what he keeps trying to tell me—that he did have bad intentions, but ended up falling for me anyway.” You shook your head. “As If I could believe a word he says.”

The silence between you stretched comfortably. Taehyung sensed you had more to say, so he waited until you were ready to voice it.

“I think that’s why I’m so sensitive about handling things on my own lately… and just now even. I want to prove to everyone—to myself—that I’m not a liability.”

“Hey,” he whispered, tipping your chin up till your gazes met, “no one thinks you’re a liability. And even if you are capable, no one should have to fight their own battles all the time—especially when they’re emotionally compromised…” His thumb gently brushed away the small tear that escaped down the curve of your cheek. “That’s the benefit of having people who care about you.”

“... Like you?”

The words left you so softly, you could almost imagine they were still in your head where they likely should have stayed.

Taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise. His gaze became even more intent and you ceased breathing altogether. After a moment his lips parted as if he was about to speak-

“What’s going on, guys?”

You both jerked back at the sound of your brother’s voice. He was standing in the entrance to the balcony, gaze darting suspiciously between the two of you.

Taehyung was a bit dazed, but you were always quicker on your feet.

“I ran into Milo… Tae was calming me down.”

Jimin’s eyes hardened immediately.

“Where is he?”

“Long gone,” you mumbled, ambling over to the familiar warmth of his arms. “I just want to go home.”

The Black and White Ball was one of the most coveted invitations of the holiday season.

The dress code was quite strict (all black or all white—no exceptions) and it was one of the few events where people actually arrived in limousines.

Taehyung loathed limousines. He felt absurdly pretentious pulling up to your building in such a gauche ride, but traditions and appearances meant too much in his world to simply disregard them.

His ensemble for the evening was a beautifully tailored black suit with hand-stitched baroque detailing. Oddly, he found himself wondering what you would think of it...

“You look like a vampire.”

Taehyung turned at the sound of your voice and was struck, yet again, by how incredibly beautiful you were.

You had chosen to wear white, donning an exquisite gown with delicate pearl beading and a daring sweetheart neckline that molded perfectly to your frame.

If he looked like a vampire, you were surely an angel.

Still…

Angel or not, he couldn’t let that comment pass.

“I think I’m offended.”

“I can’t imagine why. After all, loads of women are attracted to Nosferatu.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed.

“There are so many sexy vampires in popular culture, but you just had to lump me in with the creepy bald one...”

You shrugged playfully.

“I wouldn’t want you to think I was going soft.”

A wicked grin danced over your lips as you strolled past him regally—just as you had many times before...

This time, however, he let his eyes linger a little longer on the view.

Lord have mercy.

“Of course not,” he coughed.

“You’re what?!”

You rolled your eyes.

Tonight had been going rather well.

The two of you formed a mutual unspoken agreement to pretend that your last encounter on the balcony (and on the phone) had never happened and (despite the heated glances you occasionally traded) the bickering and playful banter characteristic of your relationship had all but returned to normal...

Until Taehyung learned of your participation in the evening’s main event.

“I told you, I’m part of the date auction this year.”

“Does your brother know about this?!”

“I didn’t see any reason to bother him with it.” You were suddenly preoccupied with your nails.

“Woman,” Taehyung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you trying to make my life difficult?”

“No, I’m just naturally gifted in that respect.”

You turned and began making your way to the front, but Taehyung was hot on your heels and clearly not ready to let the matter rest.

“I cannot believe you’re actually going through with this! It’s not 1810, you know. We shouldn’t just auction off women for dates—”

“You’re absolutely right, Tae Tae.” You brushed a condescending pat over his cheek. “Nowadays we auction off the men too.”

Then you sauntered off to join the rest of the participating women—and men—backstage, leaving Taehyung to stew about the entire situation from the crowd.

“As you know, all proceeds from tonight’s auction go to fight childhood hunger right here in our city. For legal purposes, I must advise all bidders that you are only bidding on the company of the individual in question.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Jimin is probably going to kill me for this.”

“If you place the winning bid, then you and your date will receive two VIP tickets to the Governor's Winter Wonderland Gala which comes with a variety of amenities including; a luxury limousine service, one of the private and famously romantic Winter Wonderland dinner experiences—”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Jimin is definitely gonna kill me for this.”

“—unlimited free drinks, ten complimentary tickets for each of the grand prize raffles, photos with the Governor and his family, along with many more surprises!”

Taehyung grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter and downed it in one go.

“And now for our first date of the evening! Mr. Jackson Wang!”

Jackson went for a cool six grand because no one was brave enough to outbid his girlfriend.

After him, the beautiful Manoban heiress and her handsome cousin Kim Namjoon went for twelve grand each.

Jung Hoseok started a frenzied bidding war between two young socialites and Mrs. O’Malley. He ended up going to the lovely Ms. Ana Fallon for a staggering twenty thousand dollars.

Taehyung’s own cousin, Kim Seokjin, paid a jaw-dropping twenty-one thousand dollars for Lin Yuna, the young CEO of Lin Cosmetics. (Taehyung made a mental note to ask him about that later.)

Then it was your turn.

“The next lady on our list needs no introduction. The lovely Park Angel has graciously agreed to a date with one lucky bidder tonight! Who will it be? Do I hear ten thousand?”

“Ten thousand.”

Taehyung swung his head toward the first bidder and breathed a sigh of relief.

Tam Martin, one of your best friends and very gay.

“Eleven thousand.”

“Twelve thousand.”

“Fifteen.”

“Sixteen thousand dollars.”

“Seventeen thousand.”

“Eighteen.”

Taehyung was having trouble keeping up with all the bidders. His ears were starting to ring again and a strange unpleasant nausea was building in his stomach.

“Twenty thousand.”

“Twenty-five thousand.”

“Thirty thousand!”

At the sound of the last bidder’s voice, you noticeably paled. Your eyes flew to Taehyung’s and immediately he knew exactly who it was.

Milo.

Before he could even react to the new information, another voice joined the fray.

“Forty thousand.”

Min Yoongi smiled smugly from the other side of the room and even had the audacity to throw you a wink.

You smiled shyly at the young heir’s boldness and Taehyung felt something downright unholy rise up in his chest.

No.

Milo was still bidding.

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

Not her.

“Sixty,” Yoongi countered.

She’s mine.

Suddenly Taehyung was on his feet.

“One hundred thousand dollars!”

The silence in the backseat of your limousine was deafening.

Tension charged the air like an electric current as the significance of the last hour weighed heavily between you.

The spacious luxury vehicle allowed you to sit facing one another. Taehyung’s eyes were focused on his hands, but you were looking at him—letting your mind run wild with speculation.

And hope.

Part of you was still there, on the stage, watching him stand up and bid a fortune for the pleasure of your company.

His gaze was so fierce when he spoke, like an ancient emperor calling out his decree for the people to obey.

You dreamed about him bidding on you when you signed up for the auction (even before Jimin bullied him into accompanying you). You let yourself imagine him speaking out again and again till the others stepped back—

Yet you never dared hope for it.

However, the last several days marked an unexpected turning point in your relationship.

For years, you and he were like magnets with a too-similar charge, but something had shifted irrevocably between you, and somehow your stubborn similarities became opposites that could not resist their attraction.

Kim Taehyung was one of the wealthiest men in the city…

But he didn’t need to buy your heart.

It had always been his, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

He had claimed you tonight—and every single soul in that ballroom knew it.

The next move was yours and you intended to make it.

“Mmm,” you hissed a bit, bringing your hand to rest just below your breasts.

Taehyung’s gaze flew up in concern.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, it’s just that scratch from the earring,” your fingers rubbed gingerly at the spot, drawing his focus to it, “it still stings.”

“Oh… I—” he shook his head, “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“Do you want to see?”

Taehyung’s eyes rose slowly to yours.

You watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he considered your words. Anticipation vibrated through your blood like notes struck on a piano—

Then he nodded...

And you both were lost.

Trembling fingers slid the zipper down the side of your gown. The dress itself was a marvel of physics designed to support you without the need for a bra.

Taehyung drew in an impossibly deep breath as the fabric drifted to your waist, baring the perfect mounds of your breasts to him entirely.

“Here,” you whispered, pointing to a small red mark just under the curve of your left one.

He bit back a moan.

“I—I see. That looks… painful.” His fingers dug into the seat beside him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

You nodded.

“Kiss it better.”

Taehyung felt the air knock out of his lungs like a sucker punch.

This must have been how Adam felt when Eve offered him the forbidden fruit all those millennia ago.

He knew he shouldn’t—

but he could never deny you.

“Of course.”

You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He looked like a man possessed and you reveled in the power of it.

It was for you.

He wanted you.

Your back arched up the slightest bit, beckoning to him—offering him a taste of what he was so desperately craving.

Touch me… please.

Large palms landed on either side of your thighs, bracing him on the seat beneath you. The tip of his nose teased the delicate line of your collar bone and he swore violently under his breath.

Then his lips were on your skin and your mind went blank.

“Taehyung—“ you moaned.

Hot open-mouthed kisses spread over the soft swell of your breast and you gasped— shuddering helplessly as a fierce wave of pleasure tore through you.

Sweet merciful heavens.

Over the years you imagined a moment like this thousands of times in your head—only to discover now that you had pitifully underestimated both his passion and his skill.

You had dreamed of a quiet fire—but he had unleashed an inferno.

The lewd sounds of his mouth nipping and sucking at your tender flesh filled the small space around you as he poured himself into each obscene contact—stopping briefly to flick his tongue over the taunt peak of your nipple. You trembled breathlessly at the sharp snap of sensation, letting your head fall back against the seat as you buried your fingers in his soft curls.

“T-Tae—”

Finally his mouth fastened over the tiny scratch, and the kiss deepened. You knew what he was doing, what the result of his efforts would be—

He was marking you.

And you wanted it.

Oh how you wanted it.

Suddenly the car took a sharp turn, causing Taehyung to lose his grip on the seat. His arms wrapped around your torso for balance, dragging you fully against him.

“Does it feel better, Angel?” he growled.

You nodded frantically and he nipped at the underside of your breast.

“Speak up.”

“Yes, Taehyung,” you whimpered, “it feels so much better.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed, brushing his mouth along the sensitive column of your neck. “Who knew you could be such a good girl?”

Then his hand came up to grip your chin, turning it so your lips were almost against his—

“Madame. We’ve arrived.”

The driver’s voice cut over your senses like a shard of ice.

Taehyung jerked backward and immediately buried his face in his hands.

Your fingers hastily yanked your dress up and you stumbled out of the car in a daze, letting your feet carry you forward until you collapsed on top of your bed.

Did we just...

You hadn’t even begun to collect your thoughts when your phone buzzed from inside your purse.

1 New Message from: Taehyung 🙄🥴🙈

I need to know you made it safely to your room.

You grinned.

Greedy boy.

Back in the limousine, the boy in question was nervously tapping the corner of his phone against his chin as he waited for your reply.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Oh? But you saw me walk in… and I’m already in bed.

Taehyung growled in frustration.

She would be a tease.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

I tend to worry. Put my mind at ease.

He shook his head.

I have officially gone insane.

The phone buzzed again.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Well… We can’t have that can we…

Taehyung literally felt the whine tear out of him as he opened the picture.

Your gorgeous body (the body he’d had his hands and mouth on for one glorious minute) was nestled decadently atop a pile of fluffy blue blankets and wrapped in nothing but a tiny silk robe.

The neck gaped open just enough to show off the pretty red marks he left on the delectable curve of your breast.

He groaned, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

That's all I get after I made the pain go away? Good girls send real proof, Angel

The screen lit up again almost immediately.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Guess I’m not such a good girl after all...

Jimin came tearing through the Kim Manor front gate at precisely 7 AM—only to find Jungkook camped out at the entrance with several outdoor space heaters and a giant mug of hot chocolate.

“He told you not to let me in, didn’t he?”

Jungkook took a long satisfying sip of his cocoa.

“I hope you don’t feel singled out, sir. I’m not allowed to let his mother in either.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Of course, Mr. Park, let me just pull up his schedule—”

“I need to talk to him now.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Kim is booked solid for the morning.”

Jimin stomped his foot like a petulant child.

“I know he’s up there.”

Jungkook grinned.

“You’re welcome to climb the trellis and check. I promise not to stop you if you make it all the way up.”

“COME DOWN HERE AND FACE ME YOU COWARD!” Jimin shouted at the top of his lungs.

Jungkook took another long pull of his drink.

“Might I inquire as to the reason for your visit today, sir?”

“The reason for my visit,” Jimin yanked out his phone and angrily began typing into the search bar, “is that your boss paid ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS for my sister at a date auction last night and I want to know what the hell is going on between them!”

The article Jimin pulled up (DEVILISH KIM TAEHYUNG BUYS HIMSELF A $100,000 ANGEL) featured an image of the two of you entering the Black and White Ball. Your head was thrown back in laughter and Taehyung was grinning down at you as if you’d personally hung all the stars in the sky for him.

A genuine smile crept over Jungkook’s face as he studied the photograph.

“That’s quite a headline.” He handed Jimin’s phone back. “Have you asked your sister about it?”

“No, I swung by earlier, but she wasn’t home so—” His eyes widened. “Oh my—is she—”

Jimin suddenly took off running for the trellis, and Jungkook scrambled out of his chair to chase him.

“KIM TAEHYUNG IF MY SISTER IS IN THAT ROOM—”

He was already three feet off the ground when Jungkook yanked him back.

“I thought you said I could climb the trellis!”

“Yes,” Jungkook wheezed, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” That trellis is a hundred years old! A few more feet and I’d be scraping you off the antique brickwork!”

Jimin scowled and crossed his arms.

“Are you by any chance open to bribes?”

“Normally yes, but Tae promised to double my Christmas bonus if I didn’t accept them today.”

Jimin continued to eye the trellis speculatively, clearly willing to take his chances. Jungkook sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Mr. Park, I promise you… He came home alone last night. In fact, they both returned earlier than usual because your sister had a 7 AM finance meeting.” He paused significantly to glance at his watch. “Which is probably where she is right now.”

“Oh… Well.”

Jungkook bit his lip to hold back a snort and Jimin’s eyes narrowed.

“He has to come down eventually.”

“One would think.”

The young Park heir glanced toward Taehyung’s window again just in time to see the man in question dart back behind the curtains.

"I KNOW YOU'RE AWAKE, KIM TAEHYUNG, YOU PHILANDERING SLEAZE BAG!"

Jimin made another jump for the trellis and this time Jungkook caught him in mid-air.

“Sir, I’m sure it was just the maid!”

“It’s not the maid! I’d know that raggedy mop of his anywhere!”

Jungkook was out of breath at this point. Park Jimin might be small, but he was fierce.

“Perhaps it’s best if you took a moment to collect yourself,” he grunted. “There’s a lovely new spa down the street and they sent Taehyung two free deluxe packages.”

Jimin stopped struggling.

“Oh?”

Five minutes later, Jungkook sighed deeply and fished his phone out of his back pocket.

“He’s gone, sir.”

“Excellent work, Jungkook. I never doubted you for a second.”

“However…”

“... However?”

“I had to give him your spa passes.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“Are you headed for a gala or the guillotine?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes.

“I don’t pay extra for commentary.”

“It’s complimentary, sir.”

The Kim heir tugged absently at the material of his absurdly expensive evening wear.

Why do these events always have to be so uncomfortable?

“Seriously, Tae… you seem,” the young aide searched for the right words, “unusually tense.”

Taehyung’s mind flashed back to three nights ago when he had his mouth wrapped around your breast.

“Not at all,” he coughed, loosening the collar of his shirt.

Jungkook bit his lip.

“Is this about Ms. Park, sir?”

The cufflinks Taehyung was attempting to fasten suddenly went flying across the room and hit a lamp.

Both men winced.

“I think that was your grandmother’s.”

Taehyung sighed.

“I admit there have been… some developments.”

Jungkook nodded nonchalantly, trying to disguise the fact that he was internally frothing at the mouth for details.

“... Such as?”

Taehyung gulped.

“It started out rather innocently I suppose…” he cleared his throat, “but there may have been some suggestive photographs.”

“There may have been? Are you not sure?”

Taehyung colored guiltily.

“Well—”

“Do you need me to check for you, sir? I have an art history degree.”

“Absolutely not.”

Jungkook grinned.

“That’s what I thought.”

Taehyung yanked his tie out of the younger man’s hand.

“Things have… escalated a bit.”

“Escalated how?”

I licked her tit in the back of a limo.

“Physically.”

It was everything Jungkook could do to maintain a straight face.

“That’s… shocking.”

“Then why don’t you seem shocked?” Taehyung grumbled.

A small smile played across Jungkook’s lips as he pointedly ignored the elder man’s observation.

“So what are you going to do, sir?”

Taehyung was silent for a long moment.

“I honestly have no idea.”

Watching you walk toward him was an experience.

Taehyung wondered absently if this was how it would be from now on; if for the rest of his life just the sight of you would be enough to scatter his mind and his pulse and even the way he breathed.

Your dress tonight was deadly.

It was a decadent red satin halter that clung to every curve. The truly wicked detail, however, was a daring slit that ran the entire length of your leg.

Taehyung was certain he was going to trip over his own tongue at some point if he looked directly at you for too long.

Oh help.

Memories of your previous encounter flooded his senses. Every second you were getting closer and he didn’t know what to do—what to say.

So he didn’t say anything at all.

Not a word when you reached the bottom of the stairs. Nothing but silence as he opened the door of the limo for you. More silence and no eye contact as he settled into the seat across from yours—

And you tolerated that for about three minutes.

“I never thought I’d see the day when Kim Taehyung didn’t have a comment about something. Perhaps I should mark this down on my calendar.”

The words were lightly spoken, but you were shaking on the inside. The last time the two of you were alone together he had your dress around your waist and you were moaning his name. Now he wasn’t talking and you were torn between panic and irritation.

Taehyung, however, latched onto your passive barb like a lifeline.

“Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear from the benevolent Park Angel?” He grinned. “Surely not.”

“Red is not a particularly angelic color. Perhaps I’m feeling feisty today.”

Taehyung leaned back in his seat and indulged himself in a thorough examination of your outfit. The urge to run his hands over the satin-covered lines of your body was nearly unbearable. He curled his fingers into fists to keep them from doing just that.

She is definitely trying to kill me.

“Should I be worried?”

Now it was your turn to grin.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

The Governor’s Winter Wonderland Gala was by far the most extravagant event of the holiday season. Tickets cost a small fortune and sold out almost immediately.

But it was well worth the price of admission.

Thousands of lights sparkled overhead as you made your way through the great hall of Governor Kim’s mansion.

It was like stepping into a fairytale.

Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off you. The sheer wonder in your expression was breathtaking.

You were breathtaking.

“Governor Kim, it is such an honor to finally meet you.”

The Governor was a handsome man in his early fifties with a smile that was every bit as lethal as it had been twenty-five years ago.

“The honor is all mine, Ms. Park. I trust my nephew is treating you well.”

Your eyes widened.

“N-nephew?”

Taehyung shrugged.

“I don’t really talk about it much.”

The Governor chuckled and you cleared your throat to cover your nervousness.

“Yes, he’s been a very capable escort.”

“Is that so?” Governor Kim smiled charmingly. “Well if it doesn’t work out, my son Seokjin is still single—”

“Thank you, Uncle. It was lovely to see you as always.”

You squeaked as Taehyung placed his hand firmly on the curve of your back and practically dragged you away.

The Governor just shook his head and laughed.

“Oh kid, you’ve got it bad.”

Everywhere you looked there was beauty.

Whoever planned the gala this year had truly gone above and beyond. Surrounded on all sides by glittering trees and snowy vignettes, it was easy to be swept away in the festive magic of the evening.

All in all (despite some initial awkwardness), you were having a fantastic time...

Until she showed up.

“Kim Taehyung! Is that you?”

Every single hair on your body stood on end, but before you could determine the source of the shrill squealing, you found yourself being nudged aside by a blinding golden gown and some very high heels.

“Aubrey,” Taehyung grunted as five-and-half feet of gorgeous wrapped herself around him like a clinging vine. “Long time no see.”

“Not since that vacation in Aspen,” she giggled. “We had quite a time, didn’t we Tae Tae!”

Suddenly you had the most unholy urge to slap the spray tan right off this woman.

Instead, you plastered on a vibrant smile and placed your hand on Taehyung’s sleeve.

“Um. Excuse me, Tae Tae, perhaps you could introduce us?”

Taehyung looked as if he’d just been served raw fire ants for dinner.

“Yes. Of course. This is—”

“Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine,” she interrupted with a smug little smirk. “Taehyung and I go way back.” Her expression grew just the slightest bit tighter. “And you are?”

“His date,” you deadpanned.

“Aubrey,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “I’d like you to meet Ms. Park she’s—”

“Oh my goodness! You’re Jimin’s little sister aren't you!” Aubrey slapped her hand over his chest and he winced. “That is so precious of you to take her around like this!”

Your eyebrows raised right up into your hairline and Taehyung groaned.

“Yes, he was kind enough to sign me out of the nursery for the evening.” You offered them both a painfully vacant nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I see one of my play-dates near the buffet.”

Then you turned on your heel and sauntered off without another word.

Taehyung moved to follow you, but Aubrey curled her fingers into the crook of his arm and pulled him back.

“Oh let her go, Tae. You and I have so much catching up to do.”

Taehyung pointedly removed her hand from his elbow.

“Some other time perhaps.”

Aubrey pouted prettily.

“You’re not running off after her are you? She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”

Taehyung crossed his arms and fixed her with a knowing look.

“Funny... that’s not what you were implying a moment ago.”

“A moment ago I didn’t have you all to myself. Now I do.” She had the decency to blush. “Perhaps I got a bit jealous.”

“You don’t say.” His eyes continued to search the crowd for any sign of you.

“It seems I had good reason to be,” she murmured quietly.

“Aubrey... Listen I—”

She cut him off with a finger to his lips.

“Don’t bother Tae Tae. I’m petty, but I’ve never been pathetic.”

He grinned.

“Never.”

The lady sighed and gave him a heated once over.

“What a shame.”

Then she strolled off with a rueful smile.

“You know what I don’t understand?”

You turn to find Min Yoongi leaning casually against a nearby column. He looked absurdly handsome as always, but his grin was just the slightest bit mischievous.

“What don’t you understand, Mr. Min?”

