#pls ignore the shadows and lighting it makes no sense lol

[eye-of-the-hawk]

Easy, girl.

[yeostinys]

Cry For Me

Pairing: DomCEO!Hongjoong x SubSecretary!Reader

Genre: Smut 18+, slight angst, PWP, Office!AU

Notes: Cheating (don’t do it yall. this is just fiction), Unprotected sex (wrap it up!!! do not try this irl, it is pure fantasy!), explicit language, dacryphilia kink, humiliation, degrading, power fixation, Hongjoong lowkey manipulates (but for the better ig lol)

Word Count: 13k (condensed some ideas to bring down the word count LOL)

Authors note: This is pure horny imagination and in NO WAY, reflects on the characters in real life! If you do not like this type of content pls ignore or block me.

Pt. 2 | Pt. 3

———————————————————————

As you stepped into your apartment, the night sky cast a deep blue glow through the windows, shimmering like a vast ocean. The warm glow of the sensor lights flickered on, illuminating the entryway and casting soft shadows on the walls. You paused for a moment, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips, echoing in the stillness of the room.

It was the fifth time this month that your boyfriend had canceled on you, and each time felt like another nail in the coffin of what once seemed like a blossoming romance. The disappointment settled heavily in your chest, making each step toward the kitchen feel more burdensome than the last.

With a determined resolve, you made your way to the fridge, the familiar chill greeting you as you opened the door. Your fingers closed around a half-filled bottle of wine, the label slightly crumpled from the many times it had been hastily put back. You pulled it out, and reached for a glass. You stare blankly as you poured the wine, watching as the dark liquid rose to the rim, glistening in the soft light. Without hesitation, you brought it to your lips, taking a few deep gulps, each swallow both comforting and numbing. As the warmth spread through you, tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, a familiar sensation that you had tried so hard to push away.

The memories of the past 2 years flooded back—Siwoo’s laughter, the shared moments that now felt like distant echoes. But lately, he had become a stranger, his warmth replaced by an impenetrable distance. You had tried to reach out, to bridge the growing gap, but each time ended in disappointment. Now, standing in your quiet apartment, you felt a profound sense of loss that had settled deep within you, leaving you feeling numb, as if you were merely going through the motions of life without truly living it.

You quickly wiped your tears away, the salty tracks on your cheeks feeling foreign yet familiar. With each brush of your fingers, the sadness that had threatened to overwhelm you twisted into something sharper—anger.

*Ding.*

The sudden sound pulled your attention away from your thoughts. You turned your head toward your phone, its screen lighting up with a notification. The sight of Siwoo's name, accompanied by a little heart, made your heart sink further.

Siwoo <3: I’m sorry I cancelled again. Please don’t hate me. I’ll see you on your lunch tomorrow.

You stared at the message, the words blurring momentarily as your vision wavered. Another empty promise. With a shaky hand, you raised your glass to your lips, the bitter taste of the wine filling your mouth as you took another long gulp. It was a poor substitute for the warmth you once felt from Siwoo's presence.

You couldn't bring yourself to respond—not now. You needed a few moments to gather your swirling emotions, to avoid lashing out with the hurt and anger that simmered just beneath the surface. The silence of the apartment enveloped you, amplifying your racing thoughts and making the weight of his message all the more suffocating.

Once you finished the rest of the wine bottle, you felt the tension in your shoulders ease just a fraction. You turned away from your phone, not wanting to see another message or another reminder of the chasm that seemed to grow between you. With heavy steps, you made your way to the bedroom.

You plopped down onto the bed, the soft sheets cradling you in their embrace. As your body sank into the mattress, fatigue overtook you, pulling you into a deep slumber. In the quiet darkness, you hoped for dreams that could somehow soothe the ache in your heart, if only for a little while.

———

The next day dawned with a muted light filtering through the curtains, the world outside still waking up. You rolled over, disoriented for a moment, before the reality of the day ahead crashed over you. With a groan, you pushed yourself up, the remnants of last night’s indulgence weighing heavily in your mind.

As you shuffled to the bathroom, the headache from downing that last glass of wine throbbed at your temples, a persistent reminder of your restless night. You cursed under your breath, regretting the decision to finish the bottle in a moment of vulnerability.

You quickly went through the motions of your morning routine. Your job as the secretary for one of the most well-known CEOs in the Creative Arts Institution required precision and poise, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil that had kept you up late. You dressed in a tailored blouse and a pencil skirt, the fabric smoothing against your skin as you adjusted the collar. The mirror reflected a professional exterior, yet you felt anything but composed inside.

After applying a touch of makeup to mask the fatigue in your eyes, you gathered your things—laptop, planner, and the ever-essential cup of coffee that awaited you in the kitchen.

———

As you step into the tall building, the morning sun filters through the glass façade, casting geometric shadows across the polished marble lobby. The familiar bustle of your colleagues greets you, their voices merging with the gentle hum of fluorescent lights. You nod and smile as you greet in response. You make your way to the elevator, its silver doors glinting in the light. Pressing the button for the top floor, you mentally prepare for the day ahead, trying not to show your exhausted emotions, mentally and physically. When the doors slide open, you step into the expansive hallway lined with art. At the end of the corridor, you enter the grand office door. You walk to the enormous desk adorned with a gold plaque that reads “CEO Kim Hongjoong” and set down the iced Americano you picked up on your way in. You reach into your tote bag and retrieve a neatly organized file folder. Flipping it open, you scan through today’s itinerary, noting the key meetings and tasks that lie ahead. Once satisfied with your briefing, you close the folder and return it to your bag. You head to the front desk positioned just outside the CEO's office, and begin your morning tasks. Every day in the office has settled into a rhythm, a familiar routine that feels almost automatic.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim!” “Hello, Mr. Kim!” The greetings echo as your colleagues bow slightly, their respect palpable.

You rise from your chair, straightening your blouse, and offer a nonchalant nod, masking the exhaustion lingering just beneath the surface.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim,” you say as you bow, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Hongjoong approaches, his expression warm yet focused.

“Hello, Y/N. Have you prepared everything for today’s schedule?” he asks, moving past you toward his office.

“Yes, you have a meeting in an hour with a client…” you begin to relay the itinerary, following him inside. He settles into his chair, taking a sip of the Americano and nods in response.

“Also, I dealt with the complaints from the last exhibition. Everything’s been taken care of, just like you wanted,” you add, your tone casual, though the weight of your own issues tugs at your thoughts. Hongjoong looks up, a smile breaking across his face.

“That’s why I have you as my secretary, Miss Y/N. Thank you so much.”

You nod, the compliment momentarily brightening your mood, but it’s fleeting. You bow again before slipping out of the office. As the door closes behind you, you take a deep breath, pushing the worries from your relationship to the back of your mind, ready to tackle the day ahead with practiced indifference.

Throughout the morning, you flit in and out of meetings, accompanying Hongjoong as he navigates a flurry of tasks. The office is a hive of activity, and you move seamlessly between conversations, taking notes and organizing files, but the weight of your personal life hangs heavy in the back of your mind.

You glance at the clock on your desk: just thirty minutes until your hour break. A sigh escapes your lips, and you reach for your phone, hesitating. Siwoo’s message sits unread, a lingering question mark in your thoughts. You know you should respond, but the uncertainty of his invitation makes you hesitate. Is it pettiness that keeps you from reaching out, or a defense mechanism to shield your heart from further pain? You shake off the intrusive thoughts, forcing yourself to focus on the tasks at hand.

*Ding.* Your phone buzzes, drawing your attention. It’s another message from Siwoo.

Siwoo <3: I won’t be able to make it today. Something came up at work. Sorry.

You scoff under your breath, a bitter taste filling your mouth. His absence stings, but you’ve braced yourself for this—after all, it’s become a pattern.

Just then, Hongjoong’s voice crackles through the telephone intercom on your desk, interrupting your spiraling thoughts. “Miss Y/N, please come to my office.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, rising from your seat with a practiced smile as you make your way into his office.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Kim?” you ask, your tone polite, carefully masking the frustration beneath the surface from Siwoo’s message.

Hongjoong leans back in his chair, his expression serious.

“I know you have your hour break in twenty minutes, but I just got off the phone with a potential client. They want to meet over lunch in a few minutes, and I need you to tag along to take notes. If you can wait on your break for another hour, I’ll cover your meal if you accompany me now.”

His words feel more like an instruction than a request, and you nod in response, pushing your personal frustrations aside.

“Of course, sir. Shall I call the chauffeur now?”

“No need,” he replies, grabbing his briefcase. “We’ll take my vehicle. I’ll drive.”

You nod and follow Hongjoong out of the building.

You settled into the passenger seat next to Hongjoong, the sleek interior of the car enveloping you. The rhythmic clicking of the turn signal punctuated the silence, while the soft murmur of the news on the radio served as a gentle backdrop.

“Miss Y/N, is everything alright?” Hongjoong's voice cut through the quiet, steady and attentive. You turned to him, slightly taken aback by his directness.

“Y-Yes, sir. What makes you concerned?” you replied, a hint of surprise coloring your voice. His eyes remained fixed on the road, focused yet perceptive.

“My top employee—my secretary—has been unusually quiet lately. You seem a bit off,” he remarked, expertly navigating the car into a parking lot. His concern was genuine, and you felt a flutter of warmth at his attention.

“I apologize if I gave that impression today, sir. I assure you, I’m alright,” you replied, straightening in your seat, trying to project confidence. Hongjoong parked the car and turned to face you, his expression serious.

“Y/N, I’m not just talking about today. You’ve been like this for a few days now. I don’t want to pry, but if something is bothering you, please let me know. You never slack off—well, not that I’ve noticed—but you’re a vital part of our team. If you’re not at your best, it affects us all, especially me. Let’s tackle any issues together, professionally.” His words carried a weight of understanding that took you by surprise.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal.

“I… I apologize, sir. It’s just some personal issues in my relationship. I promise I won’t let it interfere with my work,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to your hands in your lap. You feared that honesty might blur the lines of your professional relationship.

Hongjoong regarded you with a thoughtful expression, his brow slightly furrowing. “Problems in your relationship?” he asked gently. You nodded, keeping your head bowed.

“Yes. I appreciate you asking,” you replied, feeling a rush of gratitude mixed with apprehension.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he said, his tone shifting back to his usual professional demeanor. “Let’s get to work.”

The next hour unfolded at a high-end restaurant, its luxurious ambiance creating the perfect setting for a business meeting. You sat next to Hongjoong, across from two potential clients, the atmosphere charged with opportunity. As they discussed plans for an upcoming exhibition, you diligently took notes, your mind sharpening as you transitioned into your role.

Hongjoong exuded charisma, ordering champagne and an array of exquisite appetizers while skillfully guiding the conversation. You admired the way he balanced authority with approachability, creating an atmosphere of collaboration.

———

As promised, Hongjoong granted you your hour break once you both returned to the office. The day had been packed with meetings and conversations, but you had already eaten at the restaurant, so instead of lingering in the bustling atmosphere of the office, you decided to find solace on the rooftop.

Ascending to the rooftop, you pushed open the heavy door, the cool air hitting your face like a refreshing wave. You walked over to one of the bistro tables, the metal surface gleaming under the midday sun. You sank into one of the chairs, letting out a deep sigh that released the pent-up stress from the morning. In your left hand, you cradled an iced Americano to keep you alert. In your right, you held your phone, its screen illuminating your face as you contemplated the text messages from Siwoo.

He should be off work by now, you thought, scrolling through the thread of messages. You hesitated, biting your lip, unsure of how to approach him. The uncertainty had lingered in your mind for days, and it felt like a weight on your chest. After a moment’s deliberation, you resolved to take initiative and give him a call.

You tapped his name, and set the phone on speaker. As the phone rang, the sound echoed in the serene space around you. It rang for what felt like an eternity until finally, you heard his voice on the other end, slightly breathless.

“H-hello? Y/N?” Siwoo stuttered, his tone hesitant.

“Siwoo, what are you doing?” you asked, trying to sound calm, though your heart raced with anticipation.

“Mmm, n-nothing much, just working out. I-I went to the gym after work,” he replied, punctuating his words with a grunt that surprised you. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Since when did he ever work out?

You decided to push forward, hoping to reconnect. “Do you want to come over tonight? I’ll make dinner,” you offered, softening your voice as if trying to coax him back into your world.

“A-ahh, probably not tonight. I have to finish some work at h-home,” he stuttered again, his voice strained, as though he were struggling for breath.

Disappointment settled in your stomach, but you pressed on. “I can come over then, yeah? I’ll make you your favorite dish?” You mentally kicked yourself for even suggesting it, a flicker of doubt reminding you of all the times he had flaked out before.

“N-no, Y/N. I-It’s okay. A-ahh!” Siwoo grunted loudly, and a chill ran through you at the sound.

“Siwoo, what’s going on?!” You raised your voice slightly, urgency creeping in.

“I told you, Y/N. I’m working out. We can’t see each other tonight; I’m busy. I have to go,” he snapped, the finality in his tone cutting through the air like a knife. The line went dead, leaving you with only the echo of his voice. Your heart sank, a familiar ache running within you.

You stared at the phone in disbelief, the cool metal suddenly feeling heavy in your hand. How could he do this again? A mix of frustration and sadness swirled in your chest, and you felt a lump form in your throat. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but it did little to quell the rising tide of emotions.

——

You glance at the small digits on your screen, the glowing numbers reading 8:00 PM. Your shift officially ended thirty minutes ago, but here you sat, a blend of dedication and denial keeping you tethered to your desk. Guilt washed over you, a stark reminder of Hongjoong’s earlier words. There was no point in heading home, not when the weight of unfinished tasks bore down on you. The quiet of your apartment would only invite sorrow, while the office, though nearly deserted, offered a comforting distraction.

The atmosphere had shifted; the energy of the day had given way to silence as colleagues trickled out, exchanging soft goodbyes. Each farewell came with a gentle reminder not to work too hard, and you managed a smile, masking the turmoil brewing inside you. Once they departed, you returned your focus to the glowing screen, rifling through files and diligently noting necessary information, your fingers a blur over the keyboard.

A flicker of light caught your eye—a warm streaming light from Hongjoong’s office. You raised an eyebrow in curiosity; you’d assumed he had left an hour ago. Shaking off the thoughts that threatened to wander, you turned back to your work.

“Y/N?” Hongjoong’s voice broke through your concentration. You looked up at him through your rectangular glasses that rested on your face. He cut an impressive figure, dressed in a fitted black dress shirt and a black vest that accentuated his shoulders.(What the fuck Y/N; he’s your boss.) You mentally scolded yourself, attempting to dismiss any inappropriate thoughts.

“O-Oh, yes sir?” you replied, setting your pen down on the desk.

“Your shift ended an hour ago. Why are you still here?” His brow arched in genuine curiosity, his tone both commanding and concerned.

“I’m just catching up on some work, sir. I apologize. I’ll be heading home soon,” you replied, striving for composure even as nerves danced in your stomach.

“Y/N, come to my office,” he said, his calm demeanor masking the authority in his request. You hesitated, uncertainty creeping in. Why did he want to speak in private, especially when the office was nearly empty?

Despite your reservations, you take off your glasses frames, place them on your desk and follow him into his office. The door clicking shut behind you, a sound that felt like a declaration. The dim light cast long shadows, enveloping the room. He sits at the edge of his desk with his arms crossed.

“What’s going on in your relationship?” Hongjoong asked, his tone direct yet oddly informal. The question hung in the air, leaving you momentarily stunned. Your eyes widened, and you felt a flush creeping up your neck.

“Sir, I don’t think it’s appropriate to talk about personal matters at work…” you managed to reply, your fingers fidgeting nervously as you avoided his gaze.

“It’s after work hours, Y/N. You can speak comfortably,” he said, his voice calm and soothing, yet imbued with a sharpness that conveyed he was not one to be easily dismissed. “I can tell something is wrong.”

You hesitated, the weight of his gaze making it difficult to formulate a response. A swirl of emotions crashed over you—fear of crossing professional boundaries mixed with the realization that perhaps he genuinely wanted to connect with you on a deeper level. Colleagues had often joked about how you and Hongjoong were like a married couple at work, a notion you had always brushed aside. The title felt cliché, almost childish, and you had preferred to maintain a strictly professional atmosphere.

But as you looked at him, a flicker of understanding passed between you. Maybe he wasn’t just playing the role of the CEO tonight. Perhaps he truly wanted to understand what you were going through. You took a deep breath, your heart racing as you considered opening up.

“We have… just been distant lately,” you say hesitantly, the words slipping out with reluctance. “Our schedules don’t seem to be aligning, and our communication is off. That is all, sir.” You glance at him, searching for a response.

He hums thoughtfully, nodding in acknowledgment. “Shall I… cut your hours? Maybe find a second secretary to fill in while you get to spend more time with your significant other?” His voice carried a teasing lilt, yet there was an undercurrent of seriousness that sent a rush of heat to your cheeks.

“N-no, sir!” The words escaped your lips almost too hastily, an instinctive reaction that made you feel slightly embarrassed. Hongjoong chuckled, his head lowering momentarily before he lifted it again, locking eyes with you.

“So, is it his schedule that’s not cooperating with yours?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. You nodded in silence, the weight of your emotions pressing down as you considered the truth behind your answer.

“Mm… interesting.” Hongjoong tapped his chin thoughtfully, the wheels of his mind clearly turning. Curiosity prickled at you; what was going through his head? You couldn’t help but wonder about the direction this conversation was taking.

“Y/N, if you don’t mind me asking, what does your partner do for a living?” he asked, his tone calm and inviting.

“He’s a professor at the university located downtown,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper, as if sharing a secret.

“A professor?” Hongjoong mused, a hint of skepticism coloring his tone. “I doubt their schedules are that busy compared to yours—a full-time secretary for a well-known company.” He dropped his hands into his pockets, his gaze intent and probing.

“Are you sure you should be concerned about his schedule? Maybe… it’s something more?” Hongjoong added nonchalantly, his casual demeanor contrasting sharply with the seriousness of his implication.

You felt a wave of confusion wash over you. What was he suggesting? Your mind raced, trying to decipher his words. Was he implying that the distance in your relationship could be rooted in something deeper than just busy schedules? The thought unsettled you, but a part of you was intrigued by his concern. You hesitated, caught in a web of uncertainty as you considered how to respond.

“I—I’m not sure what you mean, sir…” you murmured, your gaze dropping to your black heels, the polished tips reflecting the dim light of the office.

“Come here, Y/N,” Hongjoong said, his voice a blend of softness and authority that sent a shiver down your spine. Almost instinctively, you found your feet moving toward him, the rhythmic click of your pumps echoing softly against the floor as you approached. You stopped just in front of his black loafers, your heart racing in your chest.

“Closer,” he instructed, his voice lowering, deepening with an intensity that made you catch your breath. You stepped forward, positioning yourself between his slightly parted legs, the air thick with unspoken tension.

His hand reached out, a gentle yet firm grasp settling on your waist. You gasped in shock, the unexpected warmth of his touch flooding through you. This is wrong, you thought, panic stirring within, but something deeper held you in place, a pull that made it difficult to consider pulling away. Instead, you stood there, caught in a moment that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Maybe…” Hongjoong began, his thumb rubbing softly against the fabric of your blouse, the gentle motion both soothing and unsettling.

“your partner is being unfaithful…?” The words hung heavy in the air, a sentence that felt like a blade slicing through your gut.

A part of you recoiled at the thought, refusing to believe it. Yet, as you stood there, something nagged at you, a whisper of doubt that you couldn’t shake. The realization that he might be right crept in like a shadow, darkening your thoughts. Stupidly, your heart leaped to defend Siwoo, the man you cared for, even as uncertainty gnawed at you.

“Mr. Kim, I don’t appreciate you assuming that,” you replied quietly, your voice barely above a whisper as you stared between the gap of Hongjoong’s legs that revealed the floor, refusing to meet his gaze.

“You don’t know our relationship, so please do not accuse him of such acts…” you added, your tone a fragile mixture of firmness and vulnerability. As the words left your lips, you felt your eyes begin to well with tears, confusion and anger swirling within you. You trusted Siwoo; you had to. But the doubts Hongjoong had planted took root, and you didn’t understand why he was suddenly acting like this.

You wanted to leave, to escape the charged atmosphere and the unsettling intimacy of the moment, but your feet remained stuck to the floor. Deep down, beneath the rising tide of panic, you recognized that you craved the odd comfort Hongjoong provided, a warmth that felt so different from the turmoil in your heart.

Suddenly, a whimper escaped your lips, a sound that surprised you as tears began to cascade down your cheeks, dropping onto Hongjoong’s lap.

“Oh, baby…” Hongjoong cooed, his voice laced with a tenderness. You gasped at the sudden pet name. With a gentle yet deliberate movement, his unoccupied hand reached toward your face, lifting your chin slightly so that he could wipe away the tears that streamed relentlessly down. Your eyes however, still refusing to look at him. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, and your heart raced at the intimacy of the moment.

“You defend him, yet you’re crying,” he observed, his voice low and soothing, but his words only added to the turmoil within you. It was as if he could see right through the facade you had tried to maintain. As his hand, previously resting on your waist, moved to the other side of your face, you felt the weight of his palms cupping your cheeks, an act of reassurance that both calmed and stirred your emotions.

“Look at me, Y/N” Hongjoong softly demands. Your pretty eyes look at him. Sparkling from the tears that are still streaming down your face slowly. Hongjoong bit his lip, fighting to maintain his composure, though he couldn’t help but think how fucken pretty you look when you cried… how vulnerable.

“I’m sorry for assuming,” he continued, his tone tender yet firm. “It was unprofessional of me. I was just trying to express my concerns.” His fingers brushed against your skin as he gently cupped your face, his thumbs softly stroking away the remnants of your tears. “I don’t want to see you cry anymore, okay?”

Confusion swirled within you, a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. What was Hongjoong doing? His touch sent conflicting signals through your mind, making it hard to decipher the intentions behind his kindness. You felt your heart race as he held your gaze, searching for answers that remained elusive.

“Let me take you home. It’s getting late.” He reluctantly withdrew his hands, the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin. Hongjoong lightly tapped your waist,

“Okay?” he asked again, his voice softening as he sought your approval. You nodded, your heart fluttering as you looked into his eyes, those doe-like orbs filled with an innocence that belied the complexities of your situation. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, each moment stretching out as you found solace in his presence, even amidst the confusion.

———

The car glided smoothly along the quiet streets, the only sounds breaking the stillness were the gentle notes floating from the radio and the rhythmic tapping of Hongjoong’s fingers on the steering wheel. Each beat resonated with the unspoken tension lingering between you, a subtle backdrop to the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in your mind.

As the car pulled up in front of your apartment building, you felt a mix of relief and reluctance. The evening air was cool against your skin as you unbuckled your seatbelt and gathered your bags, the weight of the day still heavy on your shoulders.

“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Kim,” you said, bowing your head slightly, unable to meet his gaze. It was a gesture of politeness, but it felt more like a shield, protecting you from the warmth of his soft smile that you could sense even without looking.

“No worries, Miss Y/N. I’ll see you Monday,” he replied, his voice soft but filled with an unshakeable confidence. You heard the warmth in his tone, even as you turned away and walked towards the entrance of your apartment building, his farewell echoing in your ears.

The elevator ride felt interminable as you ascended to your floor, each ding of the buttons amplifying the heaviness in your chest. Finally, you stepped into your small apartment, the familiar space offering little comfort. You dragged your feet toward your room, exhaustion pulling you down, both physically and emotionally.

Once inside, you kicked off your heels, the sharp clack against the floor a welcome relief. You stripped off your clothes with a mindless haste, leaving only your undergarments as you collapsed onto your bed. The cool sheets enveloped you, but they couldn’t ease the confusion swirling in your thoughts.

With a deep, resigned sigh, you sank into the mattress, your mind replaying fragments of your conversation with Hongjoong.

In a moment of desperation, you reached for your phone, dialing Siwoo’s number. The ringing felt like an eternity, and when it went to voicemail, a knot tightened in your stomach. You glanced at the clock—10 PM. Another attempt led to the same unyielding voicemail. Frustration filled within you, mixing with a pang of anxiety that settled in your chest.

You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. The coolness of the room contrasted sharply with the heat of your thoughts. Slowly, memories of Hongjoong flooded your mind—his perfect figure leaning casually against the desk, his strong hand lingering on your arm, the gentle caress of his fingers against your face.

Your heart ached, not for Siwoo, but for Hongjoong. You suddenly craved his comforting and reassuring voice. His lingering touch on your skin. Your legs close together as you feel a wave of warmth between your thighs. Your hands moved down your soft skin, reaching towards your heat…

You gasp softly, shaking your head, trying to dismiss these feelings. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. You shouldn’t be thinking about him like this. Hongjoong is your Boss. And plus you have Siwoo. Your… loving boyfriend.

The weight of silence wraps around you like a thick fog, pressing down on your chest as you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. You can’t shake the feeling that these spiraling thoughts. In frustration you convince yourself that you’re probably just deprived of touch from your significant other.

With sudden resolve, you push yourself up from the tangled sheets, the cool air sending a shiver down your spine, and head towards the bathroom. Turning on the water, you let your thoughts drown in the hot water. Making your way back to your room, you slowly dry off and change into pajamas.

As your head hits the pillow, a sense of calm envelops you, pulling you into a deep slumber. The world outside fades, and for the first time in ages, you allow yourself to drift away, hoping that tomorrow will bring a spark of connection back into your life.

———

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft stripes across your home office. You’re working from home today, since Hongjoong isn’t in office on the weekends. You sat your desk with a steaming cup of coffee cradled in your hands, you let the aroma fill your senses, the rich, dark liquid fueling your focus as your fingers typing across the keyboard.

The rhythmic sound of your typing created a serene atmosphere until it was interrupted by a sharp buzz from the apartment door.

Setting your coffee down, you pushed back your chair and stood, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and dread as you approached the door. Taking a deep breath, you swung it open, and your heart dropped. Standing there, looking both sheepish and regretful, was Siwoo, clutching a bouquet of flowers.

“Y/N, honey, I’m so sorry for flaking out on you so many times,” he said with a fake pout.

A year ago, you would have melted at this display. You might have accepted his half-assed apology with a smile, the flowers a token of his remorse. But today, your mind raced with reminders of all the times he had done this before. The constant stand-ups, the empty promises, the fleeting moments of connection overshadowed by disappointment.

Your heart ached, not with the sweet pang of love but with the heavy weight of frustration. You stood there, staring at him, emotions swirling within you like a storm. Hurt and upset battled against the tenderness that still lingered for him. You could feel the walls you had carefully built in the past months tightening around you, whispering that this was a cycle you were tired of repeating.

But your heart, foolishly hopeful, betrayed you. Before you could think it through, you found yourself reaching for the bouquet, inhaling the sweet scent of fresh blooms. Then, without a second thought, you pulled him into a tight embrace. As his arms wrapped around you, the familiar warmth flooded back, and you felt your resolve waver.

In that moment, you wanted to believe that this time would be different. Yet beneath the surface, a deeper ache throbbed—a desperate question lingered in your mind: why do you keep doing this to me?

As the hours unfolded, Siwoo settled into a chair across from your desk, his laptop open and papers scattered around him. The familiar hum of shared work surrounded you, a scene that once brought you joy. He would glance up occasionally, flashing you a smile that was meant to soothe the tension in the air. Yet, despite the comforting proximity, your heart was locked in a battle against the memories of hurt he had inflicted upon you.

You tried to push those thoughts aside, forcing yourself to focus on the tasks at hand. Still, they lingered like unwelcome shadows, flitting in and out of your consciousness. Each time Siwoo laughed at something on his screen or leaned back with a satisfied sigh, a part of you wanted to bask in the moment, to let yourself feel the happiness he once brought. But the other part—a weary, wiser part—reminded you of the countless times he had let you down.

Your mind already flooded with so many issues, decided to remind you of last night’s conversation with Hongjoong—the way he spoke to you, his touch… The longing for deeper connections hung heavily on your mind, teasing you with confusion.

You caught Siwoo watching you, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice breaking through your reverie.

You forced a smile, nodding slightly. “Yeah, just thinking about work.”

———

Throughout the day, with Siwoo at your side, a disquieting realization settled in your chest: you felt less like his girlfriend and more like a maid. He moved to lounge in your living room, casually asking for snacks and drinks while you sat at your desk, trying to concentrate on your work. Each request chipped away at your patience, drawing a line between the intimate moments you once cherished and the mundane reality of this interaction.

Glancing over, you caught sight of him: relaxed, almost carefree, tapping away on his phone with a soft laugh escaping his lips. Maybe it was Hongjoong’s words playing tricks on you, but a knot twisted in your stomach as you watched Siwoo, feeling an unfamiliar ick wash over you. It felt as though he was taking advantage of your hospitality, oblivious to the growing frustration bubbling within you.

“Oh, Y/N, can I borrow some money?” Siwoo asked, his voice casual, his eyes glued to the screen as he continued to chuckle at whatever amused him.

“May I ask why?” You replied softly, a frown creasing your brow as confusion settled in.

“I need to buy new materials for work. It’s required for all professors, and I’m just short by a few bucks,” he explained, his gaze still firmly fixed on his phone.

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping in. “Doesn’t the university cover materials for professors?”

“Mmm, not this time. Please?” he said, finally looking up at you, his irritating smile brightening his face as if he expected you to fold under the charm.

Taking a deep breath, you felt the tension in your chest tighten, but you nodded anyway, wiring him a sum that was likely more than he needed. Maybe it was an act of guilt or an old habit of wanting to keep the peace.

“Thanks, honey. You’re the best!” he said, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. The grin on his face widened as he returned to his phone, engrossed once more in whatever had captured his attention.

“Y—you’re leaving so soon?” The words spilled out before you could stop them, a mix of desperation and disappointment. “I’m almost done with work. Let’s have dinner…”

He turned to you, his expression unchanged. “Maybe another day, Y/N. I have to head back to the campus.”

With that, he walked out without a backward glance, leaving you standing there, a swirl of emotions crashing against one another. As the door clicked shut, the weight of his absence pressed heavily on your heart, mingling with the irritation that had been building all day.

——

The weekend slipped away in a blur, its fleeting hours vanishing like sand through fingers. As you stepped into the office on Monday morning, you glanced around the workspace, filled with the scent of fresh coffee and the faint rustle of papers, and realized you wanted to be here. The thought of Hongjoong entered your mind unbidden. You couldn’t help but remember the conversations that had left you feeling confused but wanting more.

But you quickly pushed those thoughts aside, chastising yourself. This wasn’t the time for daydreams. You were his secretary, bound by professional decorum. It was crucial to maintain composure, to focus on your tasks and responsibilities. After all, any semblance of personal feelings could only complicate matters.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim,” you said, bowing slightly from your desk as he entered his office, and you follow behind him. The air felt charged with unspoken tension, a remnant of the incident that had unfolded just days prior, a moment you both seemed to ignore.

“Good morning, Miss Y/N,” Hongjoong replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he settled into his chair behind the desk. His eyes flickered momentarily to the iced Americano you had picked up for him earlier, the cool condensation glistening against the glass.

“What is the schedule for today?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, his posture relaxed, but you could sense the sharpness in his gaze as it remained fixed on you.

Clearing your throat, you began to relay the day’s itinerary, focusing intently on your notes. “We have the marketing meeting at ten, followed by the conference call with the investors at noon.” You spoke steadily, but your heart raced, memories of that night creeping back into your mind—a fleeting brush of his hands, the way his gaze had pierced through the façade of professionalism.

Hongjoong listened, nodding occasionally, but there was an air of distraction about him, too. He was acting as if nothing had happened, and you were determined to do the same, though it felt like walking a tightrope. You maintained your composure, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady and professional as you continued.

His expression remained neutral, but there was an undercurrent of something unspoken between you. You stole a glance at him, noting how the light caught the edges of his features, the way he effortlessly commanded the space around him.

“And finally,” you added, pushing the memories further down, “we have a team meeting at four to discuss the new project timeline.”

As you finished, a heavy silence settled in the room, punctuated only by the soft sound of his drink being set down on the desk. You met his gaze, feeling the weight of the unacknowledged moment hanging in the air. “Thank you, Y/N,” Hongjoong said, his voice smooth as he rose from his chair. The brief moment of gratitude hung in the air between you, creating a small, intimate space in an otherwise professional atmosphere. You bowed slightly in acknowledgment, the familiar gesture a part of your daily routine, before you turned on your heels, ready to leave the room.