The question was clearly a bait, but you were still fuming from your earlier encounter with Ms. St. Valentine and therefore desperately in need of a distraction.

Yoongi pushed off the column and lazily made his way toward you.

“I don’t understand how a man pays a hundred thousand dollars for an evening with the most beautiful woman in the city, and then leaves her all by herself.” He leaned forward with a playful grin. “Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

Oh he’s good.

You made a show of tapping your chin thoughtfully.

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that one.”

Yoongi sighed and shook his head.

“Couldn’t be me.”

You laughed then. He really was a delightful man. In fact, if you still had your heart, you might have considered letting him take a shot at it.

Alas.

You tilted your head speculatively.

Surely there was no need to brush away good company...

After all, no one else is interested in spending time with me.

“Since my escort is otherwise occupied, perhaps you could join me for dinner?”

Yoongi held out his hand.

“I’d be delighted.”

Taehyung wandered around the mansion for nearly forty-five minutes looking for his date.

Panic was just starting to build in his chest when he finally spotted you

—at his private dining table with Min Yoongi.

It was everything he could do not to storm over and yank the other man out of his seat by the lapels.

Alright, Angel. If this is the game you want to play… then let’s play.

Taehyung felt his anger rise with every step, but he ruthlessly suppressed any sign of it and instead adopted a charming smile.

“Min, I didn’t expect to find you here. What a… delightful surprise.”

Yoongi’s expression was just a shade too satisfied. Taehyung could already feel his blood pressure beginning to skyrocket.

“Yes, Ms. Park believed that you were otherwise occupied and invited me to share the meal with her.”

“I see,” Taehyung practically snarled. “However,” his gaze landed heavily on you, “since I paid for this table, I hope you won’t mind if I join you as well?”

You avoided looking at him up to this point, but now you were choking on your wine

“Easy there, Angel,” Taehyung murmured as he pulled up a seat extremely close to yours—so close that your thighs were nearly touching.

Oh boy.

Over the next several minutes Yoongi continued to flirt openly and you continued to smile prettily and pretend Taehyung wasn’t there (which naturally infuriated him).

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with such behavior so easily.

This was Kim Taehyung, after all, and if there was anything that could be counted on when it came to your shared history, it was that one (or both) of you was always ready to escalate.

You had just offered the young Min heir yet another flowery compliment when you felt Taehyung make his move.

Two warm fingers slid under the silken slit of your dress, coming to rest possessively over the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

You squeaked and nearly spat up your drink.

Taehyung leaned forward in fake concern, wrapping his arm around you as if to offer aid.

“Are you alright?”

His hand continued to move significantly beneath your gown, but his face was the picture of innocence.

You glared.

“Just fine, thank you.”

A slow grin crept across his features as he began to trace soft intimate patterns over your skin.

On the other side of the table, Yoongi tilted his head in genuine solicitude. “Are you sure?”

You nodded sharply.

Satisfied, he resumed speaking about whatever it was he’d been saying—though you couldn’t understand a word of it at this point because the torturous strokes Taehyung was leisurely drawing over your thighs were moving closer to your center with each passing second.

Yet you made no move to stop him.

You should have.

You should have slapped his touch away—rebuked him for his boldness—

But you didn’t.

So he just kept nodding and smiling while Yoongi spoke, even as his fingers teased you with the maddening persistence of a man who knew very well what he was doing.

You gasped aloud when he finally brushed the pad of his thumb over the thin cotton of your panties.

“T-Taehyung—”

“Hmm?” he turned to you, seemingly surprised by your attention (it was—after all—the first time you’d addressed him since the beginning of the meal).

“Could you pass me the salt,” you sputtered (hoping to cover the fact that you moaned his name involuntarily). Unfortunately, Taehyung seemed wholly aware of your ruse, offering you the salt shaker with a superior smirk.

You seriously considered stabbing him with a fork.

However, before you could carry out any bloodthirsty plans, he pressed his fingers directly over your clit and your eyes rolled back in your head

“Oh my g—” you bit your lip stubbornly, “this lamb is just so good.”

Sweet mother of macaroons, he is too skilled at this.

You shoveled another bite into your mouth to cover your whine as Taehyung began to rub tight little circles over your sweet spot.

Across the table, Yoongi nodded in blissful unawareness.

“Yes, I agree, the lamb is excellent—very tender.”

Taehyung took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip beneath the fabric of your undergarment.

Your fork clattered to your plate and your hand came up to cover your mouth as he began running his fingers up and down your soaked slit.

It was everything you could do to hold back your depraved whimpering.

“I can’t wait to taste it,” Taehyung replied, flicking your clit in a way that guaranteed he wasn’t referring to the lamb.

At this point Yoongi seemed to notice you were in some sort of distress. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned forward.

“Ms. Park, are you well?”

Taehyung chose that moment to sink his finger into the welcoming heat of your pussy.

“Yes,” you almost sobbed, “I’m-I’m very well—thank you.”

“Excellent,” Yoongi smiled as he rose to his feet. “If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps you could favor me with a dance?”

Several attendees were already making their way to the center of the floor and the orchestra was beginning to play.

Your entire body, however, was vibrating like a plucked harp string and Taehyung was still brushing back and forth against your clit, driving you toward a release that promised to be explosive.

There was no way—simply no way—that you would be capable of hiding it.

“Yes! I would love to dance with you,” you squeaked, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist frantically. The feel of him pulling out of your sopping core was nearly enough to have you coming right there.

Thankfully, Yoongi remained utterly oblivious to the debauchery unfolding beneath the table. He took your hand and helped you to your feet with an eager smile (and it was a good thing too because your legs were still shaking).

When the two of you reached the dance floor, you turned back for the briefest instant—

just long enough to meet Taehyung’s heated gaze as his lips closed over the finger he buried in your cunt.

Emotions were a funny thing.

They impacted your judgement, affected your body, altered your behavior…

And occasionally eroded your common sense.

Sitting alone in the corner of the Governor’s ballroom, Kim Taehyung found himself experiencing a full spectrum of emotional side-effects.

His hands clenched as he watched Min Yoongi spin you around the floor.

His heart pounded every time he caught a flash of your shapely leg peeking through the slit in your gown.

His blood boiled when you threw your head back and laughed at something the other man said.

It was difficult to pinpoint which emotion was to blame for each of these reactions. There were certainly a number of them boiling over in his subconscious.

Frustration—

I didn’t even want to talk to Aubrey! How are you acting like anything she said was my fault?!

Rage—

Why is challenging people to duels illegal? I would fight Min Yoongi at dawn. I would fight Min Yoongi now.

Jealousy—

You asked her to dance while my fingers were in her pussy. We are not the same.

But perhaps the most persistent—the most overwhelming— emotion twisting through him was longing.

You and Taehyung spent nearly four years apart, and he was so desperate to be near you—even then—that he resorted to childish pranks in order to remain a part of your life.

He hadn’t recognized his actions or desires for what they were. He hadn’t realized what you meant to him...

But now, after spending the last several days with your hand on his arm and your laughter in his ear, he could no longer imagine spending another moment without you.

Everything seemed to crystallize as he watched you laughing and dancing in the arms of another man.

Uncertainty became clear. Complications became simple.

And when he saw Min Yoongi’s hand slide dangerously close to the perfect swell of your backside—

Emotion became action.

“Mind if I cut in?”

It wasn’t a question really. Taehyung was already shouldering his rival out of the way and pulling you into his arms.

“Taehyung,” you hissed, shooting the bewildered Yoongi an apologetic look over his shoulder, “what are you doing? This is so rude—”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, sweeping you through the couples on the floor with practiced ease. “It is unpardonably rude to steal someone else’s date. He’s lucky all I did was steal you back.”

Your mouth dropped open.

“Oh? So you finally remembered that I was your date?”

Taehyung’s grip on the curve of your waist became a shade rougher as he pulled you through the next turn.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means—” you stepped forward vigorously, nearly smashing your body into his, “—that you spent forty-five minutes with Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine when you were supposed to be having dinner with me!”

Taehyung growled and yanked you flush against him.

“I spent forty-five minutes looking for you while you were giving away my table to Min Yoongi!”

The two of you sailed through the next several movements glaring at one another before you snapped again.

“None of this would have happened if you had just told Aubrey St. Spray Tan that you were with me—”

“I did!”

“Instead, you let her call me a baby!”

“What let? Aubrey is a grown woman!”

“But—”

“And—you stormed off before I could say anything, so how would you know what I let?”

“You didn’t come after me!”

“Yes actually I did—but she grabbed my arm!”

“Really? Well what else did she grab?”

Taehyung abruptly realized how silent everything around you had become.

People were staring—and not even discreetly— just full on staring with their mouths hanging open.

Well that’s great.

Taehyung’s hand closed around yours and you suddenly found yourself being marched across the dance floor at a breakneck pace.

“What are you doing?”

“Continuing this discussion in private.”

“We can’t just go somewhere private in the Governor’s mansion!” you sputtered, struggling to keep up with his larger strides.

“You mean in my uncle’s house? Yes—actually we can—and we will.”

Taehyung proved to be a man of his word, dragging you past two security guards and into the roped off section of the manor with nothing more than a nod.

The residential wing of the Governor’s home was beautifully decorated with traditional Korean artistic touches—all of which you were unable to appreciate while Taehyung was speed walking you through the halls.

After a surprising amount of turns and archways, he yanked open an ornate wooden door with the words Reflection Suite written on a plaque above it in beautiful calligraphy.

You almost giggled when you got a look inside.

On the surface it was a tastefully furnished guest room with a simple cherry wood desk and a cozy double bed set in an elegant matching frame.

However—

The ceiling and one full wall were nothing but massive mirrors.

Reflection suite indeed.

The door slammed shut and Taehyung rounded on you with a stormy expression—though you weren’t waiting on him to fire the first volley.

“This is definitely going to get us in trouble.”

“I told you, I can go wherever I want in this house. It’s fine.”

“Then why did you take us here?”

“Because you were shouting—”

“I was shouting?! You were shouting I just—”

Suddenly your back was against the wall and Taehyung’s mouth was on yours.

He hadn’t brought you here for this. When he grabbed your hand, he was only trying to get away from the crowds. He told himself that he needed privacy so you could talk—so he could clarify things.

But the minute the door closed and you flared up again in all your magnificent rage, he was lost.

He had to kiss you then.

You were so lovely. So fierce. So wildly irresistible and he was too utterly smitten to fight the need to be near you—to be with you in every way that he could—for a single second more.

The shock of Kim Taehyung pressing his lips to yours lasted about two full seconds—and then there was nothing but ravenous insatiable need.

Finally.

Everything was him.

Everything was this—this sweet indescribable ignition of a desire that spanned years. You moaned eagerly against his mouth in wanton delight. After a decade of sparks, you were more than ready to burn.

“Taehyung—”

His name poured out of you like a prayer. You needed him everywhere and miraculously he seemed to understand—

Not that he was prepared to be polite about it.

“Where’s that smart mouth now, Angel?” he growled, tangling his hands in your hair to expose the tender column of your throat. “Nothing to say?”

Your only answer was a desperate whine as he spread hot-open mouthed kisses down the soft skin of your neck all the way to your collarbone.

Now was not the time for patience. He would be tender with you later. You absolutely deserved soft sweet caresses and slow leisurely love making and he was absolutely going to give them to you—every day if you’d let him.

But not today.

The minute his mouth encountered the barrier of your dress, he gripped onto the sides and yanked it down to your waist.

“You knew just what you were doing in the back of that limo, you little brat,” he hissed, taking one swollen nipple into his mouth and tormenting it with his tongue.

“Tae-ahhh!” Your back arched involuntarily in ruthless pleasure.

“I spent hours—days even—wanting to get my hands on these perfect tits.” He licked the other nipple obscenely, squeezing the soft mound till it bulged through his fingers. “And you offered me the barest taste with that coy little grin, knowing it wouldn’t be enough—”

He reared back and landed a firm slap on both breasts and you screamed.

It was so so good.

“Look at them now,” he murmured, “so swollen and needy and mine.”

If any other man had said those words, you would have cut his heart out with a butter knife.

But you had always belonged to this man body and soul, and to hear him acknowledge it so primitively felt like the sweetest vindication.

“Yes!” you sobbed.

The affirmation only inflamed him further. He teased and fondled the tender flesh till you were shaking.

Your fingers curled into the soft waves of his hair as he indulged himself. He looked so ridiculously good sucking your nipple, moaning lewdly with his eyes pressed shut in cathartic bliss.

“This is all your fault, Angel,” he groaned. “You just don’t know how to behave.”

His hands gripped the curve of your backside, lifting you right off the floor and into his arms. Your mouths fused together heatedly as he carried you to the bed, and you giggled against him when his words finally processed.

“You’ve been saying that for years.”

“It’s been true for years,” he muttered, pulling one of your legs up around him so he could grind against your cunt while you kissed.

Your fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt, tearing them off when they didn’t unhook fast enough. You waited too long to be with him like this to care about anything other than the feel of his skin against your own.

“Impatient, are we?” he chuckled, bringing his lips around to nip at your ear.

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, yanking the ruined garment right off his shoulder just so you could sink your teeth into it.

Taehyung moaned loudly, snapping his hips against yours with an involuntary jerk.

“You really are such a brat,” he hissed, fisting his hands in the satin length of your skirt. “Let’s see how fierce you are with my tongue in your pussy—”

His words were so filthy and raw, yet they stoked a frenzied need in your belly like nothing you had ever encountered.

“This dress is evil,” he snarled, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before switching to a more destructive tactic. “It has tormented me all night and now it’s in my way.”

The stitching proved no match for his resolve, and—after a few vigorous tugs—he ripped it apart from the slit on up, leaving you covered in nothing but the thin cotton underwear he had breached earlier that evening.

After disposing of your shredded gown, Taehyung paused for a moment just to take in the sight of you.

“What a perfect little angel,” he taunted playfully, snapping the band of your lingerie against your hips with a cocky grin.

Then he brushed his nose right up against the sopping fabric and inhaled deeply. “You smell just like heaven,” he growled before licking you right through the cloth, “and you taste even better.”

The sensations twisting through your body were merciless. You needed more or you were going to shake apart.

“Taehyung please,” you whined, pressing against him shamelessly.

“Oh a please?” he chuckled, throwing your own words from the first night back at you. “Who knew you had manners?”

You would have screamed in frustration, but he cut you off with an open mouthed kiss right over the wettest part of your panties.

“Perhaps I can make a good girl of you yet,” he chuckled, as you opened yourself wider to encourage him.

You nodded frantically, letting out another moan when he yanked the flimsy little scrap of lace down your legs—smearing a line of arousal over your thighs.

“So messy,” he tsked, tapping his finger right above your knee where the naughty little streak ended. “What am I going to do with you?”

Then he pressed his tongue over the shiny trail of slick and licked it right off.

You gasped loudly and his lascivious smirk was almost beautiful enough to make up for all of the shameless teasing.

Almost.

"You want my mouth, pretty Angel?” he whispered, letting the words brush maddeningly against your folds. “You want me to feed on this sweet little cunt?”

Every cell in your body cried out for release. He already edged you under the table at dinner and now he was determined to unravel you entirely. You would say anything—do anything.

"Please—" you whispered.

"Please who?"

Normally you met his arrogance with a cutting riposte, but an entire evening of methodical torment had left you beyond desperate.

"Please Taehyung,” you begged needily.

He grinned.

“That’s right, Angel. Kim Taehyung. Not Min Yoongi or any other pathetic trust fund prick that’s panting for a taste of this pussy.” His eyes fastened on yours significantly. “You belong to me.”

Then his tongue licked a flat stripe over your glistening slit and you sagged onto the bed in relief—only to be thrown back into oblivion when his lips closed over your clit.

Your body arched involuntarily as a ruthless wave of pleasure tore through you. Your eyes and mouth flew open in a silent scream and it was in that moment you remembered exactly where you were.

Underneath a giant mirror.

The passionate woman staring down at you was nearly unrecognizable. Her body was littered with her lover’s marks. Her hands gripped feverishly into the sheets beneath her—-

And Kim Taehyung was kneeling between her thighs, suckling on her weeping cunt with obscene satisfaction.

It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen in your life.

Your hands reached down to tangle in his hair, using it for leverage as you ground against his face.

Then suddenly his grip on your legs tightened and his tongue plunged roughly into your trembling core.

“Tae—ahh oh my—I can’t—”

The sensation was so intense that your hips bucked violently. You could not keep still. You were charging towards an explosion and your body was shaking itself apart.

The noises tearing from you were incoherent. Everything around you focused in on the juncture of your thighs where Taehyung was licking inside of you again and again until—

You shattered.

And the force of it nearly bent your back in half.

Delirious sobs poured from your lips as he worked you through it, letting the obscene flood of your cum soak his face.

The sight of him slowly lapping at the release between your folds, was unspeakably erotic. He ran his hands in soothing circles over your skin while you twitched and fluttered back down from your high.

Then he was kissing you again.

It was softer this time, but you felt truly depraved—and instantly obsessed—with the taste of yourself in his mouth—on his skin.

You could barely understand this ravenous hunger. You’d just found relief, yet you were already reaching for more.

Your hands snaked down and wrapped around his still covered cock and he hissed in ragged pleasure.

“So eager,” he gasped, as you pushed him back against the headboard—but you didn’t have time to bother with his teasing.

You were gonna blow Kim Taehyung into space.

He bit his lip when you yanked down his pants and boxers together, freeing his arousal with stunning efficiency.

It was almost unfair to discover that his cock was every bit as beautiful as he was.

“Of course,” you muttered.

The sultry smirk he shot you in return had your cunt flooding all over again.

“You think Min Yoongi has a cock like mine?”

“I don’t think about Min Yoongi’s cock,” you retorted, wrapping your hand around his length, “you’ve always been the biggest dick I’ve ever met.”

“I knew you thought about my dick,” he groaned as you began to work up and down the swollen shaft.

After a moment, his hand slid over your chin to grip your hair, drawing you forward till your lips were almost touching.

“I wonder what this pretty mouth can do,” he whispered.

You gasped against him and he smiled.

“Do you know how often I pictured your lips around my cock, Angel?”

You mewled shamelessly and he growled, cupping your cheek as your hands continued to service him.

“Do you know how often I imagined this perfect throat stuffed full of my cum?”

His palm slid down to lightly grip the soft flesh of your neck and you shuddered against him with a needy whimper.

“I know you could suck me so good, Angel. I’ve wanted it for so so long...”

Your mouth actually watered with anticipation.

The desire to be good for him—to give him whatever he asked for—consumed you.

Taehyung let his head fall back against the headboard with a groan at the first brush of your lips along his shaft. His hips rutted involuntarily as your tongue wrapped around the tip and you hummed with pleasure at his enthusiastic response.

After a moment you slid him into the welcoming heat of your mouth, taking him in as far as you could in one stroke. His jaw dropped open and his entire body jerked forward.

“Yes, that’s it, Angel—feels so good.”

His praise was addictive.

You loved that you could bring him to this. You loved to see the haughty Kim Taehyung coming apart as you sucked him.

It made you feel beautiful—powerful even—and you reveled in every second of it.

Your eyes were starting to tear. His length began to throb and pulse against your tongue and you knew he was close—so close you could almost taste him—

Yet suddenly he was pulling you back and you whined pitifully at the loss.

Taehyung chuckled, dragging you toward him till your dripping core slid across his cock.

“I’m not coming before I get inside that pretty little pussy,” he swore, working your hips over his sex till it was drenched in arousal.

The crass words filled you with the fiercest, most incredible want and you clenched reflexively against him in response.

“Is that what you want?” Taehyung whispered as he bore you back into the mattress, pinning both your wrists above your head. “You want me to fill your empty little cunt?”

You did.

You wanted it so so bad.

“Please.”

Taehyung gently lowered himself closer to you, resting his forehead intimately against yours as he lined up his cock at your entrance.

“Are you sure, Angel? Because there’s no going back after this... If you give yourself to me, then you’re mine—and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you.”

“Taehyung, you idiot,”—a tender smile spread over your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck—“... I’ve always been yours.”

He swore violently—letting the slight tremble in his voice betray just how deeply your words affected him.

Then his fingers tightened on the soft flesh of your hip and he filled you to the hilt with one delicious thrust.

There was a moment—the smallest space in time—where your eyes locked together and everything seemed to suspend; a strange perfect calm before a monumental storm.

Then your world caught fire.

Taehyung drove himself into you with passionate fury, letting years of denial fuel the insatiable rhythm of his strokes.

Every time he told himself no. Every time he held himself back—

Every bit of it burned away as you screamed his name.

The feel of him was indescribable.

You imagined it too many times to count, yet your dreams fell pitifully short of the visceral reality.

He was bloomin’ magnificent.

Your fingers clawed up and down his back, desperate to hold on to something while he pounded into your g-spot like an animal.

“This tiny cunt is the tightest thing I’ve ever had around my cock,” he gasped and you whined needily at his praise. “Like it was made for me—” his hand came up to grip your breast, “like you were made for me.”

“Yes—”

Taehyung’s need seemed to amplify with every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. The feelings you sparked in him were fierce and unapologetically primitive.

He would go to war for you—build a fortress for you—fight a dragon if one dared come close.

You were his.

And he felt like a savage every time you cried out for more.

Suddenly an unexpected movement in his periphery caught his attention.

He’d been so consumed with the extraordinary rush of claiming you that he’d forgotten—

This guest room was thirty-five percent mirrors.

And now… he couldn’t look away.

The sight of your bodies tangling together in headless bliss played out before him like a scene from his most debauched and forbidden fantasies. His reflection grinned back at him in fascinated ecstasy while his beloved nemesis lost herself in the pleasure of his cock.

Something dark and wild began to burn in his chest as he studied the lovers in the glass.

“Look at you, Angel,” he whispered softly, “you really are perfect.”

Then he pulled out of your core and you whined bitterly in protest, chasing his body to rid yourself of the sudden unacceptable emptiness.

“Still so needy,” he taunted, gripping your hips and flipping you on your stomach before you could even think to protest.

“I want you to watch that pretty angel in the mirror come on my cock,” he groaned, plunging back into you from behind.

The new angle was somehow impossibly deeper and your body shook as another wave of pleasure overtook it.

Your fingers clawed into the mattress for purchase as he pistoned into your trembling mound.

Only Kim Taehyung could rail you like a whore while he worshiped you like a queen.