“Wait a moment,” he called out just as you reached the door. You paused, your heart skipping a beat, then turned back to face him.

“Yes, sir?” you replied, your voice steady but your mind racing.

“How are you doing?” he asked, the question casual yet layered with an unexpected warmth. The simplicity of it took you aback, a small flicker of surprise igniting within you.

“I—I’m well, sir. Thank you for asking.” You stumbled over your words slightly, an involuntary shyness creeping in. “How about you?” You returned the question out of politeness.

“That’s good to hear, Y/N,” he replied, his soft smile breaking through the formalities and lighting up the room. “I’m doing fine as well.”

You nodded, the warmth of his expression lingering in the air as you took in the moment. “I’ll get back to my work then,” you said, turning once more to leave.

As you stepped out of his office, the door closing softly behind you, you made your way back to your desk, the echo of his words and that fleeting smile still resonating within you.

——

Once you stepped out of Hongjoong’s office, he sank back into his chair, the weight of the world settling on his shoulders as his thoughts turned inward, swirling around you. He couldn’t deny the fondness he felt. From the moment you had started working as his secretary, you had made it clear that you were in a serious relationship. He respected your loyalty, admired it even, but it didn’t erase the growing complexity of his own feelings for you.

As he gazed out the window, memories flooded back, particularly the recent lunch meeting on Friday. You had accompanied him at the last minute, and during the drive, when you admitted to him about your relationship struggles. The admission struck him deeply—he felt a flicker of triumph at your honesty, a selfish part of him celebrating. Yet, mingled with that spark was a simmering anger; the man you were with was clearly causing you distress.

After returning to the office, you took your promised hour break, and Hongjoong found himself drawn to the rooftop. He hadn’t intended to pry; he simply wanted to offer words of encouragement, to lift your spirits. But as he approached, he overheard your phone ring and the familiar cadence of your voice pick up the call. A sinking feeling took root in his stomach when he recognized the voice on the other end—Siwoo, your boyfriend.

He paused at the steel door, unable to resist the urge to listen. Siwoo’s breathless tone was unmistakable, the hurried speech revealing more than mere exertion from a workout. Hongjoong's heart raced as he deduced the truth— Any man would know, this was not the voice of a faithful partner. The realization struck him like a punch; this man had the audacity to take your call while clearly entangled in something inappropriate.

A rush of guilt washed over him as he retreated to his office, grappling with the anger that grew beneath the surface. How could someone hurt you, an innocent, kind, and beautiful person? He felt torn, wanting to protect you while recognizing the boundaries he had vowed to uphold.

In the hours that followed, a storm of thoughts brewed within him. It was reckless, perhaps, but the idea of bringing you into his office after hours began to take root. He wanted to voice his concerns casually. But when you began to softly cry, that’s when he felt the line blur. The sight of your flushed cheeks, your pretty doe-like eyes glistening with unshed tears— (fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking like that).

Hongjoong pulled back from his reminiscent thoughts, deciding it was best to let you navigate this situation on your own. Maybe you would uncover the truth about Siwoo, perhaps the pieces would fall into place. But the uncertainty gnawed at him, and as he sat in his office, he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he could contain his feelings, how much longer he could remain a silent observer to your heartache.

Fuck it? Hongjoong thought to himself. Siwoo deserves a taste of his own medicine.

Hongjoong scoffed to himself at his idea as he sipped on his coffee.

———

The workday unfolded in its usual rhythm, a blur of emails, calls, and the occasional paperwork that seemed to multiply by the hour. You navigated through the tasks with a practiced efficiency, though your mind occasionally drifted to the flurry of messages buzzing on your phone. Each notification from Siwoo felt like a weight pressing down on you, filled with meaningless apologies, and pleads to wire money for some other things, god knows what he needed it for.

With a deep breath, you made the decision to ignore his messages for now. You turned your focus back to your work, fingers typing over the keyboard, pouring your energy into the tasks at hand.

As you typed, the sound of footsteps drew your attention. You looked up to find Hongjoong standing before your desk, his presence commanding yet familiar. He had a way of drawing you in, and for a moment, the chaos of your personal life faded into the background.

“Miss Y/N, please come to my office after work hours,” he said, his tone smooth yet imbued with a seriousness that piqued your curiosity. He turned and strode into his office, leaving you with a flurry of thoughts.

“Yes, sir,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you watched him go.

With a sigh, you returned to your work, the clock ticking steadily toward the end of the day. Each keystroke felt heavier as the minutes dragged on, and the anticipation of your meeting with Hongjoong lingered like a sweet ache in your heart.

———

As the final colleagues trickled out of the building, the quiet hum of the office began to settle into an echo of solitude. You sighed as you recalled Hongjoong’s instructions. Straightening your buttoned blouse and smoothing down your skirt, you prepared yourself for whatever awaited you in his office.

You knocked softly, the sound barely breaking the silence.

“Come in,” Hongjoong’s voice resonated through the door. You opened it slowly and stepped inside, closing it behind you with a soft click.

Hongjoong was seated at his desk, his white dress shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms accentuated by a dark tie. The sight of him brought a swirl of emotions; he exuded an effortless charisma that both intimidated and drew you in.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” you said, your gaze fixed on the floor, an attempt to hide the mix of anxiety and curiosity swelling inside you.

“Yes, please come here, Y/N,” he replied, his voice calm and low. As you approached him, the familiar sound of your heels clicking against the polished floor echoed in your mind, reminding you of the similar situation a few days ago in this very spot.

“Please, sit,” he gestured toward the chair in front of his desk. You took a seat, positioning yourself at the edge, an instinctive reaction born from uncertainty.

Hongjoong rose from his chair and began to circle around the desk, a pen spinning effortlessly between his slender fingers. The movement was fluid, almost hypnotic, and it pulled your attention as you tried to read his expression.

“Miss Y/N,” he began, pausing for a moment, “you’re one of my smartest employees, correct?” His gaze remained focused elsewhere, a slight distance in his eyes.

“Th—thank you, sir. I—” you started, but his voice cut through your response.

“A person with an important job like yours requires a lot of skill, attentiveness… and have the ability assess the environment around the office, Correct?”

“Yes… that is correct, sir,” you replied quietly, maintaining eye contact,

“Would you agree that you have been lacking some of these skills, Y/N?” Hongjoong stopped infront of you, sitting at the edge of his desk. His arms crossed over his chest, revealing the strong veins that ran along his forearms, an unconscious display of his physicality that made your heart race.

“I—I haven’t noticed, sir. I apologize if I haven’t been performing well…” The words tumbled out, anxiety creeping in. Were you about to get fired? The thought sent a chill through you, and you mentally recoiled at the prospect of your life spiraling further down.

“I’m not going to fire you, Y/N,” he said, and your eyes widened in surprise; it was as if he had plucked the thought straight from your mind.

“I’m not really following this conversation, sir…” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper as you began to fidget with your fingers in your lap, seeking any distraction from the mounting tension.

Hongjoong released a frustrated sigh, and suddenly he pushed himself off the edge of the desk, stepping toward you slowly. His strong arms landed on the armrests of your chair, effectively trapping you in place. He leaned in closer, the proximity forcing you to lean back into the seat, a gasp escaping your lips at the sudden intimacy of the moment.

The air between you thickened. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the sharpness of his gaze holding you captive.

He scoffed, the corner of his lip turning into a smirk as he looked down. His eyes landed on the unbuttoned opening of your shirt. He sees your chest breathing up and down in anticipation. He looks up, gazes at your lips quickly before looking into your eyes.

“For someone so pretty and smart, you’re quite naive” He chuckles. A rush of heat seeps into your cheeks. You’re at a loss for words. You don’t know how to respond, so you opt to stay silent.

“Miss Y/N” Hongjoong says sternly in a soft voice.

“Yes, Sir?” You quietly reply back.

“Can you assess the environment in this office right now?” His voice is a whisper.

“U—Uhm…” you stutter, not knowing what to say. Hongjoong chuckles at your flustered expression.

“Let me give you a hint, Y/N” Hongjoong whispers and leans in closer, his presence enveloping you like a warm wave. Then, in a moment that felt both thrilling and terrifying, his lips brushed against yours. Your eyes widened in shock. This is wrong, a voice in your mind screamed. You shouldn’t be doing this. But as much as you tried to summon the strength to pull away, your body betrayed you.

His lips were soft, warm, and surprisingly gentle as they molded against yours, igniting a fire that swept through you. The worries around you faded, leaving only the two of you suspended in this unexpected moment. It felt as if time had stopped, your heartbeat loud in your ears, drowning out the rational thoughts that screamed for you to stop.

As he finally pulled away, the distance felt electric, charged with a lingering intimacy. His gaze searched yours, earnest and intense. “Do you understand now?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. You nod slowly.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks softly as he looks at your plush lips. You hesitate, unsure of what to say. All you know is that you want whatever lingering feelings Hongjoong has bestowed on you. As much as you know it’s wrong, you can’t help but crave him.

In response to his question, You shake your head in protest. His thumb caresses your chin tilting your head to look up at him.

“Use your words baby.” Hongjoong’s voice is low as he stares into your eyes, searching for an answer.

“Please… don’t stop sir.” You say quietly. Hongjoong smirks and pulls way from you. You look at him confused. His position is sat back onto the edge of his desk.

“Show me you want it too Y/N” He’s teasing you. Wanting to see how far you’re willing to go. Knowing that deep inside, as much as you want this you still feel a tiny ounce of guilt from being unfaithful to your partner. Regardless, You rise from the chair and make your way to Hongjoong. You position yourself between his legs that are slightly spread and place both your arms on his shoulders. You lean forward and kiss him. Hongjoong returns the kiss almost immediately. He can feel himself already growing hard as his lips move against yours. His hands are securely gripped onto your waist bringing you closer to him. He deepens the kiss and swipes his tongue over the bottom of your lip. In response your mouth opens as you release a whimper. Both of your tongues now move together skillfully, resulting in a moan from both of you. As the heated make-out session continues, you notice Hongjoong’s arm pushing away some papers and other items on the desk behind him.

Smoothly, Hongjoong moves your position, his strong arms swiftly carry your body onto the desk. You are now sat on top of the cold wood, arms wrapped around his neck, as he continued to devour your lips. You slightly pull back in attempt to catch your breath. You’re a panting mess, and so is he. Hongjoong however doesn’t want to stop. He pecks your lips, before leaving a trail kisses from the corner of your mouth, to your soft cheek, and finally to your slender neck. Shivers were sent throughout your body as Hongjoong left soft warm kisses on your neck.

“A—ah Sir…” you whimpered quietly. Hongjoong hummed in response as he began to leave opened mouth kisses on your skin.

Hongjoong pushed your legs apart, your skirt already slightly hiked up from him placing you on the desk moments ago. Revealing your exposed thighs, Hongjoong’s hands moved from knees, and traveled up your soft plush thighs, causing you to close them in an instinct, but his strong arms prevent you, keeping them open.

His lips trails up to your ear nibbles on your lobe before whispering softly, “I want you to say my name okay?” You nod in response.

His hands moved dangerously closer to your heat that was radiating from your exposed thighs, but he stops, he was teasing you. His hands caressed your inner thighs, not daring to move closer as he continued to kiss your neck and face. His lips found his way back to yours and takes it in softly.

You whimper against his mouth and he slowly pulls away.

“What’s wrong baby?” His voice is so soft, sending another heat wave down your body.

“Please… touch me, sir” you say sheepishly.

“I told you Y/N, I want you to say my name.” Hongjoong’s grip on your thighs tighten, causing you to whimper in pain and pleasure.

“H—Hongjoong…” your soft, angelic voice echoed in his ears as his name rolled off your tongue.

“Yeah baby?” He tries to hold back a groan, already so turned on by you calling his name.

“Hongjoong, touch me… please?” You plead with your doe eyes staring at him. Hongjoong bites his lip as he looks at your pretty, desperate face.

“Fuck, Y/N… you make me do stupid shit” He curses under his breath before devouring your lips once again.

This time, his hands finally touch your warm clothed pussy. You moan at his touch. His fingers slowly rub against your clit, creating a friction against the fabric of your underwear. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck tighter. Moaning into his lips as he continues to rub you.

Unexpectedly, tears began to well up in the corner of your eyes. Not in pain, not in discomfort, but in a frustrating pleasure.

“Hong—j-joong, stop teasing please” You whimper as he slightly pulls away. He looks at your face, tears slowly falling down. He smirks, “Mm such a dirty brat, crying for me…” He degrades you in a low tone.

His hands find the hem of your underwear, and he skillfully pulls them down. They rest at the ankles of your legs, stopped by your heels that restricted them from falling to the floor. Hongjoong’s left arm cradles your back, as his right hand pushes up your skirt more to reveal your bare wet pussy.

“Fuck… so wet already just from me kissing you, and barely touching you?” He teases you, even though he too is already so rock hard in his slacks, from just kissing and touching you.

His hand makes his way to your clit. The soft bud of his middle and ring finger gently rubs circles, causing you to hold back a moan. Skillfully, his fingers dip down to your entrance, not fully going inside you, just enough to collect your wet fluids, and bring them back up to your clit. He rubs it again, slowly picking up the pace.

Your right hand drops behind you as it land on the desk, supporting your weight. You slightly throw your head back and cover your mouth with your unoccupied arm trying to hide your moans.

“Let me fucken hear you moan baby. No one is here. Just you and me” Hongjoong groans in your ear. His voice turned you on so much, resulting in a soft moan slipping from your lips.

Hongjoong’s fingers make their way to your entrance. Slipping in your tight folds. You gasp and grab onto his shoulder. He pumps his fingers slowly, as he studies your facial expressions. Your eyes are sparkling from the previous tears you shed. Your glossy lips slightly parted as you released soft moans.

“So fucken pretty” Hongjoong moans as he leans down to kiss your forehead. The gentle gesture, mixed with his lewd actions makes your stomach turn in a good way. He begins to pick up the pace. The office room is silent, with only the sounds of your mixed moans, pants, and the wetness of your folds fapping against Hongjoong’s hand.

Your mind begins to get fuzzy as you feel an orgasm near by. Hongjoong feels your pussy tighten around his digits, he chuckles before he slowly pulls his fingers out of you. You whine in protest, frustration builds up in you, you were so close. Your arm around his neck tugs him closer, reaching for his lips, wanting to feel some sort of physical contact. But he pulls away from you. Completely. He steps back and looks at your figure.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, an unsettling knot tightening in your stomach. Why did he stop? Just moments ago, the air had felt charged with lust, and now it hung heavy with an unspoken tension. A flood of negative thoughts surged through your mind, drowning out any remnants of clarity. Embarrassment crept in, a heat rising to your cheeks, making you feel exposed and vulnerable. Guilt wrapped around you like a heavy cloak, its weight almost suffocating. You could feel the sting of tears pooling in your eyes, the familiar ache of despair threatening to spill over. In a swift, instinctive motion, you cast your gaze downward, as if to shield yourself from the world around you. Your heart raced as quiet whimpers escaped your lips.

Hongjoong watches you as you softly cry. He tries not to loose his composure. The cute look of confusion on your face makes him feral.

“Aww baby… why are you crying hm?” Hongjoong’s voice is raspy. He tilts his head, trying to get a good look at your flushed face. You can’t find yourself to respond, only sniffles and soft whimpers can be heard.

“You know… to be completely honest Y/N…” the sound of Hongjoong’s belt unbuckling fills the air. You glance at him with your doe eyes.

“When I told you… I don’t want to see you cry anymore…” He slings his belt off his pants and drops it to the floor. His hands moving towards the button of his slacks. He shifts towards your body, and leans close to your face.

“I actually meant… I don’t want to see you cry for anyone else but me.” Your eyes widen at his statement. He chuckles at your expression and grabs your hands. He brings them towards his hard mound covered by the soft fabric of his pants.

“You look so fucken pretty when you cry. It turns me on so much. Knowing that you feel so good, you can’t help but shed a few tears” He moans as you begin to instinctively rub your hands on his huge hard on.

“Help me out baby. Be a good girl” Hongjoong whispers to you, and you nod. He smiles at your response. You make your way off the desk, and position yourself on your knees. You slowly unzip Hongjoong’s pants and pull them down along with his trousers. His hard, long cock springs out and softly hits your face. You gasp at the sudden sight. Earning a chuckle from him.

“Open your mouth.” He demands softly. Your lips part, tongue slightly sticking out, as you take Hongjoong’s length in. He releases a loud groan. Cursing under his breath as you begin to slowly bob your head up and down. You twirl your tongue a few times over his tip, causing him to tightly grip onto your soft hair.

“F—Fuck baby…” Hongjoong throws his head back.

“… damn, your boyfriend is this lucky and can’t even fucken appreciate you” You freeze at the sudden statement, and Hongjoong smirks as he scoffs. In response, he begins to thrust into your mouth slowly. You moan on his cock as he begins to shove himself deeper into your mouth. You tap Hongjoong’s leg, and he pulls you off him instantly. You gasp for air, a string of saliva connecting from your lip to his cock, as you begin to cough. Hongjoong chuckles, caressing your hair.

“Stand up” He demands. And in an instant you’re on your feet. Hongjoong swiftly lifts you up and places you back onto the desk. His hands are hastily unbuttoning your blouse as he kisses your lips. You moan, furrowing your brows, still thinking about the humiliating statement Hongjoong said. Something about his touch is so intoxicating, making you want more. Making you not care about anything in your reality.

As Hongjoong releases the last button on your blouse, he quickly pushes your shirt off, revealing your black lacy bra filled by your perfect plush breasts. His hands grace over your chest, sending shivers down your spine. He kisses the exposed skin of your breast. His hands moving towards the straps, as he pulls them off. He reaches behind you and skillfully releases the clasps of your bra. The black lace drops swiftly revealing your perfect boobs.

“So fucken perfect for me baby.” Hongjoong whispers as he gropes them with his hands. You moan at his touch. He takes one in his mouth and laps at your nipples, resulting in you throwing your head back in pleasure.

“H—Hongjoong” you moan his name, he hums in response, still working on your breasts.

“Want.. m—more” you stutter under his touch.

He pulls away from you and pants, trying to calm himself down.

“Want more what?” He cocks an eyebrow at you. You pout, too embarrassed to verbally say what you want from him.

“Tell me now, or I’ll leave you here” Hongjoong threatens as he begins to pump himself, already knowing what you want. But he still wants to hear the words from your mouth.

“I want… you inside me… please?” You whimper in embarrassment. You look at him and you see a spark of excitement in his eyes as he smirks at you.

“Atta girl. Wasn’t so hard to say right?” He teases you as he brings himself closer to your pussy. Your breath increases as he places his tip right at the entrance. He only inserts his head before pulling out, repeating the gesture a few times. You whine as a tear falls from your eyes.

“Quit being a fucken brat” Hongjoong hisses at you bringing a gentle hand to your face as he wipes the tear away. Finally, He pushes his whole length inside you, earning a loud yelp from you. His cock instantly hits your sensitive spot and you cling onto his arms. He pauses inside of you, letting you adjust to his size. You’re definitely not used to his large length and thick girth, he’s stretching you out so good.

“Damn baby, you’re so tight? Your boyfriend isn’t big enough huh?” Hongjoong snickers at you. You whine at the sudden mention of your boyfriend again. It’s like he wants to remind you of him on purpose. To humiliate you. Hongjoong begins a slow pace inside you. Grunting as he moves against you.

“Answer me…” he demands, his hand cups your chin to force your gaze on him.

“H—he isn’t big enough. Y—you’re bigger Hongjoong…” You moan as he thrusts deeper.

“You… make me feel s—so good” You close your eyes as you take in the pleasure running through your body. Hongjoong manically smiles. Ecstatic at your response.

“Yeah?” He teases. Picking up his pace. The sound of your sweet moans heighten, the wet sounds of you two slapping against each other fill the room along with Hongjoong’s dirty words.

“Bet you, he doesn’t fuck you this good huh? Look at you. A fucken mess on my cock.”

“N-no! He doesn’t.” You whine, another wave of tears begin to fall from your eyes. The overstimulation of Hongjoong pumping into you along with his degrading words overwhelms you. You don’t want to admit it, but you fucken love this. Your body is enjoying every fucken moment of this dirty, lewd affair.

“F-Fuucckk” Hongjoong moans loudly. “Look at me while you cry, baby. Let me see that pretty face” you listen to him without hesitation. Your eyes locking with his. You feel yourself closer to reaching your high. Until you’re both interrupted with a sudden ringing.

You both turn your heads to the chair you sat on when you first entered Hongjoong’s office. The sight of your bright phone screen illuminates the dim room.

*Siwoo <3 is Calling*

Your heart drops at the name. Anxiety suddenly filling your body, replacing the pleasure you felt before. Hongjoong notices and smirks at you. He reaches over and grabs your phone.

“Answer it.” He demands. You shake your head no.

“I said fucken answer it. Your boyfriend is waiting for you. Don’t be a fucken brat now. Do you want me to stop?” Hongjoong’s words are harsh. You instantly shake your head in protest of him stopping.

“Then fucken answer it” Hongjoong shoves the phone towards you.

You hesitate as you grab the phone from his hands and click the green button. You bring the phone to your ear, but Hongjoong pulls your wrist, and clicks on the speaker button. He cocks his head at you, signaling you to continue,

“H-Hello? Siwoo?” You begin. Hongjoong resumes his pace. Fucking you in and out.

“Hey Honey. What are you doing?” Siwoo’s voice is calm, in contrast to what you’re feeling right now.

“A-Ah.. I’m j-just finishing up some w-work” You stutter as you try to keep your composure. Hongjoong makes it harder for you as he begins to lick your neck.

“You’re still at work?” Siwoo questions.

“M—mm, Yeah. Don’t worry. I—I’ll be home soon” You bite your lip trying to contain a moan.

“You okay Y/N? why do you keep stuttering?” Siwoo’s voices a concern.

“I—i’m okay. I-I just don’t feel too well. I think it’s a stomach tic” You bluff, trying to find an excuse.

“You don’t feel well? Shall I come pick you up from work-?” Siwoo suggests

“No!” You cut him off. You curse to yourself. Hongjoong smiles against a your neck and softly bites it as he continues fucking you senseless.

“Oh- okay then. Just be careful. take some medicine” You roll your eyes. (why the fuck does Siwoo decide to be sweet right now out of all days?) You mentally say to yourself.

“Y-yes I will…” You reply softly.

“Anyways, did you see my text? can you wire me some money?” Siwoo asks nonchalantly. You scoff, earning a vocalized chuckle from Hongjoong. Your eyes widen as you pull him closer to your neck, trying to muffle his laughter. You bite your lip, in hopes Siwoo didn’t hear anything.

“S—sorry, Siwoo. I don’t get paid till this Friday.” you manage to get out.

“Aww please? just a few bucks” Siwoo whines. In annoyance, you roll your eyes once again.

“Siwoo, I—I can’t. I have to go” You quickly hang up the call and throw your phone down. Hongjoong detaches from your neck and chuckles before attacking your lips. His pace begins to pick up. He holds onto your waist for support and you hold him closer. Hongjoong pulls away from your lips and rests his forehead against yours.

“Does he take care of you? or do you take care of him?” He teases as he tries to hold back a laugh.

“S—Shut up” You moan in response. Hongjoong thrusts hard into you, earning a loud yelp from you.

“Someone’s suddenly mouthy?” Hongjoong’s hand grips onto your chin as he lightly taps your cheek.

“F—Fuck” You moan as he shoves himself inside you, with long and deep strokes.

Hongjoong then suddenly pulls out of you. Not wanting to waste any time, he lifts you off the desk and flips you over. Your front is pushed onto the cold wood, and he pulls your hips higher. Your forearms hoist yourself for support as you feel Hongjoong enter you once again. His hands grip under your skirt pushing them up towards your waist, giving him a perfect view of your ass. He mentally curses to himself as he watches your butt bounce on his cock at a constant pace. He brings his hand down to caress it before raising it and bringing it back down in a hard, but pleasurable slap. You yelp in response, eyes widen at the sudden contact.

“Such a fucken naughty girl. Fucking your boss, when you have a boyfriend” Hongjoong degrades you as his hand makes contact with your ass again. You whimper at the stinging sensation. Your tears fall onto the papers infront of you.

“Who fucks you better baby?” Hongjoong pants as his speed increases. “Me or Siwoo? Hm?” He asks again taking you in deeper.

“A—Ahhhh~ You, Hongjoong.” You sniffle your tears , “Hongjoong fucks me better!” You scream as his pace becomes sloppy. Hongjoong hears your crying whimpers and quickly turns you around to face him. Your body now lays flat on his desk as he pumps into you.

“Yeah? bet I can be better lover than him too” Hongjoong confesses as he smashes his lips onto yours. Your heart clenches at his statement. A sudden wave of orgasm hits you. Your pussy tightens around him as you come undone. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you release a loud moan. Your face buried in his chest, as he continues to fuck you and chase his high. Hongjoong’s thrust become sloppy, and quickly pulls out of you.

“Let me cum on your pretty face” He hastily demands. You quickly move towards his lower body and he pumps himself quickly on you. Hongjoong looks at your sparkly doe eyes, and bites his lips. His warm thick load releases into your face, along with a loud grunt from his mouth. You gasp as the feeling of the strings of cum landing on your soft skin. Your mouth instinctively opens,

“F—Fuckkk baby” Hongjoong hisses as he continues to pump more of his load onto your tongue.

The office room is filled with the sounds of you and Hongjoong panting, trying to catch your breath. The room reeks of sex. Your eyes are still locked on his. His white cum painted on your face and mouth. Without any other choice, you close your mouth and swallow his bittersweet cum.

“Fuck” Hongjoong whispers under his breath. He caresses your hair and reaches over his desk to grab a few tissue papers. Hongjoong wipes your face gently and kisses your forehead.

"Let me clean you up down there,"

Hongjoong whispered, his voice a soft, intimate murmur that seemed to linger in

the air between you. The earlier intensity of steamy sex had left a palpable tension, but now, a gentle calm enveloped the room. His eyes, once aflame with desire, were now filled with a warmth that reassured you, reminding you of the caring side he often showed.

After the whirlwind of passion, Hongjoong's demeanor had transformed completely. The fire that had ignited between you both settled into a tender glow as he moved closer, his presence both comforting and protective. With a steady hand, he reached for another tissue, his fingers brushing your skin lightly as he began to clean you up. The touch was careful and deliberate, as if he were trying to convey his affection through each gentle motion.

You felt a mix of vulnerability and warmth wash over you, grateful for the way he approached this moment. It was as though he understood the importance of transitioning from the intensity of physical connection to something more nurturing and intimate. You appreciated how he took his time, ensuring that you felt cared for, both emotionally and physically. As you two began to help each other back into your clothing, you couldn’t ignore the lingering feelings.

“I’ll take you home” Hongjoong smiles gently at you and brushes a strand of your hair out of your face. You nod and follow behind him out of his office. As he approached your desk, Hongjoong gathered your bags. You instinctively reached out to grab them, but he gently shook his head, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Let me handle this,” he said, his voice warm and reassuring. With that, he took the lead, guiding you toward his car.

As you followed behind, your legs felt wobbly, you could sense him glancing back occasionally, ensuring you were still keeping up.

At the car, he paused, opening the passenger door, gesturing for you to get in. You slid into the seat. He placed your bags in the back with care, then turned to you, his demeanor softening as he reached for his spare coat. With a fluid motion, he draped it over your shoulders, its warmth enveloping you like a comforting hug.

“Hongjoong—” you started, the silence stretching between you, but he raised a hand to quiet you.

“Shh, it’s okay, Y/N. You don’t have to say anything. Just rest,” he said gently. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

The drive home was silent. The hum of the engine a lullaby in the stillness of the night. You fought to keep your eyes open, fatigue clawing at you, but each passing moment, tried to invite you to surrender to the drowsiness. Suddenly, the car came to a stop, signaling at you from your drowsy haze. You turned to look at Hongjoong, who was already gazing at you.

“Y/N…” Hongjoong’s voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried an undeniable weight. “I meant what I said when I told you I can be a better lover than Siwoo.” The sincerity in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. “He doesn’t treat you well. You deserve someone who truly values you.” His eyes held a raw intensity as he continued, “I don’t think I can go on without you knowing that I’ve always wanted you for myself.”

His sudden confession took you by surprise, leaving you momentarily speechless. The air around you felt charged, and you could hardly process the emotions swirling within you.

“Let me prove to you that I will love you better. Please, Y/N,” he urged, his gaze earnest and imploring. The vulnerability he displayed was a stark contrast to what he portrayed in the office just moments ago. This was a side of him that revealed his deep feelings, and it struck a chord within you.

Your heart raced as you absorbed his words, the truth of them resonating deep inside. You had long felt the magnetic pull toward him, the warmth in his presence that made you feel seen in a way Siwoo never had. You realized in that moment that you, too, wanted to love him—fully and unreservedly.

Compelled by a rush of emotion, you leaned in closer, the space between you evaporating. Your lips met his in a tender kiss, a hesitant exploration that quickly deepened as he responded. His hands found their way to your face, cradling it gently as he pulled you in, his touch igniting a warmth that spread through your entire being.

“Fuck- if you kiss me like that I might take you right here again” Hongjoong chuckles against your lips. And you giggle in response. However, his expression falls down.

“Y/N… I should tell you that Siwoo has been cheating on you.” Hongjoong sighs as he rests his forehead against yours.

“Who’s Siwoo?” You joke trying to mask your disappointment of him mentioning your now ex. “Y/N, I know I initiated an affair while you are dating him too but, you needed to know.” Hongjoong states in a serious tone.

“I know, Hongjoong.” You say softly. “I figured after our conversation we had on Friday, when he came over to my house the next day. I guess my naive self chose to ignore it… I messaged him earlier when we got to the car that I’m over with him. I’m no longer his.” You look at Hongjoong as he studies your face.

“So… does this mean you’re mine?” Hongjoong raises an eyebrow. You softly smile and shrug your shoulders. Hongjoong smirks at you and in an instant unbuckles his seat belt and exits the car. He makes his way to the passenger door and opens it. Swiftly, he lifts your body and throws you over his shoulder. You yelp in response and he carries you towards his house.

“You drove us to your house?!” You exclaim as you giggle over his shoulder.

“Let me remind you again who you really belong to” Hongjoong chuckles as he playfully slaps your ass and quickly makes his way through the doors of his home.

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Pt. 2 (updated 10/21)

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Author’s commentary: Should I do a sequel? 👀. I had way more ideas for this story but decided to cut it short LOLLL. Anyways, I hope yall enjoy😝 feel free to fangirl in my comment section/ ask box🤭.

[runariya]

Vampire jk which abducted reader from a covenience store bc he thinks she's pretty and he won't share. Make it yandere and DARK pls pls

(yandere) part of the prompt game pairing: vampire!Jungkook x f!reader genre: vampire!AU, yandere, dark romance warnings: yandere, obsession, compulsion so kind of non-con, mentions of blood, lmk if I forgot smth word count: 1.775

a/n: hope it's dark enough lol

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

There’s something about the way you move, something about the way you exist, something so breakable, so delicate, so utterly fragile in your very being, like a porcelain doll poised on the edge of a shelf, waiting for a hand, just one careless hand, to shatter you into a thousand tiny pieces—shards of glass, glittering remnants of what was once whole but could never be put back together again.

Jungkook watches you, has been watching you for months now, lurking like the monster he is, in the corners of the streets you walk down in the darkening evenings, in the dim alleyways of your naive routine, unnoticed but always there, lingering with an intent that borders on obsession. Your skin is pale, your eyes wide, innocent, doe-like, and your lips are so soft-looking he sometimes wonders what it would feel like to press his thumb against them, feel the warmth of your breath, see if you’d break under the slightest bit of pressure, just snap like a twig in winter, cold and brittle.

It’s funny, he thinks, how you walk through life so unaware, so untouched by the darkness that curls around you, the shadows that creep along the edges of your world, waiting to consume you, and he, of course, is one of those shadows, watching you, biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment, the moment when he’ll take you, make you his.

You’re so beautiful in your naivety, so perfect in your ignorance, and there’s a strange satisfaction in knowing that he’ll be the one to break you, to take that innocence and twist it into something darker, something that belongs to him, something that can never escape him once he’s had his way with it.