He gave you a moment to adjust before drawing your body back against his chest. His arm wrapped over your stomach as he slowly eased your legs apart, unfolding the lewd tableau of your bodies joined together for the voyeuristic gaze of the glass.

“Look at yourself, Angel,” he growled, mesmerized by the way your breasts bounced with every thrust. “Look at how well you're taking me.”

Then his fingers slid down to rub your clit and you screamed.

“Tae! Ah-ahh!”

The pleasure building within you now was violent. You were coiling too tightly, too fast—

“That’s right Angel. Take it all.”

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror for the briefest instant.

And then you flew apart.

Taehyung threw his head back with a carnal moan as you clamped down around him. His body was hurtling toward its own release with reckless speed.

“I’m close,” he panted, “where can I come?”

“Come inside me please,” you begged, and Taehyung’s eyes widened in frenzied lust.

“That’s what you want? Huh?” his thrusts became rougher as he chased his relief, “You want me to fill this puffy little pussy with my cum?”

“Yes, I want it so bad—“ you sobbed.

“Sweet Angel,” he groaned, gripping at your breasts as he pulled you tighter against him.

Then he met your gaze in the mirror again.

“I want everything with you; a home—a family—your body in my arms every morning when I wake up—” his voice trembled, “I want it all.”

The raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke you.

“Tae,” you gasped softly, too overcome with joy to manage anything else.

His mouth pressed hungrily against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his cock throbbing in your core as he bent you forward, pounding into your sex with exquisite precision.

"Stay with me, Angel,” he whispered. His thrusts became erratic as he neared his high. “I don’t want to live without you anymore.”

The glorious thrill of his words tore over your senses with euphoric brutality. Your walls tightened greedily around his cock and the taunt cord of pleasure finally snapped.

He came with a broken groan, flooding the welcoming heat of your womb with his release.

“KIM TAEHYUNG!”

The sound of his name being shouted by the absolute last person in the world whose voice he wanted to hear woke Taehyung from a dead sleep.

His eyes widened in panic as he began yanking pillows and covers from all over the bed in a frenzied attempt to hide—

The doors to his bedroom flew open with a resounding crash.

“Jimin,” he squeaked, trying to look as casual as possible next to a giant pile of bedding. “What uh—what brings you here at—” his eyes darted to the clock on the wall, “—7:30 in the morning?”

Then he frowned.

“And how the hell did you get past Jungkook?”

Jimin’s murderous expression broke momentarily to allow for a smug grin.

“Kendra.”

Kendra Jackson was Jimin’s executive aide. She was fierce, capable, intelligent—

And insanely gorgeous.

Taehyung groaned.

Poor Jungkookie never stood a chance.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, yet another newspaper landed on Taehyung’s lap.

KIM HEIR BRINGS NAUGHTY ANGEL HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Underneath the headline was a picture of you and Taehyung (dressed in clothes you stole from Jin’s childhood bedroom) kissing passionately against the side entrance of the Governor’s mansion.

One of your legs was wrapped around his waist and he was clearly grabbing your ass.

“Ah… well you see the camera distorts everything from this angle—and-and the lighting is bad so it’s not really what it looks like—”

“Is that so? Cause it looks like you’ve got your tongue down my baby sister’s throat!”

“Okay—okay,” Taehyung massaged his forehead nervously, “so maybe it’s sort of what it looks like but—”

“I’ll kill you.”

“No wait—” he held up his hands to delay an already advancing Jimin.

“Why should I wait?!”

“Because—”

“—I trusted you with the most important person in the world to me—”

“The situation is just not that simple.”

“—and you grabbed her ass in public!”

“Admittedly not my finest hour.”

“So you tell me right now—”

“But you don’t understand it’s—”

“—Why the hell would I wait?!”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH HER!”

For a moment there was absolute silence.

Then your head popped out from the massive pile of bedding.

“Really?”

Jimin’s mouth fell open.

Taehyung groaned again.

“As usual, your timing is impeccable.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment.

“Are you really in love with me?”

“Of course I’m in love with you! What part of I want you to have my children did you not understand?!”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jimin choked.

“That’s not the same thing!”

“It is for me!”

A radiant smile lit up your face.

“I’m in love with you too.”

Taehyung’s expression softened.

“Angel I—”

Then you were kissing and Jimin swung around with a horrified shout.

“Oh! No no no—Come on!”

He stumbled out of the room, hands firmly clamped over his eyes.

“This is not over, Kim Taehyung!” the scandalized young Park heir howled in exasperation… but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Back in the bedroom, Taehyung shook his head at Jimin’s ridiculous caterwauling.

“No, it’s not over,” he laughed, pulling you deeper into the comfort of his arms. “It’s only just begun.”

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story.

This baby took FOR-EVER to write. I started it in November and literally worked on it a little every day.

If you enjoyed it— even just a tiny bit—please consider taking a moment to leave me some feedback. It is so incredibly uplifting and rewarding to hear reader thoughts and reactions to my work.

I promise to treasure every word like gold. It took a lot to bring this story to life. Your kind words would mean the world to me.

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mightbewriting · 3 years ago

Note

Hello! If you're still playing the Ask Game then my choices are E with the fic being ASFSF and option R. Thanks!

hi friend! thanks for the questions!

E: If you wrote a sequel to ASFSF, what would it be about?

oooooh what a lovely opportunity to indulge in some hypotheticals. i think any sequel to asfsf would be tonally completely different than the original because we will have gone from a pretty traumatic war fic that ultimately sets up the potential for a romance to....maybe actually getting to live that romance. i don't know exactly what it would look like (and i have no plans to write it, sorry friends) but i think the hypotheticals draco and hermione engage in towards the end of chapter 31 lay out several possibilities.

that conversation is such a declaration of dedication from both of them. hermione is finally admitting that there something right about being around him and that even though she would have wanted to pick him without outside influence, she's still doing it anyway. and draco is has gone from not wanting anything to do with her and the way his family magic has bonded them, to being content with exactly that, and he's willing to prove his commitment because that's how he's able to have a choice and control in his life. and then for them to complete the bond with both eyes open, knowing its irreversible and doing it anyway, i think that sets us up for a much softer, gentler story for these two. they deserve some peace.

i think the most logical plot point to tackle would be to have a sequel look at them researching his family magic and potentially unravelling it, something steeped in magical lore and set in that lovely little villa. maybe a bit of mystery, a bit of magical history romp, and bit of angst bc of insecurity a new relationships, etc etc. but i also don't know if that's a path asfsf dramione will ever take bc there's a strong argument that every question hermione posed was strictly hypothetical, trying to gauge where draco stood. so i don't think i'd want to make that decision for them. they have all sorts of spoken and unspoken options based on that conversation in chap 31, and i think there are futures where they tackle all of them, none of them, and everything in between.

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

oh man, if feels like a lame answer to be like "every one i've ever read" but that's also kind of the case? i read as a writer, so everything i consume, fic or original, i'm also learning from. things i like or things i don't or figuring out how my own style relates. i'm truly influence by like...everything. especially so in the case of ursula le guin's steering the craft, which is probably my favorite craft book. claire north is a huge influence in how she writes wildly interesting concepts. i wish i had @pacific-rimbaud's vocabulary, @malpal132's wit, the cast of characters living in @ambpersand's head, @heyjude19-writing's canon knowledge and so, so much more.

ask game!

#anonymous asks

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solomonish · 4 years ago

Text

Demon Brothers Helping a Struggling MC

CW for: eating disorders (alluded to but not described - discussed in the disclaimer).

so, i want to first state that if anybody believes anything in this post is more harmful than helpful, please let me know and i will delete it. I know that for things that I deal with, fics like this are comforting, but seeing as I’ve never personally had an eating disorder or known someone with one, it’s entirely possible I missed the mark. additionally: here is a tumblr post with a variety of hotlines you can call if you need to. There are eating disorder specific hotlines for the US and UK listed, along with suicide helplines for countries around the world. if you or someone you know is struggling, please reach out and get help - especially from the professionals who know how to give the proper care. you are so worth it.

Lucifer

He keeps an eye on you, even when you don’t realize it, so he’s the first to notice that something is bothering you. Still, with how much time he spends working, it does take him a little longer than he’d like.

As solution-oriented as he is, he prefers to address you the moment he figures it out. His words are firm and straightforward - he’s not the one you want to go to if you need things put gently.

Pride is who he is, and he takes great pride in you - he makes sure to make this known. This knowledge does not make him any less proud of you, and he wants you to be able to see yourself the way he does - certainly then, you might have an easier time with the recovery process.

Even if Lucifer cannot be there directly by your side, he is always with you - in the reminders he sends you, in the rewards he promises when you make progress, in the efforts he makes to assist your transition into the Devildom. He’s the best at creating a stable environment so that you don’t have as much to focus on while he works with you to recover.

Mammon

Mammon is a hard on to hide anything from, if only because he’s around you so much. he also spends a lot of time staring after you wistfully but shhh don’t let him know you know

Still, he’s also a bit oblivious at times, so it might take him a while to notice anything is up. once he does realize that you’re struggling, he panics a bit.

Mammon brings it up himself, but only after a short while of acting antsy around you and staring more pointedly at you at random points throughout the day. he’s clumsy in his approach, but careful to be sensitive: he’s used to being told how often he messes things up, and this is one thing he WANTS to get right.

Mammon has a way of making you feel in control - with the way he allows you to tell him what you need, with the way he isn’t too pushy in helping you through rockier days of your recovery. He wants to be able to be YOUR man, your go-to guy for anything, and he’ll make absolutely sure to get it right.

Leviathan

Levi has a million things to distract himself from the world around him, so bringing him into reality can take a while.

However, he can also tell when somebody else is uncomfortable - whether it’s a facet of his pact or he’s just in tune with his best friend, he isn’t sure.

He’s the type to go to sites like reddit and ask for first-person experience advice. The clinical advice seems stuffy and he isn’t sure if he can be trusted with such formal advice.

His strong suit is distraction, so if you’re okay with it, that how he’ll help you. If anything in your recovery gets too much, he’s there to help shift your focus. He’s also good with helping you stick to some kind of schedule, if that helps you out. After all, he sticks to one religiously to catch all his shows - he’ll rearrange it for you if you need it.

Satan

Satan is perceptive, but he’s not immune to overthinking. The fact that you came to the Devildom, something to be wary of yet somehow becoming something so treasured so quickly, catches him off guard and he still has to reconcile his feelings with how he watches you.

When he does find out and realizes how long he’s gone without noticing, he’s angry with himself. He’s supposed to be the smart one, the perceptive one, and he missed something so important.

He’ll read up on everything he can in order to give you the best support. Satan will also up his attentiveness, making sure to notice any little thing you may need that you don’t want to tell him about.

Aside from maybe having to let him know to back off a bit, Satan will probably be the most likely to just intuitively know what you need. He still communicates everything with you, and he makes for good company, whatever type you may need.

Asmodeus

Asmo’s favorite things to take pictures of are as follows: himself, you, and the most aesthetically pleasing desserts he can find. When you start shying away from two of those, he wonders briefly what made you so camera shy but normally turns the camera on himself and shrugs it off. maybe you feel like you’re having a bad hair day?

Once it does dawns on him that perhaps it’s something more serious, he’ll immediately ask you how he can help. He’s holding you gently as he does, using his softest voice - he almost sounds timid, and maybe he has to be, to deal with the amount of love he’s feeling for you and only you.

You might have to tell him to ease up on the overt compliments about how you look or talking about buying clothes and “form fitting” shapes, and thought he’ll have a learning curve he’ll find lots of different ways to make sure you feel loved! He’ll take a page from your book and start complimenting things like how sweet you are, or how smart he thinks you are - things about the you inside of you that have his heart racing when you say them back.

Asmo knows a lot about the pressure to look a certain way, so even though he lives by feeding into what those people want, he’ll always back out if it gets too much for you. If it’s alright with you, you can always be his favorite photographer <3

Beelzebub

When he’s eating, he doesn’t always focus on what other people are eating. (honestly, it only makes him hungrier). However, when he offers some of his food to you - a move anybody will tell you is the most affectionate thing he can do - and you refuse, he starts to worry.

At first, he wonders if you’re upset with him - and once he finds out the real reason, he doesn’t feel much more satisfied.

Beel’s best effort is trying to structure mealtimes more so instead of gorging himself throughout the day he eats meals. He also never judges or comments on what you do or don’t eat - he just does his best to make sure you have any option you want.

Beel’s strongest suit is comfort - he’ll agree with anything you do want to eat and will get rid of anything you don’t without judgement. He’s also pretty good with knowing the nutritional value of food - if you’re interested, he’d be more than happy to help you plan meals that have what you want and what you need, without making it seem too daunting a task.

Belphegor

Belphegor doesn’t pick up on a lot of things because he’s asleep most of the day. He does, however, spend a lot of his conscious hours with you, and eventually (maybe with some innocent prompting from Beel) he’ll realize that you’re starting to behave differently.

Will straight up ask you about it until he knows you’re being completely honest with him. What he lacks in tact he makes up for in dedication - he wants to help you, and his apathetic front allows him to help without seeming too involved to the point it makes you uncomfortable.

Belphegor can help you feel a sense of normalcy if you ever get overwhelmed or disconnected. He can continue conversations about really anything and help give you a moment to recuperate and breathe.

That’s not to say he isn’t proactive in your recovery. Anything you tell him or anything he brings to the table to brainstorm, he’ll say at the end of the conversation “let me sleep on it” and when he wakes up again he’ll have several game plans ready to see which helps you most in your recovery.

All

if one of them catches wind, it’s only a matter of time until the others notice how something’s changed between you and that brother

all of them will advocate for you to have easier access to the human world for therapy (in their own ways, some more helpful than others), should you choose to go. if not, they’ll all do their best to be a comforting ear when you need one.

sometimes you can find them all in the library, not discussing what you’ve told them but trying to figure out how best to communicate how much they care. (it’s one of the few times you can see them actually working together)

whoever had grocery duty or dinner duty will often check in with you to see if you have any special requests. if you mention wanting a specific snack or something throughout the day, you might end up with seven packages of it within 24 hours. (they’re all trying).

little by little, you’ll also notice how they stop fighting as much at the table. meals become more fun and enjoyable affairs, even if there’s been a disagreement earlier in the day. the brothers are all on their best behavior, and lucifer doesn’t even make any comments wondering why they won’t act that way for diavolo.

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nerdyfangirl67 · 4 years ago

Text

Home for Christmas - Criminal Minds Reader Insert (12 Days of Christmas)

Pairing: Hotch x fem!reader, Jack Hotchner x reader (maternal relationship

Warnings: angsty at the beginning, lots of Jack x reader moments, fluff ending!

Word count: 2431

A/N: Y/F/C/M stands for your favorite Christmas Movie and Y/N/N stands for your nickname. I also believe that Aaron is the kind of person who texts with correct grammar, although he may use sentence fragments if he is short on time, so that is incorporated into this one-shot. This one came to me while listening to a Christmas song, called “Home” by Blake Shelton and Michael Bublé (linked below). I really enjoyed the idea of this one (it may have gotten away from me a bit!)

Home by Blake Shelton ft. Michael Bublé

So here it is, hope y’all enjoy it! If you’re looking for another Christmas fic to read, check out my Mini-Series masterlist, where the rest of my Christmas one-shots are.

I know there aren’t any Aaron x Jack moments in the story but this was the GIF I thought fit best :)

“Y/N, it 's Aaron. I, uh, I won’t be making it home in time for Christmas. We have yet to get a break in the case, so it could be another week before I’m home. I know you had a lot planned for Christmas, and I’m sorry I won’t be able to celebrate with you. I’ll try to call, but I can’t promise anything. I love you. Tell Jack I love him.” Aaron’s voice crackles in your ear as you listen to the voicemail he’d left you earlier, as in 3 am, that morning for the eighth time.

It had been the first time you had heard his voice in almost a week and part of you was overjoyed. The other part of you was exasperated. You knew he was dedicated to his work, you had known it since the two of you had started dating, but it still hurt. Every time he worked late and didn’t let you know hurt. Every time a case went longer than expected, it hurt. Every time you went to bed alone, his side of the bed untouched and cold, hurt. And it didn’t hurt any less now, despite your suspicions upon hearing the team had taken another case, so close to Christmas, that he would miss the holiday altogether.

You let out a sigh as you stand up from where you had been sitting on the couch, wrapped in a Christmas throw blanket. You take your empty glass, which had been filled with your favorite holiday drink, into the kitchen and place it in the sink. You double-check the apartment door, making sure it was both deadbolted and locked (something Aaron had ingrained in you to do while he was away), before making your way towards the master bedroom. You stop at the door to Jack’s bedroom, cracking it open and using the light of the hallway to look at him.

Jack was sprawled out in his bed, fast asleep. Tiptoeing into the room so as not to wake him, you reach his bed and pull the discarded comforter up off the floor, placing it on top of Jack and gently tucking him in. “Your daddy loves you Jack, and so do I.” You say softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead, giving him a long look, before making your way back out of his room.

Upon reaching your bedroom, you head to Aaron’s dresser. You find one of his sweatshirts, well-worn and baggy, grab it from the drawer, and pull it on as you climb into bed. You didn’t typically wear his sweatshirts while he was home, but whenever he was away, it helped ease the ache created by his absence. After getting settled underneath the covers with your nose pressed into Aaron’s pillow, you soon fall asleep.

---

You are up early the next morning, quickly climbing out of bed before you realize that you have the next few days off, the 23rd (today) through the 26th for Christmas. You had used a few vacation days to extend your Christmas ‘vacation’, as you and Aaron (who had thought he would have had Christmas case-free) had wanted to spend time with Jack, as a family.

You couldn’t bring yourself to climb back into bed so you head downstairs, the idea of making breakfast for Jack coming to mind. Even though Aaron wouldn’t be home for Christmas, you still wished to make this Christmas special for Jack, just as you had planned to with Aaron. After going through your email and having a cup of your favorite morning beverage, you head into the kitchen. A few minutes of looking and you find your recipe for gingerbread waffles, a favorite from your childhood, and start gathering the ingredients.

Fifteen minutes later and you have your first batch of waffles made, bacon sizzling in a pan on the stove, and orange juice in glasses on the table. Christmas music is playing softly in the background when a small voice has you whipping around.

Jack is standing in the middle of the kitchen, his hair standing up at different angles on his head, and one of his hands sleepily rubbing his eyes. “Good mornin’ mama.” Despite not being his birth mother, Jack had been calling you mama since you had moved in with him and Aaron, over a year ago now. And every time you heard it, you were still overcome by joy.

You pull the boy into your arms, giving him a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Hi bud. How’d you sleep?”

“I slept good mama. What are you making?” He asks curiously, peering around you to look at the stove.

You stand and briskly stride back to the stove to flip the bacon and check on the waffle you had cooking before you turn back to Jack. “Gingerbread waffles and bacon.” You answer, plating one of the waffles and some bacon before bringing it to the table. “Here buddy. Eat up.” You said, placing the plate next to the glass of orange juice. Jack bounces to the table, sitting down and quickly digging in.

---

After breakfast, and a few games of twenty questions, you decide to take Jack to the ice skating rink not too far from the apartment. The two of you bundle up and hail a cab to the rink. You spend the five minute ride to the ice plex with Jack in your arms as the two of you play a game of “I Spy.”

The cab reaches the ice rink, and after paying the driver you and Jack venture inside. You let out a laugh as he exclaims in excitement at all the trophies, fancy ice skates, and photos of skaters in the lobby. You rent a pair of skates for the two of you, before leading jack out to the seating around the rink. It takes you a few minutes to get skates on, and to help Jack with his but a few short minutes later the two of you are out on the ice.

It is apparent that you are out of practice and try as you might, you fall several times. Jack is actually skating better than you and soon he is ‘teaching you’.

“Mama, make sure you aren’t leaning backwards. That might be why you’re falling.” The nine, almost ten, year-old’s advice was helping you to stay on your feet for longer than thirty seconds. You had even started to move cautiously along the edge of the rink, with Jack skating confidently in front of you. The two of you stay out on the ice until Jack tells you he is cold. Admittedly, you were starting to get cold yourself, but you didn’t want to end Jack’s fun early.

After ice skating, the two of you go to Jack’s favorite pizza place, a little Italian place (the boy had developed sophisticated taste buds, thanks to a certain David Rossi), within walking distance from the apartment. The two of you have a lunch filled with cheesy pizza, endless breadsticks (which both you and Jack enjoyed thoroughly), and lots of laughs.

Then, upon returning to the apartment, the two of you cuddle up on the couch and watch Christmas classics. You share with Jack some of the movies you had grown up watching (Y/F/C/M and Y/F/C/M) and he shares some his favorites with you (The Grinch and Santa Buddies).Your movie marathon only stops when you whip up a quick dinner, which the two of you eat in about ten minutes at the table, and when you get up and pop some popcorn for one of the movies. Jack stays up way past his bedtime, but knowing that neither of you have to get up early the next morning has you being more lenient with his bedtime.

The next day passes in much of the same fashion. You and Jack take a walk, intent on finding the best Christmas decorations within walking distance. Although you had found some pretty cool decorations, Jack definitely won when he spotted the house decked out with a 12 Days of Christmas theme. Then the two of you stopped for lunch at one of the sidewalk vendors, something that Aaron probably would frown upon.

After lunch, you and Jack went to a Christmas pop-up village, where you watched the ‘elves’ wrap presents and people take pictures with Santa. The two of you ordered deluxe hot chocolates and sat on a bench, listening to a choir sing Christmas carols. Jack sang along to the ones he knew and he even convinced you to sing along with some too.

You two return to the apartment in late afternoon, shortly after which, the two of you start making Christmas cookies. You roll out the dough, while Jack stamps the cookie cutters into it, creating a variety of Christmas themed cookies. As the several batches of cookies bake, Jack reads to you from the kitchen’s small island as you follow the recipe for a sugar cookie frosting. When the cookies, and the frosting, are finished, you and Jack set to decorating the cookies.

Three hours and an order of takeout later, and you have four dozen frosted cookies scattered across the kitchen counter tops, three bags of mostly eaten takeout, two empty mugs, and one frosting and crumb covered boy fast asleep on the couch.

You can’t help but smile as you look at the plate of cookies Jack decorated, not for Santa, but for Aaron when he returned from the case he was working on.There were several Santas, a Rudolph reindeer, a present, and a Christmas tree. As you cover the plate in plastic wrap, you can’t help but think that you would give just about anything to talk to Aaron for a while. It had been two days since he had left the voicemail, and since then all you had gotten were a few short texts.

“Case progressing. Miss you and Jack.”

“Finally developed a profile. Love you Y/N/N.”

“Thought we had an unsub, but looks like we were wrong.”

“I love you and Jack. Wish I could be holding you both in my arms.”

You heave out a sigh and get to work doing the dishes from dinner and your baking escapade with Jack. The dishes, and tidying up of the kitchen, takes far longer than you want and it’s close to ten before you are gently waking Jack from the couch. You tenderly guide him down the hallway, making a pit stop in the bathroom to help wash some of the frosting off of Jack’s hands and face. After Jack is frosting free, with freshly brushed teeth and clean pajamas, you get him settled in bed. You read him “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas” and listen to him sleepily tell you about the gifts he thought might be under the tree, after which you tuck him in and give him a kiss good night.

You take your time getting ready for bed, wishing the entire time that you would be crawling into bed with Aaron, where you would spend the rest of the night in his arms. But, alas, you are greeted with a cold, empty bed, which you reluctantly climb into as you shoot Aaron a quick text, wishing him a happy Christmas Eve and adding a short ‘I love you.’ You try to read a few pages in your latest book, but your mind isn’t into it. Instead you stare at the softly blinking Christmas lights shining in from the hallway, through the small crack between the door and the door jam, letting the rhythmic changing of the lights lull you to sleep.

---

You wake up to what sounds like the heavy apartment door swinging shut and the floorboards creaking, followed by a low thud and a muttering voice, which you can’t quite make out. Your heart is thudding wildly in your chest as you anxiously climb from the bed and tiptoe to the door of the bedroom. You can’t see any figures in the hallway, so you creep across the hall, placing a hand on the doorknob to Jack’s bedroom and noiselessly start to turn it open. You are so focused on opening the door and getting to Jack that you don’t notice the figure coming down the hallway towards you. A soft hand on your shoulder has you whipping around, landing a heavy hit with the heel of your hand to the intruder’s face.

“Son of a-” You immediately recognize the voice as Aaron’s, which makes you gasp in shock.

“Aaron. I didn’t know it was you. I’m so sorry.” You say, as you start to fuss over him. You try to guide him to the bathroom, in hopes that you might be able to help him there, but his hands stop you.

“Y/N, I’ll be alright. All I need is you in my arms.” His words, albeit a bit slurred (probably from the present throbbing in his face) bring a warm, fuzzy feeling into your chest and a cheesy grin to your face. You start to move towards the bedroom, but he pulls you close, scooping you up and easily carrying you back to the bed. The heat created by his body only leaves for a moment as you watch him, in the dull light, strip off his suit jacket and tie, before returning to your side. He pulls you incredibly close, his face in the crook of your neck breathing you in.

You don’t say anything, rather you just take comfort in his presence as you play with the small hairs at the back of his neck. “Gosh, I missed you.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your collarbone before looking up into your eyes. One of his hands comes to rest on your cheek, his thumb tracing soft circles on your cheekbone.

“Merry Christmas Y/N.” He says, giving you another kiss, this time on the lips. His kiss is slow and tender, as if he wanted to savor the moment and make it last as long as possible.

Once you pull back, and catch your breath, you whisper, “Merry Christmas Aaron.”

He smiles at you, pressing another, much shorter, kiss to your lips. “I think I’ll wait for later in the morning to let Jack know I’m home; let it be a Christmas surprise for him.” He says, tightening his hold on you.

You smile back at him. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. For now, let me just appreciate my Christmas surprise.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds reader #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotcher x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner reader insert #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch reader insert #jack hotchner

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storygirl000 · 5 years ago

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ML Fic: Power Trip

Summary: Lila, in order to keep her sheep in line and punish those who defied her, puts extra time into prepping the class’ end-of-the-year trip.

Unfortunately, she underestimated just how far Marinette would go to upstage her.

Ao3 link here.

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A/N: Something that always bothered me about “Marinette is the best at student council” salt fics was that Lila and/or Alya always have no idea what this position entails. I don’t think that makes sense; assuming Lila tried the same act at previous schools, she’d probably know the ins and outs of working on the student council by now. And Alya wouldn’t just forget her time as Marinette’s class rep assistant just because she hates her now; she’d most likely have a working idea of what that entails, too.

So I chose to make Lila smarter here than she usually is in fics regarding this subject. (No worries – she still gets her karma.)

00000

“I’m so glad you could all come!”

Lila smiled at all of her classmates, who’d gathered with her in Ms. Bustier’s room to discuss some important matters.

She heard Alix mutter something about the gathering being “mandatory” and “another example of Bustier’s favoritism”, but she ignored it.

“Now, as we all know, every year we do an end-of-the-year field trip to some amazing location. As your new Class Representative...”

She paused to shoot a quick smirk at Marinette, who either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“...I propose that this year...we go to Disneyland Paris!”

Naturally, her lackeys cheered for her, and Adrien’s eyes lit up at the idea (she had to thank Gabriel for sheltering the boy as much as he had; it made him so easy to manipulate). The others – the ones that had sided with Marinette – seemed intrigued, but nothing beyond that.

Lila smirked again. This was almost too easy.

She quickly switched to her disappointed role model face. “Unfortunately, Ms. Bustier has ruled that some students will be unable to attend this trip due to all the unacceptable behavior they’ve demonstrated in the past. This includes being discluded from any fundraisers we will have to help fund this trip.”

It took all of five seconds for Marinette and her cronies to realize this meant them.

Naturally, Alya and Chloé protested the loudest, but they were quickly shut down by Adrien, who admonished them for daring to bring their drama into an official class meeting. Upset, they took Marinette and walked out, followed by everyone else who’d supported them.

This left herself, Adrien, Kim, Max (and Markov), Mylene, and Ivan.

Ah, well. She’d worked with less before. She could do this.

With that, they started planning things out.

00000

It didn’t take her long to secure approval from the principal and the school board for the trip. Ms. Bustier had volunteered to be one of their chaperones, and so had Mylene’s father.

With her calculations, she realized that they needed roughly $6000 for the trip. A little flattery (and a promise to keep spying on his son for him) had gotten them a $1500 donation from Gabriel Agreste himself, so that left them to raise $4500 more for the trip. Quickly, they went to work.

The first fundraiser had been a bake sale – Mylene had gotten the idea to theme it after fall, with cute leaf patterns and gourd-shaped cupcakes and the like. And besides, the bake sale was always their first fundraiser of the year. Lila had agreed immediately.

There was only one problem – their main distributor of baked goods was no longer a part of the fundraiser.

Whatever. They didn’t need her anyways.

The group dedicated an entire weekend to baking these treats, and started selling them at school on Monday (after obtaining the permission of the principal and making sure it didn’t collide with any other fundraisers, of course). By the end of the day, they’d raised almost $500.

During her shift, Lila had spotted a pair of boys walk past the table – an older boy in a blue hoodie, and a younger one in a red hoodie. She recognized them as friends of Marinette (Luka and Marc, if she remembered correctly). Listening in on their conversation, she learned that Marinette had apparently hosted a bake sale of her own over the weekend.

She was torn between confusion (why had Marinette done a bake sale?) and confidence (obviously it wasn’t a success). She chose the latter.

By the end of the day, she had Ms. Bustier chewing out Marinette for daring to undermine the class’ fundraiser.

$4000 to go.

00000

Next up was the annual homecoming game and dance. That, like all major school events, had its ticket money split between the various classes and the school overall, with the class that raised the most money getting the lion’s share.

Kim had volunteered to help drum up support for the school team with his girlfriend Ondine (who Lila had promised could come on their class trip after her class had unfairly excluded her for daring to badmouth Marinette). The duo sold tickets fairly fast, their enthusiasm likely playing a part in it.

Lila also noticed that Marinette and her friends were handing out pamphlets for some website – apparently, the former “everyday Ladybug” was trying to launch her own clothing line.

She snorted. Good luck with that – the world of fashion was cruel, fickle, and would probably eat her alive.

The game and dance came and went, and Bustier’s class had sold the second highest amount of tickets after Mendeleiev’s class. The teacher was concerned (they’d always been in the top spot before, for some reason), but Lila didn’t care; they’d gotten $1000 out of the deal, after all.

$3000 to go.

00000

As December came, both Max and Adrien proposed fundraisers for the season.

Max suggested candy cane messages. According to his calculations, these were always successful in previous years.

Adrien suggested that they have girls (and some boys) pay him for a picture of them kissing under the mistletoe.

Max’s idea was the one they went with, but Lila had to say, she was surprised – Adrien had never tried to use his looks to his advantage before. Perhaps her own cunning mind was rubbing off on him.

She could deal with that.

As Max had predicted, the plan was a success, netting them more cash than their previous endeavors. Everyone in school had wanted to send a message to someone else, be it a friend, a crush, or a teacher. Even Lila herself had gotten a few.

Over the course of the fundraiser, she’d overheard a conversation between Marinette (ugh), Juleka, Rose, and two girls from Mendeleiev’s class (Aurore and Mireille, right?) about some trip they were going to go on.

Hmph. So Marinette was going to force another class to accommodate her and her friends, huh? So be it.

She quickly told Ms. Bustier of this new development, and smirked as she watched the teacher chew out Marinette for daring to drag another class into her drama.

$1500 to go.

0000

Christmas and New Year’s came and went, and Valentine’s Day was coming up. And so was the Valentine’s Day dance.

Ivan was the one who came up with the idea to sell heart-shaped candy and Hershey’s kisses alongside the tickets, and everyone agreed it was a good way to get some extra money if they failed to get enough money to fund the rest of the trip. Lila agreed to it, but warned that she wouldn’t be able to help as much as she had before; after all, she had to start preparing all the necessary paperwork for the trip.

Sure enough, the plan went off without a hitch. The class once again managed to get the top spot, and the candy sales more than made up for what they lacked. They were going to Disneyland Paris.

She then had one last encounter with Marinette’s allies – Luka and Nathaniel were putting up fliers for a Jagged Stone concert. When she bragged to Nathaniel about how her leadership had netted them the trip, he’d given her a cold smile and an odd response.

“Oh, that’s alright. We already have a trip planned that we need to fundraise.”

Privately, Lila celebrated. With Marinette on their side, it was more than likely that Mendeleiev’s class was going to fall short of their goals.

After all, she was completely useless.

00000

The end of the year came, and so did the class’ (and Ondine’s) three days in Disneyland Paris.

Naturally, the whole trip had been amazing. They had plenty of photos and souvenirs to share with their less fortunate classmates (officially, to make sure they weren’t “entirely left out”; unofficially, to brag). And Lila had finally gotten Adrien to kiss her.

Lila had wanted to gather the entire class together so that she could make Marinette and her cronies feel even worse, but strangely none of them were there when she got back. Neither were several kids from Mendeleiev’s class (Aurore, Mireille, Marc, and Kagami) or Luka, for that matter.

She didn’t know why until her lackeys started sending her urgent texts.

She looked at them...and her stomach dropped.

It was an Instagram post of Marinette, Alya, and Chloé at an airport; Marinette was sitting on a suitcase, Alya was holding the phone, and Chloé pretended to be distracted by doing her makeup.

The caption read “Taking a trip across the states with all of our friends!!! It was originally gonna be the class trip, but that fell through.”

So that was what the brat had been planning.

Lila felt herself go pale.

00000

Lila spent the rest of the summer checking Marinette, Alya, and Chloé’s Instagrams (and Nino’s, which was likely gotten just to help rub salt in the wound). Each adventure felt more unbelievable than the last.

First was New York City, where Marinette had apparently managed to secure the group a tour of the Avengers Tower. There were photos of Chloé sassing Tony Stark (and Pepper trying her hardest not to laugh and/or give the girl an apprenticeship on the spot in the background). Of Rose and Juleka on Captain America’s shoulders, fangirling over him. Of Alix, who mostly took selfies with the Black Widow and Hawkeye. Of Kagami and Sabrina (of all people) helping Stark’s young interns (Peter, Harley, Shuri, Ned, MJ, and Riri, apparently) play various pranks around the tower.

Alya posted an interview where she asked the heroes questions about Paris’ own heroes on the Ladyblog, and the site’s traffic immediately tripled.

The next location was Miami, Florida. According to Marinette, this destination was meant to be more low-key.

Which meant they just so happened to enter a music shop that international pop star Austin Moon was frequenting at the time. And it just so happened to be the shop run in part by his girlfriend and frequent collaborator Ally Dawson.

Naturally, this lead to photos of Luka and Nino jamming out with the two of them and their friends.

And, apparently, Marinette decided to namedrop Lila. Because the next video on her Instagram was one of Austin’s manager angrily cursing the Italian’s name (and that of Adrien, for some reason) for bullying such an amazing girl and lying to her classmates about it.

Lila wasn’t surprised when she and Adrien were kicked out of the class’ group chat shortly afterwards. She was too numb to be surprised at that point.

Next was Gotham City, which naturally lead to photos with both successful billionaire Bruce Wayne and resident superhero Batman. And all their kids. And the nicer Rogues (often with Nathaniel and Marc loudly sassing their villainous plans in the background).

Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark had apparently gotten into a Twitter war over who was going to adopt the group first. Alya had responded by suggesting they get shared custody.

Next was Hollywood, California. Marinette managed to get photos with Finn Wolfhard and Mckenna Grace on the set of the new Ghostbusters movie (and their numbers, if the captions were to be believed). Chloé, meanwhile, preferred to take photos of all the hunky actors and beautiful actresses walking around.

Their final destination had been Hawaii. That one (much to Lila’s surprise) did not end with the class meeting a celebrity; however, they did get to meet students from a Japanese school that had apparently had the same idea as them.

Alya took photos with some kid named Mishima, claiming they had something in common. Other photos were taken with a pair of blonde kids (Lila didn’t know if they were siblings or not, but given their apparent romantic closeness, the latter was more likely), a brown-haired girl, and a blue-haired boy.

The most photos, however, were those of Marinette with a boy her age, with messy black hair and glasses. Judging from Alya and Chloé’s comments, the two were into each other.

Lila couldn’t take it. She’d thrown her phone against the wall at that.

How was Marinette having so much fun when she’d done her best to ruin her life?

00000

Finally, school started up again. Predictably, everyone was glaring at Lila when she entered the building – even her former sheep.

She was the first to enter the classroom. As everyone filed in, they shot a glare at her – or at Adrien, who’d apparently been dragged down with her.

Marinette was the last to enter. She stood in front of Lila’s desk, gave her a cold smile, and asked her one thing.

“So, Lila! How was your summer?”

Lila wanted to scream.

#my writing #miraculous ladybug #ml salt #lila salt #adrien salt

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velkynkarma · 3 years ago

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@scribeofred tagged me for this and I figured, why not?

1. What fandoms have you written for?

A fair few. Let’s see...Fire Emblem (various games), Bleach, Samurai Champloo, One Piece, Digimon, Avatar the Last Airbender, Legend of Korra, Young Justice, Supernatural, Voltron: Legendary Defender, and Castlevania

2. How many works do you have on AO3 &/or FFNet?

There are 35 stories on FF.net and 54 works on AO3. Seven of those are posted on both accounts.

3. What are your top 3 fics by kudos on A03 &/or Favs on FFNet?

AO3 has the most (the highest fave count on FF.net is only 904). All 3 are Voltron fics:

Routine Maintenance, by a landslide 1678

Pillar in the Dark, at 1037

Parasite Knight, at 962

4. Which 3 fics have the least kudos & Favs?

Some of my very old Fire Emblem fics are the ones that have the least, but those are all on FF.net. For AO3, the lowest 3 are all Voltron fics, tied at 71:

Genesis, understandable since it’s a niche fusion AU

Coin Toss, again understandable since it’s the most recent fic in a very long AU/Canon Divergent series

Team Tactics, sadly understandable since it’s a niche fic about Allura and Zarkon

5. Which Fic has the most comments and which has the least?

On AO3, the clear winner is Premium Pandemonium (Voltron), with a whopping 550 comments (and I love everyone of you that left one!) The fic with the least comments is A Test of Faith (Supernatural) with a whole 5.

On FF.net we actually have one that beats out even AO3 for max comments: Asteria Nightmare (One Piece), with 613.

6. Which complete fic do you wish had gotten more attention?

Either A Thousand Burning Eyes or Glass Half Full. Both are Voltron fics I put a lot of work into (especially Thousand Burning Eyes) but only had a handful of dedicated readers. It’s understandable though, since they were both about relatively unpopular or niche characters.

I’ll admit I was also a bit disappointed with the response to Forced Respite (Castlevania) especially since several people requested I post it and expressed interest in it, and then didn’t actually leave any kind of feedback. But the fandom in general also seemed very unresponsive, so I’m not really surprised.

7. Have you written any crossovers?

It’s practically one of my calling cards at this point. Especially Fusion AU’s. I’ve also done a couple fic crossovers between two different canon divergent AU series with @bosstoaster

8. What is the craziest fic you’ve written?

Crazy in what sense? If most ambitious/time consuming, undoubtedly Premium Pandemonium.

9. What’s the fic you’ve written with the saddest ending?

Hmm...I generally do bittersweet angles more than pure sad. But the ones that seemed to hit people the hardest emotionally would be either Paying Respects (Voltron) or One Day Late (One Piece).

10. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

“Happiest endings” isn’t really my forte, but I guess if I had to pick one, Personal Growth (Voltron). It’s just generally a nice, relaxed vibe about a character enjoying his new hobby.

11. What is your smuttiest fic?

Yeah I don’t write smut. Not my thing.

12. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I did years ago on one of my One Piece fics. At the time it upset me, but now I look back on it and laugh at how petty the commenter was.

13. What is the nicest comment you’ve received?

I can’t pick just one! I’ve had so many lovely comments!

14. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I’ve had fics pulled onto those other fansites, yeah. It happens.

15. How many fics do you have marked as incomplete?

Only one! From years and years ago in my early Fire Emblem days. I also specifically stated the fic might not ever be finished, too.

As a general rule, I don’t post fanfics at all until they’re fully completed. Then people can safely invest their time in my stories and I don’t leave them hanging.

16. Which of the WIPS will most likely be finished first?

Well the one fic above never will be. I have a WIP currently in progress for a new/old fandom, but it’s going quite well and should be completed soon. It’s also not actually public yet (and likely will not be for a while).

17. Which WIP are you looking forward to finishing?

The aforementioned new/old fandom one in #16.

18. Is there a WIP that you’re considering abandoning?

I’ve got quite a few fic skeletons that probably will never be completed in all kinds of fandoms. None of them have ever been posted, though, so nothing public has ever been left unfinished.

19. Which complete fic would you consider rewriting?

I don’t know if I would completely re-write any, but there are a number from my One Piece and Young Justice fandoms that I wouldn’t mind giving a little polish to. I plan to do that one day when I eventually get off my lazy butt and transfer them to AO3 from FF.net.

20. Which complete fic is your favourite?

This is always changing, honestly. I’m really proud of a lot of my work. Currently Premium Pandemonium is the one I’m most proud of, because it was such an investment of time an energy and planning. I’m still extremely fond of Prince of Memory though, because it practically wrote itself and it still feels powerful even years later.

21. What’s your total published word count?

On AO3: 1,442,436

On FF.net: 1,118,411

Bear in mind, there is some crossover between about 7 fics for those counts. I also have a couple assorted fics posted to tumblr only for prompt challenges that I think I still haven’t cross-posted to AO3. I should do that at some point...

Thanks for the tag @scribeofred and anyone else can feel free to play :)

#Velkynkarma answers #Velkynkarma memes #fanfiction #fandom #writing

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ladyreapermc · 5 years ago

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Drabble: Birthday Surprise (Henry x You)

Summary: it was bad enough that you would have to spend your birthday in quarantine, but for Henry to forget it? That was just awful

Author’s note: I wasn’t supposed to take any requests or post other fics during this month of May since it’s the Birthday Challenge month, but this was a very especial occasion. It’s @mary-ann84 birthday. My dear, I wish you all the best in the world. You’re such a bright and kind person and I’m very glad I’ve met you here on tumblr. I do hope you enjoy this little drabble.

Wordcount: 1038

Warnings: so much fluff.

You knew it wasn’t fair to be upset with Henry for being able to entertain himself during this damned quarantine while all you could manage was stare at the walls and walk around aimless through the rental house you two got for the duration of The Witcher season 2 principal photography.

It was the first time you came with him to location, mostly because you had a month off from work and decided you could use the peace and quiet of the countryside to work on a few personal projects. It seemed like the perfect plan. While Henry was out working hard on the series, you had the house to yourself to do what you pleased and when night came and he was back home, you could dedicate all your time to him.

Then the news of the virus broke and for a while, production continued, but as the scenario slowly progressed to something direr, the producers decided to stop everything for safety and start isolation. You and Henry talked and decided that might as well wait where you were instead of going back to London. He had hopes that it would be over quickly.

Now, almost two months later, there was still no clear evidence of the quarantine ending and you were running out of ideas to entertain yourself. You read all the books you brought along with you and sure, there was always kindle, but it wasn’t the same. You liked to feel the actual thing, smell the pages, touch the rough texture of the paper beneath your fingers.

Besides, you missed being able to go out, see friends and family, have small gatherings. You were always a people’s person and as much as technology helped you to remain close to your loved ones, it just wasn’t the same. As matter of fact, sometimes it felt like seeing them through the screen was even worst, because at the end of the call your heart would always feel tighter and the lump in your throat made it so much harder to breathe, making tears spring into the corner of your eyes.

Henry was taking isolation very well. Despite being a very social man, he had also his introspective moments, in which he got lost in his favorite hobbies like reading or gaming or working out. More recently, he had also taken up cooking and painting miniature figurines.

He would spend hours completely absorbed in the task at hand, barely hearing when you spoke to him. It was slightly frustrating, but you knew he didn’t do it on purpose and whenever you had his attention, Henry was completely devoted to you. Watching or doing whatever you want, no questions asked.

So really, there was no reason to complain and it wasn’t fair to ask him to keep you entertained all the time. You were, after all, a damn adult and not a toddler. You could find something to do in this house. There was that Netflix show you were meaning to watch and since Henry was once again in the kitchen doing God knows what, Kal could use a walk. It would give you an excuse to breathe some fresh air and hide your disappointment from Henry.