It happens on a Tuesday, a drizzly, grey afternoon in the convenience store, where the fluorescent lights buzz incessantly overhead and the air smells faintly of damp vegetables and cheap cleaning products. You’re there, standing in front of a shelf filled with canned soup, your fingers trailing absentmindedly along the labels as you read them with that same curious intensity you seem to give everything else, as if choosing a can of soup could somehow change the course of your life.

He stands a few aisles down, pretending to be interested in some boxed pasta, but his eyes are on you, always on you, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, that simmering sense of possessiveness curling tighter and tighter in his chest while saliva collects in his mouth, fangs protruding just a little.

You’re wearing a light dress today, something floral and soft, something that makes you look even more delicate than usual, and it’s that sight, that perfect, breakable sight, that makes him decide that today is the day, that he’s done waiting, done watching, done hiding like some kind of forgotten nightmare. No, today he’ll take you, and you won’t even know it’s happening until it’s too late.

He approaches you slowly, casually, his footsteps silent on the linoleum floor, and when he’s close enough that you can feel his presence, you turn your head to look at him, those wide, innocent, beautiful eyes locking onto his, and for a moment, just a brief flicker of a moment, you look confused, like you don’t quite know what to make of him, but that’s okay. He’s not worried. He never worries. He knows what he is, knows what he can do, and humans are so terribly easy to manipulate, to control, to bend to his will without even realising it.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low, smooth, almost like velvet, as he steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours, and there’s a slight smile playing on his lips, a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, because why would it? You’re just a fragile little thing, after all, and he knows exactly how fragile things can break.

You blink up at him, that confusion still clouding your gaze, but there’s something else there too, something that he recognises immediately—the fear, the instinctive fear that all prey feels when it senses a predator nearby. But you don’t run. You don’t even move. You’re frozen, like a deer caught in headlights, staring up at him with those wide, pretty eyes, and it’s almost too easy, almost too perfect.

“You’re coming with me,” he says, his voice still that same velvet tone, but there’s an edge to it now, a command, and as he says the words, he reaches out, his hand brushing against your arm, and he feels the spark, the connection, the compulsion sliding into place like a key turning in a lock.

Your eyes glaze over slightly, your lips parting just a little, and you nod, so softly, so obediently, it makes his cold heart swell with something dark and possessive. You’re his now. You don’t even know it, but you’re his, and there’s no turning back.

A young grocery store employee approaches you then, a kid really, barely old enough to be working here, and he’s looking at you, not at Jungkook, with concern in his eyes, because even he can sense that something isn’t right, that something about this situation feels off, but Jungkook doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about the boy. He only cares about you.

“Is everything okay?” the boy asks, his voice hesitant, unsure, and he takes a step closer, like he might try to intervene, might try to play the hero in this little scene, but Jungkook just looks at him, just gives him one look, one cold, dead-eyed look, and the boy stops in his tracks, the blood draining from his face, fear settling deep into his bones. He doesn’t say another word. He just turns around and walks away, too scared, too weak to do anything else, and Jungkook almost laughs, almost, but there’s no time for that, not now.

“Let’s go,” he whispers to you, and you nod again, that same obedient little nod, and he takes your small hand, cold fingers wrapping around yours, pulling you along behind him as you walk out of the store, out into the rain, out into the world where no one will stop him, where no one will even try, because no one ever does.

His house is dark, shadowed, the kind of place where nightmares are born and never quite die, and as he leads you inside, he watches you closely, watches the way you move, the way you follow him without question, without hesitation, and it’s almost laughable, because you’re so fragile, so tiny, so breakable, and he knows, deep down, that he could crush you in an instant, snap you in half without much effort, and you wouldn’t even fight back. You wouldn’t even scream.

He brings you to the living room, where the air reeks with the scent of old wood and something else, something metallic and dark, like blood that’s dried long ago, and he pushes you gently onto the couch, watching as you sit there, your hands folded neatly in your lap, your eyes still glazed over, still lost in that compulsion, and it’s so satisfying, so incredibly satisfying, to know that you’re his now, that you belong to him in every way that matters.

“Do you know how long I’ve watched you?” he asks you, his voice soft, almost tender, as he sits down beside you, his cold hand resting on your knee, his inked fingers trailing lightly over the fabric of your dress. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment?”

You don’t respond, of course. You can’t. Not while you’re under his control, not while his will is the only thing that matters in your mind. But that’s fine. He doesn’t need you to respond. He just needs you to listen.

“I’ve watched you for months,” he continues, his voice low, almost a whisper now, as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, inhaling deeply as his fangs come fully to life, “and I’ve thought about all the ways I could take you, all the ways I could make you mine. You’re so pretty, so perfect, so breakable… like a fucking doll. I could snap you in half if I wanted to, you know? I could break you, and you wouldn’t even know it until it was too late.”

His hand moves up your leg, cold fingers sliding under the hem of your dress, and you still don’t move, still don’t react, and it’s almost intoxicating, the power he holds over you, the way you’re completely at his mercy, completely and utterly his.

“But I won’t break you,” he purrs softly, his voice almost gentle now, as if he’s trying to soothe you, trying to make you believe that he’s not the monster you should fear. “I won’t break you because I’m not like that. I’m not like the others. I have a gold heart, you see… but my hands are cold. So cold.”

He lifts his hand, showing you his fingers, pale and icy, and he watches as your eyes follow the movement, as if you’re mesmerised by the sight of him, by the sight of something so inhuman, so otherworldly.

“I won’t break you,” he repeats, and this time, there’s something darker in his voice, something twisted and possessive and full of the kind of love that only monsters can feel. “I’ll keep you, instead. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll keep you forever.”

And then he leans in, closer and closer, until his lips are inches from yours, and he can feel your breath on his skin, warm and soft, and it’s almost too much, almost too perfect, because he knows that in this moment, in this exact moment, you’re his, completely and utterly his, and nothing will ever change that.

“You belong to me now,” he whispers against your lips, and then, without waiting for a response, without giving you a chance to even think even if you tried, he kisses you.

His lips are cold, colder than ice, colder than death, and he feels you shudder beneath him, feels the way your body reacts to the touch, the way your skin prickles with goosebumps, and it’s so satisfying, so incredibly satisfying, to know that he’s the one causing it, that he’s the one who owns you now, body and soul.

And as he kisses you, as he feels you give in to him completely, he knows that this is just the beginning, just the start of something darker, something twisted, something that will never end, because you’re his now, and you’ll never be anything else.

Never.

PART 2

[natsuki-bakery]

⁎˚ ఎ Dunmeshi Agere HCs ໒ ˚⁎

omg hai could you do little izutsumi and cg marcille? :3 more specifically headcanons about izutsumi having a nightmare pls and thank you :P (just ignore that she has weird dreams when she sleeps with marcille lol)

•Izutsumi’s nightmares often revolve around her traumatic experiences as a former slave and the fear of losing control to her beast-like form. Even in her age regressed state, her subconscious can bring up these fears, leading to vivid dreams of being hunted or chained

•In her nightmare, she might not even realize she’s crying, but small whimpers and soft hisses escape her lips as she dreams, signaling her distress

•Marcille, being the motherly figure she is to the group, is very sensitive to the emotional states of her companions. She would be the first to notice Izutsumi stirring restlessly in her sleep, recognizing the early signs of a nightmare. With her keen elven senses, she hears Izutsumi's faint distress even before she fully awakens

•Marcille would use a soft light spell, similar to her gentle "Light" spell, casting a warm, soothing glow in the room to calm Izutsumi’s mind. She’s careful to use magic that’s familiar and comforting, avoiding anything that could remind Izutsumi of danger or control

•As Izutsumi stirs awake, Marcille would gently stroke her hair and ears, using slow, repetitive motions that are grounding. She knows Izutsumi dislikes being touched normally, but in this regressed, vulnerable state, the physical reassurance is welcome

•Upon waking, Izutsumi would be confused and scared, her usual tough exterior stripped away. She might cling to Marcille’s robes, much like a frightened child clings to their mother. Her feline instincts would have her seeking warmth and safety, curling against Marcille without realizing it

•Marcille would softly tell Izutsumi that she’s safe, speaking in her calm, reassuring voice. "No one can hurt you anymore, sweetheart. You’re safe now. You’re with me" Her words are a promise and a spell in their own right, banishing the lingering shadows of the nightmare

•Drawing from her elven heritage, Marcille might hum or sing an old lullaby in her native tongue, a song that her own mother sang to her. Its ethereal quality would be soothing to Izutsumi, even if she doesn’t fully understand the words

•To make Izutsumi feel secure, Marcille might wrap a blanket around her, creating a safe, warm cocoon. If Izutsumi regresses fully into a more kitten-like state, Marcille would allow her to curl up in her lap, providing the physical comfort that reassures her

•After calming her down, Marcille would prepare a warm, mild herbal tea (something safe for Izutsumi’s sensitive beastkin stomach) to help her relax further. She’d sit with her as she drinks, never rushing her but simply being there

•Even after Izutsumi falls back asleep, Marcille would stay awake a little longer, keeping watch over her. She knows how hard it is for Izutsumi to let her guard down, and she would never take that trust lightly

•By morning, Izutsumi might revert to her usual guarded self, but Marcille notices the subtle way she lingers just a bit longer in her presence. She might not say thank you directly, but her actions like sticking close to Marcille’s side, speak volumes

•Even though she tries to act tough, Izutsumi’s tail betrays her when she’s around Marcille. The slow, relaxed flicking of her tail shows her gratitude and comfort, even if she can’t express it in words

If you're in the basic criteria , are DSMP fans, vivziep0p fans , h0tel/h3lluva b0ss fans, Owl h0use fans, St4r butterfly fans, Ghibli fans, ddlg/abdl blogs, nsfw/k!nk blogs, anti-agere blogs, or anti Christians/Christianity blogs : just dont interact !

[cranity]

hi hi! i love your art so much & specifically how you use shapes, especially when you’re drawing heads and faces. i was wondering if you have any tips about how to incorporate shapes this way! pls feel free to ignore if course!

Thank you! I was mulling over this trying to figure out an answer that makes sense. I usually go for what "feels right" which is not a great answer lol so come deconstruct my choices with me in real time--

When i'm drawing figures i'm never aiming particularly for realism when it comes to movement. I go for flashy, poster perfect-esque compositions, so if having Vash's coat-tails flit around him unnaturally don't make sense but it looks cool, then i'll go for it! I think i'm always looking for a solid silhouette so whatever pose the character is striking, you can tell what's going on. Finding the right balance between making a silhouette with too much vs not enough is not something I know how to explain, but something I believe is important! :']

I also tend to extend a characters "energy" outward:

you can see in all these corners and edges everything points outward and even curves a slight bit away. I think this is one of the reasons people tend to call my art sharp/spikey! I don't tend to shade/render my work a terrible amount, preferring a flat graphic look most of the time or just playing with blacks (which is a whole shape language in itself) but when I do, all the shadows and highlights shapes tend to take on a spikey/lightning bolt shape even tho it wouldn't look like that in real life!

It's just really pleasing to me and I like how it looks! The spikier something is for me, the better! If you couldn't guess at this point, starts/lightning bolts are my favorite shapes haha Another thing I tend to do is avoid is curved lines. They're definitely still there! But my flow is more jerky straight lines so that if I drew a circle in my style it'd look like a messed up pentagon with soft points, that basic rule in my art brings forth funky shapes that otherwise wouldn't be there if I was trying to stick to realistic shapes This probably didn't answer a lot ToT but I hope my rambles brought something to light, whatever that may be!

[orionwhispers]

Feels Like Home // Bucky Barnes 🍂

(a/n- ok holy shit ive finally finished my first bucky oneshot. its long as fuck but im so so happy with it. pls let me know what you think. i have lots of requests and peaky stuff coming up as well. love you guys SO much) probs loads of mistakes but its 12k words and im exhausted lol. (also this is inspired by the song feels like home by bea miller and jessie reyez. highly recommend)

warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, HEAVILY implied smut, so much fluff your dentist will kill me, angst and canon level violence. 

Bucky Barnes had thought a lot about death.

He thought about it often during the war. Wondering if perhaps a bullet would pass through his gut as he ran through the trenches, or a bomb would explode under his feet as he walked across the battlefield. It was everywhere he looked, his fellow comrades bandaged and bloody, the nurses in the infirmary tent smelling of saline and strong, sweet, copper.

He thought about it more than anything with Hydra. Wishing that the torture would send him over the edge, pleading for the sweet release that death would give him. Thinking that what was waiting for him on the other side surely couldn’t be worse than what he was already dealing with.

Even when he moved into the tower, and into a routine with people who understood and trusted him, death had followed him for so long that it was like a friend.

He always thought his death would be something violent; something carnal and savage, almost poetic for him to die the same way that he had lived.

But who would have thought his demise would have been at the hands of the sleepy eyed, honey lipped, gentle girl that made him coffee and brought him raspberry donuts?

You turned his world upside down on a Thursday. He remembers it well, and thinks back to that autumn morning like it’s a picture he keeps in his wallet or a well thumbed book next to his bed. It doesn’t matter what the circumstances are - he could be in battle, bloody and bruised, or five thousand miles away from you on a mission in the depths of some town he doesn’t know the name of, feeling himself start to crumble - and the thought of you is enough to steady him, your light luring him back to rationality, his girl.

His sweet girl.

He owed it all to you, and the way you changed his life on that rainy, dreary day and made him realise that home wasn’t a place, it was a person.

The compound was quiet. The Avengers all in a state of limbo; exhausted from hours of travelling, the ghost of bruises and cuts on their knuckles and blood under their fingernails. But more powerful than anything: the red hot relief to finally be back in the tower after two weeks.

The rest of the group fell into their own routines, their own little grooves that they had mastered over the however many years they had been saving the world. The showers were turned onto the highest setting, the smell of Sam’s ridiculously expensive mango shower gel and Nat’s deep, woody body scrub lingering across the floor. Comfort food was made in the kitchen, the throaty sound of laughter and bare feet on the tiles as popcorn sizzled and snapped on the stove. Blankets were draped across the sofas, mugs of hot chocolate and cans of sweet, dry beer passed around and over tangled limbs.

It was something they needed - something they craved. That comforting, warm feeling of family, something so trivial and domestic that it was enough to dull whatever they had been faced with, that for the evening they could think of terrible rom coms and laughter and teasing, rather than civilians dying and the smell of blood and the sound of gunshots. For those stolen moments of happiness after days of heart ache and exhaustion - it was enough.

Well, it was enough for almost everyone.

Whilst the others were arguing over the remote and whether peanut M&Ms were better than chocolate, Bucky was in his room with the lock bolted, methodically cleaning his weapons with surgical precision. He had been at the compound for almost six months, and despite the amenities and luxuries that came with his new home, he felt anything but comfortable.

He liked the people he lived and worked with - and most of them liked him too, but that didn’t do anything to dull the ache in his skull and the uncertainty deep in his gut. After so many years of not being in control of his own mind and body, of having his thoughts and feelings altered by people who saw him as nothing more than a weapon, he was struggling to adjust to his new life.

Amongst all of the chaos though, he had Steve.

The familiar sunshine haired boy that helped ease the storm. His best friend, his brother. The once scrawny teenager that he would follow to the end of the world, all guns blazing, no questions asked. Deep down, he knew that the golden boy was perhaps the only reason he was still at the tower, blending in with all the rest of the wonderful, shining eyed superhero’s around him, making him stick out like a sore thumb.

He knew they thought he could change, but he wasn’t so sure. Sometimes - like the times when he found himself grinning at something Clint said in the back of the jet, or when Nat patted his shoulder in thanks when he covered her in battle, or when he sat on the roof with Steve, talking about faded memories of pin up girls and Coney Island, he felt like perhaps he could be the man Steve thought he was. But then he caught sight of himself in the reflected surfaces of his bathroom, or felt the ricochet of his gun against his shoulder or the blood coating his hands and dripping down into his boots - and he remembered that sometimes people just don’t change.

He listened to the rain as he folded away his weapons that day. Listened to the way the patter of the water muffled the noises of laughter and playfulness coming from the lounge and dissolved into silence. It was too early to retire into bed, and besides, after a mission like the one they had come from sleep wouldn’t be on his mind for a while, his body was still racing with adrenaline.

Then, amongst the patter of raindrops and mingle of voices, he heard something.

A commotion in the hall. His body was finely tuned to pick up anything out of the ordinary, and he could hear the magnetic whir and clang of the elevator as it reached their floor. Everybody was crowded in the living room, which meant it would be somebody from outside the inner circle, and usually that would send cold chills down to his spine, but for some reason this time it didn’t.

Ghosts. Premonitions. Fortune telling. All a load of horse shit to him. He might have been to space and been frozen in time and met some really, really, bizarre people - but there were some things he just didn’t believe in.

Until that rainy day.

It was like a magnetic pull inside of him, when he wanted to lock himself away and not speak to anyone, something inside of him made him want to get up and join the rest of the crew in meeting the stranger.

Even before he saw your face you had him, hook, line and sinker.

So he begrudgingly got to his feet and stood in the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the frame, metal arm out of sight. Steve glanced at him quickly with his eyebrows raised but he ignored him, focusing his eyes on the elevator as it slowly started to open.

Tony looked up suddenly as the doors opened , furrowing his brow at the semi circle of avengers watching him intently. Rather then question it he rolled his eyes, exhaling loudly and stepping forward, gesturing wildly with his arms. “Gather round, gather round, circus freaks. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Because Tony’s personality took up almost the entire room by himself, he had to step to the side for everyone to even get a glimpse of who he was talking about. They waited patiently, with crossed arms and gentle smiles as you stepped out of the shadows.

Bucky felt himself freeze.

You looked so... scared. Not in the traditional sense, not like you were terrified of them or fearing for your life, but the kind of alarm that always trudged through his blood, the feeling of unease and instability, as though you didn’t really belong.

Everybody fell into their roles the way he knew they would. You were young, probably not much older than the Parker kid, and that was why Nat and Steve stepped forward instantly, very protective of you before they even knew your name.

Your hair was mused and loose, eyes wide and lips puffy, as if you had just woken up. You were dressed all in black, baggy clothes and no makeup, your fingers interlocked, your rapid heartbeat pulsing in his ears.

And for some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Everyone, this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Tony said, one arm resting gently on your shoulders, pushing you forward.

Bucky had to stop himself from saying your name aloud, wondering why he wanted to taste it on his tongue.

As everybody spoke, introducing themselves with just enough reservation to make you feel comfortable, your eyes met, and his heart stopped. Your eyes were more white than not, a little glossy and swimming with uncertainty, and he felt the urge to do something, anything, to make you feel even a little bit calmer.

The feeling was so foreign that he stepped back, tearing his gaze away from you, suddenly unnerved. He didn’t miss the way you exhaled, and he pretended not to notice the way his body seemed to pine for the warmth he had felt when your eyes met.

Bucky heard him whisper to Nat, his usually sardonic voice dripping with genuine concern. “Keep an eye on her, for me, please.”

And although he knew Tony would never ask that of him, he knew that without a doubt, he would.

—————————————————————-

Those next few days, you stayed hidden in your room - which just so happened to be opposite his own.

Despite that, he never saw you. Not even once.

You weren’t at any team meetings or debriefings, you were never nestled in one of the chairs in the lounge, never sat on the balcony watching the sunrise or slicing up strawberries and grapes in the nook in the kitchen.If it wasn’t for the small, barely there noises you made every so often, he would have thought you had left.

Through the vents he could occasionally hear the whine of your door and the gentle sound of your footsteps at midnight darting to the kitchen. Sometimes he heard Wanda speaking softly to you, so kind and gentle that he could even hear the anxiety leave your voice for a little while. He’d hear Tony’s loud and obnoxious knock in the middle of the night, the two of you leaving for the lab under the cover of darkness.

Bucky hardly slept. It had never come smoothly to him, slipped through his fingers too easily like grains of sand. He used to train to block out the noise, attacking a punching bag until all he could hear was the steady thump, thump, thump of his knuckles. Steve had taken him running whenever the nights got too long or too loud, sweating out the frustration he felt as they darted through the streets at midnight, but now he found another way to pass those hours in the dead of night.

There was something oddly comforting to him about laying upright in his bed, reading whatever novel somebody had leant him and told him was a classic, listening out for the shuffle of your footsteps from the other side of the hall. He remembered what it had been like for him when he first moved into the tower. He knew how hard it was, moving into a space that wasn’t your own.

So now he found solace under the breeze of his ceiling fan and the slow drip of that one leaky tap that he still hadn’t fixed and the low hum of whatever sitcom you were watching vibrating through the walls.

He liked to make sure that you were safe. You were obviously scared of something, or someone, and it made him feel better that he was keeping an ear out for anything out of the ordinary. He told himself that it was for the benefit of the whole tower, but that didn’t explain the ease he felt in his chest when he finally heard the quiet, even snores coming from your room, and the way that it made his own eyes start to close.

The next time he saw you in the flesh was almost a month after you had moved in.

He was in the lounge with the rest of the avengers that had slept most of the morning away, Sam nursing a cup of vanilla coffee and Steve watching the news as he made some kind of bizarre and disgusting protein shake. Bucky sat on the sofa with his back ramrod straight as he did the daily crossword, something about filling out the empty boxes comforting him.

It was a rare free day and he had slept in a little longer than usual, only falling asleep after he had heard the squeak of your bed frame and the whir of your fan flittering in his ears. When he had woken up your room was still, and he assumed you were still asleep as he headed out for his run, but by the sound of your voice in the stairwell you had obviously slipped out unnoticed, and he couldn’t help feeling impressed.

He perked up instantly when he heard you. He listened to the soft way you spoke against the sharp click of Pepper’s heels against the floor, his eyes darting to the doorway as he heard you approach. He saw the girls first, the three of them flanking you like a security detail. Wanda and Natasha at your sides, Pepper walking slightly ahead; gesturing with her jewellery clad hands as she spoke to you.

You faltered as you stepped forward, eyes widening like a deer in headlights as you noticed the boys watching you from the other side of the room. Sam awkwardly removed his hand from where he had shoved it down a cereal box, waving kindly with lucky charm marshmallows stuck to his fingers. Steve - ever the gentleman - gave you his classic golden retriever smile, greeting you as though you were an old friend.

You relaxed a little at that, and Bucky felt himself deflate. He would never be the most warm and welcoming person, not anymore, and he wondered why that bothered him so much when it came to you.

Pepper gently placed a hand on your shoulder, and you leaned into her touch like a cat. “Boys. You remember (Y/N).”

You looked up, waving a hand that was hidden by your oversized sweater sleeves. “Hello again.”

A shy smile. Big eyes. A voice like melted chocolate. Bucky felt fourteen again.

He wanted to say something to you, but he couldn’t get any words out. Pepper was on a mission though, perching her hand motherly on your shoulder and escorting you forward. “Right. The lab. This way!”

Bucky’s gaze followed you all the way down the hall, not stopping even when you faded into nothingness. He turned slowly, feeling Steve and Nat watching with matching smirks on their faces, their eyes flickering with childish glee.

He scoffed.

“Shut up.”

———————————————————

As the weeks passed, Bucky hardly caught a glimpse of you. He didn’t even realise he was searching for you, his eyes just flitting over the empty chair at meal times or trailing through the gym, wondering if he might make out the bounce of your hair or the curve of your lips.

Not that he had been thinking about your lips. He definitely hadn’t been thinking about your lips.

You had piqued his interest though. He thought of the way he had been when he first moved into the tower, and knew that the first few weeks were always the hardest. You spent the majority of the time in your room, occasionally leaving for Tony’s floor or the lab, but always hiding in the night and the shadows, falling just out of reach before he got lucky enough to see you.

Fortunately, there were enough recon missions to fill his days. He found distraction in snow capped mountains and dry, dusty deserts, searching for old HYDRA bases or intel that might have been missed. His mind was filled with coordinates and strategy plans, and that worked for a little while. Until the jet landed and he found himself wondering if you would be there with the rest of the team welcoming him back, and every time he was left feeling a quick, pang of disappointment when you weren’t.

Eventually though, things started to look up.

At three in the morning, like clockwork, he began hearing your door squeal as you opened it, and then the sound of sock clad feet padding through the hallways. The first time it happened his heart leapt and he jolted upright, convinced that something bad had happened. He didn’t relax until he heard Natasha speak, voice crystal clear despite the early hour.

“You ready?”

He soon discovered that Natasha had taken you under her wing, and was helping you spar at the times you felt the most comfortable - when the rest of the building was asleep. He knew he wasn’t the only person who was curious about you, wanting to know if you had any powers, and Nat had stopped Steve from asking a million different questions about you.

He didn’t want to make you retreat once again, so he left it alone.

Eventually, you started sleeping in, getting more comfortable and leaving your bed much later than before. The others still kept their distance, entering the gym just as you were leaving, drenched in sweat and smiling. The first time that Bucky saw you smile like that was after a run with Sam, and he swore his knees almost buckled at the sight of you, wide eyed and sparkling like a diamond, sucker punching the air right out of his gut.

It was just about dawn when he next saw you, the sun barely risen, the compound bathed in a golden, ethereal light. No matter how many early mornings they had had, the kitchen still smelt like triple shot espresso and cans of red bull every day, sleepy eyed avengers mumbling and grumbling as they fought over who got to use the coffee machine first. Bucky smiled smugly across his mug of instant grounds that Sam had so tastefully called, “disgusting cheap crap,” as his $3 coffee capsule got crushed once again.

Steve made some quick joke as he towelled off his hair from his shower, but his words crumbled into TV static when Bucky saw you coming off the elevator. You were limping, just a little, but enough to make his heart thunder in his chest. You were smiling though, wide and happily. As bright as the full sun, and Bucky wanted to stay in your warmth for a little bit longer. Natasha held onto you as though you weighed less than a newborn baby, and the two of you stumbled towards your room. Before you disappeared you shot a small and hesitant smile at the boys, one that pierced through Bucky like a steel bullet.

He wanted to keep quiet but he couldn’t. Not after he had seen you.

“You don’t think Natasha is being to hard on her?” He said finally, clearing his throat in an attempt to sound nonchalant.

“Why do you care?” Sam had asked, halfway through a breakfast burrito that was dropping more food on his shirt than into his mouth.

“Camaraderie.” He quipped.

“Camaraderie my ass. Remember that time I almost broke my leg sparring with you? You made me walk myself to the clinic.”

“That’s because you were being whiney and dramatic.”

“Oh? Well I’ll tell you what I think. I think that Mr Barnes here is - ”

“Alright. That’s enough.” Steve said finally, cutting the conversation short, knowing exactly where Sam was going with his thoughts and not wanting to put his best friend through any embarrassment about his... interest in you.

Sam gave him a glare that said that the conversation was definitely not over, but Bucky ignored him, his eyes trailing the hallway you had walked through, his belly aching and flipping from the way that you had looked at him, filling him with a warmth that didn’t dim even long after he had fallen asleep that night.

——————————————————————-

Things really started to change at midnight. When the sky went black and turned into a blanket of obsidian and twinkling stars, that was when both of you came alive.

The nightmares were back, and they were bad. Blood. Metal. Rust. The pain that felt as though his bones were snapping one by one. Gasping for air. Sweat. Fists. Gunshots. No longer could he stay asleep listening out for you, his body didn’t want him to feel comfortable, safe, whatever the way you made him feel. He wouldn’t allow himself the luxury of something as sweet as you. He was not a man that deserved good things, and he knew he certainly didn’t deserve you.

The compound was so big and he felt so small in his bed. Sometimes he swore he could feel the walls closing in, even though he knew his quarters were more than triple the size of some of the hellholes he had been trapped in. He needed space. He needed air. And that was what led him to wander the hallways like some kind of spectre as the city roared and thundered and thrived below him.

The rooftop had always been his favourite spot. Tony loved using it for parties, setting up a bar and filling the hot tub with champagne and hiring some idiot to blast stupid music that made Bucky want to smash his head against a brick wall. But it was often just used by the team, swimming laps in the pool and laughing under the summer sun, strawberries and wine in the spring and late night swims in the rain in the winter, making Clint jump in the frozen water naked after he lost a round of poker.

It was one of the rare places that Bucky felt truly safe. Out in the open air, watching the water sparkle teal under the stars, the city so big and beautiful, lights flickering and horns blaring. He came up when things went bad, losing himself in the noise and the ice cold air. He often pulled a chair out to the edge, drinking a beer that had no effect on him but somehow made him feel a little bit lighter, just watching the world go by.

He hadn’t been up there in a while. The nightmares had stopped for a while, incidentally the same time you arrived, but recently they had started to trickle back in, like rain at the end of summer.

He was in a pair of flannel pyjama pants and a henley with far too many holes in, cradling a mug of cocoa with a shot of dark rum as he stepped off the elevator, stopping suddenly when he noticed the outdoor lights shining brightly. He knew that everybody else was asleep, and his field instincts kicked in quickly, until he noticed the soft lilac hue of your satin pyjamas glistening under the moon.

Perhaps he should have left. He knew that you liked to keep your distance and God, did he understand that, but his feet seemed to stay cemented to the floor. You were luring him like a ship to a lighthouse, beckoning him to follow you, and who was he to resist?

You were bent over a row of plants and flowers, watering them from a buttercup yellow can, your fingers stained with mud. You moved gently, tentatively fondling the leaves and petals and clipping away any stray stems and weeds. He watched you with curious eyes, amazed at how something so simple could show so much about your character. After so long of not seeing you he felt lucky to catch a glimpse, and he didn’t want to do anything to scare you off.

That was, until his foot caught the edge of one of the sun loungers.

For a trained assassin, he could really be a dumbass sometimes.

You looked up quickly, eyes as wide as dinner plates, your face just starting to flush. He held up his free hand, all the air leaving his lungs like a balloon. He stepped back to leave you in peace, but then he heard you softly say:

“Wait.”

So he did.

You looked nervous but enchanting, with your mussed hair and fluffy slippers and long eyelashes. You smiled timidly, but warmly, and looked at him. Really looked at him. And something about that made him feel truly seen, for the first time in a long time.

“Bucky, right?” A pause lingered in the air, he was suddenly face to face with you and somehow all of his words dissolved into the night air. You mistook his turmoil for something else, and straightened up, the trowel in your hand spilling dirt onto the floor. “Oh I’m so sorry. Do you prefer James? Or...”

“Bucky!” He said, almost shouting, and then calmed himself down. He could feel a blush rising up his throat from his outburst, but if it meant you would look at him the way that you were, then he would happily embarrass himself forever.

A moment passed, the stars overhead round and full despite all of the pollution in the city air, and for once Bucky didn’t find them the most beautiful thing he had seen.

“What are you doing?” He asked before he could stop himself.

“Oh, um.” You were a little flustered, the apples of your cheeks rounding and your lips twitching up, like you were laughing at a joke he so desperately wanted to be a part of. It was infectious. You were infectious, and the ice cold assassin felt the frost around his heart start to thaw.

“Tony got them for me.” You said, barely meeting his gaze. “After everything.” You stopped awkwardly and cleared your throat. His interest was piqued but he knew better than to probe you, instead letting you ramble. “He thought it would be good for me to have something to take care of. Something to look after, you know?”

He nodded.

“It’s not much, but sometimes coming up here and watering them just takes my mind off of things, you know?” You said, somewhat absentmindedly. He watched as you stroked the petals, pushing your finger into a droplet of water on the leaves. He wasn’t much of a gardener but he recognised a few of the potted plants. Forget me nots, African violets, buttery yellow primrose and icy purple orchids. You had other things too, sweet mint and thyme and rosemary, and budding stems of strawberries and blackberries and tomatoes.

It was amazing how much life you had grown along the usually industrial looking balcony. It was rare to see something thrive amongst the smoke of the city,

“I like it up here too, it’s peaceful.” He said, looking out at the skyline and smelling the crisp, cool air.

You mistook his honesty for an annoyance at breaching his personal space, and held your hands up apologetically. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” You were about to make excuses and leave, not wanting to upset the very handsome man who had occupied far too much of your brain anymore, but he stepped forward and said quickly:

“No! In fact, I er - I think I like it much more now.”

You smiled, and oh boy, did Bucky know he was done for.

———————————————————-

Bucky started to like the nights.

After the first midnight meeting it somehow became unspoken for the two of you to meet up on the rooftop. Bucky never wanted to overstep or make you feel uncomfortable, but he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to see you again in the privacy of the twilight, the moonlight casting gold flecks into your eyes.