The truth was, you hoped he would pay a little more attention to you today. It was, after all, your birthday. But he didn’t even seem to remember, and you hated to be the one to remind him. You knew he would feel terrible for forgetting and would try to overcompensate. That wasn’t what you wanted. You just wanted some nice time together, cuddling on the couch, with some popcorn and a cheesy movie on the telly. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

“Come on, Kal,” you called, taking one last turn around the block before leading the way back to the house. “We’ve been gone long enough. Your dad is probably worried. If he even noticed we went out that is.”

With a heavy sigh, you made your way back to the house at the end of the street, giggling at Kal chasing butterflies. It was your favorite time of the year. It was so beautiful to see the flowers back in full bloom and the birds and bees flying around.

And since there was barely anyone out, it felt like mother nature was reclaiming her ground, and more often than not you caught sight of wildlife making themselves at home in the gardens or jaunting around proudly, like they owned the street. It was a gorgeous sight and almost enough to soothe your sour mood as you approached the red door of the rental home.

You left your boots on the welcome mat, before wiping Kal’s paws and letting him rush inside in front of you, frowning slightly at the darkness at the foyer and living room. You stepped inside in your socks, shrugging off your coat and flickering the lights.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Several voices shouted making you scream in surprise.

You looked around, but there was only Henry standing there, with a big, but slightly crooked chocolate cake, a grin on his lips, and a party hat on top of his dark curls. On the television screen, the faces of your loved ones staring back at you in individual little windows of the group conference call. All of them had silly party hats of their own.

On the wall above Henry’s head, a hand-made banner, paper flowers, origami, and colorful paper streamers decorated the room and you felt tears brimming in your eyes as you took it all in.

“You really thought I would forget?” he asked with a cocked eyebrow and you giggled, feeling silly and wanting nothing more than to rush into his arms and hug him tight. “Go clean up. We’ll wait for you.”

“Hen…” you breathed out, your heart overflowing with joy and love for this perfect man. You still couldn’t believe he just walked into your life one day but were so damn glad he did. “Thank you.”

“Always,” he smiled at you, and in his ocean blue eyes, you could see Henry containing himself from going to you, sealing his lips on yours. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

xxx

#henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #fanfic #fluff #drabble #happy birthday mary-ann84

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hopscotchandlemon · 3 years ago

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2021 - A Year in Writing

In the past, I’ve dutifully reblogged those fic writers asks. I’ve even asked questions of other writers. However, no one asks me them, or at least, the ones I really want to answer.

So this year, I’m going to pick 3 fics that I’ve written in the last 12 months. They’re ones I hold dear for various reasons, as I shall explain…

To See Her Face.

This was my first proper attempt at a Slibbs fics. I started it at the beginning of the year and didn’t get chance to look at it again until I spent some time at my parents’ house in March. Writing this was taking my mind of the fact my mum was dying and she died the day after I posted this. This is by far, the most popular fic I’ve ever written (I did not realise there was such a big Slibbs fanbase) and the comment notification came through steadily over the next few days. In a way, those notifications (many of which came through after she’d died) gave me some comfort at a really stressful and sad time. So if you commented on that one- Thank you!

My mum really liked NCIS. It wasn’t something I really got to talk to her about because her condition robbed her of the ability to communicate properly (although she smiled when I suggested she liked Gibbs 😉). One of the last things we did together in her last week was sit in her bed and watch episodes on TV. It took me a while to complete the second part as I had a complete writing wobble, but I’m glad it did as it adds the happy ending I think we all wanted for them. It was added just after what would have been my Mum’s birthday. It is dedicated to her.

Uneven Steps

I felt I really needed to write this. I do have a physical disability but nothing of the severity of the reader in this story. It’s important that we see disabled people in popular culture and not just to fill a diversity quota. I wanted to get across some of the battles disabled people have to fight just to be seen as an equal and I wanted them to be desired. I think Gibbs would be accepting of a disabled lover and adapt accordingly.

Hide and Seek (Collide Series)

I started the Collide series last year and it still remains my favourite fic. I couldn’t bear to say goodbye to these characters, so I started adding the occasional one shot. I’ve picked this one because I liked the idea of a child getting the better of Gibbs and being able to outfox him in a simple game of hide and seek – a game you’d like to think he’d be quite good at.

I plan on writing more for this series, but only when the idea has merit I don’t want to waste them on a half-baked story – I really do love them that much.

If you’re a fic writer, tell me about what the fics you’ve written have meant to you. Don’t wait to be asked. Let’s hear about the art you created in this god-awful year.

#fanfiction asks #ncis #slibbs #Leroy Jethro Gibbs #jacqueline sloane #fanfiction #2021 #writing #fic rec

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themurphyzone · 4 years ago

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PatB/BatB AU: Imprisoned

Summary: Pinky tries to rescue his father from a spooky, mysterious castle, only to wind up the prisoner of a terrifying monster. Also the terrifying monster has no fucking idea what he's doing, but Pinky doesn't know that.

AN: Because I desperately want to write a BatB/PatB fic but I don’t want to tackle the entire movie cause this movie is more slow burn than most other Disney Princess stories. I decided to try the scene where Belle first meets the Beast just for curiosity’s sake.

AO3 Link

Pharfignewton’s hooves nervously stirred up dead leaves and twigs as she halted in front of an eerie black gate, its bars crisscrossing over each other as if to prevent anyone from entering…or leaving.

An unfamiliar sense of dread swept over Pinky. The enormous castle beyond the gate loomed, the highest towers piercing the thick, gray clouds above. Still, Pharfignewton’s instincts were never wrong. If she said Papa was somewhere in that large, gloomy castle, then he was going to be in that large, gloomy castle.

Pinky gently flicked the reins, but Pharfignewton didn’t move. A tremble ran down her back.

“It’s okay, Fig,” Pinky whispered. He stroked her mane, and Pharfignewton whinnied softly. “Just think of your favorite things. Like apples, carrots, grassy meadows…”

A gust of wind blew the gate open. It crashed against the unforgiving stone wall.

Pharfignewton leapt back, the sudden move nearly pitching Pinky to the ground, but he clung to several strands of her mane and quickly scrambled into his usual position at the base of her neck.

She trotted across the stone bridge, ears swiveling in every direction.

“P-poit. They oughta change the lock on that thing,” Pinky murmured as the gate slammed shut.

Pharfignewton stumbled against a crack in the stone pathway leading up to the castle’s front door. She couldn’t go any further. The stone would damage her hooves, and they’d need to be in tip-top shape for the ride home.

“Fig, you’ll have to wait here.” Pinky climbed up her mane and onto her long muzzle, petting the soft fur between her eyes. Her head rose indignantly, stamping a hoof against the stone. “You shouldn’t go onto the stone without horseshoes. It’ll ruin your lovely hooves. And don’t worry, Papa and I will be back before you can say sugarcube!”

They couldn’t afford horseshoes for Pharfignewton, which prevented Pinky from riding her as often as he would’ve liked. Pinky’s chest ached from the reminder. Pharfignewton deserved pretty shoes.

She let out a gentle puff of air as she lowered him to the ground, giving him an encouraging nudge.

Pinky slowly approached the heavy doors, a brass gargoyle with bulging eyes serving as a doorknob. But the knob was at human height, not mouse height, so even with a running start and flying leap, he couldn’t reach it.

Then he remembered his manners. Breaking into a haunted, abandoned castle was awfully rude. What if he disturbed some ghosts in whatever ghostly things they did?

“Hello?” Pinky called, pressing an ear to the door as he knocked. “Anyone home?”

Nobody answered, but the door creaked slightly, allowing Pinky enough room to squeeze inside. Pinky bundled Mama’s well-worn traveling cloak around himself, trying not to think of the scolding he might’ve received as a young mouse about breaking and entering into strange places.

But he wasn’t stealing anything. He was just going to find Papa and bring him home. If Mama were alive, she’d understand.

Somehow the castle interior was even colder and draftier than outside. Gargoyles lined the walls, crouching with their wings outstretched, and each one seemed to have their eyes trained on him. The inside was mostly stone, with a wine-red carpet leading from the doorway and splitting into two paths along an enormous staircase.

Torches and lanterns hung along the walls, but they were dim and barely provided light to see by.

Whoever built the castle must’ve had a great love for the Gothic style. Pinky could appreciate dedication to the theme, but he shied away from an eagle-like gargoyle all the same. There were eyes boring into him. He just knew it.

“Hello?” Pinky shouted.

“Hello!”

Pinky grinned. The echo made up for the dreary décor.

“Narf!”

This time, he cupped his hands to his mouth, took a deep breath, and yelled from the top of his lungs.

“FJORD!”

Feeling slightly bolder, Pinky played a quick game of eenie-meenie-miney-mo for the path he’d take, since there were so many of them and he couldn’t choose just one. There were so many rooms. It would take a while to go through them all, so he’d have to chance it.

On the last count of ‘mo’, Pinky’s finger pointed at the rightmost staircase, so he climbed the long flight, his bare feet sinking into the carpet. He hoped the ghosts would forgive him for tracking dirt inside.

Clink clink clink.

Funny. Feet didn’t usually make that kind of noise on carpet.

Probably just the creaking of old metal. This castle had definitely seen better days, judging from the cobwebs that spanned entire corners far above his head.

He reached the top of the staircase. More doors and rooms awaited him down the dark hallway.

Pinky knocked on the nearest door. He heard a splash of water and the sweep of a mop coming from within. A maid, maybe?

They could point him in the right direction!

“Hello? Are you a castle maid? I’m sorry for interrupting your work, but I’m looking for my Papa!” Pinky shouted, pressing an ear against the door. Someone whispered urgently, the exact words too muffled to make out, and the splashing and sweeping noises stopped. “His name is Jack, he’s a little shorter than me, and…oh, he has a big bushy mustache too! He tends to get vegetable bits stuck in it when he eats. Have you seen him?”

No reply.

Pinky’s tail twitched nervously. Maybe the maids really didn’t like having their work interrupted.

“I’m sorry, I’ll…I’ll let you get back to work,” Pinky said. He backed away from the door, the hood of his cloak falling into his eyes.

Clink clink clink.

That noise again. Pinky lifted the hood away from his eyes, and he came face-to-face with a teacup, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen any teacups yet. Mostly gargoyles and spooky stuff, really.

The teacup was about his height, with a polished white surface and golden trim around its rim and base. Its handle was a shining red, and its pink base looked almost skirt-like, with a single yellow flower painted on the front.

“Aww, what a cute teacup!” Pinky exclaimed. He’d never seen any teacup like this before. Not even Snowball had something this ornate and pretty. “Wonder who painted you? Whoever it was, they’ve really got a great eye for color!”

He could’ve sworn the teacup’s handle lifted out of pride, but maybe the dim lighting was just playing tricks on him.

“Well, I don’t know how you got here, but I can’t just leave you alone either. What if somebody stepped on you?” Pinky lifted the teacup by the handle and carried it further down the hall. The teacup’s base seemed to twitch every few seconds.

He didn’t know where the kitchen was, but surely there had to be a cabinet or cupboard somewhere around here. He turned left when the path split again, and counted his lucky stars once he spotted a small table up ahead. The higher surface was several feet above his head, but the lower platform was at his shoulder level.

Odd. There was a candelabra and a mantle clock here too. Strange place to store one’s knickknacks, but then again, Pinky kept his rock collection in a tea kettle, so he couldn’t be too judgy.

Pinky set the teacup on the lower platform, sliding it over until it touched the candelabra and clock. The two objects were oddly painted, with black and white markings running throughout their brass bodies. The candelabra’s lower half was painted brown, and the clock’s topmost carvings looked almost like a cap.

Though none of them were similar objects, Pinky thought they fit together quite well.

Curiously, Pinky ran his finger over the decorative carvings on the legs. “Egad, this must be real mahogany!” he said. His fingertips were covered in a thick layer of dust when he pulled away, and he shook it off, sneezing at the small cloud that formed. “Whew, really dusty though.”

“Gesundheit!” a Scouse-accented voice said.

“Narf! Thanks a bunch!” Pinky wiped the remaining dust against the inside lining of his apron. It was going in the wash later, so it didn’t bother him too much.

Only as he climbed another flight of stairs did he realize he hadn’t seen any living being yet. Maybe the castle was just full of polite ghosts.

The carpet beneath his feet was ragged with little holes revealing cold stone underneath, the ceiling arching far above him. The pillars had rough seals over their creeping, winding cracks. There were no gargoyles, no furniture, no rooms at all.

Nothing but dust, cracks, and cobwebs.

It seemed that not even the ghosts used this area much.

“Papa?” Pinky shouted. His echoes answered back, yet there was no sign of Papa.

Wind battered the stone walls, and Pinky’s heart leapt from his chest. He wrapped his cloak around himself, willing his heart to stay where it belonged. For goodness sake, he’d grown up in Paris. If streets full of reeking garbage didn’t scare him, then this shouldn’t either.

Pinky reached a dead end, the path blocked by a barren mass of stone. With a sigh, he turned around. There wasn’t anything here. Maybe he should try the second floor again? There were a lot of rooms he hadn’t checked.

A light flickered around the corner, a bright circle of hope illuminating the unfeeling stone. Pinky hadn’t gone in that direction yet. He hadn’t planned to, but the light skipped and waved, beckoning him closer. And if there was light, that meant somebody was in the castle after all!

“Narf! Excuse me!” Pinky cried, rushing over to the ray of light. “I don’t mean to interrupt your work, but if you could please tell me-“

The light vanished. Pinky pressed his hand to the wall. It was dark and scary in here. That light had been the first sign of life he’d seen in this castle.

A shrill creak startled a ‘troz’ out of him. But it meant someone was moving around, so he followed it until he came to a doorway in the middle of the corridor.

The door was open, so Pinky peered inside.

A winding, narrow staircase led upwards. There was no carpet, only coarse and rough stone. Then the light returned, a shining beacon in the dark.

“There you are,” Pinky whispered, hauling himself onto the first step. These stairs weren’t as smooth as the rest of the castle’s, but years of routine chores had given him enough upper body strength to manage just fine.

Cold seeped into his fur. His teeth chattered, but he pushed forward. Papa needed him.

A candelabra rested on a nearby platform, its three candles burning brightly. It had the same brown base and markings as the candelabra he’d seen downstairs. Funny. He never knew candelabras came in matching sets. But once again, he was alone.

Not even a ghost in sight.

“I could’ve sworn I heard someone…” Pinky sighed. The room in front of him only contained a dimly lit torch and a row of heavy, barred doors. Fire provided the only colors, and it wasn’t enough to chase the cold, damp shadows away. Neither was the thin, colorless light that peeked from the cracks of the foundation above. “Is anyone here?”

A hacking cough came from behind the door nearest to the torch.

“Pinky?” a weak voice murmured.

Pinky’s ears perked as he rushed over to the door. There was a barred window close to the ground, Papa’s face peeking out from between the thick steel pieces. His fur was dirty and wet, eyes wide open with fright. He stared straight through Pinky, gripping the hood of Pinky’s cloak with desperate, clammy hands.

Papa was in a cell.

Pinky bit his lip. How? Papa wasn’t a criminal. Sure, his machines blew up a lot, but that was hardly cause for jail!

“Papa! Are you okay? Did you see any ghosts?” Pinky gently took Papa’s hands in his own, quickly rubbing the pale pink skin to bring some warmth back. “Poit. I guess they weren’t as polite as I thought…”

Papa stammered as Pinky drew him close. The bars were wide enough that Papa could slip through them easily, but as much as Pinky tugged on his arm, Papa refused to budge, heels digging into the cracks underfoot. “He’s…he’s no g-g-ghost, Pinky. Y-you have to go. Save yourself.”

“He? You mean whoever put you in here?” Pinky repeated. Papa’s bushy mustache quivered, the tiny hairs unkempt and matted. He couldn’t speak, his hands freezing in Pinky’s own. They had to get out of here. The sooner Papa warmed up in front of the cottage’s fireplace, the better.

“Food pellets. There are no food pellets here…” Papa murmured. “Your mother made the best food pellets in the world.”

Pinky’s heart clenched at the reminder. “I know. She made the best. We should go now. Please, Papa?”

Later, when they got back to the cottage, he was going to ask exactly why Papa wasn’t at the fair. Why Pharfignewton was unhitched from the wagon and terrified out of her mind. How he’d gotten locked up in the first place.

Papa’s shivers were fiercer than before.

“It’s safe and warm at home. Let’s go…” Pinky whimpered, but Papa’s arms remained glued to the cold, unfeeling bars.

Papa’s mouth opened…

“Run, Pinky!”

A thundering roar shook the entire prison. The floor, walls, and ceiling trembled with a frightened rattle. Pinky clamped his hands against his ears, and Papa tried to do the same, though he was shaking too violently to do it right.

The only light came from above now.

A massive clawed hand clamped painfully around Pinky’s shoulder and yanked him around, the prison briefly becoming nothing more than a dark blur with a swirl of purple.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”

Pinky blinked the stars out of his vision, pressing his back against Papa, wordlessly urging him to dart to the back corner of the cell for his safety. But Papa tightly gripped Pinky’s shoulders, and Pinky winced as Papa’s fingers dug into a sore spot.

An enormous shadow loomed above them, its shape melting into the darkness. The only features Pinky could see were a pair of sharp, white fangs and the trailing end of a purple cape.

Pinky’s ears flattened, his heart pounding out of his chest. “Who are you?” he called out, trying to keep his voice steady. He had to be brave for Papa.

“The master of this castle.”

Every word was accompanied by a low, animalistic snarl. Pinky caught the gleam of long, twisted horns atop the shadow’s head.

“Please, let Papa out,” Pinky begged. Another growl cut him off, and Pinky’s throat tightened in panic, but he continued to plead his case. His words were useless. He was use-no, not now. He couldn’t afford self-doubt. “It’s cold here. Can’t you see he’s sick?”

“THEN HE SHOULDN’T HAVE TRESPASSED ON MY PROPERTY!”

More cruel white fangs were exposed.

“But he could die!” Pinky pleaded. “Please, I’ll do anything!”

“There’s nothing you can do. He’s my prisoner.”

The shadow moved again, always skirting the edge of the light.

“There must be something…” Pinky murmured. But he had no money or valuables to offer, and trading Pharfignewton when she was a valued member of the family was out of the question. He looked down at his hands…and he had his answer. “Wait!”

Pinky reached for the shadow’s cape, but a bloodshot glare made him stop and think better of it.

Pinky closed his eyes. And he sealed his fate.

“Take me instead.”

The shadow turned away with a scoff.

“YOU!”

Pinky tried not to flinch. He didn’t have much value. He could keep house, but that was hardly a unique skill in the village. But he had no other material besides his clothes and fur.

“You would…take his place?” The harsh tone and growl vanished. The shadow’s deep, guttural voice sounded more confused than furious, as if he hadn’t expected such a trade.

And why should he?

Even so, Pinky had to push forward. There was no turning back now. “If I did,” Pinky said, just wanting to make sure before he agreed to anything. “Would you let him go?”

��Pinky, you don’t know what you’re doing!” Papa hissed.

I’m saving you. That’s what I’m doing.

Complete silence. Pinky bit his lip. Finally, the shadow spoke. “Yes,” the shadow drawled the word softly. “But…you must promise to remain here for the rest of your life.”

Pinky gripped the folds of his dress.

Rest of my life?

Would he ever see Papa again? Pharfignewton? The little cottage in the countryside?

Trade everything to be trapped with this shadow?

A shadow had to belong to somebody…

“I’d like to know who I’m speaking with,” Pinky said. “Would you come into the light, please?”

For a moment, there was nothing but an anxious growl. Then a pink, hairless foot slid into the colorless light.

A human?

Couldn’t be. The feet were tipped with sharp claws, and the heels lifted off the ground. Nor did they look like they belonged to any sort of rodent Pinky had ever met.

A pair of ragged black trousers. A long, crooked tail with many sharp bends. Grayish-brown fur over a large chest and pudgy stomach halfway covered by the purple cape. Arms that were far too thick, long, and coarse for even the largest rat.

The shadow slowly raised his head, curved black horns adding to his already intimidating height. Large, rounded ears. A broad, wide face with sagging cheeks and thick, furrowed brows.

But what struck Pinky the most was the creature’s unreadable expression. Though he was obviously angry, it was impossible to tell if those narrowed pink eyes were glaring at him with disgust or hatred. Despite the light, the eyes were partially hidden by dark patches of fur. He was silent, but a pair of fangs were still exposed.

Placing the species was impossible. He seemed to be many animals at once.

“Narf,” Pinky whispered.

The monster’s brows lifted in surprise, and if Papa weren’t locked away right now, it might’ve been comical.

Pinky turned away, unable to brave through the staredown, but he felt the monster’s gaze boring into his back.

“I won’t let you do this!” Papa cried out.

But he had to. For Papa’s freedom.

Pinky lifted his head. He stood up, gently sliding Papa’s hand off his shoulder. He let the touch linger for as long as possible and gave his Papa one last smile before turning around.

The monster was hunched over, one clawed hand resting on the ground. It wasn’t a bow of courtesy, but he seemed to have trouble with his balance. He growled in warning, as if challenging Pinky to say something about his position.

Pinky approached slowly, each step echoing in his ear. The monster didn’t move. When their faces were just inches apart, Pinky closed his eyes.

“I promise,” Pinky said. He stuck out his hand to shake on it, because that’s what people did when they wanted to set their deals in stone.

“DONE!”

The monster snarled and shoved past Pinky. Unable to keep standing much longer, Pinky dropped to his knees and wept, unable to hold back his tears anymore.

He wouldn’t see the light of day again. Trapped forever with a monster in this lonely, dark place.

There was a squeak and the sound of frantic scampering behind him, and Pinky opened his eyes to see Papa’s desperate face, pleading with him to reconsider. “Pinky, listen to me! I’m old, but you have so much to-“ Papa’s words cut off as the monster dragged him off Pinky, lumbering towards the stairs on all fours with a hand clenched around Papa’s cloak.

“Wait!” Pinky shouted.

But the monster didn’t care. He and Papa disappeared down the stairs, their pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears.

He never got to say goodbye.

o-o-o-o-o

Papa was thrown into a carriage that moved on spindly, wooden legs and carried across the stone bridge. The carriage disappeared into the forest, Papa’s cries fading away.