It should have been awkward. An ex HYDRA puppet and a girl with a blurry past that had just joined the biggest crime fighting organisation in the world should have found it hard to open up to one another, but somehow that didn’t happen.

You both kept the conversation light, the silences were warm and comfortable, and everything felt bizarrely natural. You’d often be preening your plants and Bucky would be sat on a lounge chair, reading a book and sneaking glances at you. You talked about the city, he told you how much it had changed since the 40’s, and you told him about the crappy apartment with no heating and a nest of owls you lived in before Tony took you in.

Family never came up, it was a subject you danced around and Bucky respected your privacy. He told you about his though, it slipped out accidentally when he saw you preening foxgloves the colour of ripe and juicy plums - and how they reminded him of the ones his mother once had in the window box of their kitchen. Somehow the memory hit him like a sucker punch to the gut, and you expertly swerved the conversation onto something else. It lingered in his mind for the rest of the night, only dimming when he came home from a workout the following morning and saw a little vase filled with purple petals and a book titled “Caring For Foxgloves” left outside of his door.

His smile didn’t fade the whole rest of the day, even through Sam’s relentless teasing.

He remembered you talking about your favourite cafe off campus, and the white hot chocolate and raspberry donuts you would kill for, and took an hour detour from his running route to pick them up for you both to share later that night.

It was amazing, how this girl he only knew through the sounds from his wall was now sitting with him in the early hours of the morning, talking to him like he was a real person and not just some shitty science experiment. You exchanged books, giving him ones that you thought he would enjoy, and he devoured them in less than a week, finding traces of you between the pages.

The two of you never sat right beside one another. You knew his past and you were cautious not to overwhelm him, always leaving generous inches and metres between you both. For the first time in a long time Bucky didn’t want somebody to give him space, he craved those moments when your fingertips would brush as he helped you pot a plant, when your thighs would touch as you leant over him to watch the stars, when he could feel your warmth orbiting him like a planet.

He used to loathe the night time, but now, he spent the whole day aching for the sun to set so he could be with you.

Eventually, as you grew closer with him, you also grew closer with the team, and soon you were joining them sporadically for movie nights and “Friends” marathons and training. You mainly stayed with Wanda and Nat, the two girls sparring with you and showing you the ropes and coming from a place you could understand the best, but you always ended up back next to Bucky - and he loved it.

The rest of the team noticed too. The way that you brought Bucky out of his shell and he helped you to feel grounded. Steve instantly saw that the smile on his best friends face was wider than it had been in fifty years, and he enjoyed watching the two of you together, happy his best friend was happy.

Bucky felt his own change, too. He was no longer a blushing, stuttering mess around you, (well, not completely. He was still a wreck when you smiled at him, or laughed, or did basically anything) but he had found a comfortable middle ground in your friendship, the two of you able to tease and joke with each other like old friends. Finding ways to talk the whole night and day away, watching the sky turn from obsidian to sweet purple and then milky blue, both of you wondering how you had managed to once again miss an entire night quicker than a snap of fingers.

He knew that he was in deep when you got cleared for your first mission.

He remembered waking up, running with Steve, drinking coffee and making eggs, all whilst pretending he wasn’t looking over his shoulder waiting for you every few seconds. Sam came in with a smug smile and stole a slice of toast, buttering it until it was dripping and eating it in seconds, his brow furrowing a little as he watched Bucky.

“What?” Bucky asked, shooting him a curious glance.

“Aren’t you gonna say goodbye to your girl?”

“She not ‘my girl’.” Bucky said through a mouthful of coffee, hating how the words made him feel.

“Oh, right. Of course not. It’s not like the two of you don’t spend every second of every day and every night together, and it’s not like you’re totally head over heels -”

Bucky decided it would be easier to just cut him off, taking his frustration out on the eggs he was now whisking a little too hard. “Why would I say goodbye to her?”

“You didn’t hear?”

He shook his head, suddenly feeling a million tiny needles prickle his skin.

“Bruce signed her off. She’s heading to Madrid with Nat.”

“She’s what?”

That was all it took for him to leave, Sam watching him closely and smirking to himself. Not noticing until it was too late that the pan had started smoking, and the smell of burnt eggs wafted through the air, and Sam was left alone to grab the fire extinguisher and coat the meal in clouds of white foam.

Bucky stormed through the halls, he wasn’t quite sure what his plan was, his mind felt like a bowl of alphabet soup and he couldn’t quite place his anger or frustration, but that didn’t stop him from tearing through the rooms with a face like thunder. He found Tony in the conference room, finalising the mission plans and murmuring under his breath. Bucky feet moved him forward before he could even compute it.

“You signed her off?”

Tony exhaled loudly, and with obvious frustration spun round on his three hundred thousand dollar shoes.

“I was wondering when you would pitch in your two cents.”

“Do you think she’s ready?”

“Yes I do.”

“What if -? What if something happens? What if something goes wrong? What if - ”

“It won’t.”

“What if it does?”

“Look, Barnes. I know you and (Y/N) have been getting on well, and I know that she’s opened up a lot because of you -” He paused, mulling over the distaste in his mouth. “... As much as that might irritate me. But you don’t know what she’s like on the field, she’s brilliant.”

Bucky didn’t doubt that for a second, but his blood was as cold as ice. Missions went wrong all of the time, even a simple recon with Clint ended up with them both littered in bullets, and the mere thought of that made his head spin. He had no real reason to be so overprotective of you, but he truly couldn’t help it, everything in him was screaming at him to keep you safe.

“Are you even sure that...”

“Bucky?” He felt like a scarecrow shoved in a pool of mud, stuck straight and stiff as you said his name and rendered him totally tongue tied. He wondered how much you had heard, and he felt like there was an ice cube trailing down his spine.

“Aha! There she is! Superwoman!” Tony said, clapping his hands together, always knowing how to diffuse the tension.

He turned around and felt his heart jack hammer in his chest. He could see Nat, but his eyes totally passed over her, because you were there: your hair tied up and back from your face, subtle makeup with long eyelashes and syrupy lips, a black and powder pink tactical suit that fit and hugged every curve and bow of your body. His brain totally let him down, short circuiting at the mere sight of you. You looked so happy and healthy and glowing, and also like you could knock him out with a single punch - and good god would he let you.

“Bucky I was erm, I was looking for you. I wanted to say goodbye.” You clasped your hands together, appearing so sweet and shy, a total contrast to the femme fatale you portrayed.

“Natalia!” Tony said quickly, and for once Bucky was grateful for his interruption. “Come and look at this strange bird with me.”

All of you knew it was quite possibly the worst fake distraction ever but you ignored it. Nat just rolled her eyes and followed Tony to the balcony, but not before wiggling her eyebrows at Bucky.

You moved forward tentatively. “I wanted to tell you this morning but I couldn’t find you.” You weren’t quite sure why you were so cautious and apprehensive, desperate to speak to him. You had been travelling and fighting for as long as you could remember, you had spent many years alone and entered the battlefield countless times - and yet, that morning as Bruce gave you the all clear, the only person you wanted to see or speak to was Bucky.

“I was running, I’m sorry.”

You smiled, and it made him smile. “Well I’ve found you now.” You stepped forward, Bucky inhaled air so sharply it almost sliced the back of this throat. “I wanted to say goodbye, and that I’ll see you soon.” You paused, then blinked up at him almost cheekily. “Would you do me a favour? If you have time? Could you water the plants for me?”

He grinned, toothy and white. “Already on it.”

“Goodbye, Bucky.”

He put his hand on your shoulder, and he swore he could feel you melt into his touch, or maybe that was his knees buckling at his stupidity and the way that you were looking up at him. He wanted to say a million things, but instead he settled for: “Goodbye, (Y/N). Be safe, okay?”

“Of course.”

He watched as you packed your things and headed to the jet, the rest of the crew coming out to say their farewells and wish them luck. His eyes were trained on you as you spoke to Tony, nodding your head as you listened to him. He felt Natasha sidle up next to him, her hair shining copper in the sun.

“She’ll be alright, Barnes.”

“I know. But - ”

“I’ll take care of her. Promise.”

“Thank you, Nat. Good luck.”

“Don’t need it!”

Three hours later and he was in the gym, punching out his excess energy. The bag was splitting at the seams, and sand trailed sadly onto the floor. Bucky ignored it, his hits getting harder and faster, his blood pounding in his ears. Since you had left he had taken to pacing the floor and biting his nails down to the wick, hovering over Steve as he spoke to Nat through her wire. He only left when he realised that he was driving everybody else crazy with his obsessive twitching and marching, taking out his frustration on whatever he could rip apart with his fingers.

“Tony’s going to kill you if you break anymore punching bags.” Steve said from behind him, his voice echoing around the dark room.

“Hmph.”

He couldn’t stop. His hands were red raw and his knuckles were scraped but they would heal soon, and he’d go back to tearing them up all over again, anything to get rid of the adrenaline and nausea that had been swimming in him since the morning.

A minute passed. And then two. And then three. He exhaled, pausing, his hands midway in the air. He was about to say what he had always known, right from the second your eyes met that crisp autumn day, and Steve was the only one he could confide in.

“I think I’m falling in love with her.”

Steve hardly even blinked, just clapped a hand on his shoulder, warm and comforting, his brother.

“I know.”

Because of course he did. He knew it from the way Bucky smiled, the way he was lighter, brighter, like you had made him switch on and appreciate the little things around him. He had seen Bucky doe eyed and loopy over hundreds of girls back in the day, he knew how he got, but this... this was something bigger, magnetic, the clash of two electric people.

There wasn’t much Steve could say, he was great at saving people but not so good at the more personal side of things, he still turned into a puddle when Sharon looked at him. Instead he laughed, his teeth white as snow and his eyes playful and teasing. “You got it bad, dude.”

Despite everything Bucky smiled. Because yeah, he did.

————————— ————————————

You came back from the mission unharmed and euphoric.

And the second. And the third. And the fourth.

Bucky still tracked mud across all of the carpets and tapped his feet mindlessly for the entirety you were gone, but he was getting better. Steve had even bought him a joke present of a pear shaped and scented stress ball, but Bucky had ripped it in half when there was gunfire in the background of your coms, followed by an apologetic “Sorry!” from Sam. Bucky had then poured all of the tiny fruit smelling beads under the duvet in Sams bed, and then put all of his toilet paper on the holder backwards, knowing how annoyed he got about it.

Every time you came back you were exhausted and elated and beaming, and after having a nap and a shower you spent the rest of the day with the team, but the nights were reserved just for him. You grew even closer together. Steve had watched from the rooftop doorway gobsmacked one evening when he had left his phone up there, watching the way you two interacted, the way that he curled into your touch, never away from it. You got electric shocks when your fingers touched, you would blush when his knee playfully nudged yours at something stupid somebody had said at dinner, and you found yourself falling asleep to the image of chestnut hair and ocean eyes. You had crushes before, but this was all consuming, the kind of thing that made your stomach erupt in butterflies and your eyes turn into hearts.

You were worried that it might be one sided, but Bucky was totally, completely, smitten.

He watched you. Noticed the way that you smiled and laughed and tucked your hair behind your ear. He thought of the girls in the forties, with their painted lips and curled hair and immaculate clothes, and how you blew all of them out of the water, even in just your flannel pyjamas and bunny slippers. The coil in his belly when he looked at you reminded him of being sixteen and holding hands at the pictures, but that had just been a flicker, and this was a forest fire.

The first mission with the rest of the crew was when things went sour.

He got to see how you acted first hand. The way that you were quiet in the jet, but smiling strawberry red, taking in all of the orders that Steve meticulously laid out, your eyes wide and eager. He watched you as he helped Nat set up the guns and stock the ammo, the way that you toyed with the knife in your boot, the gears in your head turning and working on something he was desperate to discover.

He hadn’t been on a mission with you, not only because they way you looked in your suit and the way that you grinned would have led to him inadvertently getting a bullet in his head, but because from what he had heard, your fighting styles were totally different. Your powers and your skills were a mystery to him, one that he badly wanted to solve, but you kept that side of you hidden and guarded with barbed wire, and he respected that.

You were paired off with Sam. Nat with Clint. Bucky with Steve. Wanda with Vision. It was a simple mission, there was some intel locked in a safe of a seemingly abandoned factory in the south of Russia. Tony had discovered the place crawling with hidden members of a gang that specialised in human trafficking and organ farming, and he needed what was hidden below to help blow it out of the water.

It was going to take a lot of skill. There was no doubt that the enemies would be heavily armed, possibly even with illegally manufactured weapons, and all of you had to keep your heads straight the entire time. He had wanted desperately to be paired with you, to keep his eye on you, (not that you needed it) but he knew it was out of the question. Instead, as you all split up a few miles away in the woods, he grabbed your hand quickly and rubbed his finger across your knuckles, looking at you intently, his eyes swimming with sincerity.

“Be careful.” He said, his gaze locked on yours.

You smiled. “Always.”

He stuck his middle finger up at Steve’s smug face as they headed towards the factory.

Things were going well. As well as they could be when they were covered in blood and sweat and surrounded by the sound of gunfire and cracking bones. Nobody had been hurt so far, the coms quiet as the pairings cleared their sectors and worked their way down to the basement. Bucky had just pushed the last man over the railing and onto the concrete floor below when he heard the crackle of panicked voices in his ear, his eyes darting to Steve.

“Shit! Fuck!”

“Sam?”

“It’s (Y/N)! Fuck! One of them took her!”

“What?” Steve said instantly, switching straight from solider to captain, immediately alert.

“There was too many, it was an ambush!”

“Sam just stay there and - ” Steve tried to keep his voice steady and level, but it seemed as though the walls were closing in. To make matters worse, he saw a blur of black in his eye line, and watched helplessly as his best friend tore down the stairwell, his footsteps a clap of thunder. “Fuck! Bucky!”

Bucky knew that he was going to get one hell of a lecture and probably some six week course in impulse in the force, but all that he could think about was you, his blood was ice cold, his body numb and his brain conjuring up a million different pictures of you that made him feel sick to his stomach. He leapt over the bannister and landed haphazardly on the floor, his gun cocked and ready. His eyes were nothing but jet black pupils, scanning for your face through the halls.

He knew that you and Sam had been working through what used to be the laboratory, and that was on the other side of the building. His legs and arms moved almost mechanically, determined to get to you as quickly as possible, taking out anybody that stood in his way. He could hear Steve calling from behind him, and the sputter of the others in his earpiece, but his focus was on one thing. You.

The men were big and brawny and mean. Tattooed arms and shaved heads and gold teeth. Bucky shredded through them like they wore nothing. He flung them over tables, threw them through doorways and dragged them up by the roots of their hair. They were strong though, laughing at him through coffee stained teeth, loving his anger and desperation.

“Where is she?” He snarled at one particularly vicious thug brandishing two assault rifles.

“Who? Your whore? Dead.”

He snapped his neck like it was nothing but a twig.

He ran from room to room, his boots squealing across blood and stray bullets, his breath as ragged and sharp as glass. Everywhere was empty. Rows of vials and big glass cylinders and cages for animal testing, there was nothing, the place completely ransacked and bare. He hissed, getting ready to fight his way through another floor until he heard exasperated grunts and the clash of metal from a small room off to the side.

He skidded into the doorway with his rifle up at his shoulder, his finger right on the trigger, ready to shoot somebody’s fucking head off. Instead he paused, his mouth agape and his hands lowering, the whole room standing still. There was a freezer. Probably for samples and test tubes and whatever crazy fucking thing they kept in a place like this, but they had used it as a cage, the handles tied with thick copper chains and padlocks. Sam was using the butt of his gun to smash his way through, and they were old and rusty and starting to crumble easily, and Bucky watched helplessly as he finally busted in, clouds of ice puffing around him.

Bucky didn’t know why he couldn’t move. Couldn’t help. But his feet were as heavy as cinder blocks, and his heart was thundering in his ears. There was a small squeal, broken and half hearted, void of anything other than exhaustion, and then the smell of tears and blood, followed by sweet mint and wildflowers. Unmistakably you.

He wanted to run forward and scoop you in his arms, press your head against the crook of his neck and get you far, far away from this place, but he couldn’t move, and so he watched as Sam tugged you into him, running his fingers through your hair, cradling you like a child, soothing you as you cried hot, wet tears into his suit. And Bucky wished with everything in him that it was him instead.

He stayed back as you flew home with Sam. He kept away when you were in the hospital with Bruce, lurked in his room when you went over everything with Tony, locked himself away when you confided in Steve. He felt as though he had failed you, no matter what the others said. He felt as though he had let you down, and the noise you had made when Sam tugged you from the depths of that tiny little box, it played in his head like a warped record, haunting him and his dreams.

For a week he kept to himself. For a week he ran a different route and trained at a gym down by the water. For a week he took his motorbike out to a shitty diner in the bad part of town and ate soggy pancakes instead of having dinner with the team, for a week he did everything he could to not see you, thinking that would ease what you had been through, but instead it left you feeling torn and hurt and completely alone.

Tony made him come in to test out a new reloading system and so he reluctantly snuck down to the figuring range under the cover of darkness. He allowed himself to get lost in the sounds of carnage and the smell of metal, until he heard soft footsteps from behind him.

“You’re avoiding me.”

You seemed so sad, and that made his heart clench.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

Silence. That had never been awkward between the two of you, ever, and yet now it was so thick you could cut through it with a knife.

You wrung your hands together, your eyes flitting around the room, never quite landing on his face. That hurt. After a moment you cleared your throat, using the toe of your sneaker to kick up dust from the floor. “Do you - do you know? I mean, has anybody said anything to you? About me?”

He shook his head. “No.” There had been a million times when it was on the tip of his tongue to pry the truth from Nat or Steve, but his respect for you was stronger than his need for answers.

He felt his stomach flip when you finally blinked up at him. You looked as though you hadn’t slept and he knew he looked worse. You were still so beautiful though, looking so young and angelic under the harsh lights and surrounded by all the weaponry. Like a powder pink rose amongst giant, violent thorns.

Unable to stop himself, he blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

“You said that.”

“Not for avoiding you. For letting you - For not being there for you.”

Your mouth was open, brows furrowed as you took in what he said. “What?”

“I should have helped you.” There was desperation in his voice, and he turned to face the targets rather than look at you, not wanting you to see him so weak.

You were silent for quite a while. It was difficult for you to digest his words, like swallowing glass. You had been under the impression that seeing you tearful and cowering and broken had scared him off, had made him look at you differently, but now you knew that he blamed himself. “Bucky...” You said, biting back emotion. “Its not your fault.” Your tone was definite. Strong. You wouldn’t let him feel guilty for something he had no control over.

He brushed you off, shifting his weight, turning playful. “Yeah I know. It was Sam’s.”

You rolled your eyes.

He clicked his tongue. He set the gun down on the table and turned to face you fully, his eyes solid and unwavering. “I am so sorry you got hurt.”

“I wasn’t - I.”Finding the right words was hard. You had so much you wanted to tell him but no idea how to, the sentences sticking to the roof of your mouth like peanut butter. “It was just...Can we? Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“The roof?”

“Yeah,” You smiled, and Bucky swore even the strongest industrial lights couldn’t even match your spark. “The roof.”

Under the stars and above the city as the cars raced and the sirens blared, you told him everything. Growing up as a lab rat, twisted and moulded by scientists and pumped full of chemicals. You told him of finding your powers and being forced to use them for vile things you couldn’t even repeat, and when he heard the tremor of your voice and saw the gloss on your eyes his whole body vibrated and turned a shade of red that it was almost black. You told him how the people that created you had wanted you back, and how Tony had saved you from being taken again, how you owed him your life.

He wasn’t good with comfort. He wasn’t good with words. He was good at tearing people apart limb from limb and shooting them from distances and breaking their bones like they were toothpicks, but for you, he would try. In a move so unlike him that it felt as though he might have been brainwashed once again, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close.

You froze at first, but eventually thawed and melted into him, grateful for his touch. You had wanted to be close to him since the first time you met but you held back, and now everything felt right, like the missing piece of a puzzle slotting into place. Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he gave someone a bear hug, his nose buried in your hair, his fingers locked around you, desperate to keep you safe. Perhaps it was way back then, a time of uniforms and alleyways and candy floss and city smog, a time he used to long for with everything in him.

But now the memories of the past didn’t even compare to what he felt when he held you.

———————————————————

Everything came to a head on the first mission you had alone together.

Two months passed. Two months of subtle touches and shared smiles and inside jokes. Two months of rooftop laughter and midnight meetings and eating ice cream straight from the tub as you sat under the stars. Two months of utter, dreadful, aching, slow burning, and it was driving everybody else crazy.

Mostly Sam.

“I’m just saying,” Sam had murmured to Steve over chocolate eclairs one morning as they watched you teach a wide eyed, love struck Bucky how to play Mario Kart. “Can’t we just lock them in a room? Force them to kiss?”

“No.”

“It’s just so gross.”

Wanda flicked a grape at him, smiling cheekily as it bounced off his nose. “It’s sweet.”

He cocked a brow and tilted his head, his eyes filled with mild disgust. “Is it?”

Steve flicked through the files in his hand and licked whipped cream from his fingers. “He’s happy. Leave him be.”

“He’s a dumbass.”

“They both are.” Natasha interjected from behind them, wiping sweat from her brow and pulling off her boxing gloves. She was monotone and her face was straight, but even the black widow couldn’t bite back the smile she had as she watched the girl she now thought of as a sister and the once murderous, unbeatable assassin arguing about blue shells on the sofa.

The first mission you had been assigned together was in a small town in the Midwest somewhere. There had been unusual sightings in an airfield in the middle of nowhere, and a fugitive from Germany had been spotted in the bars that bordered the little village. Tony didn’t want to send too many people and blow the cover, just your powers of manipulation and telekinesis to apprehend the subject, and Bucky for added strength and precision.

Initially Tony was hesitant on pairing the two of you together, but there was no denying that you both worked brilliantly together. You understood one another on a level that nobody else did.

Bucky didn’t get nervous before a mission. In fact, he hardly felt anything. He spent the hours in the jet preparing himself and his weapons, going over maps and plans until they were drilled in his brain. But as the two of you took off, you with your rose blossom lips and eye watering suit and soft laughter, Bucky felt a warmth coiling in his stomach.

Apprehension.

You were staying at a cheap hotel a few blocks from the airfield. Tony had thought of everything and booked the two of you in rooms the opposite end of the hall from each other. Three floors apart. Bucky had slipped the receptionist a twenty for the room next to yours. For protection, of course.

Working undercover could be mind numbingly boring. Hours sat in a parked car in the dead of night, freezing to the bone as you watched an apartment from the bushes, trailing a suspect for days on end - but any time with you was a blessing for Bucky, even if it was sat behind the wheel of a cheap car with painful seats and broken heating.

The mission was a quiet one at first, you’d spotted the subject and had been following him, but all he seemed to do was eat crappy diner food and watch hours of cartoons. You both remained a safe distance but you managed to eventually bug his apartment when he spent the evening at a strip club. Tony and Steve updated you often, they had intercepted his phone calls and learnt that he was sending out a shipment late one night, and the two of you needed to stop it before it reached the air.

The rain was torrential when the two of you left the hotel. You smiled secretly to yourself as you walked through the slick streets, noticing how Bucky always made sure you were on the side away from the road, and how he moved so that you never got your feet in puddles. You were in the middle of nowhere following a criminal who spent far too much time eating potato chips and watching Rick and Morty, and yet you struggled to think of a time when you had been more content.

It meant everything to you.

Staying up late to listen into his apartment, Bucky buying practically the entire vending machine, the two of you pigging out and talking about nothing. You had breakfast at diners and communicated at night through knocks on the wall. Whenever you were out and the air was ice cold, Bucky would always move in close to you, his arm brushing against yours, his body your own personal heater. He wanted nothing more in those moments then to pull you into him and warm you up some other way, but instead he kept his eyes fixed forward, and bit the inside of his cheek until it bled.

You arrived at the airfield at midnight. The moon was high and the sky was dark and you both had to crouch low to be avoided by the overhead lights. You saw the suspect speaking to someone on his phone, and not long after a large white van pulled up towards him, the driver getting out and opening the boot.

“That’s it.” Bucky said pointing at the wooden crates. His voice was right by your ear, and you tried to ignore the way you shivered.“You ready?”

You nodded, smiling up at him. “Always.”

What happened next was mostly a blur. The two of you kept your heads down and your hands on your weapons, the pounding of the rain disguising your footsteps. You made it across the tarmac with Bucky covering you, his eyes alert and prepared for any imposing danger. You lifted your hands, ready to snap your fingers and apprehend the man rooting around the boxes, but before you could even feel the warm buzz of your powers through your veins, six men leapt out from the back of the van, guns raised and smoking.

“Fuck. Fuck! It’s a set up.”

Without even a second thought, Bucky pushed you aside. His body totally covered your own, and he hissed and swore, firing back at the bullets rapidly charging at you. You swung your hands and fought back, sending out flickers of fire and air, setting one of them alight and watching as he howled in pain. Bucky shot at everyone he could, sharp pierces right in the skull, always one hundred percent accurate, but his brain was whirring a mile a minute. He was trying his best to keep his eyes on you, his only goal was to make sure you were safe.

It wasn’t like he thought you were weak - far from it. He had seen you out on the field, been knocked on his ass from the aftershock of your powers more times than he could count, and he knew he had no real reason to be so worried but that did nothing to stop the prickling feeling across his skin like a million tiny little flames at the thought of you getting hurt.

You were determined to keep him safe as well though.You tossed back bullets and threw your knife through the air, smiling as it slashed through on of them, leaving him crumpled and crying on the floor. The two of you worked well together, playing off of each other’s attacks and combining your skills to get as many of them down as you could. Right when the last man hit the floor, you exhaled, and Bucky allowed himself a soft smile, looking beautiful and bruised in the middle of a rainstorm.

“Are you alright?” You heard him say, but his voice faded into static in your ears. Behind him one of them had struggled to his feet, blood spurting out from his neck, his face filled with nothing but venom, his eyes wild and vicious. You didn’t even blink, thrusting your hands forward and sending a wave of power through the air.

But it was too late.

He had already lifted his gun, a ripple of bullets flying towards you both. You leapt in front of Bucky, pushing his head down and trying to soften the impact, but his hands curled painfully around your waist, dragging you onto the floor and under him. The bullets missed the two of you by centimetres, piercing into the airplane behind you both. Your surge of power had knocked the man back and he was down once again, his body now pale and lifeless. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, and Bucky’s. He was fully on top of you, warm and solid and absolutely seething, his chest rising and falling above your own.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Bucky...” You inhaled, trying to get him to calm down and look at you but he merely shook his head, his body vibrating blood red.

“No. We’re leaving. Now.”

———————————————————-

After the ambush, it was too risky to return to the hotel, and so Steve sent out coordinates for a safe house an hour away. The ride there was completely silent. You didn’t even try to speak or diffuse the tension, you could practically feel Bucky’s anger, and the steering wheel had even started to bend from his grip.

The safe house was a small cottage. The only heat was from a tiny wood burner in the lounge, and the only food on the shelves were tinned peaches and cans of custard. Everything was oddly cosy. Pink knitted throws and round plush cushions and mismatched sofas, dried lavender tied to the wall and exposed brick and white, ceramic milk jugs. In any other circumstance you would have been happy to spend the night, but Bucky’s sour mood was quick to dim your spark.

You sighed as he threw his duffel bag onto the table, angrily heading to the sink and twisting the tab, exhaling loudly at the thin dribble of water that came out.

“Bucky.” You started to say, but he held his hand up as a warning.

“No.”

“Yes!” You snapped, needing him to understand you. “You have to listen to me.”

He dismissed you, too overcome with annoyance to even process your words. You could have died tonight, and you were acting as though it didn’t matter. “You were a goddamn idiot out there.”

“No I wasn’t!”

He slapped his hand on the wooden counter, a slap ringing through the small room.“You jumped in front of a bullet -“

“You almost got shot Bucky!”

“You almost got shot.”

“It was what was best for the mission.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the mission! I only care about you.”

“What?” Your voice was soft. A whisper. You could hear everything around you, feel him before he even stepped forward. Your breathing was shaky, adrenaline spiking through your body. The man you were in love with looking at you desperately and longingly, as though there was a physical ache inside of him.

He shrugged, because what else was there to say? He was looking deep into your own eyes, wanting to drown in them. His face was stern and hard and he was pissed, and yet, strangely, none of what had happened seemed to matter. He stepped towards you, his gaze running across your figure, looking for any cuts or bruises one of those fuckers might have left on you.

“Are you hurt?” He said finally, his face millimetres from your own.

“No.”

“Good.”

He kissed you. His hands went up and into your hair, his chest pressed against yours, his lips were warm and soft and hungry, ready to devour the one thing he had wanted since the very first time he laid eyes on you. You melted into his touch and he smiled. The kiss got more intense, teeth clashing and hands under sweaters and his body rolling against yours. You moaned in his mouth and he bit your lip and your pulses synced and raced and leapt. This was six months of pure longing and frustration and the need to portray everything that had gone unsaid for far too long.

It wasn’t long before you ended up on the floor. You were both too greedy and touch starved to even stop or make your way upstairs, you both needed the other like air, like addicts desperate for another hit. His lips were all over every bit of skin he could find, you lasted like sweat and cinnamon and vanilla and he swore he would give up everything he had if he got to feel you like this, whining and writhing and grabbing him, tugging him closer and kissing him like an angelic little devil.

He had once been a Casanova. He had once made ladies swoon and mothers blush and fathers clench their fists. Then he had been shattered, rebuilt in a way that wasn’t quite right, his body used for torture rather than pleasure. And yet, with you, the rain pelting the windows and your bodies intertwined and your lips tasting like summer strawberries and everything that he had ever dreamed of - he felt whole, for the first time in a long time. The noises you made were sinful, and his thoughts were nothing but you,you,you, the girl he had fallen in love with through the sounds in the wall and with the flowers on the roof, the girl that occupied his brain more than anything else.

Everything was too much and not enough, his head was buried in your neck, your legs were around his waist, pulling him tighter, urging him to go deeper. He had dreamt of this moment for a long time. He had imagined a candle lit dinner and red roses and awkward touches and itchy dress shirts, he wanted everything to be perfect, because you deserved the world. But in the living room of a safe house in the middle of nowhere, covered in sweat and blood and surrounded by thunder and clashing furniture seemed oddly magical for a couple with roots like yours.

After, you were cradled in the crook of his arm, with your hair splayed across his bare chest. Bucky was having a hard time controlling his rapid pulse and heavy breathing because holy shit he had just slept with the girl of his dreams, but one look at you under the moonlight looking ethereal and exhausted and everything else just dissolved into wisps or smoke.

He wanted to tell you in a better way, but he just couldn’t keep it in any longer. His brain was fizzled with pleasure and dizzy with euphoria, and he just wanted, needed you to know everything.

“I’m in love with you. I have been since I first saw you.”

You froze. After a beat, you buried your face into the flesh of his chest, your soft laughter tickling his abdomen, his fingers trailing loosely across your spine. You smiled like a child, looking up at him with big eyes and heart shaped lips.

“God. We’re both idiots. I’m so in love with you too, Buck.”

He grinned, and he felt like his heart might tear in two.

—————————————————————-

You arrived back at the compound with interlocked fingers and matching grins and Sam nearly collapsed with relief. Tony almost went into cardiac arrest.

For the first time in fifty years, happiness followed Bucky wherever he went. Things were easy, light. You were his. You crawled into his arms at the end of a bad day and you laughed into his shoulder and you held his hand and kissed him and killed him and resurrected him all at the same time. He had never felt home in this modern world, and now he looked forward to each day and whatever strange and inane adventure the two of you would end up on. The anvil that had been crushing his heart for so long had started to lighten, and he owed it all to you.

Still, there were hard days. When he woke up slick with sweat with eyes wider than the moon and an urge to wrap his hands around something, or when you thought of the past and became consumed by the memories, tears falling down your face before you could stop them. He got jealous, and he had multiple stern talks with Steve about “not threatening the interns just because they speak to your girlfriend,” you could be stubborn, take on more than you needed, return from a mission with a limp you tried to hide, one that eventually led to an argument about your reckless choices. But nothing ever lasted more than a day. You were always there for one another, with open arms and gentle smiles and the unconditional love that people would kill for.

He had been in a million different situations where he felt like he was drowning. Like something was pulling him under the depths, crushing his lungs and shattering his oesophagus. But nothing compared to how he felt around you. Nothing could match the way you consumed him completely. the electricity that coursed through his veins when your fingers brushed against his, there was nothing quite like the way his heartbeat would slow when you were around, the way that he suddenly felt warm and full whenever you laughed.

He had spent so long alone. He had spent so many years fighting a war he never signed up for, and he was exhausted. He was starved of attention but terrified of exposing himself, and he lived with a chain link fence around his heart. Your soft voice so soothing, the sweetness in your eyes and the innocent bat of your lashes disarmed him better than any soldier ever could. There was something about you - something magnetic, magical.

Your sweetness went straight to his brain. One look at you and his mind dizzied, a sugar rush that only you gave him.

Whenever somebody asked where he was from, he thought partly of Brooklyn, of his mother and Steve, of cobbled streets and dog tags and ink stained newspapers. He thought of darkness. Of being moulded and reshaped deep down in the depths of bad places, of iron and rust and metal, his hands coated in blood.

But mostly, he thought of you. Safe and warm and sweet and so good. How expensive mattresses and dim candles and hot chocolate didn’t make him feel half the way that you did. How you grounded him, calmed him, made everything feel light and coated in sunshine when he had spent so goddamn long being frozen.

So when somebody asked where he was from, he thought of you, because you were home.

[avversiera-writes]

'till death do us part - chapter 1 [tobirama senju/you]

Chapter 1 - Allegiances

Summary: In which Madara leaves the village right after you break the news of your engagement to Tobirama, and you are left with the easiest decision to make. 

Words: 3.4k

A/N: I know I promised to write their meeting, but this whole part of the series just would not LEAVE MY MIND AND SO HERE WE ARE....pls enjoy, and thank you for reading lols. 

Also available in AO3.

If someone were to tell your past self that in the near future, you will end up betrothed to the second Senju brother, you might have laughed at their face and patted the person on their back for the effort of making such a joke. There is  no way that socially inept bastard had managed to woo you and make you fall for him. Sure, you can be flirtatious and you think you can get anyone with your vibrant charms. 

 But to have one of the founding fathers of the very village you reside in fall for you, and you, to reciprocate. There was just  no  way. 

 However, that is your reality now. Here you are, wearing his ring, his promise to you that he will be your companion for the rest of your life. You now have someone who will fight for you just as hard as you will fight for them. You have dreamt of a place to accept and love you, and you have found it in him.

 You have broken the news to Madara first, as he is a good friend of yours, but his reaction was not something you expected. He fell into silence, instead of making fun of you and badmouthing your Senju fiance. That would have been the Madara you knew. 

“Are you happy with him?” Madara asks, his eyes narrowed and somber towards the horizon. He finally breaks his silence after you bring him the news of your engagement. 

 You look towards the horizon as well, trying to determine what Madara is trying to find. You sigh, not liking this Madara, who seems to be dead set on accomplishing whatever he is conjuring up in his mind. You know that he and the Shodaime Hokage have been at odds these days, and with Tobirama, the man you are now betrothed to, being in the middle of the disagreements, a middle ground will not be reached, unless it will benefit the village above all under his terms. 

 You are not privy to what they have been arguing about, though you are sure that it has been about the Hokage seat or their differing opinions of peace. Many years have passed since the village has been established and with it, its leader, but it does not mean that it has been spared by power plays, especially when the village houses many prominent clans. Though, this has been foreseen by Tobirama, since the village is still young. 

 As observant as you are, you try to catch what Madara is thinking about, but the friend and mentor you have known for a long time is gone, and before you, is a stranger. He seems to brood even more than the man you intend to marry. 

Instead, you let his question hang in the air. 

 “You deserve better you know,” Madara reminds you for the hundredth time. 

 “I am happy with him,” you tell him sincerely. “I wouldn’t have said yes.” 

 Madara cracks a small, strained smile at that. “Really? You are smart, considering that marrying into the Senju clan will make sure that you live a prestigious and a comfortable life.” 

 Your face heats up. “Madara, you know that I love him.” You confess and you look down at your sandals which are becoming increasingly more interesting than anything else. “More than I like to admit.”

Madara nods, his face suddenly back to its calculating mask. “Is it too late to change your mind?” His voice is cold and distant, and it makes your stomach curl. "I could show you a whole different world, one where dreams can run wild without pain." 

 You roll your eyes and try for a more light-hearted tone, but it is clear that there is no salvaging this conversation. “My husband-to-be may be a prick, but I know where I stand, heart and mind-wise.” Your forehead wrinkles, still processing what he had just said to you. "I have everything I need and could ever want."

 Madara seems to be disappointed after hearing this from you, but you cannot pinpoint why. You wish that he can just come clean, and you want to reassure him that you will not judge him, but so much time has passed. Whatever Madara has decided, he is determined to follow through it. 

 So you let it be. You let him go. 

“Congratulations. Be happy,” Madara tells you, and he leaves you, just as the sun dips low into the horizon to sleep. “Though you have to remember that you can no longer stay impartial to any sides with him. You side with him, and you are now against me.”

 You turn around to watch him go, and you do not call out to him. You ignore the prick of hurt in your heart from watching his back fade into the shadows.

 You never got to say goodbye. 

//

The days following Madara’s defection were a blur. You are aware of Tobirama hounding around his brother more than usual, and the sudden loss of the Uchiha clan’s leader has the village in uproar. You are left to your own thoughts, replaying your last conversation with Madara and trying to figure out if you could have stopped him, but you knew deep in your heart that Madara is gone, and that whatever you could have said that night would not change a thing. 

You also keep busy with your Genin team, training them so that they can survive the upcoming Chuunin exams. You spar with them, and hone their teamwork until the end of the day, when you have made sure you have tired them out for good. Tomorrow will be the same, but you find yourself unable to look forward to it. Everything has become a chore, even teaching, which you thoroughly enjoy. 

 You feel sorry to your students, but you vow to shake off this stupor by tomorrow. These children deserve better. 

“Go home and rest,” you tell them as the four of you walk out the training ground. “Eat lots of breakfast. Don’t skip it.” 

 Miura Mieko glances at you, a silly grin on her face despite her fatigue. “Congratulations on your engagement to Lord Tobirama, sensei.” 

 The other two, Kai and Taiyo, glanced at each other in surprise. 

You pretend to frown at Mieko. “Wherever did you hear that?” 

 Mieko giggles and elbows you in a friendly way. You let her, since you are not really the formal kind of sensei. “Oh come on, sensei! It’s so obvious! You have a ring! And you two have been making eyes at each other for a while now.” 

You roll your eyes, unable to help the blush creeping up your neck. “Eh…” 

 The three of them offer more enthusiastic congratulations and harmless threats to invite them to your wedding, and when you finally accept and promise to have them attend, your students leave you alone. 

 It did not occur to you how much you immediately needed the noise and the distraction until you are alone with your thoughts, and the sky is darkening, reminding you of Madara and his dark, pensive eyes. You tell yourself that his defection is not your fault, that there are other problems surrounding him that pushed him to his decision, though it feels like you had a hand in it.

 “You let your students talk to you like that?” A familiar, rough voice interrupts your thoughts and you look up to find just the man you have been longing for the past several days. 

Tobirama’s red eyes scan your face, and you stop in front of him, exactly two steps away. 

 You watch his face, trying to reconcile your feelings of your adoration for him and your slight resentment for his politics. You are not unaware of his sentiments towards the Uchiha clan, and a part of you has been wondering whether he had the hand that pushed Madara to his decision. However, this can be easily cleared up through communication. 

Tobirama’s eyes narrow slightly, cluing you in that he knows what you are thinking. “If you are wondering, I did not force Madara to leave. He made that decision himself.” 

 “He was my friend and my mentor,” you say, biting your lip. 

 Tobirama nods. “I know.” 

 You make out the tired lines on his face, and you smile softly. You also know another person who also considers Madara as his friend. “How is your brother?” 

 Tobirama presses his lips together for a moment, and then he sighs tiredly. “He did not take it well. He is in a very depressed state. He blames me.” 

You close the distance between the two of you, and Tobirama almost flinches, but when you take his hand to hold it in yours, he freezes, unsure of what to do. 

 You wait for his response, and your patience is rewarded by a tender squeeze. 

“What about you?” You murmur. “I worry about you.” 

 “I am alright,” he replies evenly, but you know him enough that he is not what he claims to be. His shoulders droop, and his eyes are stormy–a sign of his racing mind. 

 Slowly, so that he can see, you put your hand on his cheek and trace the red stripe that he had tattooed there in his youth with your thumb. “What are you going to do now?”

 Tobirama leans into your touch, and your heart warms at the sight. “Make sure that the village survives this...that my brother gets over it.” 

“You know that I am with you, right?” You remind him. “Whatever it is you do, I will back you up.” 

 Tobirama gives you a small smile, one that lightens up the dark expression of his face. "I am relieved to know that. I know that it is hard for you as well." 

The night finally settles, and the two of you begin to walk to the direction of your apartment. In your silence, you catch glimpses of Tobirama’s face, and you sense that, as always, there is a lot going on in his mind that he can barely speak of. It took years to get closer to him like this, but you are not a mind reader. 

 You have a feeling that this is a lot harder on him, as he sees himself responsible for his brother. Not only does his brother blame him, he also does to himself. 

 Once the two of you get settled in the warmth of your home, Tobirama silently prepares a simple dinner and tea, while you clean yourself up from the day’s work. You hear him move about, and despite your heavy heart, you cannot help imagine that this will be your life with him soon, and that the two of you will be under one roof. 

 Fresh and newly showered, you watch him set up the dining table. Your eyes wander from his broad shoulders and to his rolled up sleeves, and when he catches you looking, you make a beeline towards a chair without making any more eye contact. 

“So,” you begin awkwardly. 

 “So,” Tobirama repeats. Then, he sighs and rakes his hand through his hair. He sets down a plate in front of you and walks towards your window. “Did you know that my brother was going to make Madara the Hokage when this village was first established?” 

You cross your legs and pick up a piece of his cooking. “No.” 

 “I objected,” Tobirama continues and he started to pace, his demeanor agitated. “And instead, pushed for my brother to be the Shodaime.” 

 “And then?”

 “My brother wants Madara to be his successor, and I objected again.” Tobirama stops and he stares at his feet. “I did not force Madara to leave, but I may have played into his decision...but this village will not last if Madara is to rule. He is power-hungry, and he will destroy what we built here. No man with his eyes rooted from the power of strong emotions can ever be Hokage.” 

 You turn away from Tobirama and you close your eyes. You hear Madara’s words to you before he has left, and you realize that they ring true. 

“You may not see it, but Madara is filled with hatred. I will always make decisions that are best for the village, and while I do admit I have been hard on the Uchiha clan, I never once wanted to drive him away from the village. Besides, I do want them in the village, and want them to utilize their abilities so that it benefits it.” 

 “I know my ways have not been agreeable, even to my brother,” Tobirama trails off. “And I am not exactly clean here, either. I did kill Madara’s last brother. If you are angry at me or if you want to blame me, it is okay.” 

You put down your utensils and you walk towards him. You do not care much for politics, but as Madara had told you before, you can no longer stay impartial to any sides as long as you stand with the Senju, and that means the village as well. Madara is no longer part of the village, and though you wished that he had stayed and worked out his differences with Hashirama and Tobirama, the simplest wishes are sometimes the hardest to make come true. 

 “Madara will always be my friend,” you tell Tobirama. “But I do not doubt your intentions for our village. We promised to do everything in our power to keep it safe.”

Tobirama watches you, hesitant to come closer. 

 “I do not resent you, if that is what you’re thinking.” Your lips curve up to show that you mean it. “If you are looking for ways to make me turn away from you, then you will have to try harder than that.” 

Tobirama releases a breath that you know he has been holding. 

 “Is that why you’re trying to explain yourself to me this way?” You question, raising an eyebrow. “By telling me you are a killer?” You lower your voice. “Tobirama, who isn’t a killer here? Even I have shed blood.” 

Tobirama flinches when you put your hands on his face. He looks down, but you catch his gaze as quickly as he evades you. 

“You were at war, and now there is peace,” you tell him. “I know you feel responsibility for your brother’s feelings.”

 “He hates me.”

 “He will never hate you. You are his brother and his trusted advisor.” 

Tobirama’s forehead wrinkles. 

 "Just because your brother is mad at you, does not mean you have to make me mad at you too. Stop trying to make the people around you hate you." 

 "That may be the only way to do things around here. It makes the hardest decisions easier to carry."

"Stop," you plead with him. "Tobirama, I do not blame you." 

 “Why?” Tobirama queries, his eyebrows raising in suspicion. “I do not believe that you are agreeing with me just because we are to be wedded.” 

 You drop your hands from his face and take a deep breath. “Because I knew him. Because I knew that Madara had made his resolve that night. He said goodbye to me on the night he left.” 

 Tobirama peers at the window and stares at the moon hanging low above the village rooftops. “For what it is worth, I really did not know he intended to leave.” 

 You hear the tone of apology in his voice, and that is as good as it gets. “Me too.” 

You share a moment of silence, letting your conversation change its course. You are relieved that you two manage to talk out your feelings and find that your point of views are quite similar, but you are aware that there are other things on Tobirama’s mind. You know that he cares a lot more than he lets on, and you can only wait and see what he does to show it. 

You do not blame him, because you still feel guilty towards Madara, for not taking the time to know what he meant to do, or to ask what he was thinking. 

 Tobirama clears his throat, and you turn your head towards him. “It will only get harder with me, from here on out. I would like you to be by my side, but you must be aware that there are difficulties packaged alongside my presence.” 

 “You underestimate me too much, Senju Tobirama,” you smirk. “I am quite tired of that.” 

 “You can still walk away,” Tobirama’s face schools into a more neutral expression, but you know that this is him preparing for any kind of rejection from you.

You place your hand on his arm and squeeze it gently. “There is no place I would rather be other than to be by your side.” 

 Tobirama's breath catches and he looks away from your gaze. The tips of his ears are pink, indicating that he has grown shy. It is not like your answer will be different, but sometimes, Tobirama has a tendency to think that he does not deserve to receive any affection from you. He usually inches away when you have taken a step closer, never certain how to react. Here is a man who has made so many decisions without as much as a blink of an eye, but he becomes flustered in front of you and gets surprised when you offer him your hand, or kiss his cheek. 

 "What?" Tobirama grunts out, sounding irritated than he means to be. 

 You duck your head away to hide your smile. "Nothing." 

 Tobirama sighs. "You're making fun of me."

 "How do you know? You're not a mind-reader."

 "Yes, but I can usually deduce what a person is thinking." Tobirama crosses his arms and he scowls. "Stop taking my confessions lightly. You have already laughed at me when I asked for your hand. Do you intend to laugh at me at the altar when we are about to be wedded?"

  You giggle. "What are you so wind up for?" You lean closer into his space, and the smirk fades from your mouth. Your eyes narrow, and in an act of courage, you grab his collar to pull him closer to your face. 

 Tobirama's eyes widen for a fraction, and then they harden immediately. His jaw tightens, and his shoulders tenses up. "Stop being ridiculous."

 However, Tobirama does not pull away. He stays still, and the rest of his body flexes tightly in order to hold his current position of towering over you.

 "But we haven't even gotten to the best part yet," you murmur, and you feel yourself drawn towards his lips. "You cannot even gain an inch when I become serious."

  Even though you had the confidence to act this way, you cannot help but feel your heartbeat in your fingertips. The anticipation of his next move makes you light-headed, and again, you wait patiently. 

 "That is because you never let me," Tobirama surrounds an arm around your waist and embraces you against his body. 

 You reach for the elegant arch of his eyebrow and gingerly trace it with a smile, and then, you meet his eyes to hold his gaze. 

  If someone were to tell you that the man before you was the one who won your heart, you would have gotten a kick out of that, but here is your reality. Despite your disagreements from time to time, the both of you had always prized the village more than anything, and you trust that Tobirama’s will is in a good place. 

 Madara may have been right about one thing, but you see a great man who has the ability to make dreams happen, who will stop at nothing to ensure that there are fallbacks to setbacks, who does as he says because he has weighed every possible outcome that can go wrong. 

He is the man who has made your dreams come true and has shown up time after time to prove that he is there to hold up his promises. Of course, you have chosen him, and you do not see yourself changing your mind. 

To be continued...

Chapter 2 - Union >>

buy me a coffee !

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

Taboo Attachment

BTS

Park Jimin/Reader [F]

Genre: Demon AU, Arranged Marriage?, Copious amounts of fluff, Logically impossible tween stupidity, Incredibly dense adult Y/n, Jungkook’s a bit of an ass oops

Warning(s): Minor violence towards the end

Words: 18k 

Summary: Young innocence and an unhealthily stupid-lack of common sense lead to you accidentally summoning a demon on your 13th birthday. Somehow agreeing and forming some contract with the said demon, they disappear and so does your memory of it. 10 years later and finally financially stable enough to start college, you wake up with an ash-grey ring in your right ring finger. Despite your efforts, the ring will absolutely not come off. Now, all of a sudden your demon returns and apparently 13-year-old you got yourself engaged to this demon man.

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a/n: WOWIE I finally finished this monster LOL. It only took me months of procrastination (and several compliments from Cam lmao). Pls love Demon Jimin, he just wants to get married

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@angeltothecore @jong-yixing @geekybookworm1993 @hobi-sunshineee @skytime092 @gingerpeachtae

-XXX-

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?  

The demon perched in the shadows of your bathroom as he sat on the top of your glass shower door that was firmly shut.  His spiraled horns breaching his skull as they pointed towards the heavens they will never belong.  His black hair hovered over his crimson-dulled eyes as his fangs remained hidden behind his frown.  His skin was grey and a thin, barbed ended tail sung and tapping your shower door ever so lightly that you didn’t even take notice. His skin darkened to a pitch, coal-black at his elbows to his hands and from his knees to his feet.  Wearing only a cloak tied around his waist that hung loosely off his shoulders, he almost growled.  

Why had he suddenly been summoned to a little fucking girl’s bathroom that was pitch black dark and covered in scented candles that made his nose burn? His claws black hand covered his nose and mouth, the scent of ‘Autumn Leaves’ absolutely nauseating. His single ash-grey ring was oddly warm against his skin. 

Your scent was young, as your body was fragile and tiny.  No older than 13 he guessed.  It had been a while since he had seen a human, much less a human child.  Wearing a tacky nightgown in the ugliest shade of yellow he had ever seen and socks up to your knee that hid under the length of your gown.  Your hair was a mess like you just rolled out of bed.  It was just barely brushing your shoulders with its short length. 

You held what looked like a well worn down container of lipstick that you had used to scribble on the mirror in front of you. A lame excuse of a spell circle he saw in the uneven shapes and symbols.  Lighting your candles on either side of the sink and even on the toilet tower. Was this some stupid prank?  Were you a demon in disguise here to just jerk him around with your stupid little half-ass summoning? 

You dropped the lipstick into the sink’s bowl as you squeaked and covered your mouth, quickly looking at the closed bathroom door.  The demon’s head followed and watched as nothing happened.  His barbed tail whipped as you let out a sigh of relief.  You trotted to the door, locking it and flinching with the lock clicked almost too loud.  Like it would wake up your parents.  

The demon sat perched cupped his cheek in one of his hands, the other still cutting the smell of the candles off from his nose.  He almost chuckled.  Performing a summoning in secret at balls-ass o’clock behind mommy and daddy’s backs and your just now locking the door? God, children were so stupid. 

The demon almost spoke up, but he remained silent.  Obviously, you didn’t know you had already rudely awoken him from his slumber and dragged him here in his sleeping robe.  You were completely clueless to the horned and fanged beast right under your nose- rather right above your puny little head. 

When you left your sink cabinet, the demon peered some other objects in the sink’s bowl.  There was a silver bowl, looking cheap and used like it came right out of your mother’s baking cabinet (it did). Inside the bowl was all sorts of objects that different demon’s could possibly fancy.  

A cheapy made and obviously fake stone knife with hardly any edge or point on it.  A salt shaker filled with salt with the holed top taped up so none would escape its glass spice prison. A doll that looked like a 45-year-old bling hag and sewed it together for someone she hated.  It was too much like a cheap version of a voodoo doll, but hell if you knew that when you decided to add it to your treasure bowl.  

The demon also noticed a piece of printer paper taped onto the sink’s countertop.  Squinting his red eyes to get a better look at the words so far from him, he read your language of course as well as what he could assume was Latin.  He’s heard it enough as he silently ran the words through his head.  

He sat straighter on top of your shower door as he shrugged.  Well, he had to give you some credit for trying.  Of course, the summoning did work, he wasn’t something he really needed to stick around for.  This demon- he- was a demon used in trade summoning.  Summoning that only need to take place when the summoner will exchange something with the demon in return.  Naturally, it wouldn’t be a true demon bargain unless there were a few rules the summoner would be forced to obey. 

For example, the list of names he had stolen the souls of and dragged them down with him into hell was still growing.  He had a pretty hefty track record of always giving his client what they wanted, as well as always securing their soul in life and of course in death.  He’s done trades of service and of objects, he wasn’t picky.  Work and work and with how long he’s been at it, it was all very dull. 

Perhaps that’s why he stuck around watching this clueless, stupid teenager barely at puberty floundering around at 3 AM.  You were something quite unique to the demon’s interest.  

He watched you cup your chin as you scanned the paper that held the spell you chanted to get him here.  He wondered if you even knew what kind of demon you were summoning or if you were just doing this blind for God-knows-what reason.  

Human’s get more interesting with each stupid generation, he thought to himself as he let out another swish of his tail. Perhaps he should introduce himself he thought as he grinned to himself.  His fangs showing as he swung his tail to hit the glass of your shower door, finally getting your attention as you turned around and made eye contact with your demon.

-XXX-

It was your 13th birthday as you woke up to the dreary cloudy sky outside.  You sat in your bed, yawning and looking outside in a daze.  You had to go to school today and you wished your parents would let you stay home since it was your birthday.  It’s not like you had anyone to spend it with other than your parents.  

You were only 13.  The effects of puberty and social norms hitting you like a nuclear bomb.  If you weren’t dressed in what was popular, you didn’t leave your house.  You bought all the ‘very in’ school bags and pencils and books.  You read on all the stupid gossip about celebrities and feigned a ‘starstruck’ crush on some over the top male teen idol.  

Only 13 and you were desperate to have some sort of connection with someone.  You hadn’t had many friends when you were younger.  Too much of a tomboy and when you were in the 4th grade, someone accused you of feeding the class pet- a hamster- something bad that made it very sick and it eventually died.  You knew it wasn’t you, but no one listened and the teacher scolded you.  Everyone avoided you after that. 

Of course, your mother and father were very generous people and treated you well, but when they worked all the time it wasn’t the same as what a friend would be.  Their companionship was appreciated, but not what you craved.  

Life was tough to a 13-year-old middle schooler.  You just huffed as you flopped back on your bed, wanting to go back to bed when your mother knocked on your door, telling you to get up and get ready.  

She always took you to school when she left for work in the morning.  Though, you had to walk home.  You didn’t have the guts to ride the bus.  It was too cramped and putting yourself in a tiny space where everyone was forced to ignore you or snicker behind the stupid, uncomfortable leather seats wasn’t worth the hassle. 

At least no one knew it was your birthday and you could go through the day normally.  You pulled on your jacket, some t-shirt with a bigshot band and your jeans as you slipped on your shoes and grabbed your bag with all your completed homework inside.  

Going downstairs, saying hello and receiving a warm happy birthday message from your parents, you loaded into your mother’s car and soon was staring at the neighborhood zoomed passed your eyes out the window.  You watched people walk in groups or lots of kids waiting for their bus.  Jealous, you closed your eyes and just wished the day would end.  

It was in your history class that your teacher, instead of actually teaching today, turned on some random movie about a person who summoned a demon.  The protagonist and this demon go on some sort of trip to achieve some goal, but you zoned it out as the solution to your solitude was right in front of you. 

If you couldn’t make friends, you could just summon one!  The rest of the day was filled with you sneaking your phone out in class and researching all sorts of demon summonings.  You were confused by everything you read.  Some articles didn’t take themselves seriously, others took themselves very seriously and some just contradicted what you read on a different site.  

You came home in a rush and went to your room to read up more, even renting a book about demons from your school’s library.  You were desperate and impatient, so you would cram as much knowledge in your brain as you could.  You would be performing this summoning tonight, be it hell or high water. 

Going to bed early and telling your parents' goodnight, you fell asleep before groggily waking up at the alarm you set for 2:45 AM.  Trudging around your room, you grabbed the paper spell you printed before you tiptoed around your dark and quiet house.  Loading up a bowl with all sorts of things you read about before going to your bathroom and shutting the door.  The nightlight plugged into the wall was flicked off by you as you lit your candles and then began.  

You panicked as you dropped your mother’s lipstick into the sick and ran to the door to lock it after making sure it was still absolutely silent in your house.  Your bathroom was quite away from your parent’s room, so it wasn’t logical they’d hear you anyways.  

You sighed as you walked to reread your paper.  Maybe you chanted the spell wrong?  You obviously weren’t very well versed in Latin. You were ready to maybe give it another go or give up when you nearly screamed at the bang behind you.  Something hit your shower door and you whipped around.  

Nothing was behind the glass, but when you looked up, you locked eyes with someone.  No, something?  It wasn’t human by any stretch.  They hid well in the darkness, almost unseeable, but their glowing red eyes blinking made solid proof they were in fact there.  

You heard whatever it was chuckle lightly before they jumped off your shower door and back into the shower itself.  You saw their blurry silhouette stand behind the glass door.  They were tall and you could see the outline of their horns stretching above their head. A vague shadow of something whipping around behind them was also visible in the dark room that your eyes had grown accustomed to. 

You swallowed a lump in your throat as you stepped forward cautiously and grabbed the small handle of your magnetic shower door and lightly pulled it open.  A small click of the magnetic detaching and the whine of the door as you slowly opened it.  Revealing the grey-skinned demon in front of your large, teenage eyes. 

You actually did it.  You legitimately summoned a demon.  Like, a real one?  He looked authentic enough at least.  Not some trick of the mind or some dream your desperate wants threw together in your head.  No, he had to be real.  He was almost terrifyingly so. 

“Good evening,” he slurred to you.  His voice was low and almost felt like it slithered like a snake.  Smooth and unwavering like a single tone. “It’s not every night I get little one’s summoning me,” he coaxed.  A shiver ran up your spine at his voice again. 

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as you held your hands together in front of your chest.  The reality of the entire situation not sinking in.  You had a demon you summoned in your bathroom at 3 AM after your birthday. 

The demon chuckled as he folded his hands behind his back, putting on the most innocent smile he could muster.  Children were so fragile.  He couldn’t have you go and faint with his overwhelming presence and with how hard he could hear your heart beating, it could very well happen.  

“What is your name dear?” He sang to you.  You gulped.  You remembered reading that if a demon asks your name, you must insist they tell you their first.  You opened your mouth to ask him his in proper demon etiquette, but your throat was too dry.  Swallowing and opening and closing your mouth as a way to make sure your lips still worked, you tried again.  

“What’s-” you fumbled but regained your voice with a clearing of your throat.  “What’s your name?” You mimicked his question back to him.  He just smiled.  

“So,” he began, obviously not going to tell you his name so easily, “you know the bare minimum of demon introduction at the very least.  I’m impressed a little sprout like you can even handle summoning a demon with my power.”  If he wasn’t a demon that looked like he could rip out your kidney and eat it like some creepypasta character, you would get mad at him for repeatedly calling you little.  

He cocked his head at you, remaining his charade of innocence as you remained silent.  Why was it always the children who remained so shell shocked at something they were expecting to happen?  Sure, adults were too, but they were at least capable of screaming or throwing a fit or something.  Children just stop functioning.  

“Dear?” He tried again.  You just shook your head. 

“You first,” you were stubborn at least.  He tutted his brow up as he unclasped his hands behind his back and placed them on his hips.  His unearthly long claws catching your eye and making you swallow.  With those, he really could rip out your kidney if he wanted to.  

Tapping those dangerous fingers on his lips that seemed to be stuck in a permanent smirk, he finally put his hand back down.  Letting it hang past his slim waist and playfully drumming his fingers against his thigh. 

“Which name would you prefer, little one?” His voice teased.  He has pulled you along with a game of guesses, not willing to answer you easily.  He did have many names to be fair.  From slurs of his world to nicknames, to his demon name and his original name before his demonic ways came to fruition.  The demon moved to saunter far too graciously to your sink, placing his rear on the top of the counter and crossing his legs. “Did you not know my name despite you summoning me?  That’s far too clumsy- for a child to make mistakes like that.” 

He moved one hand, a clawed finger pointed at your heart.  “Any other demon met with such an incompetent summoner would tear out your heart as payment.” He watched you visibly gulp again.  Your hair stood up on end on your arm as your back held the best straight posture of your young life. 

You shook your head.  “I just wanted-” you cut yourself off.  The demon arched a dark brow at you as he brought his hand back to rest lazily over his lap.  Your voice turned shaky, fluttering with uncertainty and a sense of what he could almost call desperation.  As if you were trying to plead with him to sympathize with you. 

Demons could not feel sympathy.  If they did, it would be a weakness and the first step to an attachment.  That was the last thing any demon wanted. To become attached to anyone or anything. 

“You just wanted what, child?” The demon’s voice changed.  Altering just a bit.  An undertone like a second voice layering over his original velvet voice.  Like static or a low buzzing hum in the background. 

You looked down at your feet covered in socks on your tiled bathroom floor.  “I just wanted someone to talk to,” you pathetically whispered. 

Your sporadic new-teenage hormones made you tear up. You sniffled as the demon lifted his hand from his lap and used it to push back his hair, making some of it stand up every which way.  You sniffled again as you held your burning tears.  The demon only looked at you confused. 

This human child wanted someone to talk to so she summoned a demon? He thought to himself.  You were the embodiment of a pathetic and lonely child. “Just go find some other rugrats to scuffle with.  Don’t drag us demons into it,” his layered voice told you. 

“No one likes me though,” you told him back.  “Everyone thinks I’m mean and I try really hard to fit in, but- they just make fun of me.” The demon held a scoff back from escaping him.  So, you really were a child.  Trying to twist who you are to benefit those around you just for a chance of some sort of connection to another. 

“Is your wish then to have a companion? Someone who will stay at your side and never waver? To fill that lonely void?” The demon pointed to your heart once more.  Your heart that desired- craved- a connection.  You found yourself nodding in agreement.  A smile wormed its way onto the demon’s face.  “Little one, I am a demon of trades.  Do you know what that means?” You shook your head no.  “It means, I’ll give you anything you ask of me, but I must get something back from you in return.” 

You grew nervous. What could a demon want from you?  Rather, what could you possibly even give demon?  You were 13 for Christ's sake (hah)! The demon stared at you and felt something ripple in his chest.  He smirked.  He held his hand out, opening his palm from the finger he pointed and flipped it so his palm faced upward towards the ceiling and the shut-off bathroom light.  

“I’ll give you what you want,” he started- gaining your attention. “What I ask in return is simple.”  You opened your mouth but shut it again.  You just shook your head. 

“But, I still don’t know your name,” you whispered with a small scruff sound to your voice. 

The demon chuckled again.  If what he felt was indeed what he thought and if he were to follow through with this deal, then this deal would be his last.  He’s had his fun with his world and he was bored anyway.  

“My name- to you only, little one- is Jimin.”  His name resonated with you in some way.  You said it, testing it and he felt a jolt in his chest, making him laugh.  You looked at him with a confused, almost judgemental, stare.  “Don’t give me that look,” he jokingly said. 

“What was it you wanted from me, Jimin? You never told me.”

Jimin held up two of his fingers.  “I must first know your name back, don’t you think that’s fair?” He smiled, his black lips curling almost innocently. 

“Oh, um.  Y/n, it’s Y/n.”  You gave it to him easily now.  He nodded.  The name was suited to fit you.  Jimin’s hand was still outstretched to you.  “What’s the second thing then?” 

“Your hand,” he answered simply. “I desire your hand.”  You easily gave it.  Placing your puny hand in his black, clawed palm.  His fingers curled around your hand easily engulfing it.  “I am centuries old, but even I have rules. You’re far too young yet.” He brought your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of it as a symbol of him flashed over your skin before it faded.  The mark was now gone and he smiled, knowing the spell was still there.  “Our deal is complete, though it will take a long time for it to be carried out.  You’ll have to be a strong girl until then.” 