Pinky clung to the barred window that was several feet off the ground and several stories high. It didn’t allow him a wide view, and he wasn’t sure where Pharfignewton was. Still looking for grass to eat, he hoped.

He slid to the floor of the cell, huddling underneath the window in a tight ball. His tail was always a source of comfort for him, and he twisted and wrung it in his hands. The sun started to go down, and he imagined how beautiful it would’ve looked from the sweeping grassy hills just outside the cottage.

Beautiful rolling clouds. His cozy bed in the upstairs loft. The sound of Papa tinkering on a machine as a vegetable broth brewed over the stove.

The door slammed against the wall, and the crash startled Pinky out of his fantasies.

It was the monster.

Something inside Pinky snapped. Now he was angry, and angry was a feeling he didn’t like, but this…this cruel excuse of a…whatever he was stole his freedom and his Papa.

“You didn’t let me say goodbye!” Pinky screamed. “Now I’ll never see him…I-I’ll never see him again.”

He expected the monster to roar in defiance or deny the truth, but he did neither. He only leaned heavily against the doorframe in complete silence. His ears dropped, and something akin to remorse flashed across his face.

But that new emotion quickly disappeared. “Come,” the monster said, dropping to all fours. “I’ll show you to your room.”

New room? It was such a sudden offer that Pinky forgot his anger completely. So he wouldn’t have to live among old chains and damp stone?

“I thought-“

The monster arched an eyebrow, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice. “Unless you’d prefer these accommodations?”

Pinky shook his head.

“Then follow.”

His captor crossed the room without pausing, and Pinky realized he’d never asked for a name. If he was going to live here for the rest of his life, he wanted to at least have a name.

“Hold on,” Pinky said. “I never got your name.”

The monster’s hand hit the floor with a resounding thud. “Call me the Beast,” he growled. Pinky stepped back in surprise, but the mon—the Beast didn’t turn around. “And don’t ever ask again.”

There was a tinge of bitterness in his tone, as if he hated his requested name. But that didn’t make sense. Why call himself a name he hated?

“Poit. Well, my name’s Pinky so-“

The Beast was halfway down the stairs already. Pinky folded his arms. Well, that was very rude. His captor didn’t have manners at all!

Pinky hurried after him. The Beast didn’t turn around. He was a very poor conversationalist.

Another candelabra stood just outside the door to the spooky hallway. It hadn’t been there earlier. “You really shouldn’t put your nice decorations on floors. What if someone stepped on them?” Pinky said.

“So we’ve got an interior designer for a long-term guest?” the candelabra asked. “Now we can finally replace the doom and gloom with something different! Maybe an indoor jungle with monkeys!”

The candelabra could talk! That was pretty cool!

His waxy face was eye level with Pinky. His grin was a little lopsided, his candleholders folding against his gold and brown body with an easy, light confidence.

“Yakko, this castle can’t possibly tolerate more monkeys, nor does it require the aesthetic of a jungle to be one,” the Beast huffed. He still sounded irritated, but less so. “And while we’re on that topic, Wakko and Dot need a reminder to not engage with outsiders. Where are they?”

“A real spoilsport, isn’t he?” Yakko whispered to Pinky.

Pinky giggled, and Yakko’s grin became wider. Alright, so not everybody in this big scary castle was a mean ol’ grump. It was good to know.

“Oh, they’re just telling Scratchy the news,” Yakko shrugged. “He’s a real couch potato these days. Anyway, maybe you oughta tie a string around your finger, cause you’re clearly forgetting something.”

He waved a flame like one would wave a finger to scold.

“But I patched the leaking roof,” the Beast said. “My work was thorough.”

Yakko coughed and pointed a flame at Pinky.

The Beast only stared. Then his pink eyes widened as whatever he’d forgotten finally dawned on him.

“Mouse.”

“Where?” Pinky whirled around.

Oh, right. He was a mouse. Silly him.

The Beast growled, like he didn’t know what to think of Pinky. Well, neither did Pinky know what to think of him. So there.

“You owe Yakko for your new room. Let’s go. We’re wasting time.”

With that, the Beast stalked off.

“So…thanks for the room, I think. Poit. Is he always like this?” Pinky asked. He kicked at a speck of dust.

Yakko gave Pinky an encouraging nudge with his candlestick holders. “The Master of the Castle he may be, the Master of First Impressions he is not. If his rawwwwr-fear-me shtick gets to be too much, say the word and I’ll set his cape on fire for ya.”

“Is that a good idea?” Pinky asked. Despite his worries, he couldn’t help but laugh at Yakko’s attempt at roaring.

Yakko nodded, or as much as one could nod when one’s head was a wax candle. “It’s amazing what you can get away with in this place.”

o-o-o-o-o

Pinky was led down to the second floor, into a corridor with the most frightening gargoyles he’d ever seen. But he had to be a good guest, right? Good guests knew the names of every gargoyle, as Yakko was trying to teach him.

He tried so hard to pay attention, but he wouldn’t be able to remember which one was Hugo or Goliath or Laverne or Brooklyn. Yakko didn’t seem like the type to hold it against him though. He talked a lot and knew a lot of things Pinky didn’t know, explaining things like he was used to explaining things.

He seemed awfully young though.

Ahead of them, the Beast lumbered with a heavy gait. His strides were long and lacked the lightness of a rodent’s steps. Though he’d locked Papa up, he seemed more awkward than scary now.

Papa.

Was he home now? Would he be alright? There were chickens to feed and cows to milk. He hoped Papa wouldn’t put his noisy milking machine on Moo-Moo. She didn’t like that.

A tear ran down his cheek, then another. Pinky clutched his tail, staring down at the floor to avoid all the glaring stone eyes on him.

Yakko’s hopping sped up, the brass sounds muffled by the carpet.

There was the smell of slightly singed fur, followed by an irritated grunt. Pinky realized the Beast was watching him from the corner of his eye. A tiny cloud of smoke trailed from his right elbow.

“You can…make yourself at home,” the Beast said, brushing off the tiny fire. “As your new residence, you have free reign of the castle and the surrounding property. You may go anywhere but the West Wing.”

The West Wing?

“What’s in the-“

“IT’S FORBIDDEN!” the Beast bellowed, his massive hand slamming into the carpet and leaving long clawmarks behind. Pinky flinched.

The Beast kept walking. Yakko filled in the silence with chatter.

To Pinky’s relief, his room wasn’t far.

The Beast opened the enormous door, which led to a bedroom that was twice as large as the cottage.

The cottage was home. Not here. Yakko meant well, but this would never truly be Pinky’s room.

“My servants will attend to your needs,” the Beast said. There was nothing harsh about his words this time, but servants? Pinky didn’t know if he could get used to that. Nor had he seen any servants around. Was Yakko a servant? He never asked for his job title.

“Don’t worry! The toilet’s not alive. None of them are,” Yakko added.

It was probably meant to be helpful, so Pinky did his best to smile at him, but he could only manage a weak nod.

Then Pinky noticed the giant bed, with thick comforters and a dozen pillows and velvet curtains around the edges. Though fancy and straight out of a fairy tale, it wasn’t his tiny bed tucked in a cozy corner. Meekly, he stepped inside.

“Psst! Invite him to dinner, Romeo!” Yakko hissed.

“I order you to…join me for dinner,” the Beast demanded. “THAT’S NOT A REQUEST!”

The door slammed, and Pinky was once again left in darkness.

This wasn’t home. It was dark and cold. Homes were cozy and happy and loving. No walls, no prisons, no locks and keys to be thrown away.

Home was elsewhere. His heart was elsewhere.

Pinky curled up on an unfamiliar pillow. His heart was broken, his chest ached, and there was a deep longing within him. For Mama’s laughter. For Papa’s joy. For the hills and the meadows and the open blue skies.

His tears flowed. They were many and endless. He felt they would never stop. He’d cry for the rest of his life, for as long as this exile from the world beyond took.

Outside his window, the first snowflakes began to fall. They marked the start of a very long, very cold winter.

AN: Let it be known that this AU is the only place, besides maybe anything involving Brain Meets Brawn, where Brain’s size can be described as intimidating. I want him to be, you know, like an actual monster and not just a big mouse with horns. Don’t get me wrong, tiny beast!Brain is cute, but that would just be more comical than dramatic if I tried to play it as such a serious moment.

For my personal Beast!Brain, I combined elements from @deez-art and @sleepy-hooves art. Deez for the overall look, and the way he glares at Pinky during the “come into the light” part comes from sleepy-hooves.

In this AU, rather than appearance, Brain fears the loss of control the most. He knows his mind is dwindling away unless he can break the curse. Unlike Disney’s Beast, he’s a bit more proactive with trying to break the curse and tries to keep busy instead of brooding in the West Wing all the time, though some tasks can be very difficult for him.

Yakko is the candelabra, Wakko is the mantle clock, and Dot is the teacup. You’ll have to excuse them for following Pinky around. They’re curious kiddos.

Yakko calling Scratchy a couch potato is literal. Scratchy was turned into a p-sychiatrist’s couch.

No matter what happens, Brain always has a soft spot for the Warners. The Warners aren’t scared of him and will snap back.

Poor Pinky gets put through the wringer. But y’all know the story. Eventually they fall in love and get their happily ever after.

#pinky and the brain #beauty and the beast au #disney au #i'm sorry pinky #patb fanfiction

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dreadnought-dear-captain · 4 years ago

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A few comments on the ending of Baghdad Waltz (and story craft in general, I guess)

Perhaps it goes without saying, but SPOILERS ahead. I’ll be posting answers to asks on BW later today as well.

A few readers, some of them very faithful long-haul readers, are understandably upset that BW did not end the way that I originally predicted - and intended - that it would.

In an Ao3 comment thread on the subject of my previously advertising a happy ending for BW (i.e., an ending where the characters end up together), an anon on Ao3 recently posted this:

First of all, if I had that kind of super long game strategic foresight to cook up and nurture this kind of devious bait-and-switch plan over the course of several years, I would have used that power for good to have every scene and every convolution of character fully developed from the very start. And although this slow burn “bait-and-switch” hypothesis is a perversely flattering one, I’m really not that clever. Or that mean-spirited. I came into this story with an idea of where I wanted it to go and sprinted off the starting blocks with it. This is most certainly “shame on me,” in hindsight, and a product of under-developed skill in story planning and character construction.

I’m not a professional writer by any stretch of imagination. This is a hobby (albeit an obsessive one) that I am constantly working to improve my abilities in. I started writing fanfic because I figured Ao3 is a pretty safe (??) place to do this, since people post works of fiction with wide ranging degrees of skill in an immense marketplace of readers. But I have zero formal training in fiction writing. I grudgingly took my two mandatory English classes in college and then fucked off to do other things I enjoyed more. So that means that I’ve had to learn fiction writing through trial and error in real time. BW is the second work of fiction I’ve written in my adult life (and I am not particularly young, at the moment). And so part of writing this has been learning about outlining and plotting and character development and yes, endings. Not learning to write the best “gotcha” ending but the best ending for the story that’s been written.

Upon deep reflection, I think my greatest fault here was one of skill, not a deficit in character as a human being. When I started planning this story in 2016, I did not have a well-evolved ability to develop my characters to the level that would later be required, nor to predict and plan for every twist of the plot based on the psychological, historical, and behavioral composition of these characters. My first fic, which was also my first novel-length work of fiction ever, went quite smoothly and almost entirely as originally planned, perhaps because it was canon-compliant/adjacent versus being a free-standing AU with no rules or bounds.

So, on one hand, I really am sorry for just not having the necessary skills at the time to wrangle a story of this magnitude from the start (not that I had any sense at all that it would grow to this magnitude). But also... this is just part of the process of learning how to write. In addition, I was simultaneously learning how to navigate the sometimes treacherous culture of fandom, which I was not expecting to be the challenge that it has been. Thus, I didn’t have the foresight to be protective of the possibility that my originally intended ending could change, resulting in assurances to readers in a good faith effort to assuage anxiety about the ultimate course of the story. (It’s also a notable failure of imagination on my part to not potentially envision an ending that breaks from a traditional Stucky “End of the Line” mould.)

On a similar note, when I say that I love and care about my readers, this is not lip service. It is sincerity. I have engaged in this entire endeavor with honest intentions every step of the way. I’m not a devious mastermind who orchestrates the emotional disruption of my readers for fun, particularly not through acts of deceit. I think I’m capable of creating emotionally powerful work without resorting to trickery.

But I also approach my characters with the same sincerity and intent to do right by them, using a steadfast dedication to realism as my guide. This lead to a frankly horrible realization that the ending I first planned and wanted so badly for them was just not going to be plausible, given who they became and how this relationship evolved. If you’re not a writer, especially not a writer of the extreme long form WIP, maybe it’s difficult to appreciate how characters can take on a life of their own in their psychological construction and development, but this has been exactly my experience. That’s why, for a very long time, I had no idea that this particular ending would be where the story would ultimately go, despite my most sincere efforts at planning with the capabilities I had in each moment.

My compromise for these archival comments mentioning a traditional Stucky happy ending has been to add a note at the beginning warnings of BW to not invest too strongly in plot-related comments, since going back through 3,200+ comments (plus blog posts) and editing them is not only impossible (I actually cannot edit some of my old Ao3 comments, for some reason) but would also require erasing reader comments and entire conversations with people. This doesn’t feel right to me. And I’m not going to add spoiler ending tags. I personally won’t read a fic if the ending is tagged, because I don’t want to be spoiled, and I want to preserve this for other readers in the future.

I am opting to trust from here forward that my comprehensive first chapter warnings about intense realism in all respects (including relational) will be broad enough to cover the potential for this ending, which is also amply foreshadowed as a possibility within the text itself. If future readers specifically want a HEA in their stories, I trust them to seek out the countless fics like this within the “HEA” or “___ with a happy ending” tags on Ao3.

EDIT: I’ve added the tag “Bittersweet ending,” in addition to creating some more expectation-adjusting language to my chapter one warnings about the story. I think this is a decent compromise to spoiling the ending specifically with something like a “breakup” tag.

So for those of you I hurt by not having a greater grasp of writing craft, I truly am sorry. My intention was never for one moment to be deceptive. I have taken these lessons to heart in the planning of my next story, which has almost every single scene already plotted until the very end. In fact, I’ve written backwards from the ending to ensure a smoother course. I have also done a tremendous amount of work on character development at the outset in an effort not have my characters run away from me and drag the story with them in unplanned ways.

Unfortunately, I can’t change what has already happened; I can only do my best to ensure that it doesn’t happen again. To those of you who have forgiven my immaturity as a writer and accepted where this living, breathing WIP ultimately ended up, I’m extremely grateful for your flexibility.

#baghdad waltz #writing craft #happy endings

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dothwrites · 5 years ago

Note

i love your writing! i would love to see you write a Dean/Cas "getting together" fic with maybe... #15 *Don’t tempt me* :D :D

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google doth, always taking prompts!

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It’s been four days since the moving van appeared on the street like a mirage, and Dean has yet to see the poor sap who bought 401 Kripke Drive.

The house is a damn eyesore and it’s been that way for years. Dean’s complained about it to the homeowner’s association, along with several others, but he never got any answer other than a vague The owner appreciates your concern and something will be done about the property soon. Meanwhile, the shutters were rotting and the grass in front of the property was tall enough to play a game of Jumangi in. Dean’s seen a few intrepid raccoons slithering around the property and he’d be willing to bet that there are snakes in that tall grass. Snakes. He shudders as he finishes the touches on his own (pristine) lawn.

Not that he’s become a Stepford Smiler whose only concern is his lawn, but...Look, it’s good to have a nice lawn. It gives the right impression, plus it boosts property values. And what’s the point in having a house if you’re not getting equity out of it?

Which is why Dean is so excited that finally someone’s bought the dilapidated two story at the end of the street. Finally, he can stop wincing whenever he invites Sam and Jess over. He waits, in eager anticipation, to catch sight of the person who Dean’s come to think of as his personal savior. Failing that, he waits to see the taming of the lawn or the painting and re-siding of the house or...anything.

He waits. And he waits.

After a week with no progress, he’s tired of waiting. He quickly whips up a non-offensive lemon cake (no pie; pie is for people who mow their lawns and don’t ruin his property values) and treks down the street to greet the new neighbor.

“What do you have there?” his neighbor, Jody shouts. She’s being a good neighbor and planting her yearly marigolds in her front (landscaped) lawn. “You going to see the new guy?”

“Yeah. Why, have you seen him?” This is good. Up until just a few minutes ago, Dean didn’t know that it was even a guy who had moved in.

Jody smiles. Everything about her screams I know something you don’t know. What’s worse is, from experience, Dean knows that she’s not going to share. “Sure have,” is all that she says. She smiles a Cheshire cat grin at him.

“Yeah, thanks for nothing,” Dean mutters as he heads over to 401.

The walk towards the front door is a perilous prospect. The sidewalk is pitted with holes and loose gravel decorates the surface. Grass and weeds tenaciously rip at the concrete, making the surface uneven. Dean has to watch his step in order to avoid tripping, which is probably a gift in the long run. It keeps him from noticing how the rotted shutters dangle from the windows, held on by a single, dedicated screw, or how the ugly grey paint is peeling away from the house, like it can’t bear to be there a second longer. The front steps creak alarmingly under his weight and Dean quickly makes his way up them and across the front porch. He tries to keep light on his feet, not wanting to crash through.

No doorbell. There’s just an ominous, lion’s head door knocker. Dean takes it in hand and lets it fall several times. The sound echoes.

After a few minutes, Dean’s ready to give up. It’s possible that the mysterious neighbor isn’t here. There’s no car in the driveway. Maybe he came all this way for nothing.

The door (wood chipped in several places, paint coming off of it in long, jagged stripes) creaks open.

Wow, that’s some pretty strong hash, is Dean’s first thought followed by Oh shit, because those are some seriously blue eyes looking back at him.

Then Dean gets a look at the whole package and Oh shit starts to war with Of fucking course. Blue Eyes’ owner is just as unkempt as his house, in a loose linen shirt that hangs off of his frame just enough to tease at the existence of rock hard muscles without ever revealing any. His pants look similarly like they’re a size too big, clinging to his hips by nothing more than sheer willpower. Dark hair hangs loose over the man’s forehead and the whites surrounding those arresting blues have a fine spiderweb of red running through them. Dark stubble scruffs up a jawline that, given the right circumstances, looks sharp enough to cut glass. Everything about the man is rumpled, like he went one too many times through the wash and no one bothered to hang him up to dry afterward before shoving him in a forgotten drawer.

“Can I help you?” The voice that rasps from the body takes Dean aback--It’s deep, hoarse, like he...Well, maybe like he smokes a fuckton of weed every day.

“Dean. Hi. I’m Dean. I’m your neighbor. I live down the lane at 416? I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.” The cake is cumbersome in Dean’s arms. Having seen the derelict who bought this house, he’s not sure whether he wants to take himself and his cake screaming back to his house or to drop to his knees right here on the man’s front porch. Welcome to the neighborhood indeed.

The man blinks, like he’s taking the time to parse every word for hidden meaning. It could just be that’s stoned out of his mind, but Dean doesn’t think so. Behind the haze of the weed, there’s a sharpness in his eyes that Dean doesn’t often see. The man taps his chin, his eyes flicking up and down Dean’s body. Dean doesn’t think that he’s imagining it when they linger on his lips. “I see. Hello Dean.”

Something warm and pleased curls in Dean’s belly at hearing his name spoken by that voice. He does his best to push it aside, concentrating on the reason why he came. (Weeds, jungle lawn, peeling paint, wonder how he tastes, wonder how he sounds) “Yeah, anyway, friendly advice? I just wanted to let you know that our Homeowner’s Association are a bunch of hardasses (lies), and they’re going to get on you for the way that your lawn looks (more lies). If you want, I could pop over one Saturday morning and help you take care of it (where the hell is this generosity coming from?).”

The man looks at his lawn and then back at Dean. A vague sort of smile creeps across his face. If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d think that he was being laughed at. “Well, I thank you for the offer, but I have no interest in mowing my lawn. Uninhibited growth encourages local bee populations, as do many of what you would call weeds. So thanks, but no thanks.”

The rejection is delivered so pleasantly that it takes Dean a while to realize that he’s been shot down. When he finally makes that connection, he sputters. “You can’t...” He points one finger at Blue Eyes (asshole didn’t even tell him his name, and now Dean is forced to use one of his best physical attributes to describe him?) and spits, “You need to mow your damn lawn!”

On that rejoinder, he stalks down the stairs, jumping when one creaks underneath his weight. Asshole (Dean refuses to think of him with any sort of admiration) calls after him, “Don’t I get my cake?”

Dean whirls around, narrowly avoiding falling flat on his ass. “Cake is for people who aren’t dicks!” he shouts, before he stalks towards home, through grass so thick that it clings to his ankles.

---

The lawn at 401 Kripke Drive remains uncut. The house remains unpainted. The shutters continue on their slow journey towards the earth. Asshole (Castiel, Dean discovers, through the truly formidable stalking talents of one Becky Rosen) continues to allow his property to languish in a state of neglect, as he...Dean’s not sure what he does exactly. Keeps to himself and doesn’t spend a second thinking about the rest of these poor bastards who have to live with the sight of his ungodly property.

When the grass becomes a height that Dean would estimate as ‘mid-calf’, he acts.

Saturday morning, he putters down the street with his mower and pretends like he doesn’t see several curtains flicking back to watch him. Let them stare. Cowards. He, Dean Winchester, is personally going to save the property values and curb appeal of Kripke Drive.

His mower isn’t quiet, nor does Dean make any attempt to lessen his noise, so it’s really remarkable that it takes Cas a good forty-five minutes to stumble out of his house. By that point, Dean’s already finished up with the front and side yards and is happily working his way through the back yard.

“What...What the hell?”

Dean glances over to see the source of the complaints. When he does, his step stutters and falters. It’s almost enough to knock him off of his stride, which is impressive, seeing that he was fairly single-minded in his mission.

Castiel is clad in nothing more than boxers and a threadbare robe, which flutters open whenever he moves, revealing miles of tanned skin. His hair sticks up at odd angles and his stubble could best be described as aggressive. His eyes look clear, but they also look angry.

Swallowing hard, Dean settles for giving Castiel a cheeky wave, as he turns around to make another pass of his lawn.