He gently dropped your hand and stood up from the sink and bent down to your eye level. His dark red eyes looked into your wide, childish ones.  He could only imagine how they could mature and grow over time in your life.  He chuckled as he smiled at you.  

“Your soul now officially belongs to me.  Don’t forget that, little Y/n.” 

You bolted away in bed the next morning when your alarm went off.  6:30 AM and supposed to be getting ready for school.  Had it all been a dream?  You flung your covers off, kicking your legs free and ran to the bathroom.  It was empty and clean of any demon summoning evidence. 

No smeared lipstick on the mirror.  No scented candles or your bowl of items in the sink.  No evidence of you ever meeting the demon named Jimin.  You held and looked at the hand he took and kissed as you went back to your room. Flopping ungracefully on your bed.  

“It was only a dream,” you told yourself dejectedly.  And, like a dream, you gradually forgot all about Jimin.  Never aware of the swishing barbed tail and a pair of red eyes checking on you from time to time. Not noticing even every year on your birthday when those eyes glowed the brightest. 

-XXX-

“Yeah, I know mom.  Yes- I know.  I’m 23 now, I think I can survive if you're not here on my birthday.  Stay home with day and relax for once.  Listen, I just got to work, I’ve gotta go.  Yeah, I love you too.  Bye, mom.” You cut the call that was playing through the speakers of your car as your music automatically resumed playing once the call disconnected. 

You could really blame your mother for fretting over your birthday.  She’d seen 22 of them and on number 23 she wouldn’t be there.  You had moved out after slaving away at 3 jobs to get enough money to get an apartment and finally start college.  Stable enough to get on your feet was all you really wanted to be at this point.  And to take the burden of all your problems off your parents.  They needed their own time at such an age. 

Your miserable days in middle school remained and that negative strength lasted all the way into and even through your high school career.  You still felt bitter, but you didn’t let it bother you anymore.  You engrossed yourself in books and studying, ignoring those around you who tried to get under your skin.  The only reason you turned down a scholarship offered to you was so you could stay at home a few years before taking another step forward. 

Always better to practice the art of adulthood with more experienced adults at your left and right. Besides, going into college immediately after high school was something forced on young people by society.  It wasn't the be-all, end-all.  Waiting wouldn’t hurt you or anyone else for that matter. 

Pulling into your parking space and hopping out of your car, you waltzing into your workplace.  Greeted by the manager of the local coffee shop where you barista at along with her and her son, Seokjin.  He wasn’t much of a coffee maker, but he kills it with his job with all the pastries.  He was 4 years older than you and in his last year of college.  Aiming for a simple bachelor's degree, he just wanted to get a better paying job to support himself and his mother. He and his mom live together and she’s told you before that she will never chase him out.  

Seokjin’s father passed away years ago, and he felt so guilty anytime he had to leave for a long time.  He knew his mother wasn’t alone per se, but he did love her.  So, he spent his free time in the shop or at home with her.  He’s even taken her on some ‘dates’ where he just spoils her completely rotten.  

The close-knit family of 2 absolutely warmed your heart. 

Besides, with a face like Seokjin’s, you never have to worry about business.  IN fact, ever since he started working alongside his mother, there hasn’t been a slow easy-going day.  A blessing for revenue and paychecks, but a curse for your lack of free time. 

There isn’t much different today than usual.  A rush in the morning, a slow break between 10 and noon and then the lunch rush hits.  After that, it’s all hit and miss on when it will pick up.  You were removing your apron and releasing your hair from the too-tight ponytail you created this morning when your manager approached you. 

“You’ve started college, yes?  How is it?” She was like some aunt of yours as she slotting into your life.  Seokjin fitting right in as an annoying cousin role as he walked into the conversation, the counter free of customers until that front counter bell should ring. 

“Yup.  I started last week.  Orientation was a bit boring, and of course, all the syllabi seems a bit unnecessary, but it’s moving along.  We actually start classes tomorrow.”  You smiled as the three of you talked.  Soon, that bell rung before your manager rushed off, taking it before Seokjin could.  He stood around, talking to you a bit longer. 

“I’m in your college,” he told you with a hand on his head.  You knew this already, but he wasn’t someone you expected to really run into.  He was quite popular.  “Hunt me down if you need anything, you’ve got my number.”  He smiled.  

“Mr. Popular running to my beck and call, how charming.”  He moved his hand from your head as he cupped his chin.  

“What can I say, my existence itself is charming.”  You playfully rolled your eyes as you hang your apron up on the hook with your hand above it.  “Seriously, it can be a bit overwhelming and I am pretty smart.  If you have trouble, let me know.  I can even tutor you some time if you need it.”  He told you as you patted his shoulder and nodded.  He worried and you appreciated it.  

When you walked into your apartment that night, something felt wrong.  You didn’t know what, but it just didn’t seem normal?  You looked around and nothing was off and no one was here obviously.  Maybe you were just psyching yourself out before classes tomorrow.  

You plopped yourself on your couch as you closed your eyes, kicked your head back as you breathed.  It was strange as you opened your eyes and looked at your right hand.  It felt odd, a tingling sensation floating over and around it.  Your finger felt numb as you opened and closed your fist.  You just shook your head as you got up and went to take a shower.  Maybe that would make you feel better. 

You jolted awake with a heavy breath and a couch at nearly 3 AM.  You panted as you pushed your bangs back, feeling a small sheen layer of sweat there.  You felt like you just had a nightmare, but you couldn’t remember.  Your chest was tight as you dropped your hand back to your mattress as you sit sat up.  

Something felt tight around your ring finger on your right hand, and with it being too dark, you used your left hand to feel around it.  It felt like a ring was strapped onto your finger?  The ring was thin, metal and flat.  It was warm like you had been wearing it for a long time or someone else had been before you.  You knew it wasn’t yours, you didn’t own many rings.  

Confused, you tried tugging it off, but it wouldn’t budge.  Light panic sat in your chest as you twisted and pulled, trying to get the ring off.  It wasn’t as if it would move and your finger was too thick to take it off, no.  It just wouldn’t move period.  It would twist in place, but it would not move up or down your finger.  Like it was bound on or something. 

You sighed as your tugging game was put on hold from your growing panic. You decided to forget it and you’d deal with it in the morning.  Tugging your blanket up to lay back down and tuck yourself back in, something felt weighed down on your blanket.  Tugging again, you stretched your foot and something was sitting at the foot of your bed, weighing your blanket down.  

You were scared to move.  Slowly grabbing your phone you flipped the flashlight on and looked at the foot of your bed.  You screamed as you scurried up your mattress against the headboard, dropping your phone in your haste.  

Picking it back up you held it as you sat, knees up against your chest as you pushed yourself against eh headboard the best you could.  Sitting as far as you could from that thing at the end of your bed. 

“Who are you?!” You screeched as they rolled their eyes.  Red eyes, grey skin, black shirt and pants with a tail and horns.  Who was this?!  He didn’t even look human, but you were trying to convince yourself that some freaky cosplayer broke into your house.  You did know that there were a group of some weird-ass people who read some internet interactive novel online from some posts you’ve read on social media.  Maybe it was one of them? 

There wasn’t a speck of color on the intruder.  Be it skin or clothes.  His shirt was buttoned and tucked into his pitch pants and he was shoeless, his black feet tucked under his cross legs.  His tail barbed and swaying behind him as he smirked.  His fangs were the only white thing on him.  Even the ‘whites’ of his eyes were black surrounding his red iris. 

“Human memories really are the most unreliable thing in the universe,” he spoke as you screamed again.  He covered his ears as he grimaced. He stood on your mattress, his feet pushing into the covers as he walked over to you and bent his knees to squat to your level.  

He looked into your eyes and something almost sparked in you.  Like a recollection of something you’ve seen before, but can’t place your finger on it.  He watched as your eyes searched is own, now quiet as you tried to remember something.  He smiled as he saw the confusion in your human eyes.  

You moved to look at his tail behind him as you gasped, almost screaming again.  He quickly pushed his hand over your mouth, not wanting to hear another scream that pierced his ears.  “We’ll talk in the morning, little one,” he smirked as he saw your eyes widen as you took in a shaky breath through your nose.  

You shook your head, knowing there was no way you’d be able to sleep with this demon in your home.  Your eyes darted around as he rolled his eyes and covered your mouth just for a moment.  Just long enough to push his black lips onto your pink ones.  You gasped as you closed your eyes, bracing yourself as he was unusually calm. 

You felt your strength leaves you bit by bit as you soon relaxed and your tightly scrunched eyes eased up when you passed out.  Slumping back, the demon held you and straighten your body out before pulling the covers over you and getting off your bed.  Walking around your room and looking at your bags of books and notebooks, going through your style of clothing and all the small amount of jewelry you owned.  

He looked over his shoulder before he smiled and joined you on your bed.  Laying on the free side of it as he watched your sleep.  “You grew up, just like I thought you would,” he whispered. 

-XXX-

You stirred as you took a breath through your nose at what you could assume was early in the morning.  You were still tired, and half tempted to forget it and go back to sleep.  Even keeping your eyes closed, very close to just deciding sleep was worth it.  

You had a distinct feeling something happened, or maybe you had some weird-ass dream last night.  You felt more tired than you should for sleeping as much as you did.  You breathed heavy when you felt a weight on your chest.  The mattress around you was pushing down like something was on the mattress beside you.  

Cracking open your eyes, you took a moment to process the grey figure looking down at you.  Feet perched on either side of your arms, crouching and resting his arms on his bent knees, Jimin stared down at you.  You blinked up to him, processing like a slow running computer before you shot up, shoving him in the chest and flinging him onto the floor. You scrambled out of the opposite side of your bed, throwing your covers onto his head to buy you some time as you run for your bedroom door.  

You screamed when your blanket hit your back in a giant wad.  Knocking you forward, you whipped around.  Jimin was stood up, brushing off his arms and glaring at you.  He looked so different in the daytime as you could see him clearly instead of standing in the shadows. 

“You are the rudest human I’ve ever met.  I can’t believe you threw a fucking blanket on me like I’d get stumped like some stupid dog,” he grumbled as he rubbed his head. “You could’ve damaged my neck, brat.”  You inched towards your door, still wanting to at least leave your room, Jimin just walked over to you, standing in front of your door.  

“I- uh,” you looked at him.  Pointing at him then, your bed, before you groaned and started pacing back and forth.  Jimin watched your pacing as he sighed and sat down, crossing his legs in front of your door.  He pushed his clawed hand into his grey cheek as he looked bored.  You suddenly stopped and looked down at him from across the room.  “You... You’re not a human?”  

Jimin looked at his claws, waving them teasingly waving them around as he then gestured to the spiraled horns on his head.  Not to mention the barbed tail swishing around behind him like it had a mind of his own. “I think the skin color could speak for itself, but if you still have doubts, take a look at the fucking bones out of my forehead and devil’s tail.”  

You stopped and marched over to him.  Dropping to your knees you grabbed his cheeks between your fingers and pulled.  Stretching his skin before letting go.  You moved to quickly open his eyes wide and looked at his red eyes.  You tugged on his hair, flicked his horns and opened his mouth to look at his fangs.  He growled in annoyance as you poked and prodded at him.  “HEY!” He shouted when you tugged on his tail.  

“How are you real?!  I thought you were a dream!” You panicked.  

“Well, that sounds like a personal problem to me,” he smirked as his tail whipped around in a teasing, almost spunky manner.  

“I was 13! What do you even want?” He pointed to your hand, more specifically to the ash grey ring you had completely forgotten about from last night.  You looked at it.  “This?” You showed it, trying to take it off once again.  Groaning and making quite the embarrassing amount of effort to try and remove it.  

“It’s not coming off.  I charmed it so it’s stuck there unless I remove it,” Jimin told you, closing his eyes as if he just told you the most obvious fact in the world.  Like how ladybugs are black and red.  “Have you forgotten what our deal was?”  He asked. 

“I… I wanted a friend back then.  So, you told me to give you my-” you stopped and looked at the ring on your finger, “-hand.”  Jimin cracked open his eyes as he reached over and grabbed your ringed right hand, holding it close to his mouth.  

That same symbol he marked under your skin 10 years ago showing up for a split second, like a pulse and making you gasp.  Kissing your hand again, he looked at you.  “You should always catch wind of double meanings in any and all demon contracts, sweetheart.  Even if you were young, you did agree.” 

“You tricked me! I was a kid!”  Jimin shrugged.  

“It's my job.  You should be honored that you were my final assignment.” 

“Final- what?” 

“Do you know, attachment to clients is a taboo in the demonic society. Any sign of attachment is dealt with immediate termination of the contract.  Though, there are some who decide to indulge in the attachment and decide that one job is more important than any other possible future ones.” 

You sat in front of him as he still held your hand in his own.  Dressed in a black suit with his dull gray skin and completely unnatural- well, everything.  

“I formed my final contract 10 years ago at 3 AM to a silly, lonely little girl.  You, Y/n, became my attachment. We’re officially engaged, sweetheart.” 

-XXX-

“You haven’t been at work for three days because you were too busy getting engaged?!” You covered your ears as you roll your eyes at Seokjin’s initial reaction to your big news.  Three days ago, when Jimin showed up in your apartment, you called your manager if there was any way you could possibly get the next few days off.  You didn’t want to tell her the situation but promised to when you came back in.  She was understanding enough and now, fast forward to now.  Seokjin grabbed your shoulders, shaking you around. “How come you didn’t tell me?! I would’ve filmed it or something, you didn’t even tell me you had a boyfriend!” 

You shook his hands off your shoulders as you straighten out your sleeves he crumpled up on your shoulders. “Look, what I do in my personal life really doesn’t matter, does it?” You told him as he just crossed his arms and pouted. You chuckled at him as his mother came around the corner, wiping her wet hands on her apron.  

“What’s all this fuss about back here?” She questioned with a smile at seeing you and Seokjin back to your antics.  It was almost too calm without you here for him to pick on.  

“Oh, I was telling Seokjin here about why I had been gone, ma’am,” you told her with a smile.  You then thought for a moment, she didn’t actually know yet.  “I actually got engaged,” you told her with a nervous laugh and rubbing the back of your head.  

In full honesty, after sitting down and talking it all out with the demon who is now your betrothed, even if you didn’t want to get married to him you had no choice.  A contract with a demon is eternal binding and you would have to carry out your end of the bargain.  As such, just as Jimin promised you all those years ago, you wouldn’t have to worry about every being lonely. So, in turn, you were his now.  

He explained everything to you.  He told you back when you made that contract, that when he told you he ‘wanted your hand’ he was asking for your hand in marriage.  He told you he purposely said it like that so your stupid teenage self wouldn’t actually understand the double meaning.  He explained how he watched you grow up and was there on every birthday, but you never saw him.  

It actually almost embarrassed you how he had been there the whole time.  He even admitted to being the tiniest bit jealous of all the boyfriends and girlfriends you’ve been in a relationship with before.  He pouted when he brought up the fact that one past boyfriend was an obvious scumbucket of a man and claimed your ‘taste in human men was severely lacking’.  He earned a kick in his shin for that one. 

Jimin truly acted like he was attracted to you in all honesty.  It’s only been three days, but he was as chivalrous as a proper gentleman.  Not something one would expect from such a terrifying demon who literally hides in the corner when it’s too bright in the room at 6 in the morning.  He isn’t a fan of morning sunlight, too bright and frankly from his whole appearance, it wasn’t shocking to learn this.  

And because of his appearance, you had a little pitch fit before you left for work.  Absolutely forbidding him from leaving the apartment because if anyone saw him, they’d probably call the cops or shoot him. Horns, bare feet, grey and black skin, he would stand out like a sore thumb.  

Seokjin’s mother gasped as he grabbed your hands, shaking them up and down as she got as giddy as a teenager at the young romance blossoming from your engagement.  

“That’s absolutely lovely, sweetpea!”  He chuckled as she placed her worn, old hand on her cheek.  Her wedding ring from her late husband still in prime condition as she still did love him so much.  She was alright staying widowed; and with Seokjin, she didn’t seek another romance in her age because she wasn’t lonely.  “I remember when my husband proposed to me.  He had this elaborate plan all set up in the park we met at, but it rained right in the middle of it!  It was clumsy, but so was he,” you smiled as she fawned over the memories of her youth. 

She held your hand and looked at your grey ring place firmly on your finger.  “It is quite the unique ring for a proposal,” she chuckled.  She didn’t seem to dislike it though.  In most people’s eyes, if you told them this grey and the simplistic metallic ring was your engagement ring, they’d probably start to berate Jimin for not ‘buying’ a more glamorous ring.  However, when Jimin told you that this was the ring he’s had his entire demonic life and how much it meant to him, you felt almost proud that he gave it up for you. 

Jimin was crafty, already charming his way into your heart after just a few days.  You found it unfair because you weren’t all that desirable in your own eyes, yet here he was giving up life long possessions and sticking them on you and treating you like a legitimate fiancee. 

“You’ll have to let us meet him. You’re practically family, sweetie!”  You smiled, nervously laughing as you nodded.  You scratched your cheek as you thought to yourself about how you would keep Jimin under house arrest for the rest of your life.  “Does your mother know?  I’m sure she’s just thrilled her little daughter is growing up!” 

“Yeah, she knows.  She nearly blew a gasket when I told her.  I thought she was going to march all the way down here to interview him, but she just spoke to him over the phone and all was good,” you told your manager.  Keeping the fact that the whole ordeal took nearly 3 hours to yourself. “She’s happy for me in the long run,” you said as you were also relieved of that fact.  

Your parents knew that you didn’t have people beside you growing up, so hearing you’re engaged and set to marry at some point when you just started college was a shock.  But, they seemed to support you in your path you’re setting and you couldn’t be more thankful. 

“He’s not a shy fellow, is he?” You shook your head.  

“Oh, not at all.  In fact, he’s very outgoing and is always trying to find a way to get out of the house,” you weren’t lying.  He’s been cooped up in that house of yours for three days, all he complains about if wanting to go out. You won’t even let him out at night where he can hide in the shadows without being seen. 

“Does Mr. Right have a name, or what?” Seokjin cut in with crossed arms and a furrowed brow.  “If I don’t get a face and a name within the next 48 hours, I will be forced to confine you here until he shows himself.”  You and his mother looked at him as his face gave away that he was almost dead serious. 

“What are you? My older brother?  Sorry, but I’m an only child,” you told him as he rolled his eyes.  “His name is Jimin,” you told him.  

“Surname?” 

“Does it matter?” 

“Of course it matters, woman!” In truth, you weren’t sure if Jimin even had a surname.  He was a demon, and he mentioned how many names he actually goes by.  So, you decided to skim around the question and finally dropped the topic altogether when it was opening time.  

Seokjin placed his two fingers in front of his eyes and proceeded to whip them towards you in a typical  ‘I’ll be watching’ fashion.  Making you shaking your head as you tied on your apron with the smallest smile on your face.  Maybe all those years of solitude were worth it in the end after all. 

-XXX-

“Jimin, you better still be in this apartment or else I’m gonna tie your tail into knots!” 

“So much as touch my tail and I will bite you. Don’t test me!” You heard him scream back at you as you smiled.  Shutting the door behind you and heeling off your shoes, you pulled your jacket off and walked into your living room where you tossed it onto the back of the couch.  

Jimin sat in a chair, reading one of your books as his tail whipped around behind him and curled inwards when he saw you.  The threat of you even touching it initially making him wince. 

“Jimin, are you reading a cookbook?” He shut the book and looked at the front, seeing some sort of dish covering the front of it with the bold letters of ‘COOKBOOK’ staring at him.  He looked back at you and nodded.  “Why?” 

“Because, since we’re going to be married and I’m living with you, I do need to learn how to live as a human.” That honestly surprised you. “Why is that so shocking to you?”  You shook your head, sitting on the couch.  Seeing him take this so seriously still throws you off and a part of you almost thought that when it actually happens, he’d rip your soul out or something.  He chuckles at you. “Don’t you worry, dear.  I won’t eat your heart or anything when we wed.” 

Dismissing his stupid words he knew you were suspecting, you started a new topic.  “My coworker and boss seemed glad that I was engaged.” 

“You told them?” He asked and you nodded. 

“Yeah, of course.  I had to, I’d been gone for three days.  I couldn’t just lie to them.” Jimin arched his brows.  “Okay, I could but it wouldn’t feel right.  They’re good people, so I wouldn’t.” There was a pause for a moment when you continued.  “They want to meet you actually.”

“I’m sure a lot of people do.  Your mother was hell-bent on a phone call, I’m half shocked she didn’t bust her way through the phone.” You sighed.  “I want to clarify something,” he said as you looked at him.  “If I didn’t look like this-” he gestured to his grey and clawed self, “- I could go out.  I could meet people you work with and your parents, right?” 

“Ideally, yes.  You can’t just walk outside looking like that.  You’d probably get killed or kidnapped and taken into the government for dissection or something.” He rolled his eyes.  “Why?” 

“No reason, just curious,” you shrugged it off as the rest of the day rolled around.  The next morning, you were up late and rushing to leave your apartment to get to class on time.  Driving over the speed limit and tapping in rage on your wheel when stupidly slow drivers got in front of you. You parked in a space that was far too far away from the door and ran.  Running into Seokjin somehow on the way there.  

He only laughed at you as he stuffed a donut hole in your mouth that you nearly choked on as you continued your sprint down the halls and soon slid into a seat in your university room.  The room was set up like a stadium, semi-circular and stairstep sitting arrangement. You phone that sits on your desk lit up with a silent message.  

You had gone out and got Jimin a phone so that he can at least have some form of communication with you. He was a demon, but he already acted human enough.  He was a quick learner and if he did look the part, one wouldn’t even think he was a demon at all.  Of course, even if you voiced to the whole campus your fiancee was a demon, no one would believe you.  

[Jimin] When do you get out of class today?

[You] Does it matter? 

[Jimin] Of course it does.  I want to show you something when you’re free today.

[You] Uh, alright?  I should be done around 3, so long as no lectures run long.

[Jimin] You got it.  I’ll see you at 3 in front of your campus then.

You stared at your phone’s screen.  Rereading what he said before your thumbs ran rapidly across your screen.  If texting was a sport, you were sure you probably would’ve just earned the gold medal. 

[You] You’ll what?!

[You] Jimin!  Answer me!!!  

[You] HEY.  JIMIN I SWEAR TO GOD

[Jimin] Don’t offend me

You rolled your eyes at his comment back.  Swearing to God in the case of a demon.  He always smacked your hand lightly when you said that to him, saying that swearing to something he didn’t believe in or rather didn’t like was just mean. It made sense since he was a child of Satan or something. 

Your day ticked by as slow as high-class torture.  Time was picking at your fingernails as you tapped your foot and scribbled notes in such a frenzied fashion you’d probably end up with a magnifying glass later trying to decipher your words like some archeologist on a dig. 

When your final lecture let out it was nearly a quarter past 3 in the afternoon.  You scrambled to shove your books and notes into your bag as you picked up the strap and slung it on your shoulder, whacking it into your back as you wince.  Taking off down the halls and skipping steps, half scared of tripping and tumbling to your doom down them. 

You sped past staff and students, a few of them telling you to watch what you're doing or to stop running completely, but you just waved in apology and continued your pace. Making it outside, you slumped against the flagpole by the main entrance doors as you huffed out of breath.  The sun was warm on the skin of your legs that were revealed because of your shorts.  Your jacket was all disheveled as your shirt that was once tucked was now no longer so. Your shoelaces had even come undone in your plight of speed to get outside. 

Looking around, you didn’t see a single grey demon walking around your front campus courtyard.  Sighing, you dropped your bag onto the ground with a huff and knelt to re-tie your shoe.  If you left campus fast enough, maybe Jimin wouldn’t come and cause a scene. 

You were unaware of the low murmur of small gossip circles on campus and leaving the building.  You were also unaware of the fact that fact of the murmur was coming towards you with his hand shoved into his pockets.  

Making it in front of you, you saw a shadow at your feet and beside you as you looked up.  The sun was too bright and blocked out the sight of who it was standing in front of you.  You squinted as the person- a man- chuckled and bent his knees to be eye level with you.  

You looked at him and he looked at you as he smiled.  Looking into his eyes, a deep brown, you narrowed your eyes in concentration.  You turned your head slowly, still keeping your eyes on him, as you opened your mouth in disbelief.  

“Excuse me, but um- you wouldn’t have to be…” you pointed at him as he chuckled again.  He looked to his left and right before he looked back into your eyes and you saw his brown flash to a black and red before reverting back.  You gasped.  This human man was- “Jimin?!” You screeched.  

Jimin laughed as he fell forward on you, knocking you onto your ass on the concrete that warmed your cheeks from the afternoon sunlight.  He continued to laugh and spill out his fits of giggles from his gut as he held your arms and put his forehead on your shoulder.  

Jimin looked human.  Lightly tanned skin, brown waved hair and brown eyes.  A pair of jeans with a white shirt and jean jacket that matched his pants.  His right ear had a long dangling earring pierced through it as his left had a small hoop.  His shoes were flat and black.  He had no horns, no fangs, no claws or tail.  His skin wasn’t grey and his hands weren’t black as coal.  He looked and sounded 100% human. 

“You’re reaction was so worth it!” He laughed as he finally composed himself.  You took notice of the murmur now, as it had slightly increased from small groups to larger cliques wondering what was happening.  Normally, this was dismissed by the campus students as another couple being overly touchy, but of course, you just couldn’t fly under the radar this one time. 

You lightly pushed Jimin up and off your shoulder as you looked around his face.  He was handsome as a human too.  Just as handsome as he is as a demon.  The sun highlighted and added to the persona he put on and made your face the slightest tint of red. Jimin’s playful smirk was replaced with a wide smile as he saw you blush. 

“W-when did you?” You just pointed at the whole of him. He grabbed your hand as he stood, pulling you up with him and straightening out your jacket for you.  Tugging on the ends and straightening out the shoulders.  He would’ve tucked your shirt in if you hadn’t of slapped his hands away from your stomach. 

“Ticklish are we?” He teased. 

“Just answer my question!” You whined.  He pinched at your cheek, cooing as you were tempted to pick your bag off the ground and swing it at him like a pro baseballer aiming for a home run. 

“I changed this morning.  It’s not permanent though.  I can change back whenever I want to.  If I look like this, I’m okay to go outside, right?” 

“I guess… I can’t argue with that?  I said not as a demon- but as a human, I can’t say no to you, can I.” He smiled as he bent down and grabbed your bag. “Ah, give me that, it’s got all my books in it.”  You reached for it as he just held it away from you, putting a hand on your stomach to keep you away from it.  “Jimin!” You whined again. 

“Let my first act as a human gentleman be carrying my fiance’s bag home, yeah?” You pouted as you crossed your arms.  

“Y/n!” You heard someone behind you call for you as you almost panicked at seeing Seokjin strutting towards you.  His bag on his hip and phone in his hand, headphones coiled around it, ready to be unwound and listened to. Jimin recognized him as you took the liberty of showing him photos of Seokjin, his mother and your parents to him.  He walked up to you and Jimin.  “I saw you running out of your class like a maniac, what was that about?” 

“Oh, well you see I was just…” you looked around for an excuse before you looked at Jimin.  “I was rushing out to meet my escort home!” You gestured to Jimin.  Seokjin looked down at him.  He stood taller than Jimin.  “Seokjin, you wanted to meet him, right?  My fiance?”  Seokjin looked at you, mouth open in awe as he looked back at Jimin. 

“This is your fiance?!” He accused, almost too loudly as you could see some people whispering and gasping that the gorgeous man in front of you was engaged to you of all people.  You shushed him. 

“Shut up!  Let’s go somewhere else and talk, Jesus.”  The three of you ended up at some burger joint not far from campus to talk.  Being greeted by the staff, you smiled and waved as you took the two men in tow to a booth.  Jimin slid in with you as he sat closer than you expected him to, your thigh touching his as Seokjin sat across the table. 

You three ordered something to drink and just a basket of fries to munch on.  Jimin didn’t exactly have money and you were kinda glad that Seokjin said he’d foot the bill of the fries and drinks.  You didn’t want to explain that Jimin was unemployed because he was a demon. 

“So, you’re Y/n’s guy?” Jimin nodded, reaching across the table for a handshake.  Seokjin meeting him in a firm greeting. 

“I’m Park Jimin, it’s a pleasure.’ You looked at him.  Park?  Did he decide that was going to be his surname?  It was popular, so you didn’t see the harm in his choice.  “You’re Seokjin, right? Y/n works with you and your mother.”  

Seokjin purses his lips in an impressive manner.  “You know me?” 

“Of course!  Y/n had talked about you and your mother quite a lot in the time I’ve known her.  She really enjoys working with you both.”  You thanked the staff member who placed your drinks and a basket of fries on the booth table as the two men talked back and forth.  You sipped at your drink, straw between your lips as you were actually impressed Jimin held such a casual conversation.  

You’ve been stressing over so much on what to do with Jimin when he was capable of dealing with all of it on his own.  He seemed to genuinely be trying to earn Seokjin’s favor for something.  Talking and acting so that Seokjin wouldn’t disapprove of him for some reason.  

He was acting so human.  Sweet and caring and kind.  He laughed at Seokjin’s stupid jokes you scoffed at and took interest in his favorite kind of pastries.  What to eat and where to eat it and told him about how he attended the same college as you and was set to graduate this year. 

Seokjin excused himself for a moment to go to the bathroom when Jimin sat back in his booth and tossed half a fry into his mouth. 

“Human food is actually way better than I remember it being,” he said as he ate the second half of the fry.  

“Jimin?” He looked at you when you called him.  “You- are you enjoying yourself?” You were curious is that smile on his face was real or if it was all an act because he was a demon contracted to marry you.  He smiled softly as he grabbed your hand, setting it on his lap. 

“I told you that I was attached to you, do you remember?” You nodded.  He told you that when he first showed up.  “It’s not easy for something like that to occur for my species. I won’t put up a facade around you, so don’t worry, okay?” You lowered your eyes as you nodded.  He smiled, his teeth showing as his cheeks pushed up his eyes.  He moved to kiss your cheek as you pushed on his shoulder for the sudden act of affection.  He laughed at you as he tried kissing your other cheek, you erupting into a fit of laughter at him. 

Seokjin stood behind the booth against the wall, watching the two of you from a distance.  He smiled seeing you happy and how Jimin was a good guy after all.  Open and kind like you said.  He nodded to himself. 

“I guess I can approve of him,” he said to himself as he made his way back to the booth. Sliding in and fake gagging at the PDA of the young couple.  

-XXX-

It was two days later when your first workday since Seokjin met Jimin came.  Jimin was stubbornly driving you to work (where he learned to drive you didn’t know).  He even had a license that was legitimate and he wouldn’t tell you at all how he got it.  Part of you almost believed he lived as a human the past year just to get accustomed to this kind of lifestyle.  When you told him that, he looked at you like you uncovered some big secret.  Of course, there was no way that was right… right?

“So, why are you driving me to work again?” You asked him as your purse sat in your lap as you were decked in your black slacks, white shirt, and non-slip shoes.  Boring work attire. While he sat in black jeans, heeled boots to boost his height (he was almost self-conscious of it) and a white shirt with a yellow flannel over it.  Looking rudely attractive. 

“I met Seokjin, now I want to meet your boss!” He cheered as he pulled into the turn lane, stopping before getting the all-clear from those trust traffic lights to proceed onwards.  “Besides, dropping you off means I get to pick you up and isn’t that just a husbandly thing to do?” 

“You’re not my husband?” 

“Not yet.  Which reminds me, I guess we need to actually plan a wedding?” 

“Yeah, with what money,” you scoffed.  

“Well, how about a courthouse wedding?  It’s way cheaper and way simpler.  Just dress in your Sunday best, show up with family and close friends only.  Get preached to, sign a paper, take some pictures and we walk out husband and wife,” he suggested with a small smile.  

Honestly speaking, a courthouse wedding didn’t sound too awful.  You wouldn’t need to get completely gussied up if you didn’t want to and it wouldn’t be some entire day deal.  A few hours and it would be done.  Plus it would be a life-saving act for your funds.  

“You don’t need to think about it right now,” Jimin interrupted your thoughts.  He reached across the middle console and grabbed your hand that rested on your bag.  He bounced it up and down in his palm as he ran his thumb over your knuckles.  “I’m not going anywhere, so take your time to think it over for yourself.  Be it for 3 months or 3 years, I’ll always be here.”  You nodded at him, missing the side look he gave you when your cheeks start glowing again. “Cute.” 

Your boss cried in joy as you entered the still unopened cafe with Jimin in tow, his hands in yours.  You watched her bounce around the counter and prance up to you both as Seokjin rounded the corner, a ziplock bag of frozen strawberries in his hand that was due to dethaw in some hot water in the back.  

“Oh, lover boy’s here,” he announced.  Jimin bowed to your boss as he introduced himself with a smile.  You told her that Jimin was the man who proposed to you and was the man you were soon going to marry.  

“My word, he’s stunning!  You’re a lucky woman, Y/n.”  You laughed at her excitement as Jimin disagreed. 

“No way! Y/n is way out of my league. If anything I'm the lucky one here!” He exclaimed and it sounded like he meant it.  That this wasn't all just a contracted marriage between human and demon. “I’m just happy I met her in the first place, now I get to marry her.  I’m definitely the luckiest.” He, finalized, your boss swooning at him as her own cheeks reddened. 

“You’re so fond.  I do hope you both make each other happy.”  Jimin nodded as he checked the watch on his wrist.  He nudged you lightly, gesturing to the time.  You squeaked as you unconsciously pecked him on the cheek and rushed behind the counter and into the back to clock in and strap on your apron.  Jimin chuckled at you as your boss stood around longer.  “Y/n is such a sweetheart,” she cooed.  

“Yes, she is,” Jimin agreed.  “She’s gone through a lot over her life, but I’m truly grateful that she somehow ended up at my side.” He bent down to get closer to the older woman and smiled at her, you on his brain.  “I’m going to make her happy for sure! But, I don’t actually know her favorite kind of pastry.  You don’t happen to know, do you?” 

“I do!  If you offer her one of my son’s cream puffs, she’s absolute putty in your hands' young man.” Jimin nodded.  

“Thank you very much!” He cheered.  He knew a lot about you, but not everything.  He desired to learn everything he could.  When he learned another fact about you or saw you smile or fumble around in a spaz, he could feel that attachment in his chest tighten.  The sensation was nameless and addicting.

-XXX-

It’s been 4 months since Jimin showed up declaring himself as your betrothed. Since then, he somehow managed to get a job as a receptionist at a small little spa not too far downtown.  With his looks as well as his sweet human personality, he was a catch.  You wondered how he ever qualified for any jobs at all with him being a demon prior to everything.  He flat out told you he lied and created fake documents of education and even past experience that you were 100% sure he didn’t have. 

You had to admit that you admired his studious attitude when it came down to his work though.  His ethic and willingness to learn and be trained so diligently was shocking for a demon.  He read on spa therapies from skincare to massages to manicures and pedicures.  From fact to fiction and when it came time to work on his own without a trainer, he did incredibly well.  

As a demon, he seemed to genuinely enjoy his work.  Plus, he often offers you shoulder massages when you're working it double-time between work and school.  You were probably the most grateful for that.  

His kindness continued to baffle you.  Even after all these months, the way he smiled and joked and actually seemed to care about the world around you didn’t make him seem like a demon at all.  You would often forget he wasn’t human, his origins slipping your mindscape until he would return to his grey-skinned, horned and clawed self. You remember him asking you if his real appearance ever bothered you. 

“Hey, Y/n?” Jimin had just walked into the apartment from work as you sat cross-legged on the floor in front of your coffee table in the living room.  Textbooks open and bookmarked, notebooks scribbled in and small doodles taking up space in any open corner when your concentration drifted off. You hummed at him as he moved to sit on the couch behind your back.  “You don’t mind if I look like a demon when I’m inside, do you?” 

You stopped your notes as you put your pencil down in the fold of the pages and turned at your hips to look at him behind you. 

“Do I mind if you look like a demon?”  He nodded.  “Jimin why would you care if I care if you look like that?” He was still in his human appearance as he looked almost timid.  Not making eye contact and looking worried like you would reject him if he looked devilish. 

“I just- I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”  Jimin is by far the most respectable demon you’ve ever met (even though he’s the only demon you’ve ever met). You rolled your eyes as you turned back to our notes, Jimin ready to complain when you finally answered him. 

“There’s no reason to be uncomfortable around you, human or demon.  It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you told him. “And it’s not like we’re on the ground floor, no one will see you from outside, just don’t go out on the balcony like that.” You looked outside the two tall, sliding glass doors to your small balcony on the 3rd floor.  “Besides, you’re pretty charming as a demon,” you tacked on.  You were scribbling more notes down, looking back and forth between your textbook and notes to make sure you were writing in the lines in legible writing.  

You felt Jimin moving behind you as he soon moved to slide off the couch to sit beside you.  He put his head on the table, looking at you with his grey skin and small spiraled horns pointing outwards away from his forehead. He smiled up at you as you moved to look down at him, his fangs as white as ever. 

“So, I’m charming?” His tail whipped around behind him as you just scoffed with a smile and went back to work.  He quickly sat up. “I learned this really cool massage trick at work, wanna see!” He offered as you stopped him from reaching out to touch you at all.  

“You will not attempt to massage anything with those hands. Last time you did, your stupid claws cut up my shoulders!”  

“I’ll shorten them then!” 

“What’s so funny?” Jimin, who sat across the middle console from you, asked.  You both were currently sat in your car, suitcases packed for the weekend on your way to your parent’s house.  After 4 months, they grew antsy on now actually meeting Jimin.  Despite talking to him on the phone or seeing him when you would video call your mother, an in-person meeting was well overdue. Jimin didn’t seem to mind, you were a bit worried though.  

You still weren’t sure how committed Jimin was in his role that 13-year-old you forced him in.  He’s easy to be with and he acts like the ever-charming fiance that he was, but that was all that you thought it was.  Him filling out his job and that made you nervous as you both got closer and closer to your destination.  Making your hands tighten on the steering wheel as you drove the roads most familiar to you. 

Jimin could smell your anxiety from a mile away, much less 2 feet apart in a confined space like your small car.  If you weren’t pressing your toe on the gas, he was sure you’d be bouncing your leg in anxiousness.  A habit he picked up on you did.  Instead, he watched your tighten and loosen just to retighten your hands around the steering wheel.  

He felt like he wasn’t doing enough.  He’s been beside you for 4 months and you still seemed distant in some ways.  You still didn’t feel comfortable enough for him to sleep next to you, so he was sleeping every night on your couch (at least it pulls out into a bed). He heard that you sometimes still had a choked throat each time you had to explain that he was engaged to you.  And you hadn’t brought up the topic of a wedding since the one day he talked to you about it when he took you to work for the first time. 

There was a lot of hesitation in your head and body it made him think he made possibly be doing something wrong. He knew that you were stuck in the thought that he was just working.  You were a job and that’s what you keep telling yourself, convincing yourself that you really didn’t matter to Jimin in the long run.  Despite him telling you time and time again that you were an attachment that was absolutely forbidden to him and his kind, you just couldn’t bring yourself to accept that.  

You, plain simple and uninteresting you.  You who waited two years for college and grew up alone.  You who had only started living alone in your 23rd year.  You who was so lonely as a child you summoned a demon just for someone to talk to and ended up bringing him into your small circle of loneliness.  

You were an anchor holding Jimin in place and you thought of that as a burden.  While that anchor that is you was something so important to Jimin.  He just had to figure out how to drill it into your head that you were a blessing to him.  Lucifer be damned, if you were an angel, he’d cut off his own horns and turn his back on his kind to be with you. 

He watched as you turned the car, hands overlapping on the wheel.  Bodies jostling on the road as the highway you drove on turned into the gravel of a backroad.  

“They're pretty far from town, a lot of open areas and not too much to do,” you started, talking a bit louder over the crunching and grumbling tires of your car going over the rock and gravel.  “But, we have a lot of land and a really neat garden and greenhouse my mom really likes to take care of.  I’m sure we can find something to do,” you told him.  

Jimin nodded.  He wasn’t worried.  If he was going to win you over, he’d have to start with the two who raised you. Winning your parents would be easy.  He had a feeling from the many conversations he had with your mother, that she wouldn’t be a hard obstacle.  Your father seemed a bit more skeptic. He had every reason to be, Jimin was a demon after all. 

“A city detox is good on a demon.  The fresh air so much better than breathing in all that city smog and smoke.  Plus, the country smells better.”  

“Yeah,” you laughed, “you have a point.”  The rest of the trip passed and soon you were pulling into your parent’s driveway, your mother who sat on the front porch, reading a book on the bench swing.  Setting it down, pages open and spine up, she stood as you turned off the car and waved to her from your windshield.

You couldn’t hear her, but she looked over her shoulder, shouting into the house that was behind her.  Presumably shouting to your father that you and your new fiance had finally arrived.  Jimin noticed you take your time unbuckling and working your way out of your car.  Getting out after you, he watched your mother descend the few steps of the old townhouse.  She was quick to hug you, embrace you returned with a smile. 

Jimin had briefly seen your mother before.  Whether it be from his routinely watches as a demon as you grew older, or through the crappy quality of your mother’s phone during a Skype call.  She was a familiar face nonetheless.  Just as he saw her, she was soon greeting him and waving him over from across the car. 

“Jimin, darling!”  She greeted enthusiastically.  Swooping the man into a hug he wasn’t expecting.  Patting her back lightly, she pulled away.  He truly wasn’t used to any physical contact aside from you. You were the only human he allowed to even come near him in so long.  Your mother examined jimin.  Tilting his chin up and down, walking around him and humming.  She was literally sizing him up and looking at every inch of him (not that there’s many). 

“Mom! Don’t be rude to my fiance!”  You screeched as she circled him like a hawk. You slapped your palm to your face when she turned to you with a small older woman giggle and a hearty thumbs up.  Like she approved of the demon you were going to wed.  Jimin laughed at both of your antics. 

“Let’s not dilly-dally.  Everyone inside, come on.”  Your mother rushed you both up to the steps, claiming to get your bags out of the trunk later on.  When Jimin entered, he found out how much the inside of your home looked so different in the daytime. The difference between your lit halls and the halls he knew when he visited at the dead of night was shocking to him. Then again, even as a demon, he never went and wandered around your house.  More like quick peeks here and there. 

You watched from the corner of your eyes at Jimin’s reaction to being in your home of 22 years in his human appearance.  He’s only ever been here as a demon.  It was obvious your mother had tidied up the best a mother could.  Probably also employing the help of your father for some tasks that were a bit more herculean.  The fact that the sofa had been moved in the living room was a dead give away for that.  

As awkward as the first fiance and parent meeting should be, it wasn’t at all.  Jimin slatted right in, sitting next to you on the couch.  When spoken to he’d listen well and managed to keep eye contact with your father.  Something he didn’t realize human men had problems with when meeting their significant other’s parents. He truly seemed engaged in all conversation and was all smiles and energy as he sat beside you.  His hand occasionally find yours to hold behind the cushion you held on your lap. 

The night, Jimin sat in the middle of your bed, legs crossed as you were in the bathroom changing.  Despite the time he’s seen your change (once he was sitting on the sink when you got out of the shower and got a look at the goods before you threw a hairdryer at him), you still grew embarrassed about changing with him boring holes into your back. 

He had relaxed his body.  His horns poking out of his head as his tail lay on the mattress.  His skin greyed out and claws extended.  When you entered the room, you let out a small shriek and slammed the door behind you, locking it.  You stomped across the room, pointing into his face. 

“You can’t just change back into a demon here!” Jimin nearly went cross eyes at your finger at his nose. 

“Why not?” He innocently asked, but the sly grin on his face gave away his teasing undertone.  You stood back up, arms crossed.  You huffed.  “Oh please, if anyone besides you came in, I’d just hide and let your parents believe I took a shower with you.” 

“That’s ridiculous!” 

“No, it’s not. Couples shower all the time together.” He cupped his chin in his palm as he watched your face flush.  Taking a shower with Jimin was completely out of the question.  For one, he’s a demon! Regardless of if you were going to end up with him as your husband or not, he was completely different and who knows what he’s packing.  His anatomy is obviously way different than yours, or another mans given his horns and tail.  

You shake your head, trying to disperse the thought of even beginning to imagine what or what isn’t hidden below his belt.  Jimin stood as you internally panicked and he hooked his finger under your chin, making your concentration break and force your attention on him. 

“It’s been 4 months, love,” he started.  “Yet, I’m still capable of making your blush like the dawn.” His fang peeked out of hips dark lips as he pulled them back into a grin.  His eyes lit up a lighter shade of red as the lights flicked out.  You looked up to the bowl covered ceiling light before Jimin pulled your eyes back to him.  “I’d appreciate it if you kept your eyes focused on me,” he bit.  

“Jimin?” He seemed more possessive than usual.  He was always someone who wanted attention, but at the moment he seemed more demanding for attention than usual.  He moved to bite onto the side of your cheek as you squeaked.  He let it go before he licked it.  

“I used up a lot of energy staying human all day.  I need to recharge.”  Jimin spent the next half hour lavishing you in kisses and holding you.  He’s done this before- becoming exhausted is something a demon needs treatment for when in the human realm. Whether it be human food, drink or affection.  Jimin would cling to you when it happened, unable to revert to his human form.  Jimin as his demon self would bask in your warmth until he grew better.  It was alright because his cold body kept your burning one in check throughout the whole process. 

-XXX-

After the weekend trip to your parents, you were relieved when both your mother and father decided not to veto Jimin- since they really couldn’t because of the contract.  Accepting him and your decision to marry him your mother was hot on the ‘when is the marriage’ bandwagon. 

Weeks later, Jimin had woken up before you had.  It was early in the morning as you slammed the top of your alarm clock to shut off the first- of many- signs to get up and ready for school. You had grown used to feeling the dip in your bed that Jimin claimed or at the very least having him looping his leg around yours. But, this morning it was empty.  

Sitting up, the sky had turned grey. Not yet allowing the colors of dawn to breach the black night sky.  Jimin not being seen by you in the bedroom, you rubbed your eyes before you crawled out of bed.  Wrapping your blanket around your shoulders as you left your room.  

He wasn’t in the bathroom- he was fond of early morning baths.  Not the kitchen and his shoes were still here so he hadn’t left.  You found him standing in front of the balcony window, just staring outside.  His barbed tail was hung low and his body seemed rigid as he stood like he was on edge.  Moving to his side, you saw him looking outside like he was looking at something he deemed dangerous. He hadn’t even realized you were beside him.  Looking at his hand, his claws were open and his fingers were tense like he was ready to tear through something. 

“Jimin?” You whispered as he blinked and swiveled to look down at you.  He saw your brow etched down and your small hands peeking out from under the blanket you held over your shoulders. “Are you alright?” You asked slowly as to not provoke anything out of him. 

“It’s nothing,” he told you before he looked back outside.  “I hope.” 

When you left for school, he was constantly texting you every half hour or sooner.  He was asking random questions, asking how you were- anything to get a conversation started.  You thought maybe he was feeling some sort of weird demon-y way; maybe they start to miss their attachments after a certain period of time.  You weren’t sure and every time you asked him about it, it brushed it off to changed the topic. 

Jimin called you the moment you told him you had left class and were on the way to work a swing shift at work.  Seokjin was busy studying for tests, so you had to pick up his slack; much to Jimin’s dismay. He stayed on the phone with you the entire ride to the cafe and refused to hang up until you had clocked on- even saying a quick hello to your boss before he hung up. 

Jimin was on edge all night.  He knew you were working, that you were busy but he couldn’t sit still.  Something he felt earlier that morning made his skin crawl.  A dark presence hung in the air in the city he had been living in as a human and he didn’t like how familiar it was.  

He beat himself up over not being able to convince you to stay in today.  Skipping one day of school wouldn’t be so hard to convince you of, but you would’ve fought him tooth and nail about work.  He knew that you were going in today no matter what, but now it was reaching nearly 10 PM and he was biting his nails. 

Being so tense that he couldn’t hold his human form and was stalking around the apartment fully demon.  Black and grey robe fluttering at his brisk steps back and forth, bare feet and black hands curling and uncurling.  His barbed tail whipped like a nail in annoyance as his fangs gnawed on his lips. 

He verbally hissed, his eyes glowing and narrowing in the dark apartment (he hadn’t turned the lights on since sunset).  He blended in with the dark and shadowed home of his when he heard rattled from the front door.  He moved to jump into the air, sticking to the top part of the wall above the front door.  Tucking his legs in to hide in the corner.  He snarled at the scent on the other side that was certainly not yours. Whoever was on the other side of that door, they weren’t some household company.  The scent he caught of them was too bloody. 

When the door unlatched, the clicking of the lock opening, Jimin bared his teeth.  When the door was opened and someone stepped inside, Jimin pushed from the ceiling’s corner and swung at the stranger.  Claws ready to tear into their skin, but even as fast as Jimin was- this person had moved just in time to avoid him.  Jimin skidded onto the floor, knees bent as he sat like a beast on attack mode.  

The door shut behind the intruder as Jimin used the darkness to stay hidden.  Only his eyes that burned red in the darkness could give him away.  Even so, they were so narrow in defense that seeing them would be difficult.  His ears twitched when he felt something come towards him, jumping back he heard a crash in front of him- where he was just sat.  

Whatever was in here was just like him- not human.  He looked to his left, his right and above him.  Nothing seemed off in the shadows.  Whoever was with him was no longer in front of him either.  He gasped lightly when he felt something directly behind him.  Finding himself in a back and forth scrap with something he couldn’t see became bothersome. 

He swung and hissed at what could only be another demon in his home.  Tail flicking, sending small thorns around him as a defense as he kept jumping from ceiling to floor to wall to avoid whatever was attacking him.  It came to a standstill when the attacker flicked the lights on.  Jimin flinched before he was jumping onto the coffee table away from a direct kick that could have knocked him right on his ass if he hadn’t moved fast enough. 

The apartment was a mess.  Cracks and scratch marks on the floors and tears in the living room furniture.  Curtains from the balcony windows were torn and hanging on just barely to their rods. Jimin hissed, his hair seemed to stand on end as he stared at the attacker in front of him.  Stood in a black cloak, hood pulled up and concealing their entire face.  

The human colored tone of his skin that showed in his hand that was freely sticking out from the sleeve of the robe gave away that whatever demon he was dealing with wasn’t so powerful they could shift properly yet.  Why would a demon who attacked another demon have human skin on, unless they couldn’t revert due to power struggles? 

Jimin remained sat on the table, legs up and ready to move if the need arose as the hooded demon in front of him remained still.  It was as if there were two statues in your living room and not too demons.  Finally, the hooded attacker moved to reach into his cloak, Jimin baring his teeth at the movement.  His face fell for a moment, his mouth opening with a drawn-out gasp when the hooded demon pulled from his cloak a black ring.  

Jimin’s black ring.  Your black ring.  

Instinctively, he flicked his tail once again, thorns shooting at the hooded demon.  “Where is she,” Jimin demanded in a growl.  His voice coming out in layers, like a distorted evil.  The hooded demon placed the ring back into his cloak. “That belongs to me!” He screeched, ready to tackle and possibly tear out the demon’s throat until they tossed their hood off their head.  His face was painted in instant anguish seeing someone he knew so well in front of him.  “J-Jungkook?” 

“I’d recommend not trying anything stupid, Jimin,”  Jungkook spoke as his face was as static as a TV screen.  Jimin was speechless, seeing off all demons possible his brother.  Jungkook and Jimin had grown up as demon’s together.  They weren’t related by any standard, but they were brothers of another kind.  Why did Jungkook have your ring, and why was he here?  Did he track Jimin down, if so why?  Jimin blinked as he looked down, running question after question in his head until Jungkook moved.  Jimin, flicked his head back up, seeing Jungkook pull something from the sleeves of his robe like a magic trick.  

Throwing it at Jimin, the horned demon caught it easily.  A scroll was tossed at him.  Jimin carefully held it, his claws threatening to puncture or tear the paper. 

“Burn it,” Jungkook spoke.  His voice was cold.  Jimin shook his head. 

“What?” Jimin looked at the scroll and how took in how warm it felt resting in his hand.  “What is this, Jungkook?” 

“Your contract with that human.”  Jimin looked at it.  The tied scroll was his contract with you.  “You’ve already broken and defied enough rules.  Coming to the human world and spending your time with a human woman, how can you stomach it all.”  Jungkook’s distaste for humans was overwhelming and Jimin could feel his hate roll off him in electric waves. 

“This has nothing to do with you,” Jimin told him.  Finally standing up and stepping off the table, Jimin held the scroll at his side, gripping it tightly.  Protectively keeping the scroll at his side with no intentions of burning it at all.  

“If you burn that scroll,” Jungkook started, pointing at it, “I’ll return the human here and you’ll return to your duties after your trial.  You won’t go unpunished for getting attached to something of this world.”  Jimin’s calmed face immediately flared back up in anger, moving in a swift step to grab Jungkook’s color.  He growled into his brother’s face.  

“Where the fuck did you take her,” Jimin seethed.  He asked no questions, only making demands.  Jungkook gripped Jimin’s wrist that held him around the collar, the two shaking with how much anger was in their veins.  For two very different reasons.  “Where is Y/n.  Tell me, Jungkook!”  He screamed, fangs growing as Jungkook’s eyes shifted to violet as Jimin’s wrist began to burn.  

Jungkook was a demon on toxins.  

Poison laced his blood allowing him to create poison at any given time from any part of his body he wished.  Jimin didn’t flinch even when his demon flesh burned under a dim green light that came from Jungkook’s hand.  Jimin shoved his brother back, examining his wrist.  Grey was shriveled up and charred only for a moment before JImin’s healing kicked in and his flesh began to reknit and become once more flawless. 

The two brothers stood glaring at each other.  Jungkook was angry at Jimin’s choices and Jimin livid at Y/n’s apparent kidnap. 

“I won’t ask again, Jungkook.  Where did you-” 

“Just forget about the human!”  Jungkook finally broke his static facade and twisted his face in anger, shouting at Jimin.  “Forget the human, return to being a demon and burn your contract with her.  I’ve already retrieved your ring and I’ll begin whipping her memory as well.”  

“What?!” 

Jungkook creased his brow.  “What’s that look. You look angry. You can’t care about humans, they’re just a past time.  So what if that human forgets you, just let it go and return with me back home.”  

“This is my home and you’re invading and stealing it away from me.”  Jimin seethed, his voice as toxic as Jungkook’s skin.  

“This is no home for a demon!”  

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jimin said voice calm in anger.  He shook his head, getting overloaded with too many emotions at once.  Claws and fangs growing longers and eyes flickering with unstable reds that bled out of the iris into his scleras.  Wind of his own began whipping around him, fluttering his silk demonic robes and his black hair.  His horns spiraled higher out of his forehead, growing as his tail grew longer and wrapped around his waist like a belt of thorns.  His grey skin began to completely blacken like his hands and feet.  

Jungkook took a small step backward.  He hadn’t seen his brother like this but once when Jungkook was the victim of some stupid social hierarchy demonic bullshit.  Jimin tore his tormentors apart and if Jungkook wasn’t careful, Jimin seemed like he wouldn’t hesitate to tear him apart next.  

He hadn’t changed in size, but when he stepped up to Jungkook and moved quick enough to clasp his hand around his brother’s throat, he seemed as high as a 50-ft building Jungkook was going to be dropped off of.  Jimin’s tongue was that of a snake, split at the end and his breath was visible as he forced Jungkook to take him to you.  

If Jungkook didn’t want to die, he’d listen to his older brother.  It was his own fault if he died tonight. 

-XXX-

You groaned and shivered before coughing.  You opened your eyes, confused as to when you fell asleep in the first place.  Flinching, you hissed in pain from the stinging on the side of your head.  Touching above your ear, you felt something wet that had matted your hair.  Pulling on it, you hissed again in pain.  Sitting up from your laying position on what felt like a wooden floor, you gasped when your head hit something above you. 

Reaching up, you felt nothing but wood above you too.  Starting to panic, you felt around you.  Nothing but wood on every side.  Above, left, right and below.  However, in front of you wasn’t wood, but instead iron bars.  It was dark in what you could only assume was the cage you found yourself waking up in.  Having no idea what was going on, you gasped when a cloth was ripping off the box, squeezing your eyes shut at the sudden light.  

You screamed, scurrying back to the back of your caged box from the face of a dog in front of the iron bars.  It wasn’t just a dog.  It had 4 pairs of eyes, completely black as it’s tail behind it was split into to.  Its teeth pushed past its chops like a sabertooth and its size was far above what a normal K9’s would be.  It was purely demonic.  

Demonic.  Then it all came back to you.  

Someone had suddenly collapsed outside of your work when you had just left.  Worried, you approached them and knelt to offer any kind of assistance.  Pulling out your phone to call the police or ambulance or whatever they needed, you squeaked when they suddenly grabbed your wrist.  They held your hand to their face.  They seemed to be examining your ring. 

“What a pleasant looking ring,” they slurred.  Their voice sounded of uncomfortable ringing.  

“My- uh, my fiance gave me this ring,” you whispered.  

“Fiance, huh?” You saw a smile grow on the person’s face. Something was wrong.  You yanked your hand, trying to free yourself before the person tightening their grip.  You yelped as your wrist began to burn.  Falling from your kneeling position to crumbling on your knees, you whined.  Looking up with tear blurred eyes, you gasped at the violet glow of the man’s eyes. 

“You’re a demon?” You saw his fangs in the wide, sick grin of his. 

“Correct,” he slurred before he hit you aside from the head and next you knew, you were in this cage.  

You breathed quick shallow breaths, demon dog growling at you and barking.  Making you pull your knees to yourself as much as you could.  Tucking yourself into the corner of your prison. 

You held your hands to your chest when you noticed you weren’t wearing Jimin’s ring.  You gasped, as a tear left your eye.  

“No,” you gasped lightly.  Looking around your cage and feeling around for that familiar metal you couldn’t remove.  Did that demon take it off you?  You couldn’t take it off, only a demon could.  You sputtered as you coughed again, working yourself up too much.  

You sat against the back of your cage when the demon dog’s attention shifted from you to something behind him for a moment before being grabbed from its scruff.  The demon dog whined and yelped as it was tossed aside and suddenly a loud crash sound from around you.  You didn't know what was going on, screaming and holding above your head just in case something crashed through your cage.  

Looking through the cage, you saw someone thrown onto the ground.  It was that demon you found outside that kidnapped you.  You were ready to start screaming at him, putting on a tough front of insults while you shook and hid your fear from him.  Demon’s enjoyed the thrill of fear, so you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction. 

You stopped yourself though.  He looked beaten all to hell.  Throat punctured and rolls of blood pulsing out of his skin as he held around his neck and gasped.  He lay on his back, weakly attempting to keep pushing himself back and away from something.  You couldn’t see what he was so afraid of until it came into full view.  

It was like a black cloud of absolute evil.  It made your throat dry and sweat drip down your neck.  Something in that cloud was nothing short of the devil himself.  Pure black and growling, thorns around it and stalking the demon on the ground like a high predator.  Though it was demonic, you couldn’t help but think it was familiar. 

The demon’s tail flicked around his waist, pinning your abductor to the concrete floors- thorns as tough as metal as the concrete split like it was nothing.  Another step encroached on the kidnapping demon and you called out to it. The faded memories that were almost wiped clean restored in a clean swipe and burst of your voice.

“Jimin..!”  It was a weak call, that fizzled into a cough.  The black cloud of moved to snap it’s head around to see you.  Imprisoned in a small cage.  You crawled to the iron bars and reached out towards it, trying to grasp something of his.  The cloud moved and before you knew it, it was knelt at your bars, as you felt the black cloud wiz through your skin like mist.  The pure red eyes and more intimidating persona did nothing to hide the familiarity of Jimin you knew was under there.  “Do you recognize me?”  

You’d never seen him like this before.  He looked absolutely feral, but it was till Jimin and when he moved to grab your hand in his overly demonic one, you just smiled.  He knew who you were. 

“Y/n,” his voice was deep and two-toned like there were two people talking in unison.  “You are alright,” he seemed to sigh and calm down.  The black cloud began to fade like fog and his body began to revert back.  Horns and claws and fangs shrinking, his pitch skin dulling back into its grey, reeling back to only his hands and feet.  You watched his eyes revert back to their oval red in the iris only.  “Do you- do you remember who I am?” 

His eyes were downcast as he held your hand, voice shaky. You felt your chest burn as tears dripped from his eyes.  He let go of your hand to grab the iron bars that held you and ripped them clean out, throwing it aside with an ear-piercing echo of metal on the concrete floor.  

He pulled you from your cage as he fell to the floor.  You sat in front of him.  His head fell, ducking down to your stomach as he wept, holding onto your hand with enough grief to last him the rest of his prolonged lifetime.  You shed your own tears, laying over his back, basking in the presence of each other.  

You gasped when you noticed a shadow over Jimin’s back.  There stood your kidnapper, Jungkook and a knife of amethyst in his hand.  He was ready and willing to stab his brother in the back and you couldn’t get a word out of your mouth, his eyes of violet canceling your voice.  You tried pulling your hand from Jimin’s so you could shield him perhaps, but Jimin refused to release it.  

Swing his arm down aiming for his brother’s back, you couldn’t even scream.  Jimin remained motionless as his tears had stopped and he remained hunched over in your arms.  He had known his brother well and he knew that if Jungkook couldn’t bring him back, he’d settle for killing him. It wouldn’t work, however; Jimin was too smart and Jungkook too reckless.  

That’s how everything resulted in Jimin’s tail whipping at Jungkook’s arm and having him plunge the knife into his own stomach. You gasped when you saw the black blood pour over his lips as he fell to his knees behind his brother.  Jimin sat up, letting you go before he moved to kneel in front of his dying brother.  

“You killed yourself, Jungkook,” Jimin told him.  Searching around his robe for his ring that he had taken back into his possession. “You died for nothing.  I will not return and I will stay by Y/n until my life ends.  I will convert into a human if I must.  I will not leave her.”  He lowered his eyes, looking solemnly at his fallen brother he did love once.  “I love her too much,” he whispered in nothing short of pain. 

Jungkook’s last emotions before he died were nothing but hate.  Hate towards Jimin for falling for a human, for becoming attached to anything.  Hate towards you for bewitching his brother into something that was no longer selfish and instead selfless.  Hate towards himself for letting himself die as a result of attempting to kill his brother who had protected and raised him for centuries.  He hated and he hated until he turned to dust and vanished.  

Jimin looked over his shoulder at you. You looked confused and scared, as you should be- you were only human.  He looked at the rin in his palm before he put it in his pocket and helped you to stand weakly.  He held you to his chest, your knees not as strong as you wanted them to be.  

“Let’s go home,” he told you, wrapping you in his robe before he dissolved into the shadows, the lights of the concrete room he was in bursting and the light vanishes.  You were home before you knew it and Jimin was sitting you on your torn couch.  “Jungkook came here,” Jimin started as he sat on the ground in front of you.  “I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” he choked.  

His lips felt chapped and stung, his breathing heavy and harsh.  

“I’ve contemplated leaving.” He pulled the scroll Jungkook gave to him and set it on your lap.  “That is the contact you formed with me,” you looked at it, holding it in your hands.  It felt heavy, like the burdens of a 13-year-old girl who was lonely and just wanted someone to be with her.  “I’ll let you make the decision.  Y/n, you can burn that scroll.  Tear it up and throw it out along with me- remove all the demonic pieces of your life I brought.  Or, you can choose to allow me to stay.” 

You sighed as you set the scroll aside, placing it on the couch cushions.  You grabbed Jimin by his horns and tilted his head up, shoving it with a bit too much force as his neck pinched.  You then picked the scroll back up and shoved it into his face.  

“You’re a demon of trades, right. Well, I’m making a trade right now,” you told him.  “I’ll give you back this scroll, the contract I made with you when I was just a kid.  In return, you give me back my damn engagement ring.”  Jimin blinked up at you.  

“What?” 

“Park Jimin, if you don’t become my husband like you promised and after you got me all wrapped around your demonic little finger, I’m going to be seriously pissed.”  You set the scroll on his head, his horns holding it up like a rack as he huffed and took it off his head into his hands again.  The warmth bringing him comfort.  “That’s my promise in your hands, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t take your wife’s promise for granted.” 