This does not have the desired effect (Castiel thanks Dean for performing a necessary function of homeownership and goes inside to make a heaping breakfast, which they will consume together while discussing their plans for wedded bliss). Instead Castiel marches across the lawn in his bare feet and stands in front of Dean. Dean, not so focused on yard work that he can’t appreciate when he’s about to take off a man’s toe, releases the kill switch on the mower.

Castiel takes the opportunity to advance on Dean (it is not hot the way that he does that, or the way that he pushes himself up on the balls of his feet to erase the scant inch or so difference in their height, not hot at all). His finger pokes into Dean’s chest. This close, Dean can smell him. He still smells like weed, but instead of being eye-wateringly overpowering, it’s just a comfortable, earthy scent, mixed with something sweeter and brighter--his shampoo maybe?

“I said, what the hell are you doing?”

Dean looks at the lawn and then back at Castiel. He makes a valiant effort not to look at Castiel’s chest, specifically where the robe has opened to reveal the edges of one, dusky nipple. He fails, but he thinks that he should be commended for making the effort to begin with.

“I’m doing you a favor,” Dean says, wincing when Castiel digs his finger into his chest further. He was right--there are a lot of muscles in that frame.

Castiel goes still with rage. “A favor?” he finally asks, voice soft and dangerous. “I specifically said that I wasn’t interested in having my lawn mowed. The bee populations--”

“Oh what the hell Cas,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. “Look, if you care that much, we can go to Home Depot later this afternoon and pick out some bee friendly flowers. Hell, I’ll even help you plant them.”

Castiel doesn’t say anything to this, though his eyebrow does quirk up in what appears to be interest. Dean takes this as his opportunity. “If you want, I can even help you build a place where you could keep a hive. If you want.” (He’s never built an apiary in his goddamn life, but surely there are videos on youtube that tell you how to do that?)

“You mowed my lawn,” Castiel says, but he doesn’t sound angry about it. More...considering? He tilts his head to the side. “Were you planning on painting the house as well?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Dean answers. The shudder that shakes through his body is only halfway exaggerated. “It’s a whole fucking disaster Cas.”

Castiel hums. This time, when his eyes land on Dean’s lips, he lets them linger.

Dean doesn’t do anything to stop him.

(After Dean finishes mowing the lawn, Castiel greets him with a mug of coffee. He’s still dressed in his robe. Dean brings the coffee mug inside. It takes him a while to find his way out of the house. They don’t make it to Home Depot that day, but they do manage to make it to a dinner the next morning for breakfast. Dean does eventually help Castiel plant his flowers, though zoning regulations prohibit apiaries.

Painting the house takes a little longer because Castiel persists in looking so damn good in a pair of jeans that Dean gets distracted. A lot. After blood, sweat, and other bodily fluids are shed, the house gets painted, but by then, it’s time to fix the front steps. After that, the whole damn porch needs to be replaced. Dean keeps on finding chores to do around the house, so many in fact, that he eventually just moves in.

Was this your plan all along? he asks, lying on the floor with Cas as he stares up at the (newly finished) ceiling.

Cas lets a plume of smoke escape from his nose and smiles. Yes, it was always my plan to seduce you with unsolicited yard work. I always knew that a madman would come mow my lawn and I just wanted it to be you.

Don’t fucking tempt me, Dean says, and then there’s not a lot of talking for quite some time.)

#destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #dean winchester #castiel #neighbors!au #enemies to lovers #kinda #dothwrites

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jjpmoans · 5 years ago

Text

Empty Space | kyg

w.c : 9k+ words

warnings : angsts. lots and lots of angsts. cheating. slow build up.

a/n : Happy 1k followers to me! I’d like to thank everyone for following me, staying for my content and my writings. I need to improve more and I am sorry that I’ve not been active. I am still overwhelmed by the 1k followers and it is now at 1.2k followers (OMG 1.2K WHAT DO YOU GUYS FOLLOW ME FOR). Also since I wasn’t active, I figured a drabble game will have less participation from my audience so I decided to personally dm the 1000th follower and asked them what kind of fic and who does they want to be the main lead. Sooooooo, my 1000th follower @luvgyeom requested for a Yugyeom angst, then Yugyeom angst it is! It is quite long (this is my first time writing this long lmao). Please enjoy all the heartbreak. Thankyou for following me again! xoxo

Heavy steps resonate through the sidewalk, together with everyone else. Everyone is either walking home from work, probably catching up with friends or going for a movie. What they are going to do is absolutely not something Yugyeom actually cares about. However, with the things running through his head now, he’d rather wonder about a stranger’s plan rather than sort things out.

It has been sunny for a while now. The heat is bearable; at least to Yugyeom. Or probably he has lost the ability to feel because he doesn’t think he can function really well right now. He is getting nearer to the familiar street and for the n-th time of the week, he sucks in a breath to gain some strength.

He passes the first grocery and the roasted chestnut smell from the stall hits him immediately, staggering his step. It rings in his head how you would beg him to stop for some chestnut when he was struggling to hold your groceries. Even if he wanted to say no, the pout on your face will melt him completely. He’d give in, watching you skip steps joyfully towards the stall. Living close to the area has made you a regular, the old grandma will give you extra chestnuts because she thought you’re pretty.

Yugyeom thinks you are, too.

“Oh! You’re here!” like on cue, the said old woman calls him, motioning him to come closer. “I thought you had moved away! You stopped coming for weeks now!”. She quickly gathers some freshly roasted chestnuts because that’s how you like your chestnuts. Fresh.

There are reasons why Yugyeom wanted to say no whenever you stopped for chestnuts. Because he doesn’t eat them. He can’t stand the taste. Until you came. You came and suddenly roasted chestnuts became his favourite. No, actually, you’re his favourite.

He loves you. You love chestnuts. He loves chestnuts.

Yugyeom sighs, now he is adding the smell of chestnut to his ‘dislike’ list. Roasted chestnut now makes him dizzy, clouded by the memory of you. He doesn’t even want to meet someone that reminds him of you, which is why he has avoided the route several times.

However, humans have weaknesses and at times Yugyeom feels like malfunctioning without enough dosage of you. Is this what addiction tastes like? It was pure torture, haunted by countless memories which tastes bitter in his mouth but sweet in his mind. It’s like a combination of life, where Yugyeom thought you’re the one he’d spend his life with forever but it turns out you weren’t meant to be his. He was angry at you, he was trying to deny the fact that you too, have weaknesses. But at times like this, he misses you and he just wants you in his arms.

“Yugyeom?” the old grandma calls. He snaps out of his own thoughts, pulling out his wallet to pay. The grandma holds his hand instead, warmness spreads through the touch. She smiles, shaking her head. “Bring this to her. Fights are common, sweetheart. That’s how love works. But you fight for it, you don’t run away. That’s how you save your relationship.”

If it is that simple, he would have ran to your arms long ago. Where it was just a few days; probably a few hours. But it has been far too late, he has broken countless rules made when he dated you. Nonetheless, on days where he found himself in a stranger’s arms, he knew he won’t find the same love that you’ve provided him with.

Because you’re perfect.

You’re perfect and he took you for granted. He knew you were loyal so he went around flirting, cheating behind you. He knew you love him; you will never leave him. He knew sooner or later you’ll find out about him but he didn’t care less. He knew you love him too much to break up with him.

But he never knew what strength can do to a woman.

“Don’t you think it’s time to stop pretending?” your voice was low, Yugyeom didn’t think he had ever heard your tone as cold as that. But he played dumb, asking you what’s wrong. “Why do you think I won’t find you sleeping around behind my back?”

Yugyeom met you when he was still someone who sleeps around. He was in a group of friends who don’t do relationships and only commit one when they’re ready to hold responsibilities. He had warned you before that he is, and will be someone who cheats because he simply can’t leave his old habit. But you stayed nonetheless, trying to get him out of his lifestyle.

And it worked. It worked out and it freaked Yugyeom out when he felt that he started changing for you. He never lingered too long whenever he was out with his friend because he was ready to go home to you. He never realised that until Jinyoung pointed it out. He never drank too much after meeting you, even though his alcohol tolerance is high because he knew you don’t like him reek of alcohol when he came home.

He learnt about you and had your personal preference memorized at the back of his hand. He knew all your likes and dislikes that it scared him when he felt the change. It threw him off the momentum and like a gear, he reversed his life to where before he met you. He never thought he’d fall in love with you and he never thought he’d change for you.

He was mad and he was scared.

The day he gave up messing around was the day you broke up with him. Yugyeom decided that the lifestyle doesn’t suit him anymore; that he loves you too much to sleep with other people. He can’t see other women without thinking about you but as life always works, you sniff things out way before he can explain.

When Yugyeom walked out of the shared apartment, he told himself he won’t regret leaving. He knew he wasn’t worth your love, your loyalty and your dedication. He knew, you can end up with someone better, someone who cherishes your love, someone who isn’t him.

“Are you good?” Youngjae nudges him with a can of beer, Yugyeom smiles in return. Never would he have thought that he would hate drinking. He refuses every drink that came his way and everyone started freaking out when they found out that you broke up with him.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Bam, was the first to curse, fist almost meeting his face. Bam, his own best friend. He was utterly disgusted, refusing to listen to Yugyeom’s explanation. “It’s good she left you. You’re fucking ungrateful, cheating on someone as angelic and as patient as her. I am embarrassed to call you my own friend.”

“Yeah, I’m good.” he replies, eyes lingering on his group of friends talking to each other, being ignorant to how the world revolves. Jinyoung told him that love works in a different way and now he wants to scoff, the elder must be proud if he knows that Yugyeom indeed, acknowledge his words now. “Just feeling empty.”

Yugyeom knows, you’re the only person that fits well in his heart. He knows that you’re the missing piece, the one that is supposed to solve the puzzle. He knows it but he can’t tell them, his friends. They won’t understand and Yugyeom doesn’t have the energy to fight again, hearing things he will just get blamed.

Nights are the most difficult of all for Yugyeom. Climbing on his bed is another story, he loathes himself whenever he starts thinking when you were once in his arms. He would snuggle you to sleep, your head on his chest while you hugged him.

Never had he thought break ups would be this torturous. Never had he thought he would be this affected; going through this phase is absolutely the worst. Never had he, Kim Yugyeom, felt this weak for a woman.

Staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, Yugyeom finds himself drawing the digit 8 with his eyes when his phone buzzes on the side table, bringing him to reality. Three in the morning, probably Jaebeom is texting him to pick them all up since he is the only sober one. So he picks the phone up, opening them to read the texts.

‘Hey.. I miss you. Can we talk?’ had Yugyeom in a panic attack, right after that an incoming call buzzes, ringing for five seconds before he picks it up.

Silence is probably the worst torture Yugyeom could feel now. It is devastating, knowing you’re on the other side, probably crying because of his stupid ass.

“Yugyeom..” your voice falters, awakens the guilt in him. “Oh god I’m so sorry. I can’t- I miss you. I’m sorry.”

Yugyeom smiles, hushing you to calm down.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” Yugyeom replies. “I miss you too.”

“I know I don’t have that kind of right to tell you that.”

“But I really really miss you.”

Yugyeom knows, this will probably be the last conversation before you fully move on, leaving him behind. But he also hopes, you will at least, feel his love before totally erasing him out of your life.

Because for once, he needs you to know that only you can fill these empty spaces.

In Yugyeom’s life, he has never felt as empty as he is now. Mainly he was happy, ‘was’ is the keyword because right now, he feels nothing. Your departure brought along his entire emotion since you’re the person who’s in charge of it. You are the person whom he has dedicated all his life for. You’re the reason why he breathes everyday, looking forward to the rest of his day. Waking up to you is one of the views that sparks the light in his heart.

Cheating on you was his fault.

It was and will forever be his fault. Your departure serves as a reminder to him that he is not worthy of your love and will never be worthy of it. When you were right there by his side, he frequently hesitated to show his love towards you. People say it’s because he’s still young but he knows, he was just too egoistic to show his emotion. He never showed you off in public because he was too proud to have someone loyal by his side. He knew you were grateful enough for his affection, those where he showed them to you behind the closed doors.

However he knows, you deserve more than just being a trophy girlfriend. You are brilliant, excellent and everything he should have been bragging about. But he didn’t do it. He didn’t brag about you and he has lost that chance entirely.

From the moment he saw you smiling with your friend in a dimly lit club, his heart clenched and that’s when he realised, he has lost you.

The night where both of you were vulnerable, Yugyeom still remembers every bit of it. You were crying, sobbing in pain as you vent your frustration on him. He could make out the figure of you clutching your chest, tears streaming down your pink cheeks, dropping down to your wet pillow. The image alone hurts him to the core.

“I’m so sorry.” he says into the receiver. Your heart drops at his apology. A part of you wants him to not apologise, that it makes you more vulnerable and will probably run into his arms again. “I’m sorry for cheating behind you. I have no explanation and I deserve you breaking up with me.”

You want to stop him from talking but all you can do is cry, writhing in silent pain. You know Yugyeom loves you. Or so you thought. Years of your relationship has tricked you into a specific mantra that you have been hypnotised with, the assurance that he loves you. Till that day you keep wanting to believe that you are his everything, the only girl he let into his life and hopefully the last.

Leaving Yugyeom was…painful. It has ripped off your lung, knowing the fact the man you’ve been blindly in love with, was sleeping around behind you. Epiphany hit and the excruciating pain left you speechless. The mantra that kept you together broke, shattering with your future that you have pictured with him. The trust was no longer there, you refused to trust him anymore. For what, really? To make you even more miserable? Knowing that you trusted him too much for him to play your heart like some insignificant thing in his life?

So you leave. You love him and you wanted to hear some explanation of how he messed things up. But you needed to leave. You don’t want him to take your love for granted. You wanted to give him a chance but right now, your heart is in pain. You can’t share your man, you just can’t. You can’t accept him for cheating because never in your life, you would accept a cheater.

Love has made you blind and you want to avoid becoming one.

“Maybe it’s not now,” he said. “I’ll court you again in the future. I’ll gain your trust and I’ll make sure I earned it right.”

“I’ll make myself deserve your love.”

Two years and Yugyeom feels like his life is catching up again. He moved on from the break-up almost a year later, where he figured that life is teaching him how to appreciate people. He changed from a young boy to a mature man, finding a permanent job and wearing proper attire. Funny how he almost sees Jinyoung in him. His friends think the same, he starts to look more proper, more presentable. He is no longer the Yugyeom from two years ago. He left everything in the past to be himself now. He wanted a change, a solid reason to become your man again.

Fate, of course, works differently on both of you. While Yugyeom soars up high, you have become more miserable than you can be. Days and nights are a blur to you, save for those times when you’re at work. Two years made you a zombie, clouded by all ‘what ifs’ and ‘whys’. What if you hadn’t left? What if you stayed? What if you give him a chance?

You questioned your every move, of why you never asked him the reason he cheated and of why you chose to run away instead of facing the problem head on.

There is only one reason why.

It’s painful to swallow but you still love him.

A combination of blind and fools, that is what you are. You know this is the hardest pill to swallow, the hardest confession you have yet to make to your friends. Whenever they asked you if you’re interested to start dating again, you pushed them away by saying you’re busy with work. You have seen their side eyes and snickers, you know they knew about the truth.

Kim Yugyeom will always and forever be the only man you’ll set your eyes on.

The first time in two years, your eyes found his. Amidst the crowd, you found him, ash grey and heavy lids. You knew it from the first glance, the way your eyes immediately attracted to that shape of his.You always love those eyes, cheeky and full of enthusiasm.

However that day, you found confident eyes, a little bit tired but still a strong gaze. You know he met yours too because the next second you find his eyes dilated, diverting the contact. A sharp tug in your heart brought you to reality, shaking you from your mindless dream.

Why?

Doesn’t he miss you? Doesn’t he suffer the same way as you did? Has he moved on? Has he?

You’re enraged by the thought, a string of curses left your mouth while you walk home in tears. However as you hit the shower, you felt yourself relaxing under the warm rain. Then you realise that you’re relieved to see him. You’re relieved to know he’s alive and healthy without you. It’s a lie if you didn’t feel hurt. A part of you wanted to see him miserable as you are but at the same time you were thankful that he managed to live without you. Between the two of you, you’re the mature one while Yugyeom couldn’t even cook instant noodles with the stove. He is more to hot water instant noodles. So when you find him breathing and alive, you have a tiny jealousy in your heart knowing he is better off without you. You guess this is better, parting ways and not existing in each other’s life.

Unknowingly, you find yourself walking through the same route every other day of the week, looking forward to chances that you could probably meet him, even just a quick glance. On your third day, you realise that this is the old route you used to go shopping with him, the one where you always buy your roasted chestnut.

You went home crying, sobbing into the pillow as it swallowed your tears away.

The next day, you still walk on the same route, stronger than before.

Days become weeks.

Weeks become months.

You never stop, holding to that thin rope of hope to meet him again. Each day you walk through the same route at the same time you met him months ago, wishing that he will be there, probably just standing there and quirk a smile.

Just knowing that he acknowledges you is already fine. You just need that.

Yugyeom knows you’re there.

He knows it.

He met your chestnut, tired eyes. You looked like – dare he say – miserable. His stomach churned at the possibilities that you may probably haven’t moved on from him, still trapped in the same heartbreak he caused you two years ago. He saw you first, when you were dragging your feet against the bricked floor not giving any attention to your front. It felt like his eyes were glued to you, your beauty kept him stunned; no really, he just missed you. He felt his heart did a little flip when you swatted your hair away from your face, a gesture whenever you were irritated but still keeping that long hair because Yugyeom loves it. He kept watching you walk until you spotted your favourite roasted chestnut stall, the same old stall. Then your eyes suddenly caught his, making him flustered, flying away from your figure.

For the last two years, Yugyeom kept finding himself in a position where he wanted to have you all to himself, selfishly thinking to end his own suffering. He even went to the extent of calculating a plan to win you over, to kneel and to beg for you.

“You think she’ll take you back?” Yugyeom hated it when Jinyoung questioned his every move. He hated that Jinyoung always sounded right, always taking on your side instead of his. “Why do you think she left you in the first place?”

“Stop trying to bring me down.” he hated when Jinyoung was right.

“You don’t understand!” Jinyoung’s voice thundered, breaking through the silent apartment. “You don’t fucking understand why!”

Jinyoung has no reason to be mad to start with. However Yugyeom’s attempts at winning you over again made him seethed in anger, trying to set the poor boy straight.

“You don’t understand that she didn’t leave because she hated you. She was hurt. You fucking hurt her. You cheated on her and yet you wanted her to accept you back?” Yugyeom ran his eyes from Jinyoung’s, only to land on Bambam’s. That man was no longer his friend the day he revealed how you left him.

“Let’s put it this way, Gyeom-ah.” Apparently Youngjae is the calmer one hence he was with the right mind to put some good words inside Yugyeom’s brain. The other two were still angry, refusing to talk without a string of curse words. “You love one girl. You are crazy about her, you are willing to sacrifice everything for her.”

“I do love her-”

“Then one day, you came home to know that she’s been cheating behind your back. She had another man behind you, god knows how many men she has been sleeping with.”

“I didn’t sleep with them-”

Jinyoung beat him to it, punctuating each word. “Does she know?”

“Doesn’t it hurt you when the one that holds your trusts, betrays you?” Youngjae sat in front of him, patting his shoulder. “Doesn’t it hurt you?”

From that day he vowed to be better, to stop playing around and to start all over again.

“How could I make her love me again, hyung?” was one of frequent questions that he’s thrown to his friends. “How could I make her fall for me all over again?”

Mark was definitely the most sane of all, scooting closer to calm the broken boy. “Be a man, Yugyeom. Fix yourself. Fix the old you. Man up and explain yourself. Don’t hope for her to accept you back. Explain yourself and let the time decide.”

That was the reason he changed. He has long given up trying to make you fall into his arms again, however he wanted you to know what happened. You deserve an explanation. You deserve to know what happened and what should have happened. Each day the guilt weighed him to no end. At times he felt suffocated, being chased by the old memories, fragments of that day haunted him over and over again.

Yugyeom had never wanted to hug someone so much after he made eye contact with you that day.

He went home to Bambam, crying over the sadness bottling up his lungs. His fear came to reality, seeing you completely lost in the sea of people. He has totally broken you into pieces and he shall be the one putting you up again.

“Why are you avoiding her?” Jaebeom asks, watching Yugyeom lost in his own thought, his eyes staring into space. “What harm would you bring if you meet her?”

It has been known to his group of friends that Yugyeom met you again at the crosswalk and you are waiting for him every day. You hadn’t realised but his friends were there too, each day when you peered to see his shadow at the same spot like last time. His friends saw you whipped your head left and right, then when you can’t see him, your shoulder would slump and you would walk home like how you usually do.

Sad, broken, helpless.

“Go fix her, Gyeom-ah.” Jackson advises. “Things are getting worse for her. You need to be responsible for this. Don’t run from the problem. Face it. You’re a man.”

Yugyeom looks away from the mindless stare, focusing his vision on his hyungs. “What if I fuck up again? What if I made her fall for me and I fuck up again?”

“I never told you to make her fall again.” Jaebeom bent closer, patting the younger man on his head. “Fix her. Then let her decide. Don’t take advantage of her. Fix her. She’s broken. Help her realise that her life isn’t worth being pathetic for you.”

“Ouch.” Jaebeom smiles, rubbing circles on Yugyeom’s shoulder. “I’m proud of how far you have come. You have us but she has no one, Gyeom-ah. Help her fix herself as strong as you are. Then let her decide if you are worth accepting again.”

“Can I have it like usual?” the old grandma smiles, her hand is busy packing you a bag of roasted chestnut and honey coated chestnut. Your inside jumps at the delicious smell of your food, giddy to go home and devour them. Months ago you passed the route for Yugyeom. Today you passed the route for your old chestnut stall.

Securing the package, the old grandma proceeds to hand you the food with the change. While you busy yourself keeping the change, she clears her throat. “You look happy today.”

The statement makes you exclaim a small oh! before giving her a curious look.

Instead of replying, she laughs and starts cleaning her station. “It has been quite long since you stopped buying my chestnuts.”

“I guess the young man and you have parted ways?” she asks.

The question punches your gut, causing your bottle of emotion to shake and start making a mess inside you. It has been known to your circle about your break-up but to a stranger like the old grandma? Of course this hits you hard, knowing that a stranger managed to sniff your relationship like that.