Jimin tossed the scroll aside, reach up to grab the back of your neck and pull you down to meet his lips.  He breathed through his nose choppy breaths as he kept kissing you, sobbing almost as the relief of you allowing him to stay made him feel like he could float.  He felt more like a blessed angel than an engaged demon.  

Pulling away from you, he placed his ring back on your finger where it belongs.  The weight of its return made you sigh in content.  Jimin could feel his connection with it and you return and it was stronger than it was before.  

“You do know that I’m agreeing to this because I love you, right?” You asked.  You didn’t want him to get the wrong impression.  The situation was terrifying, there was no sugar coating that.  Not to mention the knot on your head from when Jungkook hit you wouldn’t be healing any time soon.  But, that didn’t make you fear JImin or the consequences of who he was to you.  You needed him to know you choose to do this because it’s what you want, not what you fear.  

“Say, do you know what a bride of a demon is called?” Jimin asked as he moved to stand in front of your on the couch.  Leaning down to cage you to your spot with his arms on the back of the couch behind you.  You rose your brow.  “A demoness,” he slurred with a smirk.  Avoiding your question entirely as you frowned.  

“Someones getting better at dodging questions,” you accused.  

“Your human is rubbing off on me.” 

“Well, your demon is rubbing off on me!”  You retorted before he plopped himself down on your lap, trapping you entirely as his tail wrapping around your leg in his familiar, endearing habit.  

“I love you too, my little human taboo.” Your wedding was 2 months later as your demon husband-to-be stood waiting for you at the small courthouse alter. 

-END-

(tell me what you thought of this pls ily)

[creednight]

No Place Like Home

Chapter 9. Chapter 8 here!

Okay so spoiler, Edward is here, I finally found a spot for him! There’s trouble in this one sooo be ready! He’s probs around 35-40 age range tho, didn’t want to make him ancient so don’t attack me about timeline stuff pls lol

“One! Two! Three!”

You were lost in the calls of your friends and classmates around you as you downed your shot of tequila like a champ. It’s the night before spring break officially starts and you were celebrating the end of exams and projects. Grades aren’t in yet, so ignorance is bliss right now.

Dressed in black high waisted shorts, a red crop top and some booties.You’re feeling pretty good about everything. Connor is supposed to be back within a day or so. You’d finally gotten word from him a few days ago. He and Aveline were delayed by weather so the trip was extended. It was a relief and you’ve been high on that feeling ever since.

Slamming down your shot glass you beam at Stella as she mimics your action and gives you a drunken thumbs up. You showed up a little late to the bar and so you’re just trying to catch up with her and the others. The base makes the floor of the club vibrate with its intensity and the music is blaringly loud.

There are so many students here, some vaguely familiar others not so much. Everyone is dancing, laughing and having a good time to the music. One last ‘Hurrah’ before break.

“Hey!” Stella tugs on you before pointing a finger past your shoulder.

She tries to speak more but it’s lost in the music as you whip your head around to see Arno in the back of the club. Despite the warmth from the alcohol, you feel a spark of anger as his eyes scan the crowd. What the hell is he doing here? Was he looking for you?

You tell Stella to stay put as you make your way through the drunkards to him. You dodge people dancing and stumbling around you with ease, training is coming in handy now. As you walk up to Arno, it’s as if he knew you were coming. His eyes trail up to yours as you narrow your eyes at him.

“What are you doing here?” you shout over the music.

He frowns and pulls you close. His arms encircling your waist as his lips go to your ear. “What was that?”

“I said, what are you doing here?” you keep your voice loud and smirk when he flinches. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not here for you if that’s why you came over here,” he keeps close to your ear, twisting you the other way to face a new group of people walking in. “Although, you are pretty distracting with those shorts, cherie.”

Rolling your eyes you shove him off. “Okay, see you later!”

“Bye, cherie. Get home safe!” his laughter carries over the music and you can’t help but chuckle.

Back with Stella, Arno is quickly forgotten in favor of a drink and some dancing. But after a few songs, you find yourself becoming unsettled. Still not feeling buzzed, your eyes scan the crowd once more hoping to find him to have some sober company. You wander from the dance floor to the bar when you see a figure slip by. You swear it’s Arno in the blazing lights and follow him.

Setting your drink down, you keep your gaze on his ponytail as he weaves in and out of people, barely missing being hit by them. You roll your eyes at how much of a show off he is, even in the midst of a bar doing whatever it is he’s doing. In the boredom, you decide to copy him and deliberately work to avoid getting touched by people. You manage it pretty well, even when he gets to the side entrance leading to the alleyway. You’re about to reach out and yell his name when suddenly Arno comes swooping in from the left and tackles the person in front of you outside.

Some girls scream, but in your shock you immediately follow the two through the door and into a ring of several other shadowy figures. You stumble back into the door when Arno breaks away from the fake Arno you followed and the two start brawling. The shouts are muffled as your ears try to adjust from the blaring music inside. The men surrounding the two fighters are cheering for the other person while trying to get in on the action too.

Suddenly, you see Arno getting slammed onto the ground and everyone converging in around him.

“Arno!” you scream, getting to your feet and scrambling forward.

His eyes widen as he turns to you between the legs of his attackers and its slow motion as you start to stand and someone grabs your arms and pushes you into the wall. You grunt at the impact and begin to struggle against your attackers grasp. One more converges on you and your chest feels as though it’s going to explode out of fear.

“Remember your training!” Arno shouts before taking a punch to the cheek.

Your eyes dart to him as he twists himself on the ground to escape more hits and swipes the feet out from under the first guy. Watching him do this, you suddenly gain a spark of courage and decide you’re not going down without a fight. Closing your eyes, you thrust your head forward and collide with your captor’s nose. The sickening crunch makes your stomach drop, but he releases you and, with eyes open, get into a fighting stance mirroring the next man.

The first guy rolls away with a howl but gets to his feet and joins your circle. Breathing hard and mind racing you don’t know if you can take two at once. It’s only ever been one on one for training.

Focus, (Y/N)!

Deciding, fuck it, you dive in. You make a feint at the guy on your left, he falls for it moving his body away from the broken nose dude and giving you enough space to kick Broken Nose in the junk before twisting around and dodging the other’s punch by mere inches. You use your momentum to drive your elbow into the guy’s rib cage before he can twist his body back. He grunts and stumbles away from you, giving you time to stand up and punch the side of his head with impressive force. The adrenaline pumping through your veins gives your hits an extra boost and you could cheer for yourself if you didn’t suddenly feel as though a sixth sense was alerting you to a figure behind you.

You feel Broken Nose’s punch pushing through the air and have enough sense to move your head to the side while reaching up to grab his arm and twist it before jumping backward to dump him on the fight going on beside you.

The strange feeling disappears as you’re shoved from behind and hit the ground. You cover your head as the others toss Arno beside you and get ready to attack again when a loud whistle from the mouth of the alley draws your attention.

“Oi! If a fight’s what you’re looking for, then get ready!” a voice shouts.

Arno shields your body with his as you both gaze up to see the shadowed figure of three men marching closer and closer. He swears under his breath, but with the tone you look up to see him grinning. The men around you begin to scatter, you watch in awe as they scale the side of the two buildings sandwiching you. Arno curses again and gets up, he scrambles to catch on of the men by the foot but is kicked away and then held back by one of the newcomers.

“Hold him still, Ade,” one of the men orders the one holding Arno.

You roll to your feet and put your fists up, ready to fight when the first man steps into the dim lighting. He’s hair is blonde almost graying, his eyes are light colored as he gazes at you with a soft smile on his lips. Scars litter his weathered face, but you recognize him.

“You’re a bouncer around here, aren’t you?” you question and put your fists down.

“Aye, but only for the Auditore’s and when the land calls for me,” he nods at you while gesturing to the club.

“What?” you tilt your head when the other guy steps forward with a laugh.

“The Auditore’s own this club,” he jabs his thumb at the club and you roll your eyes. “It’s alright, Lass. You’ll get used to who owns what in this town.”

“Who are you guys?” you frown at him.

“Get off me!” Arno suddenly shouts and then starts cursing and yelling in French at the man still holding him in a headlock. “They’re getting away, I have to go!”

“No, you don’t,” the older man glares at Arno. “You were outnumbered and barely able to keep yourself up in the fight. You’re not ready.”

At this, Arno slumps, his eyes dark and sharp as he gazes at the older man. “Stay out of it, Edward.”

“Not when you’re reckless, you’re better than this,” the older man’s voice softens just a bit.

It’s silent while you take in the scene before you. Something is wrong and you only want to comfort Arno as he lowers his gaze to the ground and is released. It’s tense for a moment and you don’t even feel yourself shivering until a warm hand is laid on your shoulder.

It’s the man that called you ‘lass’ earlier. His eyes are twinkling as he gazes at you, a grin on his lips. “She’s getting cold, I think the night is over.”

“I’ll take her home,” Arno lifts his hand towards you while gazing up at Edward.

“She’s been out all night, she’s got to be hungry, eh?” Edward glances at you and then beams when you nod. “Okay, Ade, James, off ya go then. I’ve got it covered.”

The two men nod and disappear into the night. Edward offers you his arm and suddenly the three of you are heading to an old pizza place down the street. Edward pays for the food as you settle in next to Arno in a booth. You stomach grumbles at the smell of cooked cheese and garlic and you realize just how hungry and shaky you are. Before digging in though, you excuse yourself to the bathroom to get cleaned up. The alleyway was gross and wet, leaving dirt to stain your legs, butt and back. Your hair is frizzy and coming out of its ponytail and your make has smeared.

In short, you look like a hot mess and you can’t help but clutch your stomach as you laugh it off. Never in your life would you have even imagined getting into a fight, let alone being against two trained men. As you clean yourself up, you think back to the fight and the fear and excitement you felt throughout. Then there was that moment you felt like you could anticipate Broken Nose’s next move... It was the strangest feeling you’ve felt in a long time.

Finishing up, you shake off the thought in favor of jitters and check your phone in your bra. Thankfully it wasn’t cracked in the fight.

16 texts and 7 missed calls from Stella and a few others.

Of course!

You scramble to type in her number.

“(Y/N)! Where are you!?” Stella’s drunken panic makes you giggle. The music is pounding in the back, but her voice comes through pretty clear. She’s probably in the bathroom and you can imagine her fixing her flawless makeup right now with a smile.

“I’m okay! Arno, uh, is having a bad night so I’m going to make sure he gets home okay,” you exhale deeply, the reason is fake but the stress is real.

“That fuckin’ sucks, man. You’re always taking care of others, come back here and take shots!” she groans.

You chuckle at her. “I wasn’t really feeling it anyway, Stels. I promise I’ll make it up to you when you’re back from vacay, okay?”

“Promise?” she speaks after a silent moment.

“Promise.”

“Deal. I love you, get home safely and have some dick.”

“Oh my god, I love you too and no.”

You hang up on her laughter and head back out from the bathroom. Arno and Edward are silent as you walk up and slide in next to the Frenchman.

“Everythin’ a’right?” Edward frowns at you.

“My friends were just worried about me,” you explain before taking a bite of pizza and looking him over.

You’re not subtle about taking in his features. He watches you watch him, his deep blue eyes are mesmerizing like the sea. Despite recognizing him as the bouncer, you can’t help but realize you know him from somewhere, but you’re not sure where...

“He’s Ratonhnhaketon’s grandfather, (Y/N),” Arno mumbles between bites.

You glance over at him staring down at his plate. If you were a hot mess he was a sexy tragedy. His hair is falling out of its ponytail, blood lines a cut on his cheek where some bruises are also starting to form. His eyes flash to yours before he glances down and smirks at his pizza.

“Seriously?” you turn back to Edward to see him chuckling. “You barely look 40!”

“Thanks, Lass,” Edward beams at you. “Aye, he is my grandson and I’m mighty proud of ‘im I am. I know about you too, (Y/N). He talks about you a lot.”

You frown. “How come I’ve never met you?”

“He’s not hiding me or anything from you, I’ve been away on... business for a long time. I’ve come back in the past few months, been ‘ere and there doing stuff. Been working for the Italians for some of the time,” he shrugs and steals a garlic knot from your plate. He pops it in his mouth and hums at the taste. “He’s been gone for a while now hasn’t he.”

“Don’t remind her,” Arno speaks up with a grunt. “She gets moody about it.”

“Do not,” you pout at him.

Edward just laughs and turns the conversation towards other subjects, like what you do in school and what you want to do when you’re older. He’s distracting the two of you from what really happened tonight and you don’t mind it. You’re too exhausted to really care that you got into a brawl and almost had your ass beat into the ground for a second there. If it weren’t for Edward, you both would have been battered and bloody.

That thought sticks with you as Edward gives you and Arno a lift home and Arno walks you up to the bathroom. He bids you goodnight as you shut the door and stare at yourself in the mirror. The silence is deafening as you gaze at your battered body in the mirror. Looking at the fingerprint bruises already forming on your arms you feel a stab of fear and suddenly tears in your eyes.

Unbeknownst to you, Arno has his back on the door of the bathroom, his eyes raised to the ceiling as his listens to your quiet sobs. He sighs quietly, moving his gaze to the ground before standing and slipping downstairs without a noise.

You open the door and pad over to your room, pausing at your door to stare at Connor’s room. Biting your lip and wiping your face you take a peek to see if he’s there only to cry more when you spot the empty bed. Without even thinking about it you shut the door behind you and stumble over to his bed. The smell of him offering some comfort as you crawl under the covers and clutch his pillow.

You fall asleep curled up under his blankets, dead to the world and wishing his swift return.

[writingbarnes]

The Cursed Heir [ Bucky Barnes x Reader ] • 4 of 5

Summary : “This is just a dream.” [Y/N] muttered to herself, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Is it?” 

Fairy Tale/Prince Bucky AU

THE CURSED HEIR FIC  |  AO3

Character : Bucky Barnes X OC ( Reader )   |  Genre : Fluff, light angst |  Words : 3.2K-ish

Author’s Note : This is where the angst comes in yay. I love that i get to write about bucky with his beautiful hair. BUT BOI I can’t find a gif that doesn’t have a metal arm in it so pls ignore that high-tech background in the gif Oh well. My head is spinning rn & i don’t think it’s normal 🙃 I should probably sleep lol anyway, I hope you like it. Tell me what you think! As always, thank you victoria for helping me with this fic <3

Bucky loved to watch her draw. Steve was always quiet when he drew, the world seemed to melt away the moment he picked up his pencils. Sometimes he would look up and shake his head to lose the crick in his neck but he would be back in his own world in no time, filling the pages with drawings so beautiful it made his heart hurt. But she was different. She was a chaotic mess, fiddling with different pencils, hands dirtied by the charcoal as she smudged out something on the paper. Her animated eyes darted between every object around her every so often, lips curling into a satisfied smile when she finished a drawing. And she talked to him a lot. She would clutch the end of the book with her left hand and draw with her right, eyes focused on the paper, and still she would look up every once in a while and pause just to animate her stories with hand gestures.

“It would be exactly 100 years since the witch put the curse next week.” Bucky offhandedly mentioned as he sipped on his wine. His left arm ached again. It had worsened the past week, he noticed, and so had the nightmares. He pushed back the irrational fear to back of his mind and focused his attention on [Y/N] who was seated on the other side of the blanket.

Unlike Steve, who let Bucky go through his drawing book, [Y/N] never let him take a little peek. The only drawing he had seen was the flowers she drew him as an apology weeks ago (it was framed and found a permanent spot on the table next to his bed).

“What are you drawing?” Bucky asked, frowning when she leaned the book away from his sight.

“Flowers. The lake.” She quipped.

“You can’t be drawing the lake the whole time.” He didn’t care that he sounded like a whiny toddler asking for an extra serving of his favorite jelly. He scooted closer, ignoring the fluttery feeling in his stomach, and nudged her shoulder with his finger.

“Are you a child?” [Y/N] sighed. “I told you it’s a secret.”

“But I want to see it.” Bucky was sporting the puppy-eyed look Steve always flashed whenever she tried to say no to whatever scheme he was planning. “I’ll give you the last piece of bread?” He asked, still trying to get his hands on the stupid sketchbook. So she did the first thing that come to her mind. She threw it a few feet away from them, away from Bucky who pouted in disappointment.

“Can’t I see just one drawing?”

“I’ll let you see the ones in my old notebook.” [Y/N] finally said, patting his thigh before standing up to grab the sketchbook she had thrown to the grass in panic.

Maybe she stood up too quickly, or maybe she was just that bad with her balance and coordination, because the next thing she knew, she was falling face first into the ground and would have smack her face against the boulder and ruined the makeup and hair that she definitely didn’t do to impress Bucky if he didn’t pull her back. Both of them ended up toppling on the blanket, the wine sloshed to the blanket.

When she opened her eyes again, she was laying on top of him and he was staring at her with an unreadable expression. His eyes were soft and fond as always but there was something else, something she couldn’t quite decipher and he had his hand gently brushing away the hair that went to her face. She thought she could kiss him right now, when he had his lips quirked into a small tender smile that had secretly wormed its way into her heart.

“You’re the worst.” Bucky huffed a fond laugh, his other hand still planted on her back. She grinned at him and Bucky’s laughter died on his throat. The sunlight served as a perfect backlight for her, making her look more incandescent than she already was. If he just leaned in a little bit closer, he thought as he gazed down to her lips. He could just kiss her and maybe tell her about his feelings. Right when he was about to lean in, his eyes caught the spilled wine, the red reminding him of the blood that stained the royal chapel and the color of her dress.

“Look at what you have done, love.” Her honeyed voice felt like sharp knives against his heart. His head was hurting. She placed her hand on his cheek and went on her tiptoes to kiss the corner of his lips. “This was all you.” Her red lips stretched into a wicked smile.

“No.” Bucky shook his head, his breathing ragged. He smelled blood and death. He blinked a few times, praying for his sight to be wrong. “No.”

“BUCKY. THIS ISN’T YOU!” Steve shouted.

“Why don’t you end them too?” She purred, her sharp nails made crescent marks on his neck. “Maybe I will let you live for another week, love. Then, I will take over this kingdom. All thanks to your love and dedication-“

“Bucky?”

“NO!” Bucky wrenched himself away from her, profusely blinking away the tears. He retched at the memories. It took him a few deep breaths and a soft voice calling his name to take him back.

“Bucky?” He looked to his side and his heart dropped at the sight. He must’ve pushed her too hard. There was trail of blood seeping through the sleeve of her dress from when she hit the boulder behind her. She looked shaken, hands trembling as she tried to approach him.

“No.” Bucky shook his head. “Don’t.” He stopped her before she could touch his left arm. It felt like it was burning. He swallowed back the tears and stammered, “I’m sorry,” before he staggered to his feet and ran off.

.

Clint Barton found [Y/N] that night crying by the lake. He would’ve thought it was a ghost if he had drank an extra glass of the liquor King T’challa sent them yesterday. He cleared his throat to let her know of his presence and slowly approached her. Whatever questions he had in his mind vaporized when he saw dried blood on her arms.

“What happened?” He asked her. He knew what had happened. Bucky was running down the hall, knocking everything in his way and locked himself inside his room. Steve told them it was another flashback and he accidentally pushed her. She was probably terrified of him, Steve relayed Bucky’s words with a frustrated look. But the look [Y/N] gave him made him think twice about why she was crying.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged.

“Do you want to talk?” Clint sat next to her, pushing away the glasses and empty basket. She had her knees tucked into her chest, face buried in her arms and Clint wondered if she would ever talk to him.

“My heart hurts.” She mumbled. She raised her head and turned to him with a broken smile. “He left.”

“He did. He was scared.”

“Of what?”

“Himself.” Clint answered a beat later. He turned to her. “There were things that happened to him, that were done to him that day. It was…It didn’t just go away, even after decades or a hundred years. I can’t tell you what, because this is not my story to tell. But I know he cares about you more than you think. And he’s scared.”

“I’m tired.” [Y/N] quietly said. “I’m going to go back to the castle.”

Clint nodded quietly as he watched her picked up her book and pencils. He waited for her to compose herself, offering a piece of handkerchief to wipe her face.

“Thank you.” She smiled. It was hollow and insincere. But Clint didn’t say anything. He just let her lead the way back to the castle and bid her a soft good night when they reached her room.

It was funny how things could go from great to not-so-great, awfully disastrous in a matter of seconds. She replayed the moment she ruined it over and over again as she closed the door and she climbed into her bed. She shouldn’t have called his name, or tried to touch his arm, she chastised herself. Tears welled up in her eyes again.

“Thank you for staying here.” She mumbled to the cat who had joined her in her bed. Butterscotch stared at her for a long moment before she walked over towards her and nudged her wet cheek with her head.

[Y/N] scratched Butterscotch’s head, her cries quieted down to an occasional sniffling while the cat lay down on her lap, letting her pet her until she fell asleep.

.

[Y/N] was not a stranger of nightmares. She had her fair share of nightmares when her parents passed away and even during the first few days in the castle, fear overriding her brain. It was usually just her, trying to run from a shadowed figure and she would wake up hours later with her heart racing like she just ran a marathon, the details of the dream soon washed away by the cool water.

It was different this time. She found herself kneeling on the marbled floor of her room and she could sense a presence behind her.

“Hello there.”

She felt the burning pain even before it stepped into her view and touched the sharp end of her staff to her heart. It burned through her skin and straight into her heart. She fleetingly noticed it had glowed bright blue and wondered if this was how she was going to die. All cries for help stuck in her throat, her eyes filled with unshed tears as she looked up at her.

Oh, she was beautiful. That was the first thing that came to her mind when she saw her face. No wonder Bucky fell in love with her. She’d fall in love with her if she didn’t see her in this state. Her long wavy hair flowed down to her waist. She had blood red lipstick on her lips, her eyebrows arched as though she could read her mind.

“Trying to steal what’s mine?” Her voice was shrill and high-pitched enough to hurt her ears. Her long nails were like talons when it grabbed her chin harshly, forcing her to look at her. “I have been giving him warnings. But he keeps ignoring it. Boys, right?” She giggled, “I suppose I have to kill you first. Maybe he’ll realize he could never stop obeying my command.”

“Fuck off.” [Y/N] said between gasps.

“Oh, I like you a lot!” The woman laughed again, pressing her staff a little deeper into her chest. “The heart of his true love. I could be sated for another century if I could just get your heart. Maybe his too, because I will make sure he knows who he belongs to.”

“He’s not that stupid.” [Y/N] grumbled blocking the fall with her arms when the woman pushed her away.

She only looked at her with a look that sent shivers down her spine. Her eyes gleamed wickedly under the moonlight. “We’ll see.” She said, snapping her fingers. [Y/N] heard a loud screaming noise a moment later, hands clenched to a tight fist once she recognized the owner of said voice.

“This is just a dream.” [Y/N] muttered to herself, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Is it?”

The next time she opened her eyes, she was back in her bed, sweating and panting for breath, with tendrils of hair stuck on her face. There was a lingering pain in her chest and she thought she saw a bruise if she looked down her nightgown. Water. She needed a cool glass of water, she decided, trying to climb out of the bed without falling on her ass. Her hand froze right before she could grab the water jug on the table, ears perking up at the familiar screaming sound.

She thought she was still dreaming, head still spinning even as she dragged her fatigued self out of the room, hands pressed against the wall for support. His room was at the end of the hall, with Steve’s behind the door next to hers. She tried to call his name, voice only reaching a raspy whisper when she opened her mouth. The next scream made her quicken her step towards Bucky’s room.

 .

The door was slightly open and whatever questions she had planned to ask died in her throat the moment she saw him. He was lying on the chair, chest glowing bright red as the woman put her talons on it. She turned to [Y/N] for a moment, smile so wide and wicked it made her stumble on her feet.

“No.” [Y/N] tried to stop her, tears blurring her vision. Her shaky hands went to the staff the woman was holding and the woman raised her eyebrows in amusement.

“You can barely walk and you want to fight me?” She asked.

“I want to kill you.” [Y/N] gritted her teeth, pushing the woman away from Bucky, who took a loud gasp of breath once the woman fell back. He looked at her with unfocused eyes, trying to register what had just happened. There was a second pause as the woman raised her staff before he realized her intention. Another scream was ripped out of his throat when she thrusted the sharp end of the staff at [Y/N]’s chest. Bucky watched [Y/N] crumpled to her knees in horror.

“So weak,” she spat, leaning down to [Y/N]’s level. “I wonder what will happen if I push this a little deeper and destroy your true love’s heart, Bucky?” The women grinned.

“GET AWAY FROM THEM!” Steve’s voice from the door startled them, enough that Bucky saw a glint of fear in the woman’s eyes. Clint, bless him and his aim, threw his blade at the woman, grinning triumphantly when it hit her stomach. It didn’t seem to hurt her much, but it did make her let go of [Y/N], letting her slump to the floor.

“If you think this is over, you are sorely mistaken.” The woman gasped, the eerie smile still on her face. “I can wait until she dies to get what I want. Maybe I should take your hearts too.” She cackled before disappearing into a smoke.

Bucky crawled to where [Y/N] lay and gently pulled her into his chest, the words ‘sorry’ escaped his lips over and over again while his friends took careful steps towards him.

“I don’t feel so good.” [Y/N] gasped softly, her clutch on Bucky’s shirt slowly loosened. He shook his head, brushing the tears away from her face with his thumb.

“It’s going to be okay.” He told her. He couldn’t stop the sob that escaped his lips when her body went limp in his hold.

“I’ll send letters to the King and the witch.” Sam said before he ran out of the room to get his falcon.

“We should get her to bed. She doesn’t seem to bleed. It’s a good thing, right?” Steve asked, turning to Natasha and Clint who looked just as confused as he was.

“It’s better than a stab wound to the chest.” Natasha finally said, crouching down in front of Bucky. “We need to get her cleaned up, Bucky. And you too.” Clint nodded and walked out of the room to call the servants on Natasha’s quiet order. No one spoke as they tried to get Bucky to move.

“It’s my fault.” Bucky mumbled as Natasha pulled him up, eyes fixed on [Y/N] even as Steve carried her out of the room.

“No, it’s not.” Natasha’s soft voice was so unlike her and on any other day, it would help ease the guilt in his heart. Not today, probably not ever. He didn’t think anything could lessen the pain in his chest but he kept his lips shut as he followed Natasha out of the room.

.

They needed to repaint the walls of his old room Natasha took him to. If he stared at it long enough, he could see traces of his childhood drawing underneath the white paint that has slightly yellowed and chipped. There was a spot right under the small window where there used to be a small antique upright piano and he would pretend he was a natural-born artist like Steve (he wasn’t. Not even close). His mother never really scolded him, not even when he used the brightest colored crayons and fill the stark white walls with the most abstract drawings (he thought it was because Steve’s drawing next to his were really pretty). When he was older, he let them paint over the drawing, hoping it would help him be more mature. He ended up letting Steve paint one wall of his room with flowers and night sky during his teenage years. The beautiful mural stayed there until he was in his mid-twenties. By then, the princess had come and put him under her spell and the painting was soon seen more as a nuisance. He recalled Steve’s promise of a better painting once he’s married, though he supposed the promise was long forgotten after what happened.

Steve was still talking when Bucky slowly came back from the flashback. He had walked into his room an hour ago with an old book given by the witches who had helped them decades ago and started on explaining what might be happening to [Y/N]. Bucky had tuned everything out after Steve mentioned there was no conclusive spell or medicine to wake her up. Except for the curse, which Bucky doubt they could break after tonight’s event.

“She seemed stronger.” Natasha stated, wrapping a piece of scarf around Bucky’s neck. He didn’t notice his body was shaking until Natasha and Steve gave him a worried look. “She still can’t kill any of us on the castle ground.”

“It’s a good thing.” Clint added, he had come back with Steve, two maids in tow with a tray of warm food and drinks. “That means she couldn’t do anything to us and her. We probably have to wait for Monica to come and help us. Peggy should be back this week. Maybe she could help us too.”

Bucky finally looked at them at the mention of [Y/N]’s sister, his eyes red and bright with unshed tears. “She knows?”

“Sam sent his falcon to give her the news.” Clint nodded. “Don’t we have those old books on healing at the library? There should be something that could help [Y/N].”

“We should probably go there and see if we can find anything useful. Do you want to go see her first, Bucky?” Steve fixed his attention on him again, his blue eyes clouded with worry and sympathy.

“She doesn’t need me there.” Bucky said and shook his head. He ignored the look in Steve’s face and gritted his teeth. You wouldn’t understand. The words hung right on the tips of his lips but he knew Steve didn’t deserve whatever lashing out he wanted to do. Bucky opted to stayed quiet and grabbed his coat from the chair before he quickly left the room.

Tagging some people : @pleasecallmecaptain @mangosoldier @wakandasoldier @tabi-toast @writing-soldiers @4theluvofall @meavie @montysmayhem @scarlettsoldier @marvelrevival @sebbys-girl@waitingfortherightpartner @sebstan-theman​ @elfwriter1088@wordsturnintostories@chromealchemist@showbuckysomelove @meavie @sawdustandsugar @amiteran

[diabetic-cactus]

LONG POST pls ignore lol

hmmmmmm

So on molly i felt like everything was happening at once but on a really small scale, like i could feel myself existing. I could feel my molecules vibrating and everything felt the same and really intense and i got anxious at first but i ended up rubbing my friends (hairy) belly and the texture helped calm me down ¿ like i was chillin when i was rubbing him/ rubbing my hands/ the blanket/ whatever ok but when i would stop, my brain went from “quietly vibrating” to “screaming ball of light” and i would go back to stimming and it was fine. and then i remembered that i had wanted to think about my childhood shit, like i had planned on it the day before. I had remembered a small foggy flash of something, that i legit remember pushing to the back of my head as a child, and i focused on that. I kid y'all not,,, IMMEDIATELY it like “opened up” and i saw a few flashes of this memory and i opened my eyes and my brain was like “yes !!!! I knew it !!” But not in a celebratory way as much as i “fuck you i fuckin thought so u cunt” kind of way. also reminder that i was on drugs. and it was super intense and stayed with me and i ended up feeling ?? something idk what, i think it was just adrenaline but i felt. uhhh

Uhh ?? not horny??? but ????? stimulated ???

and it made me really uncomfortable bc thats not how i wanted to feel in that moment? And i mean. The kid i was with, zac, was trying to tickle me and give me other bodily reactions but ?? Nothing. I had ZERO reaction to anything. All i could feel was my skin, basically vibrating, and some stimulation in my lower region. It was so strange.

i remember my wall, the room illuminated by a turtle night light, and the mirror. i remember my bed, and someone there (who¿!) and i remember it felt good and then it did Not feel good ? I think ? Its all blurry but there are certain parts that are not blurry, but they’re connected with blurry details.

my mom hand painted my room. A white fence around yellow walls with bunnies, a cat, a garden. It was beautiful. She paints for a living, it was like a huge mural ok. The wall next to my bed had a big,, arch thing with leaves n flowers and one day, she painted fairies on some of the leaves for me. i remember looking at one of them. i remember seeing a reflection in the mirror. i remember being on my bed. Little things Pieced together into one big mush pile of feelings and strange sensations that seem both foreign and familiar.

Its like its been there the whole time, i just wasnt looking. Its not new. I dont have any “new feelings or reactions.” Its been there. I just wasnt looking. Even when i wanted to remember i couldnt. Why drugs help me with these things i’ll never know but tbh im glad i was high bc it kept me calm, you never know what coulda happened had i not been lol.

its not just that though. its like everything makes sense now. blanks are filling in and with each one that fazes me, im like “ohh,, okay yeah” bc things are fitting together. I remember not being able to remember. I remember wanting to say something but not knowing how. i remember being upset and not knowing why.

when the molly kicked in i felt like a child. not like an adult at disney, who forgets theyre an adult for the day, i felt like a child. the mindset, how my body felt, the lack of anxiety, the lack of understanding. everything was new, but everything was familliar. i knew what was happening but it was,, new and the same. i kept thinking that it was “the way i felt before” and when zac asked “before what” i coudnt answer. I felt free and whole and like there wasnt a shadow over me. then i started thinking and i came down from that feeling a bit, i still felt like i didnt know quite what was happening but it came with a feeling of understanding towards my inner self. Everything clicked into place.

tl;dr i did drugs, stimmed really hard for 4 hours and remembered shit from when i was a Young Bean, and everything is strange and different now but also everything is okay. i feel like im grounded and i understand why i’m like this. its weird, but with this memory i feel whole again.