She looks up when you don’t respond, offering a sweet apologetic smile. “I’m sorry if I offended you sweetheart. I saw you happy today, so I thought you’d move on from the young man.”

You didn’t actually blame her, she used to be fond of Yugyeom. Every time you stopped to buy, she would squeal at how nice and handsome Yugyeom is, much to Yugyeom’s liking. You guess that is a common thing to ask, since it has been two years and now you came alone.

“I guess we are not meant together, grandma.” you force a reply out of you, knowing that it probably hurt the old woman if you stayed silent. “We parted ways long ago.”

She hums, watching you dearly. “Do you love him, sweetheart?”

A mere question bursts a thousand emotions, that’s how your tears broke. You nod furiously, unable to contain the sadness anymore. You feel like a useless fool, you have no idea how Yugyeom has so much control in your life that once he’s out of your sight you’ve become this fragile.

She pulls you into her arms, giving you a comforting, motherly-hug. You don’t know if it helps because you feel so small in her arms and you cry your heart out, tired of bottling everything in. You wanted someone to talk to, but your friends won’t understand. They will continue to call you a weak person, someone who still loves a cheater like Yugyeom. You wanted to tell them that you are indeed a fool but you need them to stand back up again.

“Stop crying sweetheart.” she says softly. “I can see you love him so much. Why don’t you fight for your relationship?”

To that you cry even harder, countless ‘what ifs’ hits you again full force. Are you the one to be blamed in this situation? Are you the one who stopped fighting for your relationship? Why would you hold him back if he went around cheating while having you by his side? You are a human too, you can’t share what is yours.

“I don’t know the problem between you two, sweetheart. But what holds you from moving on is because you still have regrets.” she strokes your hair, calming you down. “Talk to him. Vent out your frustration. Let him know that you are not okay with this.”

She wipes away your tears-stained face, giving you an encouraging smile. “Then you can be at ease. You will feel better. You will, sweetheart.”

Words can’t describe how nervous you are, sitting in front of Yugyeom after two years. He looks equally nervous, a different kind of nervous. He looks like he’s afraid that you might break down - which you probably would - and he doesn’t know what to do. So after gulping your saliva for the nth time, you clear your throat, attempting to sort everything out.

If you guys are going to stay silent like this then this meeting won’t ease your mind.

“I’m sorry.” left you gaping, heart drumming at an intense rate. You watch Yugyeom’s Adam Apple bobs, arranging his words. “I am sorry for everything I did to you.”

You can’t say no, because indeed, he was the one to blame. “It wasn’t my intention.” he darts his panic eyes to you, licking his lips to continue, “to cheat. It was never an intention to cheat.”

You inwardly scoff, unbelievably irritated by his explanation. It wasn’t intentional? So like- what, he lost control of himself and suddenly made out with some random woman? It makes no sense and because it doesn’t; your irritation becomes more visible.

“What? You mean ‘oh I lost control of my limbs and suddenly a woman was riding me’? Disgusting.” you spat out words without thinking, your heart aches more than you can ever give him your empathy. You are disgusted with him.

As bad as your words come out, he stays collected; even more surprising to you. He shakes his head, leaning closer to the table that separates both of you. “No, I don’t mean it that way.”

“I never intended to cheat. Not because I got bored of you nor because I feel like cheating. I didn’t-” he doesn’t miss how your eyes narrow at his explanation, still feeling disgusted as he refused to come clean. “I didn’t sleep with anyone.”

‘Unbelievable-”

“Think what you want to, but I never slept with anyone when and after we dated. I admit I went clubbing and made out with some women,” he grimaces as he remembers the vague image in his head, “But I never bed them.”

“Never bed them?”

“I can’t. You are everywhere and I felt like I was committing a huge sin.”

“Technically, you were.” you can’t help but blurt it out.

“Yes. The worst sin I had ever committed.”

You feel your throat dries, knowing this is the time for you to ask him. This is the time for you to find out the truth. This is where your future lies. His answer will determine how your misery ends. This is where your curiosity will be answered and you feel yourself chickening out from this conversation. What if he breaks your heart again, reminding you how dumb you were, breaking things between you two without listening to him first?

However there is no way you’re running out of this restaurant. You’re here and you need to admit that no matter how dumb you were, you and him were over. A broken glass can’t be put back again so you decide to screw it. Timidly, you hang your head low and manage to let out a small but clear word. “Then..why?”

In return you heard Yugyeom scoffing, laughing to himself and stopped. That’s it. He’s about to make fun of you, saying how you are so clouded with your own conclusion and emotion, how you are always the one that overthinks, that you’re the reason why you break up.

Amidst your inner banter, you tip your head curiously and instantaneously your heart stops at how his face changes. You can see right through him, his pain and his misery. His face holds so much regret that you can almost feel the pain in his heart.

You can see the real Yugyeom, broken and in pain.

“I was stupid, y/n.” he says.

“I was stupid, I was scared. God I was so so stupid.” he repeats again, one after another. “I was scared because I started changing into someone I don’t know.”

“I dated you for just one year and I changed from a free boy to a committed boy. I was committed to our relationship and it scared me how I changed in a split second because of you.” he pauses to inhale a suffocating breath, painfully stabbing him through his lungs. “I was pathetic. I was so scared seeing how dependent I’ve been to you and I feel like you could control me with just a snap of your finger.”

You fall into silence, shaken by his confession.

However, silence was never Yugyeom’s favourite; yours top everything. He was scared to explain because he knows it will look unreasonable and pathetic in your eyes. He knows it is, judging by how ridiculous you’re looking at him now.

“So..you slept around because you were scared of changing?” the tone of your voice changes, exactly as cold as Yugyeom could remember, just the exact tone from the day things fall apart between you.

His head drops again, voice coming out with hesitation. “It sounds ridiculous, yes it does. But you don’t understand how scared I was. I was becoming someone under your control. It was weird because I usually have everything under my control. I wasn’t used to being under someone’s spell and it blinded me to the point where I don’t feel as happy as I was when hanging out with my friend just because you weren’t there.”

“Then I thought that’s probably because I hang out with you too much. I’ve become dependent on you, I thought that was totally ridiculous when Bambam told me that’s because I’m in love with you.”

His shoulder jolts when he lets out a forced laugh. “Me? Capable of loving? Love wasn’t in my dictionary back then, y/n. I was messing around and it threw me off guard when Bam mentioned that. Love? What kind of love would I be able to give you? I was a boy, I have nothing but a simple life. I wasn’t ready for commitment but you made me fall deeper for you.”

“So I messed up. Like how Kim Yugyeom would, I messed up.” for the first time since he spoke, he looked you straight in the eyes. “It took me two weeks to realise that ‘shit, I’m in love with y/n’ and another one week to get my shit together, thinking of how I should break it to you.”

You’ve been listening attentively to his explanation, the gears in your head moved rapidly, overlapping one issue with another.

‘So for one year he didn’t love me?’

‘But he did. Just he didn’t realise.’

‘But he needed three weeks to realise when he’s been with me for one year?’

‘He was confused, y/n.’

“What,” you inhale, composing yourself. “happened the day we broke up?”

You found out about him a few days before you broke up. One of your acquaintances kept hinting to you about your relationship. When she got unbearable that you can’t hold it anymore, you confronted her for the issue. To say that you were surprised, you weren’t entirely surprised. You were more disappointed than surprised. You don’t understand why.

“I guess I wasn’t careful. I don’t care for what if someone saw me because like I said, I thought I should take a break from you and back to my life before I met you.”

“Probably she was one of the women I danced with or I kissed-” he grimaces again. “I don’t know. I was ready to come home to you and make up for what I did.”

Silence falls between both of you again, unsure of what to say. It’s too much to absorb; at least to you. You have a lot to ask him but they disappear the moment Yugyeom shows you the whole picture. Now that you heard his explanation, your brain starts working more questions but unrelated to previous questions.

What now? What do you do? You heard his confession, you resolved your frustration. It turns out Yugyeom was a big idiot and it costs your relationship to make him realise that life isn’t all simple.

Your eyes dart to the man before you, hesitating to ask the real question. You know how much he broke you. You weren’t ready to hear that he moved on, but you wanted to know if you were to make a stupid move, you need to know what he feels about you.

“Do you…” you trail off, unsure how to put it. Yugyeom’s attention perks at your halt, watching you slowly shifting into panic mode. “Have you ever once..”

“Love me?” you feel small, you feel rejected. You always feel that when you’re with Yugyeom, you know how insecure you were when it comes to him. His view meant a lot to you and you guess after years, you haven’t changed. You still seek for his validation and that’s when you realise you have very little self-confidence.

Instead of scoffing like how you thought, Yugyeom offers a sweet smile, his eyes however, don’t shine as sweet as his smile. “I do, y/n.”

“I never stopped loving you, if that’s what you were wondering.”

He stops at that, making you wonder what’s wrong. He never stopped loving you. So? No continuation?

He laughs, leaning back to sip his chocolate drink. “I can hear your thoughts, y/n. I know you’re overthinking and you are irritated.”

“I never stopped loving you. But I don’t know if I’m worth your love again.”

“I have done a lot of damage to you, one of which is destroying your future without properly explaining what happened. I saw your shoulder slumped and I never saw that smile again.”

He grins, however it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I think I shall no longer exist in your life, y/n.”

You almost wanted to argue but he stops you with his next sentence. “I don’t want me to influence your life. You’re beautiful, y/n. You’re beautiful and you’re a confident woman once upon a time ago. That’s why I was attracted to you before. However dating me changed you into an insecure woman; I am sorry about that.”

“I don’t want you to consider accepting me again because you love me. No, I don’t want you to do that. I need you to remember that this man has broken you once and probably will break you again in the future. I want you to build yourself again, no not for me but for you. For your own sake. I know you always seek my validation which I enjoyed when we dated but I realised it has degraded your worth.”

Sincerity keeps pouring out of him and you feel your eyes become teary, then the next second you feel them running down your cheeks. “You are worth much more than my validation. You don’t need my validation nor me. You need yourself, you need to love yourself for you to be able to build yourself stronger.”

“Please don’t cry,” Yugyeom’s hand moves to hold yours, only to retreat back to his side. “I love you, y/n. Please remember that. But I can’t let myself stop you from finding yourself back. I don’t want you to be my slave because you love me. You need to build yourself again. I don’t want to be a distraction to you.”

“But I want you back in my life.” you choke on a sob, excruciating pain shoots through you. Yes you’re being dumb because he is right, you need to find yourself. You lost yourself right when you dated Yugyeom so you do need to rebuild yourself. However, losing Yugyeom for the second time, you don’t know if you’re ready for that.

For once he reached over to hold your hand in his, covering your tiny fist with his huge palm. “One day, y/n. If fate wants us to stay together, we’ll stay together. I’ll make myself worthy of your love again.”

“Just not now, sweetheart.” your eyes shut tight, releasing more and more tears. He’s right. He’s right and you hate how right he sounds. “I’ll wait patiently for you. I’ll wait for you to mend yourself, I’ll wait for you to accept me back.”

“But when?” you’re not going to give up. You want assurance, you want to know that Yugyeom will be there when you succeed in finding yourself.

“Soon, sweetheart. When you are ready, when your heart is ready. When fate is ready, I’ll be there to prove my worth.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

Soon, is an indefinite promise. Soon changes from weeks to months, months to years.

You stopped counting days after the sixth month, seeing you gained no difference in yourself, only looking forward to running into Yugyeom’s arms back again. You lied to yourself, saying you’ll find yourself when you’re with him. For months, you lied, desperately holding to that promise Yugyeom did during your last meeting. You assured yourself that you’ll change and he’ll come back sooner than you think.

On one random day, the string inside you snapped and suddenly everything hit you that Yugyeom was saying goodbye to you, he was ready to leave you. You cried for hours, angry and mad at how he played you. He coaxed you into believing that he’ll take you back when you change but deep down he knew that you won’t change. He knew that you will stubbornly lie to yourself because that’s how you did two years back. That’s how you lived after he walked out of your life, lying to yourself since that’s what you know the best.

Eight months and you saw a pattern changed in your lifestyle. You started sleeping early, giving your body enough sleep for the day. You started eating breakfast, something you’ve considered a few times but you always wake up late and rush to work. You started going out for a walk in the evening, tired of being trapped in the same apartment.

Walking alone was so cold, so boring and reminded you of old times. On impulse you detoured to a shelter one day, adopting a dog.

She is a small golden retriever, around 3 months old, active and very clingy. Adopting her helps you relax, focusing every single problem only on her, no other things. She, after weeks living with you, is finally called Chestnut. You laugh at yourself after you named her, so much for the originality.

Living with Chessy is everything you’ve needed. She helps you discipline, soon you fall into a routine that you yourself didn’t realise. Chessy is easy to take care, though quite fussy and picky with people. She doesn’t particularly like strangers and only warming up to people she’s chosen to warm up to, which is now, only three people. You, your mom and your dad. You never take it as a problem since you don’t really associate with other people anyways. Chessy’s behaviour also helps you at times where you want your co-workers out of your sight, she will bark at them immediately to chase them away.

Chessy becomes a part of you, someone who makes you look forward to coming home.

Soon has turned into three years, you changed into a more independent woman, leaving your old self behind. In the span of three years, you resigned, leaving your toxic coworkers and friends to a new workplace. You enjoy yourself, surrounded with a new and positive environment. Your current boss is everything you wanted, keep giving his employees chances to grow and soar high.

You, driven by the new environment, escalated your self esteem pretty quick, making you braver and stronger day by day. Your colleagues help in building your confidence, always there to guide you to be better. In short, you feel your life falling into the right places.

Perhaps this was what Yugyeom said.

Finding yourself is the best thing you’d ever achieve in your life. You never feel so happy than right now, where you feel that you can breathe easily without something weighing you down. Perhaps this was what Yugyeom wanted you to feel, before finding him again. This new version of you is unbreakable, built with much self-love and respect.

This version of you indeed, feels alive.

Fifth year and you’re living as a completely new person, someone easy-going and social. You’re still you, but a better version. Your fashion changes, your lifestyle changes and your mindset changes. You believe that everything happens for a reason, that you probably know what it is sooner or later. You believe that every decision and every step you take, you must be held accountable. You should not regret and dwell on that decision if it turns out wrong, but you’ll improve yourself to be better. And that includes making a wise decision.

You never have to ask for someone’s validation anymore. Your work, your decision, your mind. What you plan is what you’ll do. You’ve changed your working style and you have to admit, it is easier right now. You’re confident and always ready, it lessens the stress in you.

You never thought you’d arrive at this point.

Yugyeom was right.

After years being mad at him for standing you up, you finally agree that what he did was right.

It will be impossible for you to be at this point if he’s by your side, clouding your every decision. You’ll fall into the same routine again, you will never get to build yourself and act as your own person.

Sky decides that it’s a perfect time to cry and here you are, sitting with Chessy in your lap, nuzzling into your warmth. Your new apartment gives you a window with a ledge, a perfect place for you when you need your thoughts to run wild. You always use it to your fullest, especially on rainy days where you stay indoor, enjoying the warmth of your apartment.

Running your hand through her fur, you wonder.

‘Where are you at, Yugyeom-ah?’

The smell of coffee has always made you calm. You don’t know why but there are two smells that calm you. Coffee and Yugyeom. You smile, shaking your thoughts away as the cashier hands you your change. Your attention shifts to Chessy, who’s waiting outside of the coffee shop since she can’t come in. You’re on your usual evening walk with Chessy, a routine you won’t miss whenever weekend comes. Chessy enjoys a walk and so do you.

When your buzzer vibrates, you quickly get your coffee and that’s when your attention falls again on Chessy, sniffing a stranger’s hand outside the shop. Your heart thumps at the possibility that the person would kidnap Chessy; not that it would be possible since Chessy can bark really loud but you can’t be so sure, so you quicken your step outside, only to see Chessy shaking hands with a man in a checkered shirt.

“Chessy!” instantaneously, you exclaim, wondering how weird Chessy is, being kind to strangers.

Both your dog and the man jolt in surprise, you realise how he stiffens after you call out Chessy’s name. His outline seems familiar, a rush of cold air passes and you’re stunned at how easily your mind can recognise him.

The broad shoulders, the baseball cap, the checkered shirt, the worn-out jeans.

The scent.

“Chessy.” he repeats, cooing and patting your dog. “A sweet name for a cute dog like you, right sweetheart?”

“Your mom must be good at picking names.” he smiles, standing up from Chessy to face you.

“Yugyeom.” Just like that, memories from five years ago hit you, playing scenes after scenes in your head.

“Y/n.” he breathes out your name and your heart skips a beat, knowing how much you miss him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know she’s your dog. She’s so cute, obediently waiting outside the shop so I wanted to greet her.”

He grins at Chessy, who’s now by your side, wagging her tail happily.

You’re still stunned but you shall not show that you are, so you swallow your overwhelmness to respond.

“It’s okay. She likes you.”

His face lightens up, darting his eyes to Chessy. “Really? You like me?”

His whole behaviour screams your old Yugyeom but deep down you know, he’s not yours. You are still overwhelmed to meet him but as he said, fate will decide on it. You don’t search for him and you think he doesn’t search for you too. You think that’s just how fate wants you to meet. You have a lot to ask him.

How have you been? Did you do well? Do you know that I moved? Did you know that I changed my workplace? Have you been healthy?

All that stuff. You just want to catch a conversation, to be updated about him.

Your cheeks lift up, stretching a smile on your face. However it lasts shortly before you remember that he’s not supposed to touch Chessy.

“Wait. You shook hands with her just now?”

“Yes? Why?”

“You’re not supposed to!” you fuss, panicking. “You have allergies, remember? Oh my god why would you touch her?”

At that Yugyeom laughs. He laughs and your entire body stops functioning. It’s been too long since you heard him laughing and you want to capture his laugh in your mind in case fate decides that you shall no longer cross path after this.

“Why are you laughing?” you’re breathless but you are still worried. Why would he laugh? This is a serious situation. Yugyeom’s allergies hit quite hard before and he could be bedridden if he didn’t take his meds quickly.

“I’m okay with her fur. I am allergic but only to a certain type of fur.” he bends down to pat her again, before giving you an apologetic smile. “I need to go.”

“Oh.” you don’t intend your gasp to be that obvious but probably you wanted him to stay longer. It’s too short for five years. “I’m sorry for taking your time.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “No, y/n. I’m glad I met you.”

“Perhaps we can catch up again.”

“How?”

He starts walking backward, eyes promising another meeting. “Like how today happens.”

Funny how five years you’ve been in the neighbourhood, you had never once met Yugyeom, coincidentally or accidentally. Probably you’ve been busy with work, with the newest project that kept you at work even on weekends. However since it was submitted last week, you have some free time to yourself and are able to take a walk during the weekend.

And then you met Yugyeom again the next two weeks.

He was out for a jog and you were on your routine, bringing Chessy for a walk. Days passed and you felt your schedules synchronised, every time you’re out for a walk, he’s out for a jog too. It feels too real to be true that you start making all sorts of assumptions in your head.

“I think you’re stalking me.” was the first thing you said to Yugyeom after you met him for the fourth time. “It’s impossible that I met you every time I am out with Chessy!”

He laughed as you kept accusing him for stalking you, before replying “Maybe I’m just interested in Chessy. Right, sweetheart?”

Chessy barked happily, siding with Yugyeom even more.

Fourth becomes fifth, and fifth becomes tenth.

You decided that you don’t have an issue with your schedules synchronised so you start adjusting to the change, to the extent of having coffee with him after your walk.

“I think it’s just useless if I were to have chocolate every time after I went for a jog.” Yugyeom sips on his drink, almost spluttering his chocolate drink when he meets your judging eyes. He cracks up as you try not to stab him with your straw.

“Is it my fault then? I never forced you to drink with me!”

“You did.” he points out. “You asked me ‘do you want to have some drink?’”

“I asked if you want to, not that you are obligated too.” you roll your eyes, sipping your own coffee. “Chessy, your admirer is so annoying.”

Yugyeom chuckles, setting down his drink on the table. “You don’t force me. I just want to.”

That statement skips your heart a beat, however you did not press on it. You let it flow, savoring your friendship. You decide that it is the best if you stay as friends first, there is no need to get into a relationship where both of you might screw up again. You need to build a strong foundation first, before taking the responsibility.

Your weekend meetings continue, both of you start updating on your life. You with your work and Yugyeom about the guys and his life. It becomes a routine between you two, now you are sure that your schedules aren’t synchronised, it is more to you actually serving an empty slot just for him.

Like he does for you.

After months, you meet his friend circle again, just him inviting you to their gathering. You never thought that you’ll miss them; well you don’t have time to think about them before. You never thought you’d feel complete when you saw Jaebeom and Bambam bicker or Jackson and Jinyoung dissing each other. You just feel like a misplaced puzzle inside you finally fits, finally relocates and completes.

“What are you thinking?” Yugyeom asks as he walks you home from the gathering. You choose to walk rather than drive, just in case they decide to drink so you’ll take a cab home. But Yugyeom offers to walk with you, Bambam taking his car home instead.

“Us.”

He stops in his tracks, watching you still walking forward. You know that he’s afraid of mentioning it first. You saw his curious eyes and you can’t blame him for not bringing this up. He still fears that he’ll make the same mistake and will break you again.

So you turn around, smiling as bright as you can, determined to make him see that you are ready.

“Are you sure, y/n?” he licks his lip nervously. “I can wait. I don’t want you to feel burdened. If you don’t want me then I’m good with it.”

“Yugyeom.” you reach to hold his hands, gripping it tight. “I am sure with my decision.”

“I’ve thought of it over and over again and if I want someone else I should already have them now. But I don’t want someone else. I want you.”

“But what if,” his voice falters, fear starts clouding his mind. “What if I hurt you again? What if I make a mistake again?”

His voice comes out like a squeak, like he’s too vulnerable and scared.

“Gyeom-ah.” you call him, still caressing his hand. “We can make this right. We’ll talk about what is working and what’s not. We need to be honest to each other.”

“We’ll be rational and sort things out. We will, Yugyeom. We will.”

“We will?”

You nod, etching a smile. “We will.”

Winter has never been warmer than that night. Yugyeom finds you in his arms again, stronger and unbreakable. He’s relieved, though worried what the future has for both of you.

For now he’ll focus on you, the one that fills his empty space.

[ Writings ]

